I skipped up the paved driveway to the two-story house in the Wallingford area, relieved when I heard music coming from inside. My steps slowed as I trudged up the porch. I didn’t like visiting Marilyn at her home because I was under the impression her mother didn’t like me much. She never said those exact words, but it was there in the way she looked at me. Whenever I asked Marilyn outright if her mother hated me, she would just laugh and respond, “don’t be silly.”
On the porch, I paused before ringing the doorbell, trying to gather myself in the event it was Miss. Marshall who answered the door and not my girlfriend. I rang the doorbell and shifted from one foot to the other in impatience. I couldn’t wait for Marilyn to open the door so I could confirm she was okay.
I had to press the doorbell several times before I heard the yell from inside, “coming!” My heart sank when the door jerked opened and Miss. Marshall filled the doorway. I swallowed at the narrow stare she leveled at me. She was a beautiful woman in her early forties with strawberry blond hair the same shade as her daughter’s. She looked so much like Marilyn at times that it was scary.
“Yes?” she barked at me.
Her attitude was the exact reason I thought she didn’t like me. I was her daughter’s boyfriend. We had been dating for three years and yet she acted as though I was a stranger. Would she ever stop giving me the cold shoulder and if not, could the relationship between Marilyn and me be sustainable?
“Um, hello Miss. Marshall,” I greeted, trying for a smile but I could feel the limp effort of my lips.
Her mouth pursed in a disapproving line. “How many times must I tell you to call me, Cindy?”
Normally when someone asked you to use their first name, it indicated familiarity and a good rapport. We had none of that between us and I suspected she wanted to be called Cindy because it made her feel young.
“Um, right, Miss Cindy,” I remarked.
“Just Cindy,” she insisted, then turned inside the doorway. “Lyn!” she called behind her and I was relieved that I wouldn’t have to continue speaking to her much longer.
Over her shoulder, Marilyn appeared at the top of the stairs. She froze when she saw me.
“What are you doing here?” she asked in surprise.
The dismay in her voice, more than her question puzzled me. I paused, trying to figure out what was going on. I felt I was missing something.
“Can we talk outside?” I enquired, not feeling welcomed enough to enter the house- not that her mother invited me in anyway.
“There’s nothing left to talk about, Travis,” she remarked. “I said everything I had to in that text.”
“What text?” I asked, bewildered and conscious that her mother was still there. “Please, talk to me, Marilyn.”
She sighed as if she couldn’t be bothered but trudged down the stairs with reluctance. I went taut all over, terrified by her body language. Something was horribly wrong.
She stepped outside the house and closed the door behind her. Once we were alone, I tried to pull her into my arms but she resisted. My heart pounded in my chest.
“What do you want, Travis?” she demanded, looking as though I was bothering her. “I’m busy.”
“You were supposed to be busy with me,” I reminded her.
“Didn’t you see the message I sent you?”
“What message?”
She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Look, you need to go check your phone, okay?”
When she made to move towards the door, I grasped her by the arm to halt her. “No,” I refused to leave it at this. “Whatever you sent to my phone, you can say it to my face.”
“God! Why do you have to make this so difficult!” she cried, frustrated. “I was trying to do this the easy way.”
“Do what?”
“Break up with you!” she exclaimed. “I sent you a text message that what we have isn’t going to work anymore.”
Stunned, I stared at her, the ring box burning a hole in my pocket, reminding me just how committed I was to her.
“You’re kidding.” I heard the words from my lips as though from a distance.
“Goodbye, Travis!”
She turned towards the door again but I placed my hand over hers, gripping tight even when she tried to pull away.
“You can’t mean this,” I said softly, my throat hoarse from clogged tears. At first, I wanted to laugh and tell her to quit playing but the look on her face was testament that she was serious. Her wary eyes said she wanted to get away from me.
“Don’t do this, Travis,” she snapped coldly. “Things have not been as good between us. Don’t pretend like you don’t know it.”
“There’s nothing wrong between us!” I objected. “I love you Marilyn. I love so damn much. Just two nights ago-”
“That means nothing,” she remarked, ripping my heart to shreds without care. “I tricked you, okay? I told you it was my first time too but it wasn’t. I faked it. Now leave me alone!”
Shocked, hurt, bewildered and lost, I stared open-mouthed at her. I knew for a fact when we started seeing each other in high school, we both had been untouched. Until two weeks ago, we had both been untouched. At least this was what I thought. To learn otherwise devastated me to the point of tears.
“I don’t care,” I heard the words trip from my lips. “I love you enough to forget about that. I just want you Marilyn. If that’s what you did, we can work this out. Just please, we can’t be over.”
“You’re not the type of guy I want anymore and I don’t love you,” she insisted and finally opened the door to her house, slipping in.
Time passed, with me suspended in disbelief. How could all this have gone bad and why had I never seen the sign that I was losing her? I was losing her! Panic propelled me into motion and I pounded on the door. What would I do without Marilyn? I loved her more than anyone else in this world.
I had everything already planned out. Wasn’t that why I had chosen to stay behind when my dad had moved to South Carolina? To stay close to her? We would graduate from college together, get ourselves jobs, move in with each other, get married and have kids. Our life together was practically written in stone. How could she do this to us?
“Marilyn!” I yelled her name, pounding the door harder. “Please Marilyn, don’t do this!”
“Go away, Travis!’ she yelled back from inside the house.
Her words were shards of glass embedded in my heart and yet I couldn’t leave. If I left, I would be admitting defeat. This couldn’t be the end of us. We had so much promise.
“I’m not leaving like this, Marilyn.” Tears streamed silently down my face but I wouldn’t be deterred. I banged harder.
The door was thrust open and I stopped short to find her mother filling the doorway again. She had an angry look on her face.
“If you don’t leave, I’m going to call the police!” she threatened me.
“I just have to talk to her,” I pleaded.
“And she doesn’t want to talk to you,” she snapped. “You have five seconds to get the hell off my porch or I’ll get the police to come and remove you.”
She slammed the door in my face, leaving me alone with my pain for companion. I stumbled off the porch, my legs weak with sorrow. I dragged them along, considerable effort needed to command one step ahead of the other. I wanted to rush back to the house and bang on the door until Marilyn opened and told me she was sorry. I hurt from knowing she had given herself to someone else but I would have forgiven her. I loved her so much.
I hated that the evening was so cheerful as people bustled on the sidewalk, going about their business, oblivious to my pain. How could everything seem so normal when nothing was?