Page 88 of Caleb
“It’s okay.” I sit up straight and put my hand on top of hers. “Honestly, I’m just fucking pissed and worried about having to talk to her once the party is over in a few hours to let her know I won’t be coming.” I shake my head. “I’m still in denial of having to do that.”
She nods in understanding, her eyes warm with compassion. But she says nothing. Instead, we linger in comfortable silence for a moment.
“Then use me,” Annette says, breaking the silence, offering me a bland, close-lipped smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
Confused, I frown at her because what the hell does that mean? “I don’t understand.”
“I’m not going to New York. And I haven’t told James yet, but you’re right. You’ve always been right. I can’t keep degrading myself for him. For nothing. So use me.” She opens my nightstand drawer and pulls out my cigarettes. She lights one up with shaky fingers and gives it a long drag.
“You can’t smoke in here,” I say with a sad laugh, plucking the cigarette away to give it a draw.
“Oh, fuck them all.” She laughs, the sound of it similar to mine, sad and a tad cynical. A few tears start rolling down her cheeks. “You’ve always been there for me, Caleb. This is the least I can do.”
“Are you one-hundred percent sure about your decision?” I’m proud of her for putting herself first. And I know it must be the hardest thing to do, as obvious as it may seem from the outside looking in. I know how strongly that man is ingrained into her soul. And I’m glad to hear she’s ready to weed him once and for all, but her relationship with him has always been one of push and pull. And I can’t help but wonder if this is just another “push.”
“I am.” She brushes the tears with the back of her hand. “I can’t keep living like this.” She takes the cigarette from my fingers and gives it a shaky drag.
“So what do you propose?” I stand up and open the window to allow the smoke to escape the room. “What do you have in mind?”
“I’m going to tell you about Agent Mark.” She sighs. “And that’s going to be your one-way ticket to New York.”
Agent Mark
“WHO’S AGENT MARK?”I’m confused. I’ve never heard of an Agent Mark since I started working here, so I don’t know who she’s referring to or why this person is relevant to my situation.
“Let me start from the beginning,” she says, crossing a leg on top of the other, her intertwined fingers resting in her lap.
“Okay.” I nod sharply, wondering where this story is headed.
“You know James is a workaholic,” she continues. “He always has been. And Mrs. Murphy—Maria—would always stand by his side, attending every function she was required to attend and doing whatever was needed from her. But behind the scenes, one could easily tell she wasn’t happy with the role of ambassador’s wife.”
It does not come as a shock to learn that Red’s mother wasn’t happy with the bastard. It’s sad, though, to know he probably neglected his wife too. I was hoping that burying himself in work would’ve been some kind of coping mechanism after his wife died, but no. That’s just who he is and has been all along.
“Maria would smile, do, and say whatever James asked of her,” Annette carries on with the story, her voice a tad lower now. “Until one day … she wouldn’t.”
“What do you mean? What happened?” The way I’m invested in this story borders on unhealthy. But I never felt the need to get to the bottom of something like I do now. Especially if this is my one-way ticket to New York, as Annette says it is.
“James frequently missed important events of his daughter’s growing up, and he wanted Maria by his side at every function. But she wanted to be more present in their daughter’s life. She didn’t want to leave her with the nanny all the time either. Miss Murphy wasn’t a baby anymore. She needed stability and her mother. So I guess it was the perfect excuse to take a step back and focus on her daughter instead of chasing her husband around the formal dinners and back-to-back social engagements when she didn’t even want to do any of it in the first place. It all gave her too much anxiety.”
“How do you know all of these details?” It all feels too intimate. I know she’s been in a relationship with Ambassador Murphy for years, but I don’t think he was the one who relayed the entirety of this information to her.
“Most of it directly from Mrs. Murphy.” Her gaze drops to the floor as she bites her lower lip. I can see the pain in Annette’s eyes. Pain and … something else. But I’m not being able to decipher what that is. At some point, they must’ve been close, and Mrs. Murphy confided in her from what it seems. “And the rest from either James or the embassy staff grapevine.”
She sighs and shakes her head as if trying to push the thoughts she’s not sharing with me away and bring her awareness back to the present moment. I remain silent to allow her to keep expanding because I can tell there’s much more to this story.
“The constant traveling continued. And James would ask me to come. It was always one or two-day trips around Switzerland or neighboring countries to attend key events or meetings. And more people from the staff tagged along. It wasn’t just me. But the increasing time apart between James and his wife didn’t help the already somewhat strained relationship. He felt like she was slipping through his fingers, and he constantly worried about leaving her alone. Maria liked going out for walks and just doing stuff on her own. But James felt uneasy about it, which is ridiculous because she had security, and I don’t need to tell you how obnoxious he can be when it comes to such matters.
“What he did to relieve some of that misplaced paranoia was relocate Agent Mark, his most loyal and trusted personal security agent, to care for his wife. He thought the only way he would feel at ease while he was gone without her was if Agent Mark saw personally to her security. But Maria didn’t appreciate ‘the gesture.’ She thought it was just another way for her husband to control and keep close tabs of her every move, and all she wanted was to be able to do a thing or two on her own without feeling suffocated. But James just kept squeezing tighter and tighter.”
It’s stressful to see him doing the same thing to his daughter. Suffocating her. The only difference is that Red doesn’t know what freedom looks like, but her mother did. That’s why it must’ve been even harder for her to feel like she was being stripped away from it as time went by.
“Anyway,” Annette says, rolling her shoulders protectively, “that’s around the time that I started sleeping with James.” She clears her throat. “And it wasn’t just sex, for me at least. I—fell for him. Hard. I admired him, and we always ended up staying up late talking about work, and then the conversation would get more relaxed, and he would offer me something to drink, which I would normally accept. But I would always leave after that. Until one day, it just … happened. He was an expert in making me feel like I was the only person on the planet he could trust. Like I was the only one who understood the pressures and demands of his job, and I loved being able to be whatever he needed me to be for him, you know?”
Her eyes are turning glassy, and I can hear the agitation in her breathing.
“We were always traveling together, and she wasn’t around anymore,” she says as if trying to justify her actions, her voice powerless against the control she had been able to keep up until this point. “I just …merde!” Her hand goes into a tight fist, bringing it up to her forehead.
Annette shakes her head, and now I know that the other feeling she was previously trying to hide from me was guilt. I’m sure she feels guilty about the affair and how things started. Especially if she, at some point, used to be close with Mrs. Murphy.
