Michele Martinez - Most Wanted

“I understand,” she said, looking back at him, feeling something opening inside her heart. He seemed so alone. Like she felt sometimes.

“Simple story, really. I knew my wife-my ex-wife, that is-my whole life, from when we were kids. Everybody expected we would wind up together. She was the best-looking girl in the neighborhood, and I was…well”-he blushed in the darkness of the car-“I guess you could say I was a good ballplayer. So, long story short, we got married, young. Too young.”

“Yeah, so? A lot of people get married young and it works out okay.”

“Jeez, now I see why you get so much information out of witnesses. Gestapo tactics here.”

“Sorry. Take your time.”

“This is hard for me,” he repeated.

“I’m sorry.” She reached for his hand, resting on the steering wheel. She’d only intended to pat it reassuringly, but he gripped her hand hard, as if he needed her help to go on.

“Well, it was like this. Diane was from a cop family, like me, so she knew the score. But she was a princess, too. Everybody was always sucking up to her, because she was beautiful. As beautiful as you, but she wasn’t smart like you, didn’t have your substance.”

“You sound angry. Did she leave you?” she asked, paying close attention but also secretly thrilled. He thought she was beautiful!

“Yeah. She got sick of being married to a cop, thought she could do better. Those early years with the Bureau, I’d go on duty, get thrown a case, and call home three days later from the other side of the world. Nothin’ I could do about it either, except quit, which I wasn’t about to, since I was born for the job. It might have worked out okay if she had more of her own shit going on. But she never wanted to work. And it didn’t happen for us with having kids. That was a big disappointment.” He fell silent again.

“So she left?”

“Yup.” He stared out the window at the traffic. “I came home one afternoon from a tour, forty-eight hours straight in the same clothes. Took a shower and crashed. It wasn’t until the next morning I realized her stuff was gone. She didn’t even leave a note. The divorce papers came in the mail.”

“Where is she now?”

“Remarried to a guy I used to play ball with. I think she was cheatin’ with him when we were still together, but I can’t be sure. He’s got a construction business out on the Island. She helps out in the office, drives a nice car. She found what she wanted, I guess.”

They reached their destination. He pulled up to the curb a car length away from the marriage counselor’s building.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” he said, as she started to open her door. She turned back.

“What?”

“This, you and me. Is it just revenge, for what your husband did?”

His heart was so exposed as he spoke that she could practically see it right there in the car. She wanted to protect him, comfort him.

“I don’t think so,” she said. But there was a touch of uncertainty in her voice that he didn’t miss.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re too honest?” he asked, smiling sadly.

He reached out and tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger on her cheek. Eyes full of longing, he traced the outline of her lips. She felt his hand tremble. She was mesmerized by his touch, unwilling to stop him. It seemed to take an eternity for him to lean toward her across the small distance between their seats, so that by the time their lips met, the kiss seemed inevitable, preordained. Yet it was the merest taste, sweet and gentle and over much too soon.

He sat up straight in the driver’s seat. “You’d better go in. I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

“Okay,” she said.

Melanie opened the door and got out, feeling unsteady on her feet. She looked back at him for a long moment before slamming the door shut.

Dan honked the horn as he drove past, but she didn’t wave back. Her eyes were focused instead on the brightly lit path under the green awning that stretched from the door of the building to the curb. Steve was standing there, framed by the light, staring at her, shock and hurt in his eyes. He’d seen everything.

HER FIRST THOUGHT WAS, HAH! NOW YOU KNOW what it feels like! But she wasn’t vindictive enough to say that aloud. In Steve’s eyes she saw the same sick surprise she’d felt herself, in that awful moment when the bottom had dropped out. That moment when she caught him red-handed. Infidelity sucked, no matter which side you were on.

“Steve, I’m so sorry,” she said. Part of her truly meant it, but another part of her was still in the car, tasting Dan O’Reilly’s kiss. And wanting more. Man, she was confused.

Without saying anything, Steve turned his back on her and marched into the lobby.

“Wait!” She rushed to catch up with him. He pretended not to see that she was coming, so she had to stick her hand in the elevator door to stop it from closing. Once they were alone in the elevator, he stared at her as if he barely recognized her. In spite of his anger, he looked amazing. Tall, lean, and tanned, wearing his suit with that careless grace that she loved. This guy could be a model, he showed off clothes so well. Sometimes she thought her whole relationship with her husband was based more on physical attraction than substance. No wonder it wasn’t holding up so well under pressure. Hmm, maybe she should marry Dan and have an affair with Steve?

Steve opened his mouth several times but couldn’t seem to bring himself to speak.

“I know how that must’ve looked,” she said. But then she stopped, at a loss for what to say next. Because it was what it looked like.

They stepped off the elevator into a long hallway wallpapered a dingy beige. The therapist’s apartment was directly across from the elevator. Steve pressed the buzzer.

He turned to her as they waited, still looking stunned. “I guess you’re trying to get back at me? That’s what I just saw, right? Melanie’s revenge?”

The door swung inward onto a narrow foyer warmed by a deep red Oriental rug and smelling of potpourri and scented candles. A petite woman with frizzy red hair and fashionably small eyeglasses greeted them. She was about their age.

“Hello, I’m Deborah Mintz. You must be Steve and Melanie.” Neither of them responded. She looked at them and smiled quizzically. “Why don’t you come in?” she said. She had a mellifluous voice, unusually deep for such a small woman. To her surprise, Melanie immediately liked her.

She showed them into an office off the foyer, furnished with a brown corduroy sofa and two beige leather chairs. Against the far wall stood a desk piled high with books and papers. Deborah shut the door firmly and went to sit in one of the chairs.

“Please, sit down,” she said.

Melanie sat on the sofa. Steve chose the empty leather chair, dropping his head into his hands. When he looked up, his eyes were red and teary. If Melanie had ever thought revenge would be sweet, she was sadly mistaken. Hurting him felt much worse than getting hurt herself.

“It was lucky you called when you did, Steve,” Deborah said. “I only have evening office hours once a week, and I just happened to have a cancellation. Now, would one of you like to begin and share with me what brings you here?”

“I cheated on Melanie, and I’m here to take responsibility for that,” Steve said firmly, looking at Melanie as he spoke. “Melanie’s been acting out, trying to show me how upset she is, and I want her to know that I hear her and that I’m going to do better. For us and for our daughter.”

“Okay, well, that sounds like a good place to start. Melanie, would you like to respond?” Deborah asked.