My Body-His Marcello (9 page)

I knew Christian
would come into the bathroom with my things but I rationalized that
he had already seen me naked so it wouldn’t be anything new for
him.

I stripped out of
my clothes and stepped into the hot stream of water. It soothed my
soul as it loosened my tight muscles. I let the warm water cascade
over my head and back, easing the stiffness.

I could hear
Christian enter the bathroom and place my backpack on the floor. He
pulled aside the curtain and said, “Your stuff ...” He stopped and
started again, “Is that what Janice did to you? It looks mostly
healed.”

“
Yes.”
I flinched at his proximity. It seems odd in retrospect, given that
I had strolled naked in front of some fifty people at the wedding,
but it was different having just one man viewing me unclothed. The
way he looked at me felt intrusive—not unlike Marcello’s hungry
regard.

He reached out to
touch my back and I lurched away. “Please leave,” I
said.

“
I’ve
seen you naked before, Jane. I’ve even touched you before and I
definitely felt mutual attraction between us.”

“
That
is all true but the circumstances have changed. I’m still trying to
make sense of my life and have no interest in jumping into
something else.”

“
Hmmm.
Okay, I see.” He jerked the curtain shut and left the
bathroom.

“
What
the hell was that about,” I said to myself. I crouched down in the
tub and pulled my bag closer to the side of the shower. I took out
my toiletries and quickly finished washing myself.

Christian had
made up the couch in my absence. I lay down, pulled the blanket
over me and quickly fell asleep.

I dreamt I stood
in a black vault. There was an odd odor I couldn’t quite identify.
I had the sense that the room was spacious but I couldn’t be sure.
I felt around in front of me, trying to make out where the room
ended. My shins hit the edge of something hard. I reached down and
ran my fingers over a metal-framed cot. Moving slowly and
carefully, I lowered myself onto the mattress and lay down. I kept
my eyes wide open, hoping to detect a shred of light. The darkness
proved absolute. When I awoke from the dream it remained vivid but
I had no idea what it meant.

I lay there for a
while as my current circumstances flooded back. What would I do?
Christian’s hospitality would come at a price; he had made that
clear. I didn’t want to get up but I knew I needed to make things
happen ASAP. First I needed a place to stay. Finding a job would
have to take second place. As I pondered the weight of my ruined
world, Christian came in through the back and said, “Good
morning.”

“
How
did you sleep?” I said, pulling up the blanket to cover
me.

“
Fine,
and you?” he said.

“
I
slept hard. I’m trying to motivate myself to tackle all that needs
to be done today. I have to find a place to live. I want to swing
by the house and get more of my things and then get a job. Not too
much to tackle in a day,” I said, trying to manage a
smile.

“
Well
you are free to stay here if you like and work on getting a job
first.”

“
Thank
you,” I said. “Going to swing by the house and get my cellphone and
more clothes. I should be gone most of the day.”

“
Okay
then, I’ll catch you later. Here’s my card if you need to
call.”

“
I
really appreciate you putting me up.”

“
Well,
yeah, okay. I need to get out into the shop and unload some
boxes.”

I quickly
dressed, gathered up all my belongings, and left through the back
door.

I trudged back to
our beach home. Sticking my house key in the lock, I couldn’t make
it turn. I was shocked. I couldn’t fathom how Luke had found the
time to have the locks changed before he left. I circled around and
tried the French doors, also locked. Sitting on the stoop in front
of the door, I held my head in my hands. What the hell was I going
to do now? I had to add buying a new cellphone to the
list.

On a whim I
decided to swing around the house and see if I could find an
unlocked window.

The window on the
back wall of my writing room was somewhat accessible. I found it
latched
.
Like the
other
s
in the house,
it was
double-paned, with a lock mechanism
on the top of the bottom pane. I pulled up on several windows,
hoping one would budge. Using a nail file out of my backpack, I
tried to jimmy my writing room window and get it to dislodge, but
that proved futile.

I needed to be
able to raise myself up enough to get through. Not wanting to break
any glass, I was at a loss as to how to get it to open otherwise.
Giving in, I stepped out onto the beach and found a few large and
small stones. I hauled them to the window. Then it occurred to me
that I could use one of the chairs out back so I carried that
around to the side of the house. Standing back from the window, I
took a small stone and hurled it. The rock cracked the window but
bounced off. I picked up a larger stone and threw it like a
shot-put. It cracked the window a bit more, leaving a small
hole.

Taking a shirt
out of my bag, I wrapped it around my hand and forearm. I knocked
the remaining glass out of the pane and into the room. On the final
piece of glass I managed to cut a gash in the top of my
hand.

“
Oh
crap,” I said out loud.

I tore a piece
out of the shirt and wrapped it tightly around my hand. When I
heard a car passing by, I quickly crouched out of view. I prayed
they didn’t see the broken window because the last thing I needed
was the police showing up.

With
the chair next to the window,
I moved my upper body through the frame and used my good hand to
stabilize myself. With my wrapped hand I shoved the remaining glass
off the desk.

“
Damn!” I said, realizing that my backpack still lay on the
ground.

I stepped off the
chair, took my computer out and tossed my backpack through the
window. I wasn’t sure what to do with my laptop. I decided to place
it on the desk and try to maneuver over it. Hanging my upper body
for the most part inside the
house,
I lowered the computer onto the floor. Then I
shimmied onto the desk, pulling my legs through the window and
lowering myself carefully onto the glass covered floor.

“
What
a pain,” I said.

Before I attended
to my hand I checked all the doors. Every lock had been changed to
the kind that requires a key on both sides to open. He
really
didn’t want me back inside the house.

In our bedroom,
my suitcase still sat where I had left it. I went to the bathroom
and cleansed my cut. Fortunately it was small enough to cover with
a Band-Aid.

I swept up the
glass in my office and hung a pillow case to cover the window.
Retrieving my cellphone from its charger, I saw no calls or
messages. That’s when I realized how much hope I had invested in
finding a message from Luke. The disappointment seized me in a hot
rush of desolation.

I scoured the
drawers in the kitchen for a key to the doors but found none. Good
to his word, Luke had put a lock on his office studio as
well.

I contemplated
leaving the house and going out to find a place to live and a new
job, but our bed looked so inviting I climbed into it fully dressed
and brought his pillow to my face. Breathing in Luke’s smell, I
decided tomorrow would be soon enough to tackle
everything.

After dozing for
a bit, I retrieved my computer and climbed back into bed. It
occurred to me he might have sent me an email. My excitement built
as I waited for the computer to load up. My shoulders slumped as I
saw that like my phone, my mailbox was empty. I decided to email
him anyway.

To:
[email protected]

From:
[email protected]

Subject: I’m
sorry …

Dearest
Luke,

There is no
doubt I should have been honest that day we first came to the beach
house. I so wanted to tell you everything but the idea that you
would take back your proposal or worse, never want to see me again,
left me scared to confess the stupid things I had done in your
office.

I instantly
regretted my actions and not just because I messed up the files. I
wanted to learn about you and feel closer to you but of course
snooping never really accomplishes that. The saddest part is that
we had gotten past that stage, had grown so much closer, and now I
have screwed it up.

Is there no way
you could come up with a different punishment? You can’t really
want me to be at Marcello’s. Please?
Anything
else. I’ll do
it.

I hope your trip
is going well in Japan and I miss you horribly.

Come back to
me,

Jane

I hit send
without even rereading.

* * *

The week flew by.
My cellphone remained silent and my email box empty. I made one
call to Christian telling him I had found a place to stay. I didn’t
have to field any calls from my mother or friends, who all assumed
Luke and I were busy basking in our marital bliss.

I climbed in and
out of the window a few times to buy groceries. I exercised on the
treadmill when I could summon the energy. Often I just sat on the
couch by the window starring out at the nothingness. Every day I
promised myself I would get myself together and get out of the bed
or off the couch and make some new life plans, but every day I
found it too easy to think, “There’s another day.” After the first
day I went back to what had become my normal state of
nakedness.

At the end of the
week I decided to clean up the house and get ready for Luke’s
return. I wasn’t sure of the exact time he would be home but I
assumed tomorrow on his usual a.m. flight. Amazingly, I never
considered what I’d say once I saw him. I rehearsed no apology
outside of what I wrote in the email and didn’t even think about
what I’d have to go through to make it up to him. In my profound
state of denial it was so much easier to just think,
He’s away
again and will be back soon
.

After
straightening up, I decided to drive his car into town to buy
breakfast supplies for his homecoming. I never considered the
possibility that he wouldn’t take me back.

What
did
end up happening to me was beyond the powers of my imagination at
that time.

I dressed in the
bedroom and strode across the hall to my writing room. I pulled
back the pillow case and threw out my backpack ahead of me. As I
had done all week, I climbed through the window and bounded around
to Luke’s car.

“
Hands
up,” a policeman said. He scared me practically to death. I dropped
my backpack and threw my hands in the air.

“
What
are you doing climbing out of Mr. Hall’s house?”

“
I’m
Mrs. Hall.” I stood still, scared to move.

“
Why
would Mrs. Hall need to climb out the window?” he said. The
intensity of his eye contact made me afraid he might use his
gun.

“
We
got into a fight and he changed the locks. He’s in Japan and I
couldn’t reach him.” I kept my hands in the air, slightly
shaking.

His demeanor
changed and he lowered the gun. He must have decided I wasn’t
dangerous.

“
I
have to take you down and verify your story.” He waved me over to
him.

I dropped my
arms, swung my backpack up on my shoulder, and stepped toward him
as he read me my rights. I held my wrists out to him so he could
cuff me.

“
That
won’t be necessary,” he said, opening the back door to let me
in.

I’d thought being
whipped in front of a group of people had brought me to my all-time
low but my journey of degradation continued to prove me wrong. I
had never felt so mortified in my life. I kept my head down, hoping
no one would see me riding in the back of the squad car.

Once we arrived
at the Hollywood police station, they booked me and shoved me into
a cell with two women I thought might be prostitutes. They checked
me out and both made disgusted faces, which I found funny. I was on
the verge of hysteria but held my laughter in. I knew if I started
laughing, I wouldn’t stop. The two ladies of the night ignored me
and continued their conversation as if I didn’t exist.

I couldn’t fathom
how my life had gotten to this place in a matter of months. I wish
I could express the psychological scourging I experienced as they
fingerprinted me and made me pose for mug shots. On the edge of a
breakdown I realized how being photographed had taken on a
completely new meaning for me.
How does one recover from
this?
I thought.

I understood
Janice in that moment better than I ever had. For the first time I
thought, Maybe he won’t take me back and where will I be then? How
can I go on another minute knowing I’d be alone again? How can I go
on living without the man who filled me, captured me, and freed
me?