Chapter 2
"I just don't understand it, Ellie, we had plans," Marcel Dumont roars with his hands on his hips while shaking his head.
The married couple has been arguing for almost an hour; Ellie has remained calm the entire time, sitting on the sofa with a cushion in her lap while her husband paces like a caged lion around the living room of the house they share.
Marcel is red as a tomato; when he's angry, his face colors making him look like a carrot.
The thought forces Ellie to suppress a smile as she remembers Ruby's comment when Marcel spilled coffee on his expensive Egyptian cotton shirt and it looked like his red hair had spread to his face making him resemble a caricature.
"We talked about this a year ago and everything's still the same," Marcel continues with his complaining. "I don't even see you interested."
Ellie maintains the same position, though she's tired of the same story.
Marcel insisted on becoming a father and told her more than a year ago.
He didn't propose it, they didn't discuss it as a couple; he simply said it was time to expand the family, as if instead of bringing a child into the world, they were going to Mrs. Chen's store to buy a plant for the house.
At that time, Ruby and she had just completed a small renovation of The Early Bayou and customers had received it very well; new coffee lovers arrived attracted by the colorful place and the workload increased.
Ellie didn't have the headspace to think about her husband's plans, besides, being a mother?
She wasn't sure, at least, not with Marcel; if anything, she prefers it with. ..
"Aren't you going to say anything?" Marcel interrupts her thoughts and stops in front of her. Now his ears also have a strange tone and his forehead starts to shine with sweat.
"I don't feel ready yet, Marcel, I've told you several times and that should be more than enough for you," Ellie runs a hand through her hair and discreetly checks the time on her watch. "This year I've had a lot of work, you know that, I've barely been able to rest."
Marcel raises his eyebrows so high they almost meet his hairline.
"I've been busy too, Ellie, but I always have time for you," Ellie doesn't like the direction the conversation is taking because she knows where it will end up. "What kind of marriage do we have if we can't be parents?"
Ellie huffs. She acknowledges that Marcel Dumont is—or was, she doesn't even know anymore—a charming man.
The first thing that attracted her to him was his broad-shouldered build, straight back, and firm hands.
His slightly wavy reddish hair—a family inheritance—and his strong jaw.
He courted her like a gentleman and for a year and a half they lived an idyll.
He got down on one knee one night after dinner at a restaurant in San Francisco and she happily accepted.
Margaret, her mother, immediately got to work and the wedding was beautiful.
A year later, Ellie was bored with her marriage; the spark had disappeared and she felt practically nothing toward Marcel.
She didn't tell anyone, not even her best friend because Ellie didn't want the same thing to happen again.
All her relationships end the same way, and she doesn't know if it's her fault or if no one truly fulfills her.
With Marcel she wanted to try; she was an affectionate, attentive woman and attended all the birthdays or celebrations of each member of her husband's hateful family.
She smiled for photos, went shopping with her sister-in-law, and even went to the spa with her mother-in-law despite preferring a punch in the eye before spending time with that devil fossil.
She tried, she really did, but she failed.
"A modern marriage, Marcel," Ellie counters. "We don't need to have children to be complete."
Marcel opens his eyes as if he'd heard a sacrilege from his wife's mouth.
"I understand you," Ellie continues, "I know you want to be a father, but I think it's very selfish of you to have made that decision on your own.
It's a very important step and when you told me I was clear, it wasn't in my plans, at least not at the moment.
You completely ignored my opinion and all you thought about all day was getting me into bed. "
"Seems like my plan hasn't yielded results because I haven't fucked you in months," the man spits.
Ellie Trahan almost suppresses a gag at the comment. Not because she doesn't like sex, but because of the unpleasant way Marcel said it, as if she were a hole with legs and he a caveman whose only goal is to impregnate her.
She sighs.
"We haven't had time," Ellie responds, exhausted from the argument.
Here it comes; Ellie senses it.
"You seem to have time for your little friend though," a grimace of disgust appears on Marcel's face.
Ellie puts the cushion aside and stands up.
If her husband wants to continue talking, she won't allow it.
She's been listening to his verbal diarrhea for months, his constant complaints; if it's not one thing, it's another.
She doesn't mind hearing his complaints, but there are things she's not willing to tolerate. Never.
"Don't bring her up, damn it," she says and moves away from Marcel to walk to the kitchen. "Don't drag Ruby into our issues; I don't understand your insistence on always bringing her up."
"It's just that Ruby is always there, not..."
"And she always will be," Ellie cuts him off.
"I don't know why you can't understand that once and for all.
She's my best friend, my business partner, and the person who has been by my side my entire life.
She has never said a word about my relationships, has supported me in all of them, and you, Marcel, don't have the right to put her name on your lips. "
Marcel stands still watching how his wife's chest rises and falls rapidly.
He finds it incredible that she always maintains her calm and only loses it when someone complains about Ruby.
He has never understood their relationship and detests that girl who looks at Ellie in a wrong way, not how you look at a friend, and Ellie seems to be blind, she always has been.
"Look, Marcel, we've had a good relationship, but our marriage no longer works," Ellie suddenly fires.
"You want something I don't want and I'm not going to promise you that someday I will.
Besides, we barely see each other. You complain that I spend too much time at the bar, but you never leave your office. "
"Because it's the right thing," the man cuts her off, smoothing the shirt he's wearing as if it had a wrinkle. "What I earn is more than enough for you to stop going to that place."
Ellie Trahan lets out a laugh that leaves Marcel astonished. She shakes her head as the traces of laughter disappear and her green eyes darken like a forest in the middle of the night.
"And that," she points at him angrily, "is another reason why this relationship is dead.
You've become stuck in another era where the woman stays at home raising her children alone while the alpha male brings in the money.
You married someone with a different mindset, Marcel.
I never lied to you, I showed you everything about me and yet you've dedicated yourself to trying to change me.
You've always seen the bar as a hobby and no, it's not.
It has cost us a lot of effort, it's my dream and I'm fulfilling it. "
"To have a family..."
"Stop it already, damn it," this time Ellie raises her voice, tired of the same old song.
"We're not going to have a family; I don't want to have a family with you.
This doesn't work and I've been trying for a long time, but you really can't fix something when we're both pulling in different directions. "
Marcel becomes thoughtful. His expression is one of confusion, as if he doesn't understand what Ellie means.
He knows couples have problems, arguments, or differences, but marriages always get fixed.
His parents have been through a lot and yet his mother has always forgiven his father's indiscretions; she stayed at home raising him and his siblings and, almost forty years later, they're still together. As it should be.
"I'm going to the bar," says Ellie upon seeing that Marcel has remained like a dimwit in the middle of the living room. "When I return, I hope not to see you here. I'm sorry this didn't work out."
Ellie grabs her purse and the keys from the entry table. She understands that she's been abrupt, but she couldn't act any other way. Marcel and his square mind have never understood reason and, if she doesn't end it this way, she'll remain trapped in a marriage that doesn't work.
While driving to the Early, she thinks about her new failure.
Another relationship that ends abruptly, just like that.
It's as if Ellie gets a small battery in her heart when she starts dating a guy and, suddenly, it runs out of energy and desire.
Her mother—who has been married four times—says that a woman should always be accompanied, that life is to be lived as a couple and that, if one doesn't work, you try with another.
But Ellie never feels truly fulfilled; her longest relationship has been with Ruby, her lifelong best friend, and most of the time she feels she doesn't need anything more.
"Shit," Ellie blurts out when she enters the bar and trips over a couple of boxes and, after trying to push them away roughly, she hurts herself.
Ruby, who was crouched down at the refrigerator restocking cold drinks, stands up and approaches her friend quickly.
"What's wrong?" she asks anxiously at the sight of her friend's pained expression.
"I got a pull in my back," Ellie huffs, moving with pain.
Ruby positions herself behind her, raises both hands, and begins to massage Ellie from her neck to the middle of her back.
She has large hands and skillful fingers.
Ellie closes her eyes and almost moans with pleasure because her friend gives the best massages in the universe that also relieve any ailment.
"I don't understand how you're so good at this," Ellie murmurs with her eyes closed, feeling Ruby gently pressing her muscles.
"A girl has her secrets; besides, this is a gift," Ruby responds with her usual cocky tone.
"Why hasn't Marcel learned to give me these massages like you do?"
It's an innocent comment, Ruby knows, but she can't help tensing up.
She wants to tell her that neither Marcel, nor James, nor Jake have loved her the way she does, and that's why their caresses don't feel the same.
Obviously, she doesn't even open her mouth; she settles for what she's had all her life: a friendship with Ellie, seeing her every day at the bar, having her for a few hours all to herself every Wednesday, and being able to touch her this way while feeling her friend melt under her touch.
She sighs; sometimes the weight of years of a secret love is too much for her.