Page 15 of Circle of Strangers
“He breaks things. Throws things when he’s mad. He’s never laid a hand on me, but ... sometimes, emotional damage can be just as bad. And he controlseverything—money, decisions, everything. I don’twork. He doesn’t want me to. Most days, I feel like a prisoner to this beautiful life.”
She gives a sad little smile, gesturing vaguely at the perfect house around us.
First world problems . . .
I bite my tongue to keep from reminding her I could find millions of women willing to trade their problems for hers.
“But I also couldn’t imagine leaving it,” she adds. “This is my home. Oscar is my home. I might be a bird trapped in a cage, but it’s a pretty beautiful cage, don’t you think? Things could be a lot worse.”
She’s one ofthose—the ones who complain about their problems, then rationalize all the reasons why they’ll never do anything about said problems. The kind who are only happy when they have something to be unhappy about.
For a moment, I feel a flicker of something like understanding. Maybe that’s why she was so flirty with Will at the party—maybe she needed to feel alive, to feel free, even if only for a few stolen moments. But just as quickly as the thought comes, I dismiss it.
Even if I could sympathize with Mara, I wouldn’t want to.
She made her bed, she’s lying in it, and she seems more than willing to stay.
Her crocodile tears are wasted on me.
Besides, for all I know, this could be an elaborate act. A carefully crafted story to throw me off the scent, to distract me from what she’s really after. Maybe she’s trying to get me to lower my guard. Maybe she’s using her marriage problems as a smoke screen.
I set my mug on the table, eager to wrap this up.
“You know,” I say, meeting her gaze, “if he won’t work on the marriage, you shouldn’t have to stay trapped. And if he’s been your sole supporter, you’ll get spousal support and half of all assets. I’m sure you could find a job. Sticking around with someone who doesn’t value you seems ...”
I let my voice trail into nothing. All the words I want to use to describe what she’s doing are unkind.
I want to shake her. Tell her to find a little self-respect.
I also want to violently shake her and tell her to stop lusting after married men, but that’ll have to be a conversation for another time.
She gives a small, humorless laugh. “It’s not that easy. Even if I wanted to, he’d never let me leave unless it’s in a wooden box. He’s got quite a possessive streak.”
Sliding her diamond ring off her finger, she hands it over, pointing to the inscription on the inside that spells outyou belong to mein beautiful cursive.
It sends a chill down my spine, but I keep my face neutral.
“Anyway,” she says, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, “enough about me. I didn’t mean to dump all this on you. God, I must be hormonal or something. I don’t normally burst into tears like that. How embarrassing.”
I find it difficult to believe she’s embarrassed as she clearly has no shame.
I also find it difficult to believe she’s some lovesick victim in her marriage.
I offer her a small smile but no words of comfort. There’s nothing I can say that will sink into that thick, complicated, confused little skull of hers anyway.
As I leave the Morenos’ perfect house, one so pristine it feels like it could be part of a movie set, I can’t shake the suspicion that Mara was performing. This could’ve been part of her plan to infiltrate my happy marriage. In theory, if we became friends, she’d have more access to Will, more insight into my life and marriage, and if she were smart enough, she could position herself for the kill. It’s exactly the kind of thing Lucinda would’ve done back in the day.
Then again, nothing about Mara screams intelligent. If anything, I almost sense she doesn’t put a lot of thought into much of anything.It’s all surface-level emotions. Theatrics. Attention-seeking behavior. Nefarious people tend not to behave in such overt ways.
Maybe it’s true that Oscar is dangerous.
Maybe he is controlling and broken.
Maybe she truly does love him.
Regardless, I refuse to let my guard down.
Not for a second.
