Chapter 4
Before entering the house, I spend a good deal of time steeling myself to face Isaac...which is why I'm quite disappointed to find out that he's not home.
On the plus side, all of this mysterious Arianna's things are cleared out of my home, I reflect after tossing my duffel bag on the floor next to the door and doing a once-over of the house, top and bottom.
Isaac has been very conscientious, indeed, in tidying up the house so that his dear, exhausted wife won't have to.
Or so he would doubtlessly have me believe.
Unfortunately, love, adultery only has those kinds of fringe benefits when you wife doesn't know about it.
I slog exhaustedly to the kitchen and fill our kettle with water. Although tea isn't as good as, say, perhaps whiskey, it is the best I can manage right now, if I don't want Isaac to demand in concerned anger exactly why I am reeking of alcohol.
'Speaking of reeking,' I think to myself, gagging as I catch a whiff of that beautiful flowery scent from yesterday.
Of course, by now it is barely more than a hint, not nearly so thick as yesterday. Faint enough that one would never notice it unless they were looking for it. Or a dog. And although the way that Isaac spoke of Madelynne Donia after she left that day leads me to believe that Arianna Harland, her fabulous figure, her fat wallet, and her empty head are hearing all about what a bitch I am, I am not a dog, and thus am helpless to bring up the scent of the perfume to my husband. Too bad. It would have been fun to ask him playfully if he'd taken to wearing it himself and watch him blush and squirm, replying in outrage that of course he hasn't.
Flopping against the kitchen counter to wait for the water to come to a boil, I glance idly out the window.
Hold on.
Something's different.
What happened to the gaping hole in the window?
Well. I suppose this is a true sign that one's life has gone completely and utterly insane. When the lack of gaping holes in one's kitchen window indicates that something is wrong, it must be time to skip town and start a new life as a circus acrobat.
For a moment, I amuse myself with images of running away to join the circus, and Isaac coming after me in the self-righteous anger of an abandoned husband. I would, of course, refuse to come back. I wouldn't tell him why; I would just refuse. When he asked, I would just say that Truce had plenty of part-time mechanics, and no town really benefited from a real, honest-to-God mad scientist in its midst.
'But, Lucca, I don't have plenty of wives,' he would murmur huskily against my hair, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around me. 'I need you.'
From here, I would have the choice of simply playing along and letting what fun might happen, happen – after all, in my fantasy, I look damn good in the little skin-tight, rhinestone-studded black acrobat outfit, and he, dressed for some reason in a flowing pirate shirt with his hair longer than usual and just a little bit of stubble and looking truly delectable himself, is utterly in awe – or shoving him into a pile of elephant dung and remarking that he might want to tell that to Arianna Harland.
As I gag again at another faint whiff of the perfume, I decide heartlessly that it would be the latter. Startled, I finally notice the tears trickling from the corners of my eyes. Definitely, the latter.
A shrill whistle interrupts my maudlin little moment.
Ah, the water's finally boiled.
I take the kettle off the stove and fill my own favourite sturdy brown teacup – my favourite mostly because the damn thing could be hit full-on by a flare spell and not get a chip – with steaming water and watch moodily as swirls of dark colour emerge from the teabag.
The next moment, I bolt from my chair, startled, by a repeated thudding sound. It takes my muddled brain several seconds to realize that this means that someone is probably standing on our front step, waiting impatiently to be let in.
By the time I climb to my feet, cursing all midday visitors violently, and start to the front entry, a shrill, worried voice has joined the pounding.
"Lucca? Are you in there? Open the door, Lucca!"
Oh, God. I think I'll just go upstairs and pretend I'm out or dead or something.
I'd recognize Marle's voice anywhere.
Unfortunately, by the time I decide that I'd be better off just ignoring the door, I've gotten close enough that she's definitely heard footsteps.
Shoulders sagging dejectedly, I open the front door.
Now, as a sidebar, please don't get me wrong. I love Marle ordinarily. Well, I like Marle ordinarily. She's fun, if you're not trying to focus on something particularly meticulous. Her steady stream of chatter about the many blessings of life is hilarious most of the time.
Today, though, I'm feeling just selfish enough that one mention of the world's being wonderful place might just put me over the edge.
However, as I've said, it's too late, as the second the door is open, a pink-clad, blonde-haired fury hurls herself at me.
"Lucca," Marle gasps, looking me in the eyes. I'm startled to see tears in hers. "Crono told me what happened. I came as soon as I could. Crono's waiting outside. He says he'll go away and pick me up later if you'd rather not have any guys around right now."
"Don't be silly, Marle," I sigh, waving Crono, who is waiting at the gate with their horse, carriage, and driver, into the house. "But really, I'm fine now. You didn't have to come at all."
Instantly, I cringe inwardly at my own words. How exactly am I fine? The last thing I want is to be alone now, and the first people I think I'd like to be with now are Crono and Marle.
However, as Marle glares sternly at me, it is immediately obvious that she doesn't believe my pathetic profession to be fine as far as she could spit the Epoch.
"No, YOU don't be silly, Lucca. We are NOT letting you be alone. So just step aside and let us in so we can make you feel better before I pound you!" Then her expression brightens as she seems to notice the lumpy brown parcel in Crono's grasp. "Oh! And I picked up a big, gooey chocolate cake on the way. We were going to bring alcohol, but I'm a violent drunk."
"So am I," I murmur as I motion for Crono to set the cake down on the kitchen counter.
Both immediately wheel on me.
"What?" Marle demands, expression and tone filled with baffled amusement.
So, hesitantly, I tell them of my drunken escapades. Once again, I leave out the bit about sobbing on the landing. Marle as a fellow woman, and Crono as my best friend, can assume that part. And if they don't, so much the better.
As I reach the bit that includes all manner of petty vandalism and some not so petty, I glance sharply up at Crono and Marle. Marle seems to be trying very hard to look horrified enough to mask her delight. Crono makes no such effort and simply looks delighted.
"Good for you, kid," he beams. "But I don't get why you didn't just go in and confront them."
I shake my head. First Magus, now Crono! These men! They don't understand anything, do they?
"Yeah, Lucca," Marle agrees thoughtfully. "You should have just gone in and ripped them both into zillions of pieces."
Okay...maybe these women don't understand anything, either.
"Guys," I begin slowly with a heavy sigh, dragging three plates from our kitchen cabinets with a good deal of unnecessary racket. Somehow, hearing things clatter makes me feel a little better. "Is having an affair technically illegal?"
"No," Marle admits grudgingly, already seeing where I am going with this.
Crono, however, still looks bewildered.
"Well, no it's not, but it's still a horrible thing to do!"
"That's nice, Crono," I say dryly, patting him on the head. "Now. Is vandalism technically illegal?"
"Yes," Marle sighs, scooping an enormous chunk of cake from the box to one of the plates and slapping it down on the table in front of me. It's nice to be thought of first...
"Oh, right," Crono says gloomily, dropping into the chair across from mine. He shakes his head. "Still..."
"That's why I took the Epoch, Crono. I didn't want Isaac and Blondie to put two and two together. Enraged wife plus Jack Daniels equals property damage, after all."
Crono laughs slightly.
"Yeah, I guess you're better off keeping it from him right now. But you can still leave him, right?"
My silence at this is definitely not what either of them want to hear. Before I know what's happening, they've both bolted from their chairs, and they're shouting at me streams of incoherent garble that I think has something to do with the fact that I've got to be insane to consider staying with Isaac.
C'mon, guys. I am a mad scientist, after all. We're all entitled to be a little crazy.
"Dammit, Lucca! Think for a minute! This isn't going to stop!" Marle shouts directly at me, grabbing my shoulders, dragging me from my chair, and giving me a little shake. I have no time to be shocked at Marle uttering an actual, honest-to-God swearword, let alone to prepare for this assault, and my impact with the table as I'm being dragged from my chair bumps my plate and slice of Death by Chocolate to the kitchen floor.
"You're cleaning that up, you know," I inform her coolly, trying to disentangle myself from her grip. Marle, however, is not to be deterred. Her tone softening considerably, she continues.
"Lucca, please. Don't let this happen to you. I'm so sorry you had to find out about Isaac this way, but now that you know, please get out while you can. The longer you wait, the harder it'll be, and I don't want to see you destroying your life with him."
I long to utter some flippant smart-ass comment – my typical reaction when drama gets too close for comfort, if one doesn't count hiding behind business-like cool or plain and simple bravado – but none of these three faithful friends will come, and I'm horrified to find my body wracked with sobs yet again.
Damn.
I used to be level-headed.
Of course, once I start crying, it will take an entire legion of men with crowbars to pry Marle from me, and I'm neither a legion, a man, or any of the above with a crowbar, so I lean weakly against her – more weakly than I'll ever admit again – and let her pat my hair soothingly while Crono hovers uncomfortably in the background.
I don't think the poor boy's ever seen me break down like this.
Hell, it's been a long time since I've seen me break down like this.
Eventually, my tears slow to a trickle, and I sniffle bravely and even more bravely lift my head from Marle's shoulder and endeavour to stand on my own.
"I guess you know," I manage to croak with a trace of humour in my voice, "that I'm going to do everything I can to make Isaac's life miserable until he comes clean."
Marle, her eyes as red and swollen as mine by now, shoots me a slightly disapproving look.
"I really don't think this is the best way to handle it."
"She's right, Lucca," Crono adds from the kitchen table, where he has long since finished clearing up the chaos left by two crying women. Now, there's a line for the ages... "Isaac's scum. We all know that now. I don't see how you're going to make yourself feel better by sticking around, even if you're making him miserable."
"You don't understand, guys," I sigh, dropping back into my own chair and leaning my head on my hand. "You may know Isaac, Crono, but not like I do. I can't tell him I konw. And no, it isn't because I'm worried about being arrested for vandalism. It's because I know he won't come clean if I just outright confront him. He'll either say he doesn't know what he's talking about and be all outraged because I'm accusing him of something, or he'll give me some crap about how it'll never happen again. I-I guess I want to see if I mean enough to him that he can just be honest with me."
"I know how you feel," Crono assures me softly, taking my hand in a comforting gesture. "But he won't come clean. You're not going to turn him into an honest guy just by staying with him and pretending you don't know anything.
"But what if nothing else happens after this?" I protest desperately, the words ringing as false in my own ears as they must in Crono's and Marle's. "I could be throwing away my marriage just because Isaac made a mistake!"
"I think you know that's not the case," Marle said softly. "You know that you have every reason to expect this to happen again."
"I'm still going to wait," I tell them both firmly, looking down at my hands with set lips, knowing ridiculously that I must be the spit-and-image of my grandmother right now. Her mule-like stubbornness, or "strength of will" if you feel like being generous, skipped a generation: my mother, and landed on me with twice the impact. This is partly why I never took long trips to Grandma's as a child during the summer without Mommy and Daddy: as Dad always said laughingly, they could never be sure that the house would still be there when they came to get me with us two stubborn, stubborn girls clashing for an extended period of time.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Crono and Marle exchanging pained, helpless looks. They know they've lost.
Good.
Unfortunately, I can practically read "for now" in Marle's expression.
This certainly won't be the end of the argument. They will stay very much involved.
All but a small, stupid part of me is relieved.
I really didn't want to go through this alone.
And so, once they've bid me goodbye, Marle promising for both of them that they will be back to see me again soon, I finally get around to drinking my tea, which is so strong by now that it could stand up on its own.
Sitting at the kitchen table, teacup thus in hand, I wait patiently for Isaac to return for lunch. As I wait, I map out in my head exactly what I will say, exactly how I will trap him.
God. Why do I feel like I'm leading both of us to the executioner's block?