Page 73 of One Week in Paris
Mark groans softly. We can barely make out the shapes, but it’s clearly a man sitting on the edge of the bed, and a woman on her knees.
“Oh yeah…” Mark groans. “Just like that, Nicole… fuck me with that pretty mouth of yours.”
I want to vomit. I really do. I have a sudden change of heart. We shouldn’t have done this. “Mom, let’s go.”
She flicks on the light switch. Her expression is unreadable. She’s a statue. Mark is wide-eyed for a split second, and the next, he’s scrambling to get his pants back up. Nicole stares at the floor as she leaves the room, one manicured hand wiping her mouth. She shoots me a devilish smile as she reaches the door.
“It’s not… It’s not what you think,” Mark stammers. “I was just… one last time before—”
“Get out!” Mom scoffs. She’s red with anger. I’ve never seen her like this. I’m not sure what to say. I wonder if she suspects that I was part of it.
Mark dashes out of the room as fast as humanly possible. Mom paces for about a minute. She kicks off her tall heels. I stand there like an idiot, with no idea what to do or say. “Mom, it’s probably for the best—”
“You needed a sweater, right?” she snaps and dashes over to the mirrored dresser. She flings the bottom drawer open with more force than needed. Her hands are flailing as she rummages through her clothes. She throws them all over the floor, frantic. I kneel down next to her, and take her in my arms. “It’s okay, Mom.”
She holds me tightly and falls into sobs. “How… could he do this?”
“He’s a creep, Mom. He doesn’t deserve you.” This is so horrible. I really wish she could have found out in a less disturbing manner — you can’t unsee shit like that. My brain will forever be branded with the image of Mark getting a blow job. When those lights flicked on, I should have pulled my gaze away. But it was like a horrible car wreck I just had to see.
“We had… a life planned…” she whimpers between sobs.
“I know, but you’ll just have to make a new plan,” I tell her. “I’ll help you. We’ll make a new plan together.”
She slobbers all over my shoulder. “I… like your shoes,” she says. “Sorry, I didn’t have a chance to tell you before.”
I smile. That is so Mom — she just caught her fiancé getting sucked off, but she can’t help but comment on how pretty my shoes are. “Thanks. I got them at Forever 21. On sale for nineteen dollars.”
“Wow, that’s a good deal.”
I know she’ll be okay. My mother is a fighter. She’s full of life, and I’m sure she won’t let one scumbag drag her down.
She pulls from me and my heart sinks at the sight of her — she looks absolutely wrecked; mascara smeared, hair disheveled, and her broken heart visible all over her face.
I did this. I did this to her.
No. I didn’t.Markdid this to her.
“What do I do now?” she asks, completely lost.
“You stay here,” I tell her. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take care of everything. You go have a bath.” My mom loves her baths. When I was growing up, she’d take one every night, right after dinner. Then, she’d wrap herself in a cozy house robe and watch her shows. It was her favorite time of the day. I assume she hasn’t changed.
“Am I an idiot?” she asks. “How did I not know he was like this?”
I take her in my arms again. “You’re not an idiot, Mom. Men like him are very good at hiding who they are. They charm you and make you feel like you are the most special person in the world, and then they turn around and do something like this without the slightest hint of guilt or remorse, and they make sure to cover their tracks.”
“Well, I’m just glad I found out before it was too late.”
A heavy weight lifts off my shoulders at the sound of her words. I know I did the right thing. Even if it was one of the worst things I’ve ever done.
“God,” she goes on. “Everything is already planned. How do we cancel everything? How do we tell everyone?”
“Don’t worry about that, Mom. We’ll take care of it.”
She pulls out of our hug abruptly. “Okay, you go do some damage control downstairs. Close down the party, please. And get rid of Mark. I don’t… want to see his face,” she says, a crack in her voice. She reaches for a bottle of red on the desk. “I’m going to take a bath.”
I worry about her for a second. I study the bottle… there’s only about one glass worth in there. “I’ll be back shortly to check on you.”
She nods and waves a hand, a signal to go and fix things.
