Chapter 28 Lucy #3
“You tell everyone you’re so open and sex positive,” Marsh adds.
“You make people think you’re this open book, but being open is different than being vulnerable.
And having sex with as many people as you want is different than being intimate.
You keep using the excuse that you’re a sex writer for why people treat you differently.
I think you use that title as a shield…to keep people away. ”
“I am the way I am because I’m not romanticizing my life,” I respond, raising my voice.
“And you think I am?” he says incredulously.
“I live in the reality where relationships are just two people who don’t want to do life alone.
You know what that turns into? Resentment,” I say.
“Cheating. Fights. Wondering ‘what if ?’ when you’re one day feeling stuck with the life you chose.
So yeah, maybe I live my life pretending to be strong and close myself off,” I admit.
“But I read your stories too, Marsh. You write about news because you’re afraid to tell people your own opinion.
You don’t know how to write about yourself, so you write about other people. At least I have a voice.”
There’s a heavy pause between us. Our words are like shots fired between us, the bullets now left empty on the ground. In the distance I can hear the faint sound of the band switching from something upbeat to “The Way You Look Tonight” back where the party is.
“Lucy,” Marsh finally says, “you don’t have to go through life alone.”
“How many times do I have to tell you?” I look at him. “I don’t want that cookie-cutter life, I don’t want professional holiday photos, or kids, or even a wedding. I don’t need any of those things.”
“I don’t need any of those things either,” he says, half his face lit up from the lights in the garden. “But, Lucy, I need you.”
“Well, I don’t need you, Marsh,” I say softly. “Maybe it’s hard to believe, but I don’t need anyone.”
“So, you’re telling me you just want to end this right here, right now?
” he says. “You don’t want to fall asleep on my chest the way you’ve been doing every night?
You don’t want to mute commercials and make up our own dialogue seeing who can make who laugh first?
You don’t want to touch each other anymore?
Kiss each other? You don’t need any of that?
Because I do, Lucy,” he says, not even trying to hide the tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.
“I haven’t been as happy as I’ve been this past month in…
I can’t even remember the last time I was this happy.
You can’t tell me you feel the same way and then choose to ignore it. ”
“Marsh, we had a deal,” I tell him, my voice breaking. “You promised me this wouldn’t be anything I didn’t want it to be.”
“I know,” he says, stepping forward and taking my hands again. “I know.”
“And I didn’t tell you because I want to hurt you,” I say. “I would never want to hurt you, Marsh. I told you because I only know how to be honest with you.”
“I know I’m asking a lot of you,” he says.
“But I’m not asking you for the perfect life or asking you to not have doubts.
Fuck, I know you’ll have doubts every single day.
I don’t want a promise that you won’t want to run in a year or even a week from now.
I just don’t want this to end without trying. ”
I squeeze Marsh’s hands, and his thumbs start to graze my knuckles.
I so want to believe that I could just surrender and say yes, but I can’t.
Maybe I could pretend. If Marsh was someone I didn’t care about, maybe I really could try.
Because what would I have to lose? But looking at him is beginning to feel more impossible as each day goes by.
I can’t look at him and not think of losing him.
“I’ve seen this play out before,” I finally say. “It all ends the same way. Everyone is the same.”
“We’re not like everyone, Lucy. We’ve been nothing but honest from day one and that’s what makes this work.
We get each other in a way no one else does.
We feel safe together.” He smiles faintly.
“You said so yourself, guys never understand your view on sex or why you write about it. That they don’t know why you’re so passionate about your job.
And fuck,” he breathes out. “Lucy, you’re right.
I am a coward. I’m afraid to tell people the truth about what happened…
but I wasn’t afraid to tell you. You’re the only person who sees me, Lucy, the only person I’ve allowed to see me.
We’re not like those ill-fated couples you write about…
” he says but then draws back, peering into my face like he’s been hit with a ton of bricks.
A swirl of anxiety pools in my stomach as I watch his demeanor change in real time.
He knows that he can talk until his face turns blue and it wouldn’t change a thing.
“Or are we?” Marsh’s hands go limp, and he flinches.
“Am I no different than any of those guys on your phone? Is that how you see me? That what we have is just…another story?”
Marshall Oakley doesn’t compare to any man I’ve ever met.
Just the insinuation makes me want to laugh in his face because he’s more of a man than all the trivial dates, hookups, and matches I’ve had in my lifetime combined.
But just because he’s someone special doesn’t mean I think our story will end any differently.
“I’m sorry, Marsh.” I let go of his hands and offer him back his suit jacket.
“Don’t do this,” he says, not budging.
“Marsh, you’re the only person who understands how much my job means to me,” I say. He swallows and it’s like he knows where I’m going with this. “This was always about my career, and I can’t forget that. Please don’t make me forget that.”
We look at each other for five seconds, thirty seconds, maybe even a minute. Everything feels slow and not at all real.
Marsh’s jaw tenses as he takes his jacket from my hands. His mouth falls open, his eyes dark and hurt, and I wait for him to say something. He just presses his lips together and swallows.
“I’m going to get my stuff from our room and get a ride back to LA.” I look at him. “Please don’t come after me.”
“No, uh…” He pulls out his keys from his pocket and removes a key from the ring. “Take the car.” He passes me the key fob to his Bronco. “Drop it off at my house, get a ride from my place instead.”
I force myself to swallow. “What about this?” I hold his car key in my hand.
“Leave it with security at work on Monday. I’ll get it.”
“Thank you, Marsh.” I start walking back to the hotel.
“You may not think so, but you have a lot of love to give, Lucy,” he says behind me. I stop in my tracks but don’t turn around. “It’s chaotic…and beautiful…and real. I hope one day you find someone who deserves to receive it.”
I look over my shoulder and catch Marsh quickly wiping the corner of his eye. The image of him standing by himself in the middle of the lit garden instantly embosses itself into my memories.
“You’ll find someone else, Marsh,” I say. “People always do.”
I continue toward the hotel feeling like I lost everything important to me, but at least my job is still mine.
At least my heart is still mine.