“At times so self destructive, with no intent or motive. But behind this emotion, there lies a sensible heart…”


Marco pushed open the front door of his parents’ house later that night. He and Marie had spent the rest of the evening meandering through the neighborhood at their own pace, and now as it neared midnight, they were heading towards his bedroom in the basement.

“All my clothes are at the hotel,” Marie whispered as she got her first look at Marco’s room. It was pretty barren, without much decoration, as he normally didn’t stay the night here. “And what are your parents going to think when they find me here tomorrow morning?”

“They won’t,” he smiled and shut his door behind them, immediately caressing Marie in his arms. He stood behind her, dropping his lips down to suck her neck, “my mom goes to work and my dad won’t bother us.”

Marie rolled her eyes and shrugged away from Marco’s touch. She walked to his bed and sat down on it, and leaned back on her hands. “So what are we going to do tonight, Mr. Scandella?”

He smirked and nodded his head, approaching her and cupped his hands around her jaw, tilting her head backwards, “what do you want to do tonight?”

She flashed her teeth at him, “maybe cuddle?” Marie reached for his wrist and held it loosely, gently tugging him onto his bed, “or is that not really our thing?”

Marco laid down beside her and leaned his head against his hand, smiling at her, “it could be our thing if you wanted it to be.” He paused and reached over with his other hand, setting it on her leg, “do you want it to be?”

After shrugging, she laid down next to him, nestling up against his body, “I want to know that spending extra time in Montreal isn’t a waste of my time.”

“I can’t promise you that, because I don’t know.” Marco sat up and stared down at his hands in his lap. His answer wasn’t desirable or what she wanted to hear, but she had overreacted in the way he thought she would. “I’m twenty-four Marie, and I’m on a path, and I have to keep heading down that path. And I don’t know if you’re along the way, I don’t know if you’re there for the long run…” He paused as she sat up and pressed her lips into his shoulder blade, “I don’t want to lie to you. I don’t want to give you hope in something that’s not there. Besides you don’t want to be with me; you want to be able to have fun in college, and do all the things teenagers do.”

“You don’t know what I want,” Marie pulled her lips off of his shoulder and scooted off his bed, fixing her dress.

“Don’t you want to stay the night?”

Marie shook her head. “I wanted to curl up beside a man I thought I could trust. But every time I want a solid answer out of him, I get bullshit, and he turns into a scared little boy! You don’t know what I want, Marco. Every time I try to tell you or give you a glimpse of my life, I end up getting a lecture about age, and maturity, and paths to destinies. But you don’t know a damn thing.” She looked around flustered, and finally reached for her purse as it lay across his room on the floor.

“Where are you going?” He stood up and reached out for her, urging her to stop.

“Back to the hotel,” when she saw him reaching out for her, she made it a point to keep her hands away from him. But the more she resisted, the more Marco tried. And eventually, he clutched onto her wrist. “Let go of me,”

They struggled together, and while Marie contorted her body to get away from Marco, he pinned her up against his bedroom wall. Only when she began to raise her voice, did he take drastic action and cup his hand over her mouth. He stared down at her as she continued to struggle, and she did her best to get out of his hold. She may have had a chance, until he dropped his hips to hers, keeping her body still. And finally, as her chest heaved to regain her breath, Marco pulled his hand away from her mouth and leaned in.

“Stay the night with me,” he ordered, brushing her hair away from her face. Although she was pouting up at him, he smiled and bent lower to kiss her lips. “You’re not afraid that I don’t know what you want. You’re afraid that I do, and that someone might actually not disappoint you.”

Marie bowed her head as Marco cradled her against his chest. For the most part, he was right. When it came to guys, all she really knew was disappointment. He shuffled back to his bed and crawled up to set his head on the pillow. Feeling pretty safe with the situation considering they were still both clothed, Marie crept up beside him, wriggling beneath his arm as he lifted it up to create a spot for her.

He stared at her, waiting for her to return his glance. And once she did, he leaned in and kissed her lips, readjusting his head on the pillow. Marie would have to be strong for herself if she wanted to get through this summer in one piece. Every time they spoke about a potential relationship, Marco made it very clear where he stood. Minnesota. There wasn’t a shred of doubt in his mind, and it was pretty obvious that she was becoming more attached to him than he was to her.

A knock and a creak happened all in one moment, and Marie twisted in bed realizing it was morning. Her fist crashed into something hard and at the same time, Marco groaned, so she assumed she had accidentally punched his chest.

“Marco,”

Marie’s eyes flashed open, but instead of darting up in bed, she felt paralyzed. Hearing Sandra call for her son should’ve had her flying out of bed, but instead, she was still and Marco flung his arm over her hip and dragged her closer to him.

“Honey, your father’s asking for you,”

Marie tried to stay still, pretending to still be asleep. But once the bedroom door shut, she turned beneath Marco’s arm, and faced him. He groaned again as her movements encouraged him to actually open his eyes. She was impressed that he had managed to stay in his clothes all night.

Without much more of any coaxing, Marco kicked back the blankets and yawned as he got out of bed and tottered out of his bedroom. Marie watched the door as he shut it behind him, and only a few seconds later, she could hear Marco’s deep voice as he spoke to his father. What they were saying, she didn’t know as they had opted to speak in Italian. But as the conversation progressed, she doubted it was a pleasant one. Marco’s voice was rising to match that of his father’s, but it was hardly a screaming match, because instead of arguing too much with his father, Marco resorted to absorbing the anger and not reacting.

Marie sat up and with one final exclamation from Francesco, she scurried out of bed, and began to gather her belongings. She was ready to leave before Marco had returned to his room, so instead of waiting for him, she tiptoed up the stairs to the ground floor, and tried to sneak her way out of the house. And she would’ve made it too, but her timing was a little off. Just as she was reaching for the doorknob of the front door, Marco appeared in the foyer. He was just staring at her, waiting for her to make a move or say something.

“I think I’m gonna go. It was probably a mistake for me to stay in Montreal anyways.” She chewed on the inside of her lip, “so… um… it was nice meeting you, and getting to know you… but I guess it’s over now…”

Marco slid his hand through his hair, “I hope you don’t think what just happened was about you. If anything, it was about me.”

“I just don’t think I should be here when family stuff is going on. I mean, that’s a little awkward. Besides, I should go back to Connecticut to see my mom before heading back to Boston.”

He nodded and sighed, dropping his hands back to his side, and stepped closer to Marie slowly. She allowed him to step up in front of her, thinking about how this could end. And after a moment of waiting, she reached up and pecked his lips, then turned and pulled the front door open.

Once she was out, she wasted no time in walking the short block to the main street and hailing a cab. That was something she had gotten good at. Spending time in New York, hailing a cab was like one of her only talents. She hated the way she had to leave, but she also didn’t feel like she had a choice. Marco had tried to be kind in saying the argument hadn’t been about her. But the way her name came up in the conversation made her think differently. It was the only word she recognized amid the fluent Italian rant.

---

New Haven, Connecticut had never looked so good. The town she once couldn’t wait to get out of, felt like an oasis now. Even the Yale summer session, which Marie used to dread, was welcomed. Usually she hated seeing the Ivy League kids traipsing around town, sporting sweater vests and Chubbies. It nearly made her sick, but when she saw them now, it took everything in her to keep from running up to them and starting a conversation. American boys, wearing tight shorts, as though that was the only thing that would attract a girl to them, was now her aesthetic.

And her mom, Carol, had been more than thrilled to see her show up again. She hadn’t been expecting her at all, and so now to have her back in Connecticut for a few weeks, was like a dream come true. Since the divorce, Marie worried about her mother, maybe a little too much, mainly for the fact that she spent a lot of time alone now. She had gone from the outgoing and bubbly wife of a physician, to a middle-aged homebody. With everything going on in her own life, and not being able to come home as much as she would’ve liked, Marie feared that all her mom was doing, was staying in and catching up on episodes of soap operas.

So taking a red eye flight from Montreal to Bradley International was a must for Marie. When she finally pushed open the back gate to her mother’s home in New Haven early the next morning, and saw her mom sitting alone at the kitchen table, she knew she had made the right decision.

She pulled open the back door and stood there looking at her mom, chuckling at the way tears started forming in her mother’s eyes. Marie dropped her bags and ran up to her, wrapping her arms around her shoulders tightly.

“What’re you doing here?” Carol choked out. She had known of her daughter’s trip through Canada and hadn’t been expecting her this summer.

“I skipped out on California with Jess. Some things came up, and I’m back early. Thought I’d come by for awhile before going back to Boston.”

“Well you got here just in time,” Carol backed up and led her daughter into the kitchen. “I was just about to bake some pastries,”

Marie smiled and walked to the sink to quickly wash her hands before turning back to the marble island, ready to help her mom out. This was something they had always done together. That was one of Marie’s other talents; baking. Or at least she thought it was. If the things she made were ever bad, her mom never let her know it.

“I take it you saw your father in Montreal,” Carol murmured, scooping a cup of sugar into a big glass bowl.

“Saw… was ambushed by. All synonymous.”

Carol snorted and covered her mouth, trying not to get too much amusement at her ex-husband’s expense.

“How could I forget being bought off with a red dress and then standing, looking like an idiot while Wild Bill Thatcher caught up with his colleagues.” Marie paused and cracked two eggs into the bowl. “The only reason I was there was so he could show off.”

“Marie, I know I have said some choice things about your father in your presence. And that was wrong of me to do. But he has given you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

“He was buying love, mom. He was buying things to win me.”

Carol let out a loud sigh, and both she and her daughter fell silent. Marie knew her mother was right, but it didn’t ease the pain and disappointment any. All it did was prove a point. Her father had used what he could, mostly his name and money, to buy things that would convince Marie to love him more than her mother.

“How was Montreal?” Her mother asked as she turned on the electric mixer. Marie stared as the ingredients slowly incorporated with each other.

“Nice. Met some good people…”

Carol looked over at her suspiciously, “anyone you’re going to keep in touch with?”

Marie pursed her lips and shook her head, trying to seem casual about it. “Nope, probably not.” She returned her mom’s glance and nodded her head, trying to think of ways to change the subject. “So I’m going back to Boston in a week or so, but I want to plan on coming back for the holidays.”

“Your father also said something about having you down in New York. He just bought a new loft in Tribeca… with his new girlfriend… who’s roughly Lizzie’s age.”

Marie chuckled as her mom kept finding herself explaining the situation further. It was clear that the thought of her ex-husband dating someone close in age to their daughter was disturbing. All Marie could do was shake her head. Her dad was going to do as he pleased, and nothing anyone said could change that.

When the cakes were in the oven, Marie climbed the stairs up to her childhood bedroom. It wasn’t surprising that her mother had left it exactly the same. She had always been sentimental, and while Marie could’ve done without the stuffed animals on the window seat, her mom liked the reminder of her younger years.

She curled up into fetal position on her bed, waiting for something to spark her interest. But she knew nothing would, because everything in the room seemed calming. How desperately she wanted to look out the window and try to catch up on all the gossip she had missed since she’d been gone. But before long, she was fast asleep; curled up and warm in her bed.

Notes

"Sensible Heart" by City and Colour.

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