Foolishly Falling for You

27

Lance

"I..don't think divorce is the right solution," She says carefully as if she were forcing every word.

My wife shakes in front of me, as I sit in my study. Her hand wraps around her left arm, her gaze lowered and meek. She was just so happy to be free of me. Something has shifted. I would be happy with this change of heart. But it doesn't seem like her heart has changed. Something else has happened.

"You were happy,"

She glanced up at me, from under her long dark lashes. "Hm?"

"When I agreed to the divorce two hours ago. You were ecstatic. And now...you seem scared."

I lean forward, tenting my fingers. Why is she shaking? I narrow my eyes. What has changed between two hours? From then to now.

"Yes...I had some time to think about it," she intones, her eyes fixed on the floor. "And I believe, it will be best for us to continue our union."

I narrow my eyes, leaning back in my chair and raising my brow. "Best...for whom? You were glowing like the sun a few hours ago. Now you have a deathly pall around you. It is certainly not better for you."

She scoffs, squeezing her arm. "What does it matter? Did you want the divorce or something?"

Divorce? Right when my heart has begun pumping at the beat of her name?

Right when the lingering scent of her perfume is the only thing that can give me an erection? But she is not happy. I want...to make her happy.

"I want us to try again. I believe I can change my ways, I believe we can be happy together." I smile and stand, approaching her. I cup her cheek, gently. She closes her eyes leaning into my hand.

I smile. She still loves me, though she tries hard not to.

"But I want, above all else, for you to be happy. I owe it to you, after years of misery. And I think what would make you happiest is divorce. What changed your mind?"

She shifts in her spot and pulled away. Flinched away.

"It's just not becoming of a Castillo."

"You are a Mendoza. You can do what you want." I shoot back. "Did someone say something to you?"

She shakes her head, her long curls framing her face. Her beautiful face. And those eyes. They're sparkling like stars in a clear night sky. Oh...how could I have ever looked past them?

Is there anything else worth looking at?

I brush my thumb along her cheek. She's letting me touch her. She must be distressed. I narrow my eyes. She hasn't let go of her arms. I coax it free, gently prying her fingers from her arm, revealing a hand-shaped bruise. It's much too large to be her hand though. Too large to be a woman's hand.

She hasn't left today. So a man was in our house, grabbed her, and now she wants to stay married. Perhaps she's found herself a lover who's less than keen to lose his funding source.

"Did you have a visitor?" I ask carefully.

Anita yanks away. "What are you talking about? Look, if you want a divorce, just file the paperwork."

The air between us is discordant but I feel her reaching out. There is something in her eyes. Something she wants me to do, something she needs from me. I try to decipher the words in her eyes but I don't speak the language they're speaking.

My heart aches at the fact that I cannot speak the words of her heart, even after so many years. It's my fault of course. She gave every opportunity for me to know her, to learn her, and I have nothing to show for it. The portrait of us hangs in our living room, a place we never took up space together.