Page 42 of Make Me Forget
Respect
Mara
What do you want to talk about today, Mara?” Parker asked me as I gazed into space at the center of the group meeting. My body still hummed from Murphy’s attention, and my focus scattered the second I walked into the room. Reality cracked open a window, which let in an ice coldchill.
The words kept flowing on a loop in my mind. Over and over, and no matter how many times I wrote them down and ripped up the paper, I couldn’t dislodgethem.
Murphy deserves better thanyou.
A simple statement, but my thighs had bruise marks from his fingers, and I wanted to be good enough for him. To be someone a man like him would find worthy tolove.
My mind wandered again, and I focused back on Parker. “How can I be good enough for someone likehim?”
It wasn’t the typical question for the group, as many of the men were married, somewhat happily, and didn’t face the dating challenges of a veteran in a post-warworld.
“That’s hard to say,” Parker began. “I think it depends on your definition of good enough. What would it take for you to feel you are good enough to be withhim?”
I thought about his question, and nothing sprung to mind. Not a single attribute popped in my head to label under the virtue column. Was I such a lost causealready?
“I don’t know,” I said, honestly. How could I explain Murphy to them? The way he cared about me, and for me, how I felt when I lay next to him in bed. Or the way his eyes crinkled in the corners and caught the morningsun.
Damn, I was head over heels in love. How did thishappen?
“You love him, don’t you?” Parker askedgently.
I couldn’t admit it to myself, so I sure as hell wouldn’t say it out loud, so I nodded my ascent and refused to look at anyone. I’d gotten myself through four long, lonely years by telling myself love was a crutch, unnecessary for daily living. It would seem fate had plans of her own. I wish she’d share them with mesometimes.
“Did you tell him, yet?” Field’sasked.
After a couple weeks of seeing these guys regularly, I felt comfortable enough to open up, only a little bit at a time. Before, I’d have glared at the man and told him to mind his own business in colorful adjectives. Instead, I shook my head. “Not really. Or not properly, I shouldsay.”
“Why not start there? If he thought you weren’t good enough to be with him, he wouldn’t be there for you. Men are simple creatures. Food, sex, sleep, a beer now and then, and we are happy. We don’t focus on some of the things that woman liketo.”
I didn’t know if his proclamation could be called helpful or not. The plastic of the chair creaked as I shifted and crossed my arms over my belly. I didn’t like being the focus of the group for too long, and Parker shifted the conversation away from me on to someone else. Half-heartedly listening, I thought about Murphy getting up, checking over his inventory, meticulous with things he really cared about. So said the soreness between mythighs.
If I couldn’t show them enough respect to listen, I should probably leave. I sat forward, intent on getting up for a drink at least and debating on whether I could train my brain to the task at hand. The door of the room banged open with a loud clatter against the wall behind me. Murphy stood in the doorway, cheeks pink, chest heaving like he’d run a mile to gethere.
I stood and walked over to him, hiding him from the group’s view. This part of my life was still fresh and new. I wasn’t ready to completely bare my shit to the group yet. Let them think I had a guy friend and we were figuring things out. I didn’t need him coming down here acting like an insane stalker. “Murphy, what the hell are you doinghere?”
His face twisted into a look I’d never seen before in all the years I knew him, from before and after: fury. With his red rimmed eyes, I easily made out the tears which pooled at the corners. He spun in a circle, trying to catch a breath before throwing a curled up brown roll at myfeet.
I picked up the mass of paper and turned it over. The journal I started because of this group. The one I wrote to Murphy the things I couldn’t say. He’d readit.
Hot shame curled inside me to mix with a cold rage I felt building brick by brick. “You had no right to readthis.”
The group behind us was long forgotten, and I stepped up to him as he continued pacing to catch his breath. He spun to face me and stalked forward, grabbed my wrist clutching the book, and held it up. “You addressed it tome.”
He sounded maniacal, like a madman in a cartoon with their bulging eyes and veins popping out of their necks. With a shove, he released mywrist.
“Yes, but I did that to help me get the stuff out. I couldn’t do it without you.” My explanation sounded weak even tome.
He turned around again, and we squared off all over. Despite his size and the look in his eye, I didn’t doubt his character. He’d told me he’d never hurt me. I believed him then and still believed himnow.
“So you just go into my hotel room and rifle through my things now?” The ice rage pressed in again, digging into my ribs with icicle talons. Soon, I’d say things I’d regret later. I needed to back this down, but his face told me he wouldn’t make it easy onme.
He made one more turn and came back, this time standing toe to toe with me. Now his tone came lethal and quiet. “Do you know what I thought when I readthat?”
“Why is my girlfriend such a bonehead?” I tried to lighten the mood while Icould.
