91: Toad Prince

Marie

       I've never had an easy time trusting people. I don't remember my actual parents, but I remember when my mom adopted me. For a long time, I wondered why she did that when, looking back on it, she was nowhere near ready to be a parent. Then, I'd learned that she herself had been adopted. Her adopted parents died about a year before she adopted me, and she was probably hoping I would once again give her a sense of family. She might've thought that she was also helping me.

       She let me down.

       I never felt the love of a parent until I met my dad. I was so happy when Elena married John.

       Then, he let me down too by proving how violent he could be. He accused her, probably justly, of cheating and hit her several times before throwing her out of the house. I can still hear her screaming to be let back inside so she could get Xavier and me. I stayed hiding in the bedroom, hugging my little brother to keep him from crying.

       Dad says he'll always hate himself for what he did, even though he dealt with long-buried issues, went through extensive counseling, and gained Mom's forgiveness over the span of more than a decade. They've only been remarried a year.

       Then, there was that whole mess with my dead ex-step-father followed by the debacle with Armand, Dawson, and Andy.

       Erin and Jesse have slowly been gaining my trust, but Jesse shredded it.

       I get up to make some popcorn, pausing the movie I hope to engross myself in, when my phone chirps.

Jesse is a wreck.

      It's Erin.

      My lower lip trembles when I think about him. He knows exactly why I'm mad at him; I'm sure that's why he never said anything once we left the pharmacy or tried to contact me since. He knew there wasn't a point.

May I come over?

      I let out a resigned sigh, knowing she hopes to act as an ambassador for him. Trying to keep from rolling my eyes, I wonder if I'm ready to take on my romantic, girly-girl, new best friend. In some ways, she's just like Cristina… She's just not a bitch.

      If you must…

si tu veux

Merci.

     A small smile graces my lips. Erin's uncle, Cristina's father, was my English teacher. It still makes me pause in mild surprise with the coincidence. I always suspect Erin knows more French than she lets on; I think she's too embarrassed to try.
      A few minutes later, my phone rings. It's Erin.

      "Hey," she says quietly when I answer the phone. "I needed to stay with Adele while Bryce helps Jesse. Do you want to tell me what happened?" she asks, surprising me by outright asking. I'd expected her to jump all around the subject until finally getting to Jesse.

       "He didn't use a condom the last time we made love, and I didn't know until the morning." I feel so immature that I wasn't able to tell.

       "Oh," she breathes, and I picture her with her eyes wide. "He mentioned something about Cristina and Dawson being engaged having something to do with your fight."

       "He did?" I ask, my brows coming together in confusion. "I told him, but…" I don't know how to finish.

       "Maybe it was a random comment since she's my cousin and all… but he acted like it wasn't that random."

       "He didn't like me being upset. I don't like me being upset. I am over the pig!" I exclaim in a confident voice, my back straight up as I sit on the couch. Then, reality hits me, and I wilt, curling forward to hide the hurt. I take a breath and say with renewed strength, "Jesse was going to help me, so he helps me by doing what he did?! No! I don't think so!"

       "Maybe he got caught up in the moment?" she offers meekly.

       "No. He himself told me he doesn't forget to use one… unless that was a lie. He said Bryce said so. I could ask Bryce…" I imagine myself doing just that and blush. "No, I don't think I could."

       "Bryce knew Jesse always used a condom?" she asks incredulously.

       I nod. "Yes. He said they would watch out for each other… and some other things." I wonder if she knows.

       She suddenly sounds like she's trying to hide a giggle. "Bryce, um, told me about some of the crazier stuff they'd do."

       "That they'd watch each other?" I ask.

       I hear a small gasp. "What?!"

       "Well, what did Bryce tell you then?"

       "I wanna know what Jesse told you," she counters.

       I blush again. "He was probably trying to embarrass me for the fun of it. He could have been lying or… stretching the truth?" I question, not one-hundred percent sure I got the phrase right.

       "Why do I get the feeling he was being totally truthful?" She pauses. "Voyeurism?"

       I nod again even though she can't see me. "He said they would… give each other tips and tell the other one what to do."

       "Kinky bastards," she mutters under her breath, and I have to laugh. It feels nice after the sour night and morning I've had.

       Then, my face falls. "Erin… I love him. But how can I trust him now after what he did?" I bite my lip to keep from crying. I did enough of that yesterday.

       She takes a deep breath. "Men are toads. Even when they turn into a prince, they're still a toad prince. Whatever troubles him most, it's killing him." She pauses before saying quietly, "He cried very hard, curled up in a fetal position on the floor, right in front of me."

       Before I can say anything, a knock sounds at the door.
       "Hold on one second, Erin," I tell her as I get up to answer it.

       "I have a delivery," Bryce says as soon as I open it. Jesse leans against him, very drunk, an arm draped across his shoulders. Bryce must be really strong to support him the way he is. Jesse's a big guy.

       "I didn't order anything," I quip and go to slam the door in my boss's face.

       His arm shoots out, and he stops the door with his palm.

       "Why did you bring him here?" I snap out while I fight to keep the door from opening.

       "I'm ending the fight, or I'm doing my part to end the fight," he explains, his eyebrows raised like he thought I knew.

       "You can't force us together like this."

       "Like hell I can't," he growls and pushes on the door.

       All of a sudden, Jesse becomes more aware of what goes on around him. He sees me, and his face screws up in sorrow before he lunges at me, wrapping his arms around me and leaning into me. "Marie! I'm sorry!"

       I struggle to take in enough air against Jesse's suffocating presence. He leans forward, and I have to stumble backwards a few steps.

      "Let me go, you sopping oaf!" I yell, but he ignores me, instead placing wet kisses en route from my shoulder to my ear. "I'll hurt you again if I have to," I warn.

       "Go ahead," he says, and the spicy taste of whiskey comes off his tongue when he forces it into my mouth.

       Outraged, I have a very easy time kneeing him in the groin. He stops kissing me with a painful grunt, but one arm still stubbornly maintains its hold of me.

       His voice sounds pained as he says, "And here I thought you liked Maximus."

       What? I think, and my brows come together in confusion.

       It doesn't matter what he meant. I slam my foot down on Jesse's toes, which are bare except for the flip-flops he wears. Then, since I'm slightly twisted to his side, I jab my elbow into his stomach. When he predictably leans over, I punch him square in the jaw. I'd aimed for his nose, but I couldn't get the correct angle. My hand hurts from having punched Jesse twice now so close together. He lets go of me, and I step away just enough that he can't get a good hold of me. Not pausing, I grab his wrist and jerk it down and forward, using his own weight against him and flipping him over onto his back. He lands with a hard thump on my wood floors.

       Cautiously, I back away from him while he moans, finally letting himself feel the pain I inflicted. I glance up at Bryce and see him watch me with mouth agape. My eyes quickly return to my very-still boyfriend, watching him warily.

       "I don't think he's getting up for a while, Marie," Bryce says, his voice a mixture of awe and trepidation. "I should go."

       "You take him with you." I point to Jesse and glare at my boss.

       "No. It's the best thing for him. Otherwise, he'll sit at home and mope for days, and you'll let him." He looks at me and continues, "And besides, you can obviously defend yourself if he gets too aggressive."

        "Bryce!" I yell before he shuts the door behind him as he leaves.

        I suddenly remember the phone. Erin! Picking it up, I ask, "Did you hear that?"
        "Did Bryce bring Jesse there?" she asks back.
        "Oui. He just left him here!" I cry out before Erin says she'll give Bryce what she calls a 'tongue lashing' before coming over here to help me.

        "Marie…" Jesse moans from the floor, interrupting my phone conversation.

        I look down at him where he lies on the floor and have the strangest urge to get down next to him and curl up into his side. I don't like being upset with him, and I don't like seeing him in pain… But I'm still sadly stunned by what he did.

        He coughs and continues, "Let me… explain." One of his legs swings over the other one, and he turns to his side, acting like he wants to get up.

        "You can 'explain' from right there," I snarl, backing away some more.

        Now on his side, Jesse keeps going until he rests his head against his forearm in a defeated gesture, and his shoulders shake in an almost-unnoticeable way. My heart breaks with the wonder if he's crying. I can't see his face to know for sure.

        I stay silent as I wait for Jesse to speak, and Erin stays quiet on her end of the line.

        A huff comes out of Jesse, and his voice vibrates the floor when he says, "I don't suppose it matters what I say if you're going to keep being angry. Hell, you have a right to be angry. Your ex-boyfriend gets engaged to your enemy then your current boyfriend tries to get you pregnant. Go ahead. Be pissed off. Don't want anything else to do with me. I admit it. That was stupid of me to do. I'd tell you why I think I did it, but I don't think it'd do any good. You hate me now, so what's the point?"

        "I don't hate you," I spout, rolling my eyes at his theatrics.

        He rolls back a little, but he doesn't look at me as he runs his fingers along the grain of the wood floor. Again, a long moment of silence stretches out, and I start to relax my stance.

        I bring my phone back to my ear. "Bryce is back," Erin says, and I hear her demand his keys. They have a small, muffled argument before I hear Bryce tell her in an angry voice that she can go and be the third wheel if she really wants to. "I'm on my way to get him," she tells me, and I hear the car start up before we end our phone call.
        "Erin is on her way here," I tell him as I give him a wide berth on my way to the kitchen.
        "Why? So you can both beat me up?" he asks the floor.
        "So she can take you home." I get out a plastic bag and start filling it with ice. Then, I walk over and hand it to him. As I do, I think about how he could try to trip me and knock me over before working at overpowering me on the floor. My eyes acutely watch his every movement, my body ready to react at a split-second notice.
        He dumbly looks at the bag of ice and says, "I thought you said ice was bad."
        "You want to swell up there? Fine. Go right ahead," I snarl and throw the bag on the floor in front of him.
       "You think you're the first woman to kick me in the balls? Ha," he retorts flatly.
       I don't like this! I don't like his hurt feelings! I don't like my hurt feelings!
       "Why did you do that, Jesse? I trusted you!" I cry out from the doorway to my kitchen, my hands in my hair. "your current boyfriend tries to get you pregnant," he said. Did he mean that?
       "Don't worry about it, Marie. I get it. I finally get it. I finally understand what you've been telling me this whole damn time. This isn't what you need, and I'm sorry I tried it anyway." He picks up the bag of ice and moves it around on his hand, playing with the melting ice cubes in a silent, thoughtful way.
      "What are you talking about? What I need? I need to know why, that's what I need!" I want to say more, but someone, probably Erin, knocks on the door. Wow, she drove very fast. I picture it in my mind; the image doesn't fit what I know of her. I thought she'd be a cautious driver. "It's unlocked!" I say loudly to the other side of the door.

      Erin walks in, and her eyes take in the scene. Again and without meaning to, I see Cristina in front of me. They could be twins. Giving no explanation, I start angrily crying before storming off to my room and slamming the door, afraid of what I might say should I stay in the room. Get me pregnant. What I 'need' and what I don't 'need.' And then with the Cristina twin in the room...
      While I hold my middle, I lean against the door and listen to the conversation on the other side of it.
      "Jesse, why did you let him talk you into this?" Erin asks exasperatedly.
      "All he told me was that we were going on a little trip. He didn't say where," Jesse answers, and it sounds like he works on standing up. "So, I take it you're here to take me home?"
      "Yes."
      "Yep. That's what Marie said."
      I don't understand myself. Seconds ago, I wanted him to leave, but right now, I want him to stay. I want him to explain himself! Was he really trying to get me pregnant? Was he just not paying attention? Did he just not care and did what he wanted anyway? I deserve an explanation!
        I dash out of my bedroom to find Jesse walking out the door.

      "Wait, I…" I pause. "You still haven't told me why about what happened. You wanted to get me pregnant?" I start breathing fast as he turns to face me. Erin looks at me apologetically.

         He blinks slowly and looks at the ground. "What I want, you're not ready for. It's fine, but right now, it also hurts so bad that I can't be around you for a while." He takes a few steps away from me and continues, "I'll just say bye for now from over here so I don't get attacked again." Two of his fingers briefly touch his forehead in a mock salute before he unsteadily walks down the stairs.

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By the way, I'd like to go on record and state that I know for a fact I have a horrid grasp of the French language. Perhaps, like Erin, it's not as bad as I make it out to be, but I still would like to apologize for any mistakes I make. If you spot them and wish to correct me, feel free to do so. I'd be grateful for the help.