The Writer's Heart

17

MARILYN SAT at her desk with her eyes closed. Work had been hectic that day, and all that she thought about was Jessie. It bothered Marilyn to know that Jessie held so much pain within her, and even though she didn't know what it was, she could tell that it was heartbreaking. She'd never seen Jessie so torn before. Whatever her heartache was, Marilyn wanted to take all the pain away. She wished the world worked that way—she could take the burden on herself.

Gina entered Marilyn's office with the most irritated scowl on her face. Marilyn had been ignoring her calls, and messages all day, "I really can't right now, Gina," Marilyn placed her hand up, and leaned back in her chair. It was her first break in between appointments, and her brain needed some rest, before her next patient in ten minutes.

"I'm your fucking wife!" Gina's voice rose, and her sharp eyes glared at Marilyn. The intensity of her anger was boiling to a point of upheaval.

Marilyn gritted her teeth, and tried to be rational about anything that she'd say. She wouldn't allow Gina's temper to affect hers, "can you save all of this," Marilyn moved her hand in a circular motion, "for later?" I'd rather never, honestly.

Gina's face was flushed red. All she wanted was for them to work things out, but Marilyn had other intentions—intentions that involved Jessie Nightingale, "you really are fucking her, aren't you?" Gina's voice was too loud. The entire practice probably heard her. Brenda did, for sure.

"That's none of your fucking business, is it?" Marilyn was so sick of it, at that point, "do I storm into your office and scream at you about all the twenty-something year olds that you fuck? Do I even fucking ask you about it? No, Gina. Apparently I have no right to, even when I was fucking committed to you! You've never been committed to me, have you?"

Tears were sliding down Marilyn's cheeks. She was so frustrated. Not only with Gina, but also with her feelings for Jessie. In one moment, she exploded into a fit of rage, and she immediately regretted it. She allowed her anger to get the best of her, and that wasn't what she usually did. Marilyn always held her composure. She'd never allow it to break. But not anymore. She'd turned into a walking emotional rollercoaster, whether it was because of her divorce, or her increasing feelings for Jessie.

Gina swallowed and rattled her brain for something to say. She needed to point the blame at Marilyn somehow. No matter how many problems she'd contributed to the relationship, she'd never admit that she was at fault, "so you are fucking her then?"

Marilyn steadied her breathing. She wiped her eyes, and stretched her arms. Her outburst was the first in a while, and hopefully the last, "no, Gina. You're so concerned about that when you should be thinking about the real reason why I want a divorce. I don't want to be with you. You're a bitter, conniving bitch. And I want you out of my life for good," Marilyn hadn't aimed to be so harsh. But Gina deserved it. Gina could be one of the sweetest women in the world, but she sucked at being a wife. They both did. And Marilyn would admit to that. But Gina would never.

Gina began to cry. Her bawling made Marilyn regret every word that she'd said. But she wouldn't take them back. If that was what needed to be done for Gina to know that they were over, then so be it.

MARILYN HADN'T contacted Jessie, and she became worried. It had been a few days, and Jessie found herself taking her phone everywhere with her. Why didn't she reach out to Marilyn instead? Maybe it had to do with the fact that she didn't want to seem desperate.

Jessie sat in the tub. The bubbles surrounded her. A glass of wine was in one hand, and her other hand was holding her phone. She stared aimlessly at the screen, as she sipped her wine. It was pathetic, but she couldn't help herself.

Finally giving up, she threw her phone onto the carpet, rested her wine glass down, and slid completely under water. Her eyes closed, and her cheeks puffed, as she tried not to breathe. If she did, the water would immediately rush to her lungs.