Marked

When the idea of a pickaxe handle-free btb mini-event came up, I rifled through my older stuff and found this flash story. This is a bit different from what I write today, but it fits into the theme rather nicely. Normal service will be resumed on the 2nd of December, when the historical romance event is coming up. Many thanks to the usual suspects for their help.

After glancing at the hallway that led back to the bedroom, I shuffled listlessly towards the front door, expecting nothing good to result from opening it. I also expected nothing bad; nothing noteworthy had been happening recently. Lacking anything else to do, I walked over to it and opened the damn thing.

My surprise was total. There SHE stood. Well, vaguely the SHE I remembered so well. I'm afraid my mouth was gaping open while she just breezed past me into my apartment; the apartment she had abandoned some three months earlier, abandoning me in the process, as well.

I was still stunned as I watched her taking in the slightly changed interior of my abode with a critical and slightly exasperated expression. I looked from her to the dishes on the table, to the hallway again and back to her.

"Well, this has to change, obviously. It's about time that I came back to take things in hand again. Close the door, by the way, will you please?"

"What?" That was all I could think of to say while I complied with her wish. Closing the door really seemed like a good idea, come to think of it, keeping in mind the overly-nosy neighbors. With my brain still empty, I watched her looking around, inspecting her former territory in detail.

"My god, did you choose those cushions?"

"What?" Okay, my answers were still not overly impressive, but what could she have expected? This whole situation was not just surprising, it was bizarre.

"Have you bothered to clean up at all while I was away?"

I looked around. The apartment wasn't dirty, just lived in. The anal neat-freak no longer lived there, so I no longer had to live in a cold antiseptic home.

"My luggage is in my car. We can pick it up later." My brain still hardly worked at all, but I managed to register that she was acting in her usual self-assured way, which didn't seem to be totally appropriate, given the situation.

"Your hair..." I began. Well, it was a change from "What?"

"Yeah, I know. It will grow back in no time." Her hair had always fascinated me to no end. I was a bit shocked to see her with a stylish, but very short haircut. She was not my woman anymore, obviously, but it still hurt to see her without one of her most outstanding features. This was just not right. A crying shame, that was what it was.

"That will take five years at least." At least I was back to full sentences.

"We have plenty of time, honey." What? And what did she just call me?

"Honey?"

"Yeah, I know. You don't have to mention it. I acted strangely for a while there. But now I'm back. Everything is going to be all right." She smiled at me in a pleasant way, as if to reassure a child.

"Seriously?" That was her form of apology?

"Yes, baby." To my horror, she advanced on me and looked like she wanted to kiss me. Who was this woman, and was she totally out of her mind? She must have read my expression correctly because she stopped her advance and looked at me a bit surprised.

"I know, I know. You always liked my hair. But I felt like I needed some change in my life."

"Yeah, I noticed that."

"What? Oh, no, I was just talking about my hair. Otherwise, I want my life back to where it was. That includes you, obviously. Just in case you haven't noticed." She had the audacity to wink at me.

"So, Tom had no say in your new hairstyle?"

She winced very slightly. Anyone else would probably have missed it.

"Tom is in the past for good." Wow, the new love of her life sure didn't last long.

"So?"

"What?"

"So, Tom had no say in your new hairstyle?"

"Why do you keep talking about him? He got fired and blackballed when the Parker contract went missing. He's destroyed; he's in the past. He was a mistake and I've dumped him."

I nodded. I had heard about some of his professional misfortunes.

"Yeah, just like you dumped me."

"I know, but now I'm back for good. This will be sooo good, I just know it, baby."

My eyes were pulled from the hallway back to her. "So, Tom had no say in your new hairstyle?"

She looked a bit indignant at my tenacity, but probably realized she couldn't avoid an answer. Cruel bitch or not, she was not one for lying.

"He might have been in favor of it."

"So, it was his idea?"

"Maybe. I don't remember. What does it matter now?"

"He marked you. Maybe for my benefit, maybe not. But he definitely has marked you."

"Honey, that's not important at all." Her voice was unusually soft. Short hair, friendly voice, almost apologetic, maybe even a bit unsure by now. Standing in front of me was some kind of new version of my ex. She seemed to gather her determination and suddenly started to fiddle with her dress's shoulder strap. What was she doing? She stopped working on her wardrobe, obviously having conceived of an idea, and took her phone from her purse. She fumbled around with it for a while and then my treacherous speakers complied with her will by playing one of her playlists. Of course, she still had full access to everything, after having lived there for years and me being too numb to change any passwords. I guess I was still numb. I watched her strange behavior without commenting at all.

Having arranged some background music, she started to dance. Well, if you could call what she did dancing. She never really was into dancing and avoided it whenever possible. That she tried to do it here spoke a lot about her determination to do whatever it was she was trying to do.

To my utter astonishment, I realized that her weird movements could only be interpreted as her trying to perform some kind of striptease. Really? This woman had always been a bit reserved, refusing to display her sexuality openly. She hated any display of sexual behavior, which she always labeled sexist. Add to that her total inability to move appropriately to any kind of music. That she was about to strip for me told me a lot about a desperation she obviously felt but didn't want to talk about, and which for some reason hadn't led to any kind of apology.

The striptease itself was mildly entertaining. I had always cherished her sharp intellect, her humor, and her personality. Her body wasn't designed to be a centerfold and I never needed it to be. The problem was that her body turned out to be definitely unsuitable for a striptease. She was a bit broad and muscular, completely without elegance. Her movements were jerky and awkward. The whole thing was embarrassing and I had to try not to insult her by laughing. I mean, it would have fully been within my rights to hurt her after what she had done to me, but things like that just weren't me. This was a difficult situation for both of us, and I tried to make it a bit easier by at least looking interested in what she was doing. Her activities had no effect on the blood distribution in my lower body regions, at all.

My interest was piqued as she revealed one of her small boobs while smiling impishly at me. I saw something glistening and moved towards her to see it better. Holy cow. She had her nipple pierced. How had that bastard managed to get her to do that? She had always prided herself in being an independent, no bullshit, liberated woman. She would have cut my dick off just for suggesting something as sexist as this. Luckily, my reproductive organ was never in any real danger as I didn't fancy piercings, anyway. They often just looked cheap and soiled the female breast somehow. Like this one did.

"You like?" she asked, smiling coyly.

"Let me guess, his suggestion again?"

"Come on, why is that important?" She tried to pout, but was so unused to doing it that she failed completely. Her evasive answer told me that I was spot on.

"Just wanted to know. Don't let me disturb you."

She tried unsuccessfully to smile seductively and continued with her strangely stilted and almost pitiful way of getting rid of her clothing. As her unusually sexy panties came into view, something strange caught my eye. It looked like some kind of a smudge on her skin. I moved even closer to her, inspecting the spot with a weirdly detached interest. It looked like a letter peeking out of her undergarment. Yes, it was an "m." Weird. Then it hit me. This was the tail end of a "Tom" tattoo. He had gotten her to have his name tattooed on her pubic mound? Unbelievable. This guy was way out of my league in getting what he wanted from her.

"So let me guess, he's the one who dumped you, right?" Okay, okay, I know. I totally spoiled the last remnant of any erotic mood that might have been present. I wasn't in any such mood anyway, and somehow, I doubted that she was either. Her reaction was total surprise.

"What?" It was nice to not be the only one in this conversation saying that.

"Think about it. He seduced you away from me. He convinced you to coldly dump me and to insult me in front of him. He had you cut your hair because he knew that I loved it. He marked you with a piercing. He marked you with a tattoo with his name on your pubic mound. Then he dumps you and sends you back to me. This might never have been about you. I think he just wanted to defeat me. If I take you back, I will be reminded of what he did for a very long time, possibly forever. Tom and I have hated each other since grade school. The best outcome for him would be for me to take you back and be constantly aware that he was able to take and permanently mark my woman."

"Honey..." to my astonishment she was close to tears now. Amazing, I had rarely seen her being very emotional. I don't think I had ever seen her crying. Endearments like 'honey' were also unheard of, until today.

"Why didn't you even bother to remove the damn tattoo before you came back?" She really looked a bit contrite now, which was also quite unusual.

"I've thought about it. The problem is the color. He chose it, and it turned out to be quite difficult to remove. And I'm afraid that there would be scars. This is a really sensitive area; it would seriously hamper any sexual pleasure if there were scars right there." She was concerned about her own sexual experience. Didn't she think about how seeing this tattoo would affect my sexuality?

"Are you pregnant?" Shocked. She was totally and completely shocked. Then the tears started.

"How did you know?"

"I didn't. I just thought about what else he might do to us. The ultimate defeat would be to force me to raise his child. So, let me guess, after you confirmed that he knocked you up, he dumped you immediately?"

She just nodded while continuing to sob.

"Boy, I wish I had refused that damn promotion and let him have it. He wouldn't have to use you for his revenge. You might not have cheated on me. You might not have left me for him. On the other hand, if he was able to lure you away from me that easily, there couldn't have been that much love between us anyway, right?"

That was a harsh truth. We never had the kind of passionate burning love you read about, but we liked each other a lot and we enjoyed living together. We were like super best friends, with benefits. Tom was an exceptionally handsome man, but I believed that if we really loved each other, he never would have been able to seduce her.

"I... I don't know," she managed to get out between sobs. "But I know that I'd really like to get back to where we were. Really. Please?"

"Well, I guess you could remove that piercing pretty easily." She nodded almost violently.

"And I think your hair will grow back eventually." Again, nodding.

"The tattoo probably could be removed with a laser." She even started to smile while she continued to nod.

"The baby is a problem. That would have to be your decision."

"I will find a solution." Her mood had changed totally. She was almost euphoric now.

"I will stay out of that decision. So, I think all of his traces on your body could be removed."

"Yes. Yes, they can and they will."

"The problem is the traces in my mind."

"What?"

"You coldly dumped me for him. You allowed him to do things with you that you always refused me. I always wanted to have children, but you told me that you weren't ready. For him, you didn't hesitate at all. If I had suggested you modify your body like a porn star, I would have been painfully and instantly turned into a soprano. For him, you didn't hesitate. And I haven't even asked what you did for him in the bedroom."

"Oh."

"Right. 'Oh.' I think he did us a favor."

"What?"

"He brutally demonstrated how weak our relationship was. He showed us how much stronger your feelings were for him than for me. He showed us that we were just continuing what we did because we were used to it, too afraid or comfortable to change anything. And let's be honest, if our old relationship was that weak, what kind of chance would a new one have?"

"Well, I guess..." She looked sad, but composed and resigned to her fate. Meanwhile, she had started to dress again and I was happy to see it. It made things less awkward. Talking about something serious with an almost nude person is somehow wrong.

"I'm sorry." There, I said it. The magical s-word I have never heard her say since she left me. It was strange and telling that I was the one to say it, although I was the aggrieved party. I suddenly realized that she simply was too weak to say she was sorry. Like she was too weak to resist him. And too weak to save us. It didn't matter; we were better off without each other.

"Thank you." Again, I said something she should have said and I really meant it. With today's visit, she had finally removed all the ballast from our old relationship that I had still carried around.

"No, honey, I have to thank you. For hearing me out, for giving me those wonderful years we had. I'm so sorry." It's ironic, but the very last word she ever said to me was the one I'd waited for so long.

With that, she gave me a small peck on the cheek that left me surprisingly unaffected and went to the door to leave my apartment and my life. It felt good.

"Honey, what's that noise?" the sleepy long-maned beauty emerging from the bedroom wanted to know.

"Nothing. Just someone I used to know, my love," I answered just before the door closed.

I hadn't intended for my ex to see this before she left my life forever. My rule had always been not to kick someone already lying on the floor.

"Do you think we can go visit my parents this weekend?" she asked. "I'd really like you to meet them."

"Your... yes, yes, of course. I'd love to meet them." The thought actually made me very happy.

I placed my coffee cup on the folded and badly stained Parker contract and followed the entrancing swish of that long mane to the bedroom, there to start the morning in a proper way.