Several Months Later…

I keep telling myself over, and over. We're okay, we're okay, we're okay…

I hope to God it's true. Maureen wanted me to fix some stupid thing at her protest, and the engineer hasn't shown up and I don't know what I'm doing! I don't know where Mo is. I have a really bad feeling about it. Shut up, Joanne; stop jumping to the worst conclusion! I poke feebly at some knobby things on the sound board.

I hear the door creak open. I turn, expecting to see the woman I hired, but instead, my eyes are greeted by a skinny white nightmare; Maureen called Mark.

"Ah. You're Joanne?"

"I told her not to call you."

After that lovely bit of bonding, we start to chat.

"I understand, you know," he begins.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"How she makes you feel. Gets under your skin. Makes you want to die."

I refuse to relate to this boy, but that annoying little voice in my head pricks up at his words.

"You're wrong."

"Don't bother, Joanne. She's mangling your heart, I can see it."

"It's different with me!"

"You can't even leave her."

I deflate. He hit a sore spot.

"You might be right…"

I'm scared now. Someone else noticed the treatment, too. The voice is in full control of me now. The optimism section of my brain is out of order.

I voice my deepest fear. "She cheated, didn't she? On you, I mean."

His eyes flash like cold steel, and it unsettles me. "Yeah. Fuckin' cheated."

I feel hollowed out. It would explain her absences, I think. Maureen cheated.

Then, I remember that night in the hospital. I thought he didn't notice me, but now I think I'm wrong. Oh God… he thinks she cheated on him with me.

Then, he goes on to describe all the boys that she used to drool over. I don't know what to think of all of this. This has been one of the most horrible experiences of my life; my trust is gone. I try to push out the voice of doubt, but she's firmly rooted now. Thanks, Mark.

But, I know I can't really blame him. And if it's meant to be, then everything will be okay. That much, I'm very sure of. And despite what I want to do right now, I'm not giving up on her.

"So," Mark cuts into my thoughts, "has she ever called you 'Pookie'?"

I snort. What a ridiculous petname. "No, egghead. That's what she called you."

"I know she did. I think it's what she calls all of her tricks. It's so generic! That way, if she yells it out during sex, she doesn't get in trouble."

"I can't believe you! How could you say that, you asked her to marry her?"

He pales. "She told you?"

"Yes. Now hold your tongue about my girlfriend, or I'll injure you, you scrawny little boy!"

The phone rings. I answer, as Mark inserts the last cord. "We're patched!" I shush him, and bring the phone to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey-

"Honey, we're-

"Pookie!"

"…Pookie? You never call me… forget it. We're patched." I slam the phone down, feeling entirely sick.

Mark smirks at me. I could kill him.

I sit on the floor, and pull my knees to my chest.

We're okay, we're okay, we're okay, we're okay…

And I'll make it that way.

HAHA! So, this is the epilogue. The end, as it were. Or... is it? Okay, okay, that was really bad, I'm sorry. Yes, I'm writing a sequel. I haven't made many decisions about it at this point, so it might be a while coming. In Rissa-Speak, this could be anywhere from three days to three weeks. I thank you all for reviewing and being lovely, or reading and being lovely, or just being lovely in general :D Arrievedernci, for now!