“I’m gonna be there always, after the pain has gone away, the feelings are so strong, this can be our song…”


Mumps. A childhood disease thought to be nearly obsolete in the 21st century, yet Marco and several other players throughout the league had mysteriously contracted it. The rumor mill had put out an intriguing headline about it starting in Anaheim, but after denying responsibility, one thing was certain: with schedules constantly having teams on and off the road, no team was safe. For Marco, whether he had touched a door handle or a hook in his stall, he had contracted the virus. And that meant quarantine until the illness had run its course.

After learning about what he had, Marie made a point to make a batch of chicken noodle soup, and made off for his condo. She knew that he must’ve been bored as hell being cooped up all alone in his place, and after all the things he’d done for her, she figured she could do this one thing for him. She found his spare key tucked into the terra cotta plant pot by his door and used it to break her way in. The mumps had rendered him practically useless. With an aching body and a fever of a hundred and two, he was practically bed ridden.

Marie locked the door behind her decided against calling out for him. If he was sleeping, she didn’t want to wake him. He needed all the rest he could get. So she opted to just enter his room, slowly looking around the door to peer at his bed. He was laid back with the TV on and a bottle of ibuprofen beside his bed. He turned his head just slightly to look at her, and Marie could tell he was in absolute pain.

“I thought you’d be sleeping,” she murmured, not wanting to speak too loudly.

“You shouldn’t be here; it’s contagious.” He cringed as he swallowed, writhing in bed.

“My dad’s a physician. I’ve been vaccinated for practically everything.” She stepped in further and examined the rest of his room. “Besides if no one’s here taking care of you, you’ll probably rot in bed. When’s the last time you showered?”

“Two days ago,”

“So you need a shower. When’d you eat last?”

“I don’t know,”

Marie lifted the Tupperware full of soup, “I’ve got you covered. And when’s the last time you got out of bed?”

Marco shut his eyes and smiled as best he could. Obviously he felt he had a good answer to this question. “Three AM to vomit,”

“Okay, so I’m gonna warm this up and you’re gonna be sitting up by the time I get back. And when you’re done eating, we’re going to get you a shower, and then you can rest some more,” she ordered, marching out of Marco’s room.

“Yes mother,”

Marie rolled her eyes and pulled open the Tupperware lid, ladling the soup into a ceramic bowl. She placed it in the microwave and turned it on. Waiting for it to heat up, she looked around, not trying to be nosy intentionally. The many pictures scattered throughout the condo were enough to keep her busy, and not having seen all of them, she started trekking through the living room.

They were mostly of him and his family, some of his niece, and some of past and current teammates. As the microwave rung, Marie turned back to the kitchen and stopped short of entering as another picture caught her eye. This one was of the two of them at the Halloween party, the night she had called it quits. While she was looking at the camera, Marco was staring down at her with a look of complete infatuation. It was the look girls hoped for, and when she saw it in the picture, she almost felt guilty for giving Marco such a hard time.

Back in his room, Marco was sitting up like she had asked. Marie carried the bowl of soup over to him, careful not to spill, and set it in his lap. He looked down at it as if he were debating whether or not he’d actually eat it. Marie placed her hand on the back of his head and curled her fingers in his hair. He looked up at her and at the same time, she bent down and placed her lips on his forehead.

“You still have a fever,” she pulled back and began moving about his room, throwing the clothes that were strewn across the floor into the hamper. “Take off your clothes,”

“Babe, I’m sick,” he grinned and pushed a spoonful of broth into his mouth.

“And I’m doing your laundry. Get out of your clothes so I can wash them,” she held out her hand, waiting for him to comply.

He reached over to set the bowl on the nightstand. Then he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, which was followed up by his hands disappearing beneath the blankets and a moment later reappearing with his boxer briefs. He handed his garments to Marie and picked up his bowl again, studying her as she strutted into his laundry room.

---

“You’re making me nervous,” he mentioned, one hand clutching the sink counter, and the other cupping his member.

“I’ve seen you naked!” She argued, pressing against his back to get him to inch closer to the shower. He was acting childish, as most people did when they were feeling under the weather. Eventually, Marie was able to coax him into the cold shower, where he vehemently refused to step into the stream of water.

“It’s freezing!”

“Your body temperature is four degrees higher than normal. You need the cold water to help neutralize it,” she persisted. “And also, you ate around the vegetables in the soup, so when you’re done here you can finish those up.”

“You’re gonna need to leave,” he growled.

“Why?”

“Because I barely have a penis now,”

Marie brought her hand up to her mouth to stifle her giggles, but she slowly began backing out of the bathroom, “holler if you need anything.”

She slunk back into his room, noticing for the first time that he had a bookshelf in the corner. It was amazing the things you could miss if you weren’t really looking. She approached the shelf and danced her fingers over spines until she found a title she approved of. After pulling it out, she pranced to his bed and pulled back the blankets. With the shower still going, Marie opened up the cover and began reading.

Sometime during page four, the bathroom door opened but Marie didn’t even take the moment to look up at Marco. Instead she was interrupted midsentence when he asked her a question.

“Vous avez lu Dostoïevski?” You read Dostoyevsky?

Marie looked up at him and grinned, closing the book and placing it in her lap. “Oui. Est un bon livre,” Yes. It’s a good book.

“I know, I bought it.” He flopped face down on his bed, letting out a long sigh.

It was then that Marie noticed he had a wet washcloth in his hand and she took it from him. “How’re you feeling,” she rolled up the cold cloth and set it on the back of Marco’s neck.

He moaned and turned his head to look at her, “I’ve been better. Thanks for coming over though. It sucks being alone when you’re sick,”

“I know,” she pressed her hand against the coolness of the rag to help lower his body heat. “You have a picture of me,”

“You’re my girlfriend,”

“It’s from the night I broke up with you, which means you had it printed and framed when we weren’t together,”

“Just because you broke up with me doesn’t mean I stopped loving you,” he spoke softly, but it was probably all he could muster. “I struggled with that breakup every single day.”

Marie sunk down in the bed and pressed her lips against Marco’s bare shoulder blade. She was the only person to blame as to why so many people in her life had left. With exception of her father, Marie had a knack for pushing people away even if they really cared about her.

She reopened the book and picked up where she had left off. If anything, Crime and Punishment would be a good distraction to her life. Time got away from her and by the time she heard Marco’s quiet snores, she decided it’d be good for her to get some sleep too. She wasn’t worried about getting the mumps. Decidedly, there were worse things that could happen to her.

By morning, the pressure of the book on Marie’s chest was burdensome. Beside her, Marco was still fast asleep and she felt that was for the better. He’d need all the rest he could get in order to be back playing the game he was so passionate about. Instead of sticking around, Marie left a note on her side of the bed and crept out of his place in a timely fashion. But what she found when she got back to her place was more than she could ever imagine. She wished so desperately to be back at Marco’s. Even with him being sick and weak, that felt more safe than here.

Because seeing her dad so early in the morning wasn’t what Marie had ever wanted; especially not with the disgruntled look on his face. He was ticked off about something and it seemed to be of her doing. What was even more frightening was that he was inside her apartment, snooping around. Of course he had a key, the lease was under his name, but he so willingly invited himself in.

“Dad,” she mumbled, hoping it was actually just a mirage and he really wasn’t there at all.

“Marie Rose…”

Nope. He was really there.

“You had every opportunity to tell me in New York, and yet I still have to find out from your mother about a man in Minnesota absorbing your time. And the fact that your mother used the word man, and not boy…”

“I didn’t want to bring anything up in front of Roxanne; it’s not her business,” Marie tried to defend herself.

“A man, Marie? I demand to know who he is. And I’d like to speak to this man who’s apparently dating my daughter.”

“Not apparently, he is.”

“We’ll see about that. I have quite a bit to say to a man of twenty-four dating my teenage daughter,”

“You’re basically dating a teenager! Roxanne is a hooker, a gold digger! Her proud accomplishments in life are finishing eleventh grade and calling you daddy!”

Bill got up in Marie’s face, pointing his finger at her, “this is not about me and Roxanne. That is a functional relationship…”

“Bullshit,” Marie spat.

“This is about you and this mystery man who’s exploiting you,”

Marie clenched her fists and squeezed her eyes shut. She felt the words slipping off the tip of her tongue and she couldn’t stop it. “It’s Marco! He’s not a mystery man and he’s not exploiting me. He’s the one man in my life who’s not exploiting me!”

The words left her mouth and she immediately regretted it. This was a path she and her sister and mother had gone down before. It never ended well for them. But she thought, just maybe, after nineteen years she’d be able to handle it. What was even worse was she saw it coming but she still didn’t even have time to react.

Bill’s fist struck the side of her face just below her eye, and his disgruntled expression got even worse. Being shaken, Marie started to back up towards her bed, trying to gain some distance between her and her father, but he closed the gap.

“He’s not exploiting you?” He reached for her arm and yanked on it to pull her closer to him, “he’s not using you?” After having just pulled her forward, he pushed her back, sending her into the wall with a crash, “he’s not taking advantage of you?”

Marie looked down at her arm, holding back every single urge she had to cry. Crying was showing weakness, and showing a weakness to her dad meant that he won. But when she looked back up, her dad was right back in her face, his palm pushing back against her throat as his fingers dug into her cheeks. And in the other hand, he held up the dildo he’d found amidst his snooping, “yes he is.”

Marie glared at him and felt the muscles in her jaw clench, “no he’s not. You are,”

Bill dropped the toy and dragged her into the bathroom. She fought with him the entire way, but she could already feel blood racing to the places he’d already hit, and her body began to ache. Finally falling weak, Marie complied as her dad pushed her to the floor and in one fell swoop had managed to make his point. The handcuffs, which had also been bought for pleasure, were now being used against her. With one hand cuffed, Bill secured the other side to the toilet paper holder. He delivered a swift kick to her ribs, knocking the wind out of her until she lay in a shaking pile on the floor.

“You will not disobey me. You will not embarrass me. And you will not make a mockery out of me.” He hissed and slammed the bathroom door shut.

After a moment, Marie heard the door to her apartment open and shut. Even though she was handcuffed in the bathroom and couldn’t move, it felt safer now that he was gone. This was the dark side that Marie chose to hide from the rest of the world. Marco didn’t know about it, and neither did Jess. Only she, her mom, and Lizzie did.

Marie whimpered and set her head down on the tile floor, feeling a throbbing in it from where she had been thrown against the wall. She’d probably have a bump there in the morning, but that’d be the least of her worries. She looked at the bathroom door, staring at the little slit of daylight that came through the bottom. And slowly, she saw that light grow dimmer and fainter until it went black.

Notes

"Our Song" by Matchbox 20.

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