Unmaking Marchant

21

MARCHANT

Shit.

I look down at Beauty, and she’s nodding gently. She doesn’t look shocked or disgusted, so that’s good. If anything, her face is softer.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly; my head is still spinning with the shock of saying this aloud. “My mom was bipolar. She had been going through…a rough patch. And she was flying that day. The flight logs say the weather was clear.” I pause because I’m having trouble swallowing. “The plane looked okay, too,” I rasp. “What was left of it… I think that’s the worst thing,” I whisper. “I don’t know for sure if it was…her.”

“Are you saying you don’t know if your mom…crashed on purpose?”

“She had tried it before,” I choke out. I can’t even look at her. It’s been so long since I talked about this; I forgot how hard it is.

I drop Suri’s hand and fix my eyes on the top of the hedges, where they’re trimmed into a perfectly level plane.

Why did I tell her this?

I have only a second to wonder before she wraps her arms around my waist and lays her cheek against my chest.

“Marchant, I’m so sorry.”

She looks up at me, and there’s so much sympathy in her eyes, the shit is fucking brutal. And suddenly I don’t want to see it there. I don’t know if I can bear her understanding.

I don’t return her hug, but she doesn’t let go.

I close my eyes and see Marissa’s face, smiling. She’s sitting beside me on a white porch swing in front of the sorority house on a humid Sunday afternoon. She grabs my hand and looks into my eyes, still wearing her church dress.

“Marchant, I have something to tell you. But you’ve gotta promise not to freak, okay?”

I imagine my dad trusted my mom in much the same way Marissa trusted me. And like my mom, I can’t be trusted. Because I’m not a normal person. I don’t have a right to a relationship.

I step back, prompting Suri to let go of me. My chest feels tight, my head on fire.

“I guess that’s why I turned to drugs,” I lie. I’ve been avoiding outright lying until this point, but now I need it so she doesn’t start drawing conclusions.

“I can understand that that would be really hard to deal with,” Suri says. Then she shakes her head. “Actually I can’t. I’m sorry. I want to be honest. I’m not sure how I would ever deal with that.”

She holds my gaze with hers, her face twisted into—what? Sympathy or pity? I can’t tell. “I don’t think I could ever understand, Marchant, but I can see how you would still struggle with it. How it would lead you to…need some kind of escape.”

I lock my jaw. Unlock it. What’s wrong with her, making excuses for me? Fuck, I’m not even an addict, and she’s acting like it’s just fine if I am.

“My mom was selfish.” That’s the only conclusion I can reach. I look down at Suri, wanting her to understand. Because it’s not just my mom.

“Someone like that shouldn’t have a fucking pilot’s license. They shouldn’t have children. Or a husband. They shouldn’t be allowed to…put other people at risk that way. It’s wrong, and trust me, it leads to nothing but badness.”

Silence meets my words, so standing there, in front of her, I can hear the beating of my heart. I look down at Suri—perfect Suri. She’ll make some guy lucky someday.

“That’s really shitty, Marchant. Really, really shitty that you have to go through this.”

I grit my teeth because I don’t deserve her niceness. I shouldn’t even be walking here with her.

It’s time to put an end to this. My dumb confession. “That’s how I became…what I am, okay? My family. I had a rough time a while back and started…started using again. I’m really fucking sorry for getting you tied up in all my shit. I think my point is I’m selfish, just like my mom.”

And then I disappear around the bend, where I’m alone. The way it should be.

SURI

I give him enough time to collect himself. Then I look for him. Which does not go like I thought it would.

After an hour in the maze, I’m lost and tired. Another half hour and I’ve made it out into the grassy field between the two rows of cottages. It’s a sunny day, with warm, white light splashing through the branches of the huge oak trees. The grass looks so green it almost hurts my eyes.

I think about Marchant’s story as I walk back to his cottage. I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose my parents in that kind of circumstance. It sounds horrible. It definitely gives me more perspective on the Marchant mystery, too.

When I get to the cottage, I find the front door locked, so I walk around to the back. There’s a note taped to the door.

“I am going to punish you.”

I squint down at the handwriting; it’s messy and slanted sideways. I glance around once again for Marchant, wondering if he left the note. It had to be him, right? When he doesn’t jump out of the bushes dressed in all leather, I try the door and find it unlocked.

“Hello?”

It only takes a minute to confirm I’m alone. I tuck the note into my pocket, intending to ask Marchant about it later, and settle on the couch with a copy of The New Yorker.

He walks in the front door. He looks surprised to see me and he doesn’t seem to want to meet my eyes.

He shoves his hands in his pockets and comes to stand a few feet in front of me. “I’m sorry I left you out there. That was a dick move.”

“I walked through the maze a few times. It was really pretty. No big deal.”

“Thanks.” He makes a face that’s kind of an eye roll and rubs a hand over his hair. “Hey, I’ve gotta do some stuff today. You want to talk to Tom before they start with the interior sheetrock?

“Sure.”

He nods once, then leaves the room. I don’t think about the note again until I’m undressing later that afternoon for a shower.

And since I’m thinking of him, I’m not entirely surprised when Marchant slips in after me.

There’s no talking. Just his hands, his mouth, and, when I’m spread out on the warm tile floor with water raining down on me, his cock.

I’m on my third orgasm by the time I’ve acknowledged that I’m wanting something more from him. After our talk inside the maze, I want to be even closer to him.

He’s moving inside me, physically as close as he can get, when he leans down and whispers in my ear: “Why do you do this to me?”

“Why do I do what?” I murmur.

“Why do you make me feel like everything’s okay?”

My heart sends warm fuzz through my whole body. “Because it can be okay.” I kiss his mouth and lift my hips to take him deeper.