Page 24 of Raise The Bar
That’s odd. Stella was my last appointment.
I go to investigate, but don’t make it past the door frame. I stare at the last person I expect to see. The last person I want to see.
“Hello, Maggie.”
Chapter 14
Maggie
What are you doing here?
“It’s really good to see you.” Mark’s low, steady voice is as familiar as it is unwelcome. His mere presence in the room makes me feel like there isn’t enough oxygen to go around.
What are you doing here?
“You look great,” he says, taking a step toward me. Confident. Cocky. He acts like he owns the room and everything in it, including me.
What are you doing here?
“Was that your last client of the day? Are you hungry?” Another step in my direction. I take a deep inhale through my nose and regret it immediately. The familiar smell of his cologne floods my head and my stomach sours.
“What are you doing here?” Finally the words come out of my mouth. The sound of my voice creates an odd echo in my ears. We’re standing about eight feet apart, but I’d feel better if it were ten. Or ten thousand.
He looks the same and yet different. His dark hair is still cut short and the suit he’s wearing suggests he’s come straight from his job at the bank. The way he fills out the suit tells me that he’s maintained the rigorous workout plan that he treated like a religion. To the unknowing eye, he’s exactly the same, but I lived with the man for years and something in the way he’s holding himself feels foreign.
He sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “I miss you.”
No. No. Nope.We’ve done this dance before. The song sucked and it ended several months ago. The constant texts and phone calls. The blame, the anger, the belittling. The thought of going back to any of that makes me want to scream until my lungs give out.
“Nothing has changed, Mark.” I fight to keep out a tremble that threatens to overpower my voice.
“You’re wrong.” He takes another step closer, but this time I take a step back to maintain our distance. He appears to get the message and doesn’t come any closer. “So much has changed, Maggie. I’ve been seeing a therapist and he’s helped me so much.”
The words sound so preposterous that my brain takes a few moments to absorb them. I can’t picture Mark sitting across from another man talking about his feelings. The number of times I tried to get him to open up to me only to be dismissed with borderline hostility are too many to count.
I know that Mark didn’t have an easy childhood. After his mother died it was just him and his father, who was about as closed off as Mark was. I sat through many dinners with the two of them where they barely spoke to one another, and when they did, it was something about the weather we were having or the Celtics.
“That’s great,” I say honestly. “Talking to the right person can be really helpful and I’m happy for you. But I’m still not sure why you’re here.”
“I’m here because I want us to work things out. It won’t be like it was before. I want you to come home.” His eyes are pleading and his words seem so sincere. If I’m honest, this approach to win me back may have worked several months ago. I would have wanted to believe him. I may have weighed what he was offering me against the stress and hardship of leaving our relationship, our home. Back then, he was telling me to come home, not asking. At that time everything was my fault, or Betty’s fault, but certainly not his.
But that felt like a lifetime ago and I am a different person. A stronger person. I don’t want the same things I did then and I will not settle for less than I’m worth.
“I’m really glad that you’re seeing a therapist, I truly am.” My anger may have lessened, but it’s still very much there, just below my surface ready to pounce if needed. “But I don’t see a way to fix what we had, and honestly I wouldn’t want to. I’ve moved on and you need to do the same.” I hold my breath and wait for the explosion, but it never comes. Mark watches me stone faced and silent. The only sounds in the room are those of his long, slow breaths and my own rapidly beating heart. I see his jaw flex several times before he speaks.
“It’s okay,” he says finally. “I know I have to prove that I deserve another chance and that is what I’m going to do.”
“Mark, that’s not what I—”
“I’m not giving up on this, Maggie.” His tone is blunt and I can tell that his patience is wearing thin. “I’ve had a long time to think about what I want and all roads always lead back to you. What we had is worth fighting for. It will take work and I’m willing to put in the time and the effort. You’re not there yet, but you will be.” He straightens up and takes another long inhale, pausing before letting it go. “Can I offer you a ride back to Betty’s apartment?”
If being in the same room with him feels stifling, being in the same car with him would be downright suffocating.
“No thank you. I have my own wayhome.” He doesn’t miss the emphasis I put on my final word and responds with a slow nod and a penetrating stare.
“I’ll talk to you soon, Maggie.” And then he’s gone.
I walk to the door and throw the deadbolt as fast as I can. Leaning back against the door I take several deep breaths to calm myself down. His scent still lingers in the air like a bad omen and it makes my skin crawl. I grab my lighter and start lighting every candle in sight, willing the wicks to burn brighter, the waxes to melt faster, releasing their sweet and cleansing fragrances. This is my clinic. My space. My sanctuary. And I need to rid it of more than just his smell, but his energy too.
