A Rush of Blood to the Head Ch. 04

The next morning, however, I shook off the blues and wore my prettiest pink dress. I pulled up my hair into a high ponytail and applied a little more makeup than usual.

Randy whistled when I walked into the flower shop and I gave him the middle finger.

"Adorable," he laughed as he painstakingly put together a fragile flower arrangement.

The phone rang and I rushed to pick it up. "Randy's Flowers, this is Lucy."

"Lucy, it's John. Couldn't get through on your cell. Shari went into labor this morning."

"Oh, my God! Should I come and—"

"No, Shari wants me to tell you not to worry about it. Things are slow right now. They're giving her some drugs, Pitocin or whatever, to try to move things around but it doesn't look like much will be happening until tonight."

"Poor Shari. Is she freaking out?"

John laughed. "No, she's ordering the nurses around and chewing their ears off. She's fine. I'll keep you updated, okay?"

"Okay, thanks for calling, John."

He hung up and I put the phone down, smiling. The bells on top of the flower shop jingled when someone opened the door and I turned, still smiling.

Then my smile froze. Everything froze, in fact. Mark stood there, his eyes scanning the shop. He did a double-take when he spied Randy behind me. Then he finally met my shocked stare.

He looked the same. Omniscient, dark eyes that could see far beyond flesh and bone. Dark brown hair that flopped over boyishly. He was still tall, strong and imposing. He was the Mark I'd known for years. Just like that, the life we lived before flooded back and the day that had started out bright and promising grew dim.

"Your mother said you'd be here. She didn't want to tell me right away, of course." He ran a hand through his hair and let the door shut behind him. "I don't think I really believed her. You never had much interest in flowers before."

I was speechless. There were things I wanted to ask, but I couldn't bring my brain to gather my thoughts, nor could I get my mouth to start working.

Mark picked up a stray white tulip. "Pretty."

"Mark," I said after a moment. My voice was breathy and small. I cleared my throat. "Mark, what are you doing here?"

His eyes lifted. I held my breath. Would he scream at me? Attack me? He didn't look particularly angry, but Mark had always been wonderful at hiding his emotions.

"When do you get a break?"

"W-what?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "A break. For lunch. I assume you have one?"

"Around noon," I heard myself saying.

Mark glared at his watch. "Damn. Okay. Meet me at the shitty Starbucks on the corner." His glittering eyes met mine. "Don't leave me waiting."

******************

I walked as slowly as I could down the street, but I still made it to Starbucks ten minutes before noon. I peered into the window and spotted him instantly. He didn't match with his surroundings. His designer suit and aristocratic air automatically made him an outsider amongst the down-to-earth townies. I wonder if he could feel it, and even more if he cared.

I heaved in a deep breath and walked inside. I pulled off my sweater as I walked over and then plopped in the seat across from him.

He looked at me for a minute. "Want coffee?"

"No," I declined, shaking my head. Then I got to the point. "What are you doing here, Mark?"

"The house," he said distractedly, either ignoring me or not listening. "You're selling it."

"Yes."

"You're not coming back."

It wasn't phrased as a question, but I could hear it in his voice. "No. No, I don't think so. I like it here."

He studied me. "I can see. You're thriving here. I don't remember you ever looking so beautiful."

What the fuck was going on?

"Thanks." I fidgeted uncomfortably. "Well, what's up? I mean, did you want to buy the house from me or something? I didn't even think of asking before—"

"God, no, I have absolutely no desire to live there."

I spotted one of Shari's neighbors and gave him a wave. Mark followed the movement and leaned forward. Something changed in his expression.

"You really are happy here."

I began to wonder if he was pissed I wasn't falling apart, pining away for him. "As happy as can be, I guess. Did you expect something different?"

He gave me a quick smile. "Yes. I figured you were miserable up here. I imagined you licking your wounds, missing our little neighborhood and shopping sprees into the city on the weekends. I didn't expect... this." His eyes traveled down to my naked left hand. "I expected to find you watching reruns of rom coms and crying and getting fat."

"Ha." I gave him a small smile. "And how are you?" I asked awkwardly. "Things are...good?"

He shook his head. "Not really. Things are pretty terrible, in fact. Every day is the same and I'm living in one of those depressing singles apartments. Everyone says I should buy some posh bachelor pad but the idea exhausts me."

"Oh." I didn't know what to say. I wanted to touch him. In fact, my hand flexed as if it meant to reach across the table and take his. "I'm sorry."

He looked out the window. "I know you are."

This was so confusing, not to mention painful. It was gut-wrenching to see him in the flesh, in the new world I'd crafted.

I took a breath. "I'm not sure why you're here." His head turned towards me. "I'm sorry, I'm just confused. Did you just want to check in or—"

"Hard to believe...My ex," he said thoughtfully, interrupting. He shook his head and examined me. "It's funny," Mark went on, "you remind me of when we first met. You have looked this pretty to me before. I remember now."

"Mark, what are you talking about?" I rubbed my neck and looked over my shoulder, craving a coffee but fearing the jitters.

"That party," he exclaimed, getting frustrated. "When I saw you, you looked so wholesome."

"Wholesome?"

Mark grinned at my tone but the grin faded when he looked away, remembering. "Don't forget I was always a rich kid. I went to rich kid schools, I hung out with rich kids, I dressed like a rich kid. And then I saw you in your little pink dress. It was so simple; it didn't have lace or silk or sequins or any kind of shape, really. My main model for women was my mom, and you know how ostentatious she is. And all the other girls were like her." His smile was warm as he pointed his finger at me. "But you. You had your hair in a braid. I'm sure your dress was less than thirty bucks. You weren't drenched in diamonds. You just looked like a nice girl. I remember thinking, 'I want to talk to her,' and somehow I made my way over. We talked about back home. When you talked about home—I guess, about here—you got so animated and sweet. I really wanted to kiss you. I wanted to sink my teeth into you, actually. I wanted to do a lot of strange things." He laughed and roughed up his hair. "You also kinda made me feel sorry for myself because clearly my childhood was nothing like yours, and I'd only dated girls who had the same kind of upbringing I did. I was envious of you, and weirdly I think it made me like you even more."

"You never told me that," I said softly.

His eyes pierced mine. "I never told you a lot of things."

My cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw John was calling. "Sorry," I said, "I have to answer this."

I got up and stepped away. "Hello?"

"Hi, Luce, nothing's new. Shari just wanted me to check in with you. She also wants to know if you can visit later and bring some makeup. She's quite disgruntled that she forgot her makeup bag."

"Of course. I don't have class tonight so I'll come right after work and keep you company." A thought occurred to me. "Where are the kids staying?"

"Oh, with my mom. She is loving having them over."

"Good. So I'll see you later."

"Thanks, Lucy."

I hung up and spun around to face my ex-husband. I only had another ten minutes left before I had to head back to work, and I still had no fucking clue why he was here.

Mark's eyes ran over my face. "Was that a boyfriend?"

"Don't," I begged, dropping back on my chair.

"I really would like to know."

I sighed and rubbed my face. "Then you'll just have to deal with not knowing because it's none of your business."

We were silent for a few minutes. Mark stared at me; I studied the table. Eventually I couldn't take it any longer.

"Mark, couldn't you have called? I mean, I think that would have been a lot better than you driving almost 2 hours out of your way."

Mark picked at the lid on his coffee cup. "I'm not a phone person."

"Bullshit."

"I'm sorry that I—," Mark began, looking at his coffee cup like it held all the answers, "that I never gave you a lot of affection. Sex, yeah, and camaraderie, sure, but I never told you how much you meant to me. It needs to be said." His eyes swept back to mine. "I'm sorry."

This was killing me. "God, Mark, please don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong. We're divorced and it's over. We don't need to be having this conversation now."

"It was the house," he said simply, as if that explained everything.

"The house? What about the house?"

"They put the 'for sale' sign up already and I passed it and—it just felt real for the first time. Filing the papers, writing my signature here and there...that just felt ordinary. I'm used to paperwork. But the house going up for sale got me. People kept saying, 'So your ex is selling' and that felt even weirder for me because I hadn't even thought of you as my ex yet." He laughed bitterly. "I never really even liked that house that much."

"Me either," I admitted.

"No," Mark smiled again. "No, you like your house here. I don't know why we didn't visit your parents more often."

"Yes, you do."

He ignored me. "I overheard you on the phone. You're taking classes?"

I gave him a little smile. "Yeah. I'm studying to be a nurse."

He was shocked. "Wow. Congratulations."

The look he gave me jumbled up all my nerves. I glanced at the time on my phone. "Look, I've got to head back to work. What are you doing here, Mark?"

"Most of my friends tell me I should burn your clothes, smear your name through the papers and fuck every friend who meant a damn to you. Or fuck girls who look like cheerleaders and babysitters. I don't know, some of them have come up with some pretty fucked up revenge fantasies. There have been nights, Lucy, that they've seemed pretty damned tempting. But seven years of marriage. Almost eight. You can't just stop feeling for a woman, if you ever felt for her, just like that."

I wiped a tear away. "Mark, please."

He exhaled heavily. "I miss you."

That threw me. My heart jolted, and I swore he could hear my heart beating. "We were married a long time. It's only normal. Like you said." My voice sounded shaky and high.

Mark lifted his eyebrows, keeping the rest of his face frozen and his eyes impenetrable. "Yes, a long time. Still, don't you miss me at all?"

My eyes popped open. "Of course I do."

He reached over and took my hand. His was warm and familiar, but I didn't know how to feel about it. Should I snatch it away?

"I quit the firm."

My mouth dropped. "What?"

"I'm tired of it. The whole scene."

My heart sank. "Oh, my God, Mark, it's because of me, isn't it? I never meant to do this to you. I swear to God, I'm so ashamed over what I did. You were embarrassed, weren't you?" The thought of him quitting the job he worked so hard to get broke me.

His expression turned to stone and he ripped his hand away. "Of course I was embarrassed. I've never been more humiliated in my life. I wanted to strangle you. I fantasized about making you pay in so many fucked up ways. I wanted to mortify you like you mortified me." He huffed and looked away. "That's still not entirely why I left."

I took several calming breaths.

"So, what are you doing now?" I asked cautiously.

"Biding my time. I have plenty of money, Lucy, you know that." His eyes became glossy and I suspected with horror he was holding back tears. It was like the first time I ever saw my father cry. "You were such a selfish bitch. And you were going to leave with him." His laugh was bitter. "What a fucking stupid bitch you were. I never thought you'd do something like that to me. You bitch! You ungrateful, piece of shit whore!"

The words were nasty and vitriolic, but were uttered in furious whispers. Somehow that was worse than them being screamed at me.

I looked around, embarrassed. No one seemed to be paying attention. "Yes, I was horrible. I told you in my letter that—"

"Fuck, I don't care about your fucking letter. No matter how many times you apologize it will never be enough to help me forget. Forget imagining you with him, forget how easy it would have been for you to just leave me, the life we built." He stared at me, shaking his head. "Don't you want to know how Luke is?"

I rubbed my eyes, accidentally smearing mascara everywhere. "Not particularly."

"His girlfriend dumped him. Heard of you, I guess."

"I don't want to do this," I begged.

"He can't get work anywhere. His father always loathed him, and now he won't even lift a finger to help him. I find it very amusing, don't you?"

I closed my eyes, unable to see his face. "Please don't do this, Mark."

"Why? It makes you uncomfortable? Makes you hurt? Good."

"It's over. We both need to move on. I've castigated myself enough, and you've had your opportunity, too. Let's try to heal and—"

"Spare me," Mark scoffed.

I looked at my phone, desperate to get away from this horrific game we seemed to be playing. I was through with games. "I have to get back to work."

"I'm not going away, Lucy. I'll still be in town when you get off. I'll still be here tomorrow."

I rested my elbow on the table and cradled my forehead. I began to cry. "Why? Why are you doing this?"

"Because I'm fascinated." He'd pulled himself together and now his detached eyes roamed over my face. "I only got a glimpse of this girl before we got married. I want to see more of her."

"You're here to torment me," I surmised, "aren't you? Divorce wasn't enough. Everyone thinking I was a whore wasn't enough. I knew you were waiting to do something worse." I got up and put my bag on my shoulder. "I fucked up. A lot. But I've done my goddamn penance, Mark. You left your job of your own accord. I won't allow you to come up here and screw up the life I've pulled together. I worked hard to get myself together and—"

"Fuck you, Lucy." He rose from his seat. I hated that I had to tilt my head back to keep meeting his stony gaze with my glare. "And I didn't work hard to get into that firm? To make those connections? To please my father?"

"I thought you didn't leave just because of me," I spat.

He took a step closer. "I didn't. But don't fucking think that absolves you."

"I'm going back to work. I think it's in both of our best interests if you go back to your home." I turned around but Mark grabbed my arm. I spun around to scream at him, or curse, or even smack him.

He stopped me by restraining both of my arms and tugging me closer to kiss me. It was strange, but there was a hint of that bizarre chemistry that always crackled between us. I tore myself away, wide-eyed and terrified, and watched him pant.

There was nothing more I could think of to say, and after that kiss any semblance of thought was wiped away.

I only knew how to run away, and that's exactly what I did.

***********

The only person I could talk to about this was Shari, and she had enough on her plate as it was. My mother obviously knew he was in town since he first showed up at her house to find out where I was, and she'd left me ten different voicemails, each more frantic than the last.

She picked up on the first ring. "Lucy, are you okay? I didn't want to tell him where you were because I didn't know what he was going to do and you know how I watch my crime shows but—"

"Mom, it's okay." I took a deep breath. "We talked."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine." Randy gave me a look as he trimmed some roses. "Look, I'll call you when I get off work. Shari is in labor so I'm heading there after, okay?"

"Be careful."

"Talk to you later," I said, ending the call.

There was a moment of silence but I knew Randy was going to start.

"Whew," Randy whistled a second later. "Was that your ex before?"

"Yep." I busied myself by flipping through request orders.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly," I said, putting effort into making my voice cheery.

Randy put down his clippers and sidled up next to me. I sighed heavily and gave him a side-glance. "Honestly, Randy, if I talk about it I will fall apart."

"I cheated on all three of my wives. Know why?"

I groaned and slipped away, grabbing the broom to give the floor a sweep.

"I cheated on them," he continued, "because there was a hole inside me. I was fucked up. Drinking, hanging out with the guys, being immature. And you know what's really fucked, Luce?"

"Randy..."

"They were all great women. Fine women. Better than I deserved, even if I hadn't been a wild, cheating boar." He stroked his beard, reminiscing. "After the third divorce, I thought I'd never marry again. Turns out third time ain't the charm. You know what I did, Lucy? I went to therapy. I'm not too proud to admit it. I made steps to be a better man. I came into the flower shop more often—used to have a miserable old lady running this place, God, she was a fucking disaster—and I stopped hiding behind a bottle of rum and I didn't fuck the next willing girl I met. I took a breather." He grinned. "Then I met Claudine."

I stopped sweeping and rested against the wall. "Claudine is awesome."

"I don't deserve her, but I don't let that shit get in the way of knowing a good thing when I see it. Crazy girl wants to marry me. I told her, when she first started bringing it up, that hell no, marriage ruins everything. But that girl wants it, and I love her. For the first time in my life, I'm not going to be selfish and stupid. I know what marriage is. And I'm gonna marry her."

"Randy, you're getting married?"

His cheeks were red and his smile was large. "Yup! But I'm telling you all this for a reason. At some point, baby girl, you gotta let go of the past. I was a dog to my other wives. When I got my shit in order, I went back to all three and apologized. Two were touched and they forgave me. The third wouldn't even let me explain. The guilt burned in my gut for a long time, you better believe it. But at some point you gotta let go. You make your amends, you get forgiven, and you forgive yourself. Don't let that man come back around and make you feel sorry for him and for yourself again. You're a good person and you, just like everybody else, have the right to be happy when you work hard for it. You were doing too good to go down that road, and you are a hell of an assistant. I can't have you going down a depressed spiral, especially with that Whalen wedding coming up. Lord, they're gonna be such pains in the asses."

He didn't pause to let his words sink in, or to give us a moment. He just went back to work. And that's why Randy was a great person

"Speaking of which, I need you to call up that future mother-in-law and break the news that the blushing bride don't want no shitty carnations as the centerpieces, okay? If I talk to that woman one more time, I swear, I'm gonna get a fucking aneurism. Jesus."

He went off into the back, muttering to himself. And I realized that I was miraculously smiling once again.

*************************

I tried not to think about Mark as I drove over to the hospital. The nurse let me into the Labor & Delivery wing. John waited for me outside her door and ushered me in. I said hello to her mother who sat in the corner of the room and then turned my smile on Shari.

She looked pale and her hair was incredibly messy. But she smiled at me, anyway, and thanked me when I put her makeup bag and the small bouquet of flowers I brought with me onto her tray.