Chapter 7
"That has got to be Logan," Mary Anne confirmed, almost hysterically. "Oh, what am I going to do?"
"I'll handle this," Ira said in a resolute tone.
He self-assuredly led the way to the door, Mary Anne trailing behind him, wiping her face free of tell-tale tears. Ira swung open the door to reveal a stony-faced Logan.
"Mary Anne," he hissed, oblivious to Ira. "You've been gone for two hours."
Mary Anne transformed into the timid wife that she played the part of. "I. . I'm sorry," she stammered. "I thought you. . you had went to bed."
Ira fixed Logan with a glare. "I invited her in for coffee. Is that alright with you?"
Completely ignoring Ira, Logan went on, "I've been up waiting for you to come home. I wanted to make sure you were safe."
I'm never safe, Mary Anne thought inwardly. "I'm sorry. . .as he said, Ira offered me some coffee, and we talked as. . ." her eyes fell on a stack of homework papers that lay on the end table just inside the door, "as he graded papers."
Logan icily looked Ira up and down as if he had never seen him before. "That's right. . you're a social studies teacher?"
Ira just continued to stare at him.
"Well, Mary Anne, get Larissa and let's go," Logan ordered.
"She's not going anywhere," Ira stated, still watching Logan.
"Excuse me?" Logan scoffed, stepping closer to Ira. Though both were built and obviously strong, Logan had the upper hand for the fact that he was a few inches taller.
The last thing Mary Anne wanted was a fight, so she called for Larissa, whom had just finished watching the movie and was all giggles and smiles. "Are we going home, Mommy?" she asked innocently. Mary Anne nodded, trying to hide her fear, as she took Larissa, whom was calling goodbyes to her playmates, by the hand and stepped outside the door. Logan and Ira were continuing to stare eachother down, when Logan broke the eye contact and roughly took Mary Anne by the elbow. "Let's go," he growled.
Mary Anne felt her fear escalate, for Logan very rarely showcased his anger in public, or in front of other people. "Thank--Thank you," Mary Anne called to Ira, her voice catching as he just continued to stare after them as they retreated to their home. He didn't close the door until well after Logan, Mary Anne and Larissa had disappeared into the confines of their house.
* * * *
The sunlight streamed in through the windows, creating honey-gold patterns across the sky-blue sheets on Mary Anne's bed. The morning beckoned her eyes to flutter open. For a moment, she felt apprehensive, but calmed down when she saw that Logan's side of the bed was empty. He must have left for work.
Slowly sitting up on the side of her bed, she ran a hand through her short chocolate locks--the same hairstyle she had kept since high school. Her mind was a turmoil of what was right, and what was wrong. . .wanting to leave, and wanting to stay. . .her eyes roamed the room, a cheerful motif of sunshine yellow and calm navy blue, and she remembered how excited she was to be having her own house, living with Logan, decorating the house together . . what had happened? She asked herself with subdued sadness. Suddenly, she felt very heavy and bland. . .she didn't want to do a thing, not get up and get Larissa ready for school, or take a shower, or eat breakfast. She just wanted to lay in bed with the covers over her head forever. . .
Her eyes fell on the answering machine that lay on the nighttable beside the bed. The number 2 blinked furiously, impatiently. Suddenly filled with the need to hear another human voice, Mary Anne leaned forward and pressed the play button.
"Hi, Mary Anne, it's your dad," a voice came through the speaker. Mary Anne found herself smiling at her loving father's voice. They had certainly been through their hard times, but she felt that their relationship had blossomed into a great one. "Just calling to check in. How are you all, and when is little Larissa coming to visit me? Call me later. I'll be here."
Mary Anne wished with all of her heart she could tell her father that Logan was just great, we were fine, one big, happy family. But she knew that was a lie.
The answering machine clicked, and a warm, uncertain voice filled her ears. "Hi, Mary Anne? It's Abby. . .Abby Stevenson. Do you remember me?"
With that simple sentence, Mary Anne was whisked back to a time where everything in her life was innocent and beautiful. A time where she spent her lazy afternoons with her best friends in the world. . .what had ever happened to them?
"I am missing you all," Abby went on to say. "I've called everyone in the club, asking them to oblige in a get-together as soon as possible. . .here is my address and phone number, if you are interested. . ."
Mary Anne entertained herself for a bit, wondering how her friends had progressed in life. . .Mallory had to be an author, she decided, with all of her talent and ambition. . .Claudia, an artist. Abby herself. . .a coach maybe? She certainly had a love of sports. . .
She could hear footsteps making their way to her bedroom door, which erased her mind of any remincisent thoughts. At first, she thought that it was Larissa, wanting her hair brushed for school. But it was not her little face that poked through the bedroom door. . but the face of Ira Valenta.
Startled, Mary Anne pulled the covers up around her chin and glanced at the clock, making a note that Larissa had already left for school--Logan had probably got her ready--she had overslept.
Ira was walking closer to Mary Anne, his eyes dark and tremulous. "What are you doing here?" Mary Anne asked in a choked whisper, secretly excited that Ira was here. . .and by the memory of the kiss that they had shared. "If Logan knew. . ."
"I can't stop thinking about you, Mary Anne," he explained in a hushed tone. "That kiss. . ."
Mary Anne's breathing escalated as he stepped closer to her. "We shouldn't be doing this. . ." she said, her voice betraying her words. She longed for another kiss. "And what gives you the right to come barging in on me? I could have been. . " she blushed, ". .not. .decent."
Ira took no notice of her words and stood over her, his face aching inches away from hers. Mary Anne's heart was beating hard, fluttering in her chest. . .and in an explosion of light and colour, their lips met, in a union of hunger and urgency, restless hands and longing to be whole. He pulled away from her, whispering against her soft skin, "Come away with me, Mary Anne. . . I'll protect you. . "
Mary Anne froze with realization of what he was saying, and she pushed him away. "I. .I can't. .what about Larissa?"
"You are putting her in greater danger if you stay here with him!" he retorted.
The flame of passion that they had felt was doused no sooner than it had ignited. "I can't, why can't you understand?" Mary Anne said with frustration.
"You don't understand. You want to leave. But you are too weak!" Ira told her. "You want to leave. . .I can help you, protect you. . "
"I don't even know you!" Mary Anne cried.
There was a silence between the two that Mary Anne could hardly bear. "I wish I could say that I understand you," Ira said with an air of finality, before turning on his heel and leaving her in a heap on her bed, once again, alone.
She sat their for longer than she realized, thinking, fighting back tears. Again her eyes rested on the answering machine, at the blinking number two. She had to get out of here, to be reconnected with innocence. .she had to go see Abby.
"That has got to be Logan," Mary Anne confirmed, almost hysterically. "Oh, what am I going to do?"
"I'll handle this," Ira said in a resolute tone.
He self-assuredly led the way to the door, Mary Anne trailing behind him, wiping her face free of tell-tale tears. Ira swung open the door to reveal a stony-faced Logan.
"Mary Anne," he hissed, oblivious to Ira. "You've been gone for two hours."
Mary Anne transformed into the timid wife that she played the part of. "I. . I'm sorry," she stammered. "I thought you. . you had went to bed."
Ira fixed Logan with a glare. "I invited her in for coffee. Is that alright with you?"
Completely ignoring Ira, Logan went on, "I've been up waiting for you to come home. I wanted to make sure you were safe."
I'm never safe, Mary Anne thought inwardly. "I'm sorry. . .as he said, Ira offered me some coffee, and we talked as. . ." her eyes fell on a stack of homework papers that lay on the end table just inside the door, "as he graded papers."
Logan icily looked Ira up and down as if he had never seen him before. "That's right. . you're a social studies teacher?"
Ira just continued to stare at him.
"Well, Mary Anne, get Larissa and let's go," Logan ordered.
"She's not going anywhere," Ira stated, still watching Logan.
"Excuse me?" Logan scoffed, stepping closer to Ira. Though both were built and obviously strong, Logan had the upper hand for the fact that he was a few inches taller.
The last thing Mary Anne wanted was a fight, so she called for Larissa, whom had just finished watching the movie and was all giggles and smiles. "Are we going home, Mommy?" she asked innocently. Mary Anne nodded, trying to hide her fear, as she took Larissa, whom was calling goodbyes to her playmates, by the hand and stepped outside the door. Logan and Ira were continuing to stare eachother down, when Logan broke the eye contact and roughly took Mary Anne by the elbow. "Let's go," he growled.
Mary Anne felt her fear escalate, for Logan very rarely showcased his anger in public, or in front of other people. "Thank--Thank you," Mary Anne called to Ira, her voice catching as he just continued to stare after them as they retreated to their home. He didn't close the door until well after Logan, Mary Anne and Larissa had disappeared into the confines of their house.
* * * *
The sunlight streamed in through the windows, creating honey-gold patterns across the sky-blue sheets on Mary Anne's bed. The morning beckoned her eyes to flutter open. For a moment, she felt apprehensive, but calmed down when she saw that Logan's side of the bed was empty. He must have left for work.
Slowly sitting up on the side of her bed, she ran a hand through her short chocolate locks--the same hairstyle she had kept since high school. Her mind was a turmoil of what was right, and what was wrong. . .wanting to leave, and wanting to stay. . .her eyes roamed the room, a cheerful motif of sunshine yellow and calm navy blue, and she remembered how excited she was to be having her own house, living with Logan, decorating the house together . . what had happened? She asked herself with subdued sadness. Suddenly, she felt very heavy and bland. . .she didn't want to do a thing, not get up and get Larissa ready for school, or take a shower, or eat breakfast. She just wanted to lay in bed with the covers over her head forever. . .
Her eyes fell on the answering machine that lay on the nighttable beside the bed. The number 2 blinked furiously, impatiently. Suddenly filled with the need to hear another human voice, Mary Anne leaned forward and pressed the play button.
"Hi, Mary Anne, it's your dad," a voice came through the speaker. Mary Anne found herself smiling at her loving father's voice. They had certainly been through their hard times, but she felt that their relationship had blossomed into a great one. "Just calling to check in. How are you all, and when is little Larissa coming to visit me? Call me later. I'll be here."
Mary Anne wished with all of her heart she could tell her father that Logan was just great, we were fine, one big, happy family. But she knew that was a lie.
The answering machine clicked, and a warm, uncertain voice filled her ears. "Hi, Mary Anne? It's Abby. . .Abby Stevenson. Do you remember me?"
With that simple sentence, Mary Anne was whisked back to a time where everything in her life was innocent and beautiful. A time where she spent her lazy afternoons with her best friends in the world. . .what had ever happened to them?
"I am missing you all," Abby went on to say. "I've called everyone in the club, asking them to oblige in a get-together as soon as possible. . .here is my address and phone number, if you are interested. . ."
Mary Anne entertained herself for a bit, wondering how her friends had progressed in life. . .Mallory had to be an author, she decided, with all of her talent and ambition. . .Claudia, an artist. Abby herself. . .a coach maybe? She certainly had a love of sports. . .
She could hear footsteps making their way to her bedroom door, which erased her mind of any remincisent thoughts. At first, she thought that it was Larissa, wanting her hair brushed for school. But it was not her little face that poked through the bedroom door. . but the face of Ira Valenta.
Startled, Mary Anne pulled the covers up around her chin and glanced at the clock, making a note that Larissa had already left for school--Logan had probably got her ready--she had overslept.
Ira was walking closer to Mary Anne, his eyes dark and tremulous. "What are you doing here?" Mary Anne asked in a choked whisper, secretly excited that Ira was here. . .and by the memory of the kiss that they had shared. "If Logan knew. . ."
"I can't stop thinking about you, Mary Anne," he explained in a hushed tone. "That kiss. . ."
Mary Anne's breathing escalated as he stepped closer to her. "We shouldn't be doing this. . ." she said, her voice betraying her words. She longed for another kiss. "And what gives you the right to come barging in on me? I could have been. . " she blushed, ". .not. .decent."
Ira took no notice of her words and stood over her, his face aching inches away from hers. Mary Anne's heart was beating hard, fluttering in her chest. . .and in an explosion of light and colour, their lips met, in a union of hunger and urgency, restless hands and longing to be whole. He pulled away from her, whispering against her soft skin, "Come away with me, Mary Anne. . . I'll protect you. . "
Mary Anne froze with realization of what he was saying, and she pushed him away. "I. .I can't. .what about Larissa?"
"You are putting her in greater danger if you stay here with him!" he retorted.
The flame of passion that they had felt was doused no sooner than it had ignited. "I can't, why can't you understand?" Mary Anne said with frustration.
"You don't understand. You want to leave. But you are too weak!" Ira told her. "You want to leave. . .I can help you, protect you. . "
"I don't even know you!" Mary Anne cried.
There was a silence between the two that Mary Anne could hardly bear. "I wish I could say that I understand you," Ira said with an air of finality, before turning on his heel and leaving her in a heap on her bed, once again, alone.
She sat their for longer than she realized, thinking, fighting back tears. Again her eyes rested on the answering machine, at the blinking number two. She had to get out of here, to be reconnected with innocence. .she had to go see Abby.