| Subject: The Ubiquitous Mr.Lovegrove Epilogue4 |
Author:
Schnee
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Date Posted: 04:32:21 08/06/01 Mon
In reply to:
Schnee
's message, "The Ubiquitous Mr.Lovegrove" on 04:19:39 08/06/01 Mon
The houses begin to become sparser as we travel further away from the Capital and the metropolitan area surrounding it. Having exited the interstate, Michael navigates the windy two-lane road as it weaves in and out of the rolling hills and valleys. Farmland and forest surround the simple road, with scattered housing developments of single-family homes snuggled in between the two.
Our silent journey has given me the opportunity to gather my thoughts more, the opportunity to weigh out what I want to say. Living with Section’s rules did teach me one thing—pick your battles carefully. There was no sense in ending up in the White Room with Frick and Frack by standing up to Madeline or Operations over something trivial. But this is not trivial. And we no longer live in Section. This is about our future and whether or not we have one.
“So, tell me about this house, Michael.”
Twirling a strand of golden hair around my index finger, I look over at the profile of his face. I sense his jaw tense slightly. Just as quickly, he relaxes it again. All the while, his eyes remain fixed on the road as though I’ve said nothing.
I pinch at my lips as if trying to button them shut to prevent anymore of the seething heat from escaping my mouth as sharp words. Except, it doesn’t quite work.
“Just silence, eh? What? I don’t even get a blank stare out of you?” I rib him. I let out a choked laugh, knowing that if I didn’t laugh, I’d be crying instead.
“Nikita. Be patient. You’ll see it for yourself soon enough,” Michael replies with his normal understated tone, nodding his head toward the curving road to indicate that his focus is required there.
I roll my eyes, before tapping my fingers on the dashboard impatiently. I attempt to broach the topic from a different angle.
“Now that we’ll be living close to DC, does that mean we can go into the city and see the White House, the National Christmas Tree, and all that sort of touristy stuff?”
“If you’d like.” Michael replies just above a whisper. “Easier to do it now than after the start of the New Year.”
“Why is that?”
Michael breathes a gentle sigh. “I’m hoping to start a contract that I’ve been awarded.”
“What contract?” I rub my temples, as my brains hurts with the thought of another secret kept from me. “Are you saying you’ve taken a job?”
“I didn’t want to get your hopes up in case it didn’t happen.” Michael places his hand on my arm, softly stroking its length from shoulder to elbow. However, I pull from his touch, still flabbergasted.
Okay, what else is he going to spring on me? A few more wives on the side?
He could have told me that aliens had landed and were controlling the White House and I would have been less surprised.
“The contract involves upgrading the Smithsonian’s security measures before the opening of a few key exhibits. If we’re fortunate, they will be pleased with my work and it will lead to further employment.” Michaels adds, as if certain that I’d be to be happy to hear this news.
I shake my head, bewildered as to how he’s managed to keep me completely in the dark. I choke out another laugh, wondering if it sounds as maniacal as it feels. Gritting my teeth, I decide it’s now or never.
“Michael, stop the car. We need to talk, now.” Each word sounds slow and precise, but emphatic.
I fear that if I don’t speak my mind now, I’ll be spending the rest of my life biting my tongue to hold back an ever-growing bitterness. I can’t endure a life where I completely lack control, while he holds all the cards close to his chest. Doesn’t he realize we’re not in Section anymore? Doesn’t he know me well enough to realize I need to have a voice in my own future?
“Nikita, there’s no place to park here. Can’t it wait a few minutes?” Having sensed the desperation in my tone, his voice takes on a gentler quality. But I still feel my blood pressure rise.
“No, it can’t wait,” I slowly hiss.
Michael’s eyes shift from the road to my face, to and fro, considering his options for a minute. Perhaps two. My impatience grows.
“I can stop just ahead. Okay?” Michael points up the road to where it appears to widen a bit.
With cold eyes, I remain silent, my arms firmly crossed, for I am not willing to show any concession. Not this time.
Michael carefully eases the car to a stop not far from a simple mailbox. With a turn of the key, the engine’s hum is silenced.
His green eyes flash at me in expectation. But I say nothing. I’m too angry to speak just yet. Finally, after several moments of uncomfortable silence, the floodgates begin to open, my emotions on the verge of gushing forth.
“When were you planning to tell me all this?” I let my question hang in the air a moment before continuing. “When we left yesterday, I was under the impression that this was just another stop on our little world tour. In all these weeks you never mentioned that you were looking for a job or a house.”
“I didn’t want you to have to worry about these details. I wanted you to be able to relax and enjoy this time before the baby comes.” Looking into his eyes I’m almost certain he means what he is saying. But it doesn’t excuse his actions, nor does it mean things will ever change.
“I’m not Elena,” I start again, my tone filled with indignation. “I don’t need or want you to orchestrate every detail of my life without an ounce of my input. She may not have objected to you taking care of her every need, but I do. I’m not a child. Stop treating me like one.”
Fighting back the tears that I feel welling in my eyes, I turn away for a brief moment. I cannot bear to see the sadness in his eyes, for my words have hit their mark. But I force myself to complete my thought, facing him directly.
“I have news for you. This ring does not entitle you to treat me this way. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just give it back to you right this minute.” I glare at him while I grasp the ring on my finger.
His eyes evoke an intense green sadness, but his lips never move. My mind perceives his answer as the same as given to a not too dissimilar question. ”I can’t think of a single one.” At the same time, I recall both the subtle shifting of his body such that my gun rested at his throat and then the warmth of his breath on the cool skin of my hand when his lips pursed to leave their gentle mark on my wrist.
Remembering just one of his many manipulations, the impulse strikes just at that moment. I struggle to pull the gold circlet from its place. With a grunt of frustration, I tug harder at it. Unable to free it, I realize that my fingers are swollen making it impossible to remove.
Through my angry haze, his soft voice wafts, reaching my heart.
“I’m a terrible husband. Controlling and overprotective to a fault. I thought perhaps the third time would be a charm. I can’t blame you for wanting me out of your life.”
Michael reaches to touch my cheek. I move back ever so slightly, uncertain that I will be able to think clearly if I allow his touch. Uncertain I’d be able to hold my ground.
“Please let me try to make this right.”
His eyes haunt me with their intense longing. And his lips, soft and inquisitive, beckon me to come hither, to forgive him. Each word, each touch, each lingering gaze, like notes forming a melody. Charming my soul through music, as my body moves to its familiar rhythm. I make one last effort to pull back, but my resistance proves to be only momentary.
~~~~~
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