Lydia
AFTER A LONG day at the office, I’m finally back at home in my sweatpants. I’m pouring myself something to drink as I think about Marcus. Opening up about Seth two weeks ago took a huge burden off of my shoulders, but it also brought Marcus and I closer together.
I’ve spent so much time and effort hating Seth that I had no idea how consuming it was until I stopped doing it. Not many people know what Seth did to me. Given he was an up and coming baseball star, I wanted it to stay as quiet as possible. I was already humiliated; I didn’t need the world to know too.
When I told the girls what happened, I was ashamed like it was somehow my fault. I actually blamed myself, wondering if I had done something different, he would’ve remained faithful. I didn’t feel that with Marcus though. I felt safe and secure instead of vulnerable and weak.
Hate is a powerful emotion, but it hurts the person harboring this feeling more than the one it’s directed at. Seth doesn’t care that I hated him with every fiber of my being. He’s off making his millions and hailed as baseball’s most eligible bachelor since him and Kylie didn’t last. I was only torturing myself, letting him occupy that much space in my head and heart. He wins and I lose. Thinking back on that day still upsets me, but I’m learning to let it go and carry on with my life.
I’m startled and brought out of my thoughts when there’s a knock on my door. I’m not expecting anyone, so I have no clue who it could be. With brow furrowed, I walk to the door and look through the peephole. I see Marcus standing on the other side with one arm braced against the doorframe and his head down. He doesn’t usually show up unannounced, but I can’t say I mind that he’s here.
Opening the door, my smile drops as soon as he glances up and I get a look at his face. He’s still in uniform, which isn’t unusual. What’s uncharacteristic is the blood smeared on his neck, his bloodshot eyes, and harrowing expression.
“Marcus, what’s wrong?” My heart beats faster as I wait for the answer that explains why all the life looks like it’s been sucked from his body.
He doesn’t say a word, just walks straight to me and wraps his arms around me, burying his face in my neck. I hear him inhale my scent, and all I can do is hold on to him tight, clutching the back of his shirt as he works through whatever is going on right now.
“You’re worrying me. What happened?” I ask after a few minutes.
He pulls away revealing red rimmed eyes as he sniffs. I close the door and lead us both into the living room to have a seat. He stares straight ahead and I keep quiet to give him time to process things. When he speaks, his voice is so broken, it hurts my heart.
“I couldn’t save him,” he says.
“Who?” I ask, a sense of panic rising up my spine the longer I take in his distraught appearance.
“This kid.”
My throat tightens with the way he whispers the words and all I can think about is how I want to take away the pain he’s about to share with me.
“We got a call from a neighbor reporting they heard a lot of screaming coming from the house. I was the first to respond to the scene and it was chaos, Lydia. Just chaos.” He shakes his head as if reliving the moment before continuing. “When I got there, they were outside and the husband was waving a gun around, shouting and making threats. His back was to me, but I could see the fear all over the wife’s face. She was pleading, begging him not to do this, saying that she forgave him and they could work it out. I had my gun drawn and told him to drop his weapon. He spun around and the wife’s fear made sense. He was holding his son hostage. The little boy looked about eight years old. He was crying, begging me to help him, Lydia.”
A lead ball forms in the pit of my stomach and I’m terrified to hear the way this ends even though I know what’s coming.
“I was waiting for more help to arrive. There was nothing I could do. I’m not a sniper and the shot was too risky with his son right there. So I tried to talk to him. He was crazy, absolutely fucking crazy.” His hands scrub over his face like he’s trying to wipe the image away, and all I can do is listen to him recount an event I wished to God he’d never had to witness.
“He was going on about his wife ruining their lives. How there was only one way to make her feel the pain he’s had to endure.” His voice cracks and my eyes begin to water. “It all happened so fast. He looked at his wife and told her this was her fault, then he put the gun up to his son’s head and pulled the trigger.”
My hand flies to my mouth as I let out a gasp. His head hangs low, resting in his hands. I search for something to say to ease his pain but come up empty.
“I can’t get their voices out of my head,” he says in a tortured tone. After a short pause, he continues with his head still in his hands. “Dr. Greene,” he muses to himself. “Can you believe this guy was a doctor? Takes a fucking oath to save lives and ends up murdering his son. It’s amazing; you have a family that appears to have it all. Affluent neighborhood, nice cars, plenty of money, perfect family, yet they’re hiding the biggest demons. Calls like today are hard to shake.”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I ask, “What happened to the dad?”
He looks up at me with no emotion. “I killed him. After he fired, I put five rounds in his chest.”
My eyes widen and my mouth drops open. I’m not sure what I was expecting him to say, but it wasn’t that. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I know that’s hard—”
“No,” he says, interrupting me. “I don’t feel bad about shooting that piece of shit. He deserved to die. He terrorized his family and murdered his son as a way to hurt his wife. I have no remorse for ending his life.”
I’m momentarily stunned silent by his strong statement. This is a completely different side of Marcus that I’ve never seen before, but I get it. I don’t think less of him for the things he’s done or said and I’m glad he’s comfortable enough to open up to me. Truth is, the world is probably a better place without someone like that in it. Still, my heart breaks for the poor woman who has to endure such grief, and for the strong man who’s a shell of himself right now.
“I just—I needed you,” he whispers.
Standing up, I straddle his lap and hold his face in my hands. “It’s my turn to take away your pain.” My lips reach out to his in a soft embrace. I pour all of my love and acceptance into the innocent gesture, and he takes all of it. Pulling back, I wrap my arms around his neck and hold his face to my body. We hold on to each other so tight, we become one.
With each tremble that rolls through his body, my heart splinters a little more. I want to take away his turmoil so badly, but I know that’s impossible. All I can do is be here to support him through it. He was there for me two weeks ago when I told him about Seth, and I want to do the same in return.
“I need a shower. I’ve got to wash this off of me,” he says as he gently pushes me away.
Getting off of his lap, I help him up and walk him to the bathroom. “I have some sweats you left over here a couple weeks ago you can change into afterwards.” He continues into the bathroom while I grab a few things and some towels. Once I’ve undressed, I get into the shower with him. His hands are braced on the wall while the water pours onto his head and down his body. Even though I’m not under the stream, I can feel the scalding heat coming off of him.
Gently, I touch his back to let him know I’m here. He jumps slightly, but relaxes into my touch. I grab my loofa and lather it up before running it down the length of his back. It’s not long before he turns around and faces me. If it was possible to age several years right before your eyes in a matter of seconds, Marcus just did. He’s pale and his face is sunken in, but his eye contact is firm and unwavering. As I clean off his chest, I keep focused on his eyes until I have to look away to make sure I’m getting all the blood off.
There’s nothing sexual about what we’re doing as I wash away his traumatic day. I wish it was as simple as a swipe of the loofa, but I know it’s not. He’ll have to sort it out himself and I’ll be by his side while he does it.
Once I’m satisfied that I’ve cleaned every inch of his body, I get both of our towels so we can get dressed and climb into bed.
“Are you going to be okay?” I ask him when we’re lying down.
“I will be. Every now and then I run into a situation that hits me hard and it just takes me a minute to bounce back. This one affected me more than any other call I’ve ever gone on.”
I lie my head over his heart and he wraps his arm around me. Despite being damaged, his heart beats steady and strong. “I’m glad you came to me,” I say into the still of night.
“You’re my safe place, Lydia. There’s nowhere else I wanted to go.” There’s a slight pause, and I can tell he wants to say something else, but he finally speaks up and says, “I love you.”
My response requires no thought as I say, “I love you too.” He places a kiss on top of my head and I rub small circles over his bare chest with my finger until he falls asleep, hoping tomorrow will bring a better day for him.