Control Ch. 02

"You'll have to stop that now."

Anne shrieked, but Victor turned to him with an amused look. As though he'd known Geoffrey was there all along.

"Well Anne, love. It looks like you're going to have to explain things to him earlier, rather than later." So they'd discussed him.

Victor rose and dressed, not in haste, not trying to hide his erection. Anne pulled at her ropes and turned her face from Geoffrey to Victor and back, while Victor buttoned his starched, white shirt. He dressed in a charcoal suit with faint pin striping. He draped a yellow tie around his neck. Anne was struggling and breathing hard. Not sex pants anymore. She looked desperate. Geoffrey never moved. He just stood there, waiting for Victor to leave. Another bit of red was visible at Anne's vagina.

Finally, Victor loosened Anne's hands from the head and foot boards by giving each rope a quick pull. He walked past Geoffrey, who moved away to let him go, and down the hall. Tonight Geoffrey doesn't think he looked amused. That wasn't it. He looked satisfied.

* * * * *

"Anne. We're going to have to talk sometime. If you want me to leave, I will, but we have to talk eventually."

The moment she was free, she had grabbed her clothes, run into the bathroom, and locked the door. That was forty-five minutes ago. She hadn't responded to him, to his knocking or his voice. When he stood close to the door he could hear her breathing and moving around.

Geoffrey sat down on the edge of the bed again, his hands clasped together between his legs, looking at the carpet. A drop of blood lay about three feet from the bed, on the bathroom side of it. He inhaled enormously and let the air out slowly. Another ten minutes passed. He got off the bed and walked to the bathroom door.

"Okay, Anne. I'll go now. You can get hold of me at my office. When you can do it, we have to talk." He hadn't raised his voice once.

There was the sound of something brushing against the door, then her voice came through it. "Don't go, Geoff. Don't. Please. Give me a minute."

He stepped back, and a minute later she opened the door. She emerged slowly, looking downward, stepped around him, and sat on the bed. She was dressed in blouse and skirt, no shoes, no stockings. She looked at the floor. She was solemn. Geoffrey seated himself beside her, very carefully, far enough away so they didn't touch.

They began the conversation. Many have had it. It marks almost the end of Geoff's memory of the event. It was quiet, with false starts and long breaks between statements. There was no reason for anyone to lie anymore. Not too much, anyway. The facts one might most want to hide were public. Anne spoke in a voice just over a whisper. Geoffrey spoke quietly and evenly, the voice of a man controlling himself, a man who mostly needed to resolve things, who knew there was nothing to be gained by shaming or yelling or threatening. The voice of someone resigned. Tonight he wonders: Why didn't I act more like a man?

She spoke first. "I'm sorry Geoff." She sighed. "I guess you know what was going on."

He didn't answer for a second. Then, "I know enough. What I don't know is, are we through?" His voice broke at the word "through." He squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them she was looking directly at him for the first time.

"I don't know. I love you, Geoff. I'm sorry for all this. I do love you. I just don't know what is going to happen."

Geoffrey grimaced. He clenched his fists and took a breath. "Then I'll be going."

"Why?"

More silence, while he thought.

"If you don't know, then you know. You want him. You want what he does. I can't stay with a person who wants another man like that. I can't, Annie." He stood.

"Wait. Please Geoff. Please don't go. I don't want you to go."

"So what am I to do? Be your housekeeper and hand holder while you decide how much you want someone who'll tie you up and mutilate you? You can't have everything, Anne. I won't do that for you."

After a minute, "He didn't mutilate me."

Her first bit of resistance. Geoff almost smiles at the memory of the statement. Nice and feisty. His strong-willed Annie, throwing off her shame to set the record straight and assert herself. It was the first bit of herself in the talk. His Annie indeed. He didn't see it that way at the time, though. He didn't almost smile that time. He screamed at her.

"Oh, excuse me for misinterpreting!" Geoffrey stopped himself. Anne had cringed when he yelled. He held up his hands, fingers spread, and moved them out and back several times as though pushing away his feelings. When he spoke his voice was quiet and soft again.

"It doesn't matter, Anne, just exactly what he was doing to you, or what you were doing with him. It's things I can't do. That I won't do. I won't compete for you that way. And I won't just wait for you to finish this voyage of self discovery. You can have him, but I'm leaving."

She started crying.

Two o'clock. Three o'clock. A lot gets said. A lot doesn't. There are agreements and there's bargaining. She won't see Victor anymore. She'll quit her job. They'll stay together. They'll sleep in the same bed. There's no hurry on sex, is there? They'll get through it. But three weeks later he came home to an empty house and the letter.

Geoffrey realizes how everything about breaking up is trite, repetitive, derivative. Maybe everything in life is like that. You fit yourself into one or another pattern that millions have followed and to you it's unique. It doesn't matter how common it is. It's your life.

So there was a "Dear Geoffrey" letter. It doesn't matter how many there have been. He memorized the lines. She will always love him. It isn't him, but her. She has to go with Victor, her Morning Star. She can't keep cheating on Geoffrey, but has to make a clean break. She hopes he can forgive her one day. On and on, world without end, amen. She could have left out the part about the Morning Star.

The evening and the morning are the first day of Geoffrey's new world. He finally clicks the icon.

End of Chapter Two.