Page 14 of Circle of Strangers
“Complete and utter transparency,” I say without pause. “We tell each other everything, always, even when it’s uncomfortable. I find that it’s those moments that bring us closer than ever. Our bond has been tried and tested. At this point, I’d say it’s unbreakable.”
Mara’s lips twitch into a faint smile, though there’s something about it that makes my skin itch—like she’s mentally placing herself in my shoes.
“You’re lucky,” she says, brushing a strand of hair off her shoulder. “Oscar and I ... it hasn’t been that easy for us.”
I sip my coffee, watching her carefully. “Marriage can be a complicated dance.”
It really isn’t. Not if you’re with the right person. But Mara’s fishing for sympathy and I’m fishing for intel. This conversation, much like any marriage, needs to be mutually beneficial if it’s going to work.
Her expression wavers, and then, as if a dam breaks, she drops her head into her hands and begins to cry.
Oh, God.
I’m officially convinced I have a sign on my forehead, a beacon signal broadcasting to women like her that they can sucker me into being their free therapist by offering me food or drink, much like oneof the school volunteer moms did back in San Diego. Sozi did it with a glass of rosé by her pool. And now Mara ...
I sit frozen, contemplating my reaction. Hers is not the loud, performative crying of someone seeking attention. This is the raw, hiccuping kind, the kind you don’t show just anyone. Then again, she went outside to cry on her front steps the other day. Perhapsthatwas a cry for help? If so, there are people far better equipped for her needs than me.
I put my cup down and inch closer, offering what I hope is a comforting presence but not too comforting—Mara needs firm boundaries and quite frankly, I owe her nothing after the way she flirted with Will last Friday.
“Oscar’s been having affairs,” she says between sobs, wiping at her face with the sleeve of her robe. “I just know it. All the signs are there. He’s been working out more. Coming home later. Acting distant and withdrawn.” She shakes her head, her laugh brittle. “I know it sounds cliché, but it’s like a textbook midlife crisis.”
Mara sniffles, her hands still shaking as she reaches for a tissue from the box on the coffee table.
“Oscar left his first wife for me,” she says, drying tears I’m not convinced are actually there.
“Really?” I ask, though Sozi already gave me the full scoop. I want to hear it from Mara’s lips. I want to hear how she frames her own betrayal.
She nods, biting her lip.
“I’m not proud of it. I never thought I’d be a home-wrecker. I never wanted to hurt anyone, but ... he was so persistent and before I realized it, I was addicted to him. We all know addicts aren’t known for making good decisions.” She trails off, her voice breaking. “I guess this is my karma. I deserve this.”
I watch her closely. “He’s clearly demonstrated a pattern with being unfaithful. Why stay?”
Her gaze snaps to mine, sharp as obsidian. My question offends her.
“Because I love him,” she says. “I know that sounds ridiculous, but when I’m with someone, I’mwiththem. I get these blinders on, and no one else exists for me.”
Her words hang in the air between us, heavy with subtext. All I can think about are Sozi’s words and how Mara abandoned Oscar at the barbecue to flirt with Will and Austin.
We clearly have different definitions of loyalty—just like Oscar said.
I take another sip of my coffee, letting the silence stretch.
Not unlike Sozi, the less I talk, the more she will, and that’s the way I want it.
“You must think I’m pathetic.” Mara’s voice is softer now.
“I’m not here to judge.” I offer another bit of reassurance in hopes she’ll feel comfortable opening up even more. The more I know about her, the better I’ll be able to assess her true intentions.
As I’d hoped, my words soften her expression and her tears begin to subside.
“Thank you. That really means so much to me.” Mara cocks her head and reaches over, placing her hand on mine. “Oscar is my world. He felt like a prize at first. Lately he feels like a challenge. But now I don’t know who I’d be without him. I don’t want to lose him, Camille.”
She’s a beautiful and vivacious woman. I imagine men throw themselves at her feet. It makes sense that she’d be drawn to the unavailable or harder-to-get ones. It’s clear now that Mara suffers from low self-esteem—a trait that makes some people impulsive and reckless because they’re constantly chasing a fleeting feeling and what they want sometimes changes by the day.
Mara sniffs, rolling her eyes. “Oscar’s got these ... tendencies. He wasn’t allowed to express emotions growing up—nothing good, nothing bad. So it all comes out now. In weird ways.”
I arch a brow. “Weird how?”
