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Chapter 2 | Proceed and Pretend

 

defeat (v.)

late 14c., defeten, diffaiten, “overcome (with sorrow or anger),” from Anglo-French defeter, from Old French desfait, past participle of desfaire “to undo,” from Vulgar Latin *diffacere “undo, destroy,” from Latin dis- “un-, not” (see dis-) + facere “to do, perform,” from PIE root *dhe- “to set, put.”

From early 15c. as “bring ruination, cause destruction” (now obsolete in this sense); from late 15c. as “frustrate, prevent the success of.” Sense of “deprive of something expected, desired or striven for” is from 1530s. Meaning “overcome in a contest of any kind” is from 1560s. Related: Defeated; defeating.

 

The meeting room was spacious, but he felt as if not enough oxygen was filling his lungs. He kept pacing back and forth, unable to find peace. Lisa was a few minutes late, and he was starting to think that she wouldn’t show up at all. A possibility that irked him to no end because, for a chance, he had arrived early. Was she trying to play him? Humiliate him, somehow? One would never know, with that crazy lady.

Michael wasn’t wholly able to discern how he felt. He was thrilled at the idea of seeing her after almost five months of complete separation, but at the same time he was disconcerted by his own giddy attitude. There was not a reason in the world why he should feel thrilled at the idea of seeing Lisa. After all, it was about business and he would meet with his ex-wife, a woman he knew inside out. Or at least he thought he did. A woman who had been heaven and hell in his life, the angel and the demon, the temptress and the priestess, sin and absolution. A walking contradiction. No wonder they had crashed and burned: what did he expect? Especially during the last handful of months of their marriage, he and Lisa had been victims of the infamous double-F routine. Fighting and fucking. They were either doing the one or the other. In fact, they were so skilled that, at times, they did both simultaneously. Those two activities seemed to fuel one another, and Michael had to admit he and Lisa never lost a beat.

 

“Mike… fucking hell. We gotta stop this.” As she spoke, her nimble fingers got busy unbuckling his belt, and he looked down at the way they moved. Her hands were shaking. She was as tense as a violin cord. However, as she touched him lightly through his pants, he reacted immediately and caught his breath. Lisa was his personal snake charmer, and Michael had to bite his tongue not to moan and let her know how affected he was by that first, intimate contact.

“I agree… I don’t wanna fuck anyway…”

Liar.

Perfect epitome of coherence that he was, he helped her out and freed himself with a sigh of relief. Then he took her hand and brought it where he needed it to be. Closing his eyes for a moment, allowing himself a minute of silence and peace. A moment of perfection, despite all their issues. Issues that suddenly felt insurmountable.

The way she touched him, with the intensity and rhythm that he craved, was heaven and hell. Their chemistry seemed to be fueled by everything. Even by their intense fights. They made passionate love when they got along, and they fucked hard when they didn’t. That day, it wasn’t any different and, at this point, he wasn’t even surprised. The sexual connection they shared was something he had never experienced with any other partner. Never in his life he had felt comfortable with a woman the way he felt with Lisa. No matter how fucked up their communication was, their bodies seemed made to fit perfectly and always knew what to do, to find some solace. And it was a blessing and a curse altogether, because it made everything harder.

Speaking of which…

“Oh, baby…” Lisa’s voice softened, betraying the liquid blue flames in her eyes and he felt tethered to them, unable to look away. He recognized a truce when he was offered one. The perfect contrast between exasperation and tenderness was heart-shattering in its intensity. His anger disappeared, and he got mad at himself the moment he realized that he wasn’t mad at her anymore.

Glad she had been fighting with him wearing only a skimpy t-shirt and a thong, and still staring into her eyes, he reached down and ripped off the useless string of fabric. He set his jaw when she whimpered and then held his gaze, her chin up high. Was that a challenge? Well… Dealing with that was way easier than handling her sweetness. 

Michael grabbed her by the waist and lifted her off the floor, and she immediately locked her strong thighs around his hips. Two perfect dancers engaging in a dance they knew by heart.

Lisa’s hand fisted in his hair and she kissed him hotly as he walked toward the nearest wall, his steps lopsided and unsteady.

“Goddamnit… I love you so fucking much,” she whispered against his lips, and it almost sounded like a declaration of defeat. And he, too, was a loser in that fight.

 

Until they had lost it all. The fucking had finished. The fighting, too. Both replaced by silence and distance. Fighting and fucking had turned into freezing and fleeting, and they had become masters at those, too.

He stopped before the window and stared at himself in the reflection of the glass. Did he look calm enough? Yes. His old training was coming in handy. It was infuriating how this meeting was making him feel more anxious than his upcoming world tour.

And just like that, the door opened and Lisa walked in. Alone. Michael was glad his back was still turned and he could only observe her reflection in the window because, for just a second, his legs felt a bit weak. She stopped, her hand still on the door handle, and her bright eyes roamed all over him, as if taking in his presence. Then she licked her lips in a nervous gesture and swallowed, closing the door behind her back. She was nervous, alright.

“Michael… Hi. I’m sorry, I know I’m a bit late.”

He cleared his throat and turned, finally facing her.

“It’s OK… Hi… Lisa Marie.”

Was there a specific etiquette that had to be respected, in cases like this?

They both seemed unsure about what to do, then Lisa stepped closer to him and held out her hand.

Seriously?

Michael narrowed his eyes for a moment, then reached out and shook her hand, lingering there a little longer than necessary. Her skin was soft and warm, her grip a bit tentative, but still firm. And he realized, once again, how he missed her touch on him.

Before he could say anything, she backed off and took a seat across the huge meeting table. She didn’t have any binder, any folder, nothing. She just clasped her hands on the table and waited for him to sit. Wearing only jeans and a casual shirt, she looked very young.

An awkward moment of silence followed.

“So… how are you?”

“You look great.”

They both chuckled, but it was devoid of any joy, really. If anything, it sounded embarrassed and the atmosphere in the room was thick enough to be cut with a knife. God, this was so wrong…

“I’m sorry…” She blinked and averted her gaze.

“Look, Lise… I just…” He frowned, then bit his lip. He was going to apologize for not answering her calls and not responding to her letters. Thank God he had stopped before the words could come out. It was not pleasurable to realize that, the moment he had seen her, his anger and bitterness had shifted to the back seats of his mind, and all that remained was relief in seeing that she was okay, albeit a bit thinner than he remembered, and happiness at the idea of having her there. This was so not good.

Trying to be subtle, he studied her face. She was gorgeous. She also looked tired, as if she couldn’t sleep well. He knew her. She tended to get wired when she was stressed out. He could relate…

He also noticed that she had started biting her nails again and his eyes saddened a little. The old concern resurfaced. He took a deep breath.

“I am glad we can talk about this personally,” he backpedaled, moving on safer grounds and avoiding any discussion about more profound feelings. “After listening to your message, I seriously gave it a thought and I realized that you’re right. Our prenup concerns us and nobody else.”

She nodded her head, her eyes lowering on her entwined fingers. Her posture relaxed, composed, but also quite demure.

“Thanks. It was not a spur of the moment thing… calling you and asking you to see me. I mean,” she looked up and stared at him, “it was not like before.”

What was she saying? That her previous calls had been the result of some temporary insanity? Observing her more carefully, Michael noticed a remoteness that had never been there before. And he didn’t know what to do with it. It was… surprising, and not in a good way.

“OK…” He replied, cautiously.

“I just think we owe it to each other to speak face to face.” A pause. “Partners shouldn’t allow anyone to get in the middle of their relationship.”

The casual jab hit the target and stung. Michael set his jaw, but his face remained collected and inscrutable.

“Is there… anything I can do for you? About the prenup, I mean…” He did his best to test the waters while sounding inconspicuous. “…Is there something specific you wanted?”

This time she smirked, but it was a very, very bitter tiny smile, followed by the sudden lowering of her long eyelashes. Her aqua eyes hid from his scrutiny for a moment. Her lips parted and she looked about to say something, then she just closed her mouth. Once again, Michael wondered what was going on in her head. This woman, his wife, soon-to-be ex, was starting to become a stranger to him.

It was at that very moment that he saw it. It was almost perfectly hidden, but the remnants of his emotional connection to her helped him decipher it. Behind the cool, business-like attitude, Lisa was mournful. Possibly regretful. She had been clear about that before – about not really wanting to divorce him, about just having stomped her foot. He had rebuffed her, primarily out of pride, and after a while, she had stopped mentioning the subject. And now, for just the shortest instant, she had looked like she was going to say that the only thing she wanted was him.

But she didn’t say it. And Michael would never know if that was what had almost tumbled out of her lips.

“Yes, I would like to pretend our prenup never existed. I want a clean, uncontested, quick divorce. I don’t want anything from you, Michael. I never did. Me marrying you…” She scrunched her forehead in a gesture that he had always found endearing and sweet, and another layer of ice got chipped away from his heart. “…was never about anything but you.”

Michael was not expecting that. He felt like shit realizing that he had thought she wanted to fuck him over or retaliate through a nasty divorce. In fact, she wanted quite the opposite.

“I never wanted anything from you either, Lise…” His voice softened and he glanced at the skyline outside the window. He suddenly felt deflated and exhausted. He had been so worked up, and now there was nothing left. Just complete emptiness. Those few words she had said were the only words she was going to say to him, now he knew. Part of him had hoped for an apology but still… she had apologized already. More than once. His pain and disconcert and disappointment – and maybe even his pride – hadn’t allowed him to fully understand the scope of her words, their weight. While now, out of the blue, he realized the meaning of what she had said and what she had left unsaid.

Me marrying you was never about anything but you.

It summed it up pretty well. It also sounded terrific, in a way. But it had become colorless and ghostly like something belonging to the past. Something dusty and suddenly useless. Lisa’s voice no longer seemed to paint any future that involved them both.

“So… do we have an agreement? Can we proceed and pretend there wasn’t any prenup involved?”

“Sure.” It was now his voice that sounded colorless and flat. Did she want to proceed? For real?

“How’s Debbie?”

Her question startled him and he turned to stare at her. Nothing. Her aqua eyes were, once again, very calm. And, once again, they looked vacant. He couldn’t stop the sudden embarrassment. His cheeks felt hot.

“She’s… OK. Thanks for asking.”

Lisa nodded her head.

“Good. I’m glad she’s recovered from her miscarriage.” She rose from her chair, and purposefully avoided mentioning that Debbie had become pregnant while Michael was still her husband. “Thanks for your time, Michael. And good luck with everything.”

Too rash. Too fearful. Too guarded. This was not them. When had they become… this? Thoughts and words and feelings overlapped in Michael’s mind and he got up abruptly, before he could even understand what was going on. The only thing he knew, what that she was already leaving and the idea of being alone in that meeting room again, so soon, was intolerable.

“Lise… Lisa.”

She stilled, turning to him. This time, her eyes hid nothing. They just looked sad.

“What, Michael?”

The gleaming of tears barely kept at bay sliced him open and he walked the few steps around the table, coming closer to her.

“Wait…” He tilted his head, trying to intercept her eyes. “Good luck with everything, what? What do you mean?”

He was just buying time. He was aware of that. But he needed her to stay for a minute. Just another minute.

Lisa grinned, joylessly.

“Well… I doubt we’ll meet again anytime soon, so I wanted to say good luck, and everything else that goes with it…”

OK. Time to be brave. Without further words, since they had already spoiled everything, Michael reached out and grasped her hand lightly. Her almost inaudible intake of breath didn’t go unnoticed and her eyes betrayed her one more time. She was such a bad actress.

Lisa didn’t pull away but just looked down at their hands, connected once again after all this time, as if it was the strangest and most unexpected sight in the world.

His heart fluttering in his throat, he pulled her closer and against his body and took her into his arms. He felt her stiffen, and his free hand came up, cradling the back of her head, finding the sinewy texture of her long hair. The sensory experience kicked in with silent violence and he willed himself to stay calm and quiet.

He rested his chin on the top of her head and exhaled deeply. Her pain hit him with the force of a train at full speed, and it wasn’t pretty. Her mentioning Debbie signaled him two crucial things: that Lisa was trying her best to get used to the idea that he was moving on with his plan, and that her wound hadn’t healed at all. He knew that would always be a sore spot for them, but he couldn’t change the past and sure as hell he wasn’t going to stop now. Everything was going the way it was supposed to go.

Well, almost…

Lisa saying that she doubted they would meet again anytime soon was a terrifying perspective. One he had not really thought about. Despite his uncanny ability to ice people out, he had never intended for Lisa to stay on the sidelines forever. He just needed some space. But he could not fathom a life where she was not present. If anything, he wanted her as a friend. At this point, it was apparent that they couldn’t function as husband and wife, but they understood each other. They got each other. They were very much capable of being each other’s shoulder. Why should they renounce their friendship?

Maybe just being friends, getting rid of the burdens of the past, would keep them both sane. It would perhaps avoid miscommunication and misunderstandings, let alone all those childish games they were both champions of.

He let go of her hand and gently rubbed her back and, this time, Lisa relaxed. He felt her rest her cheek against his chest, just like she had done millions of times before. All of a sudden, he felt like crying. God… this, all of this, was a fucking mess and he didn’t know how to maneuver himself out of it. He was confused, the happiness he was supposed to feel about his plans moving forward – his agreement with Debbie, his upcoming tour which was the perfect way to go away for a while – was stained by an intense feeling of incompleteness.

“How did you know I was at the Hideout? …When you left that message…” His voice sounded unrecognizable even to him.

“Because I know you, Michael… I know how you operate.”

Right. She did. But why did she sound so sad while saying it?

“I don’t wanna lose you.”

His own words stunned him. Obviously, he was no longer able to reign over his vocal cords either.

Lisa scoffed, but stayed in his embrace.

“I really don’t know how to respond to that.”

“Well… we were friends before all of this…”

Did he truly believe his own words?

She looked up, her gaze studying him carefully.

“You want us to go back to being friends?”

No. I want us to go back to being us again, he thought, but couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

“I just don’t wanna lose you…”

She was so close. His lips suddenly felt parched, the need to kiss her heady. His heart jumped in his throat. Her eyes moist, so very blue and deep. He got lost in them for a moment, everything else forgotten. “I want us to remain… something…”

Her face distended in a sad smile. Her small hand cradled his face. Her palm soft, warm against his cheek.

“I thought you were mad at me.” A pause. “Disappointed.”

He sure was. But still…

Michael just shook his head slightly.

“Some things are worth more than anger or disappointment…”

Could she tell how much he still wanted her? How much at that very moment, despite everything, he just wanted to scoop her up and kiss her silly until she laughed and told him that she did understand his point, that she did know he loved her, that they were rushing into something that could perhaps be avoided? That they were making a mess?

As if reading his mind, Lisa rose on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, very close to the corner of his lips. Michael’s eyes fluttered closed.

“You’re right, some things are.” She backed off, her hand stroking his jawline, descending on his neck, then leaving him. “As soon as I get better… as soon as I get over this, I think we can try and be just that… OK? Friends, that is. You think you can wait for a little while, Michael?”

The question was ambiguous – it was something she had asked him in the past. When they were talking about having kids together. He had thought she was bullshitting him. Now, for the first time, the seriousness of her words resounded deep into him.

He just stared at her, not really knowing what to say. He didn’t move. Not even when she decided that she wasn’t going to wait for his answer. Not even when she stepped back, their bodies and lives distant again, and left the room.