I sat in Marcy’s childhood bedroom. I was tired.  Even when she wasn’t ranting at me I could feel the resentment coming off her like the chilled smoke that falls from dry ice.  There was a part of me that knew she wasn’t really angry at me. She was angry at a lot of different confusing things, and I had simply been a catalyst that put them all into horrifying motion. 

 

I couldn’t even remember the order in which things happened. The circumstances were blurry.  I know it was because I made a move on Kate.  I tried to be the only one of us dating her, but.. that didn’t really work. Everyone else liked her too and they all sort of fell into it. I think we all knew in the back of our mind that it would be a problem with Angie. Even though Angie was down with being poly, and had several girlfriends on the side. Things with her were always a little controlling, and of course there was the last time I had feelings for someone who wasn’t her (before polyamory was ruled acceptable by the terms of our relationship).  

 

I didn’t even do anything. Nothing happened, even that night I got drunk. Nothing happened except my decision to go for a walk with the offending person without letting Angie know first. I felt then like the reaction was overblown, but I still felt the guilt.  I still allowed her to guide me through a visualization intended to change how I felt so that my feelings would no longer threaten her.   So now that I technically had permission to have feelings for another person, and act on them, we all knew, and were ignoring the fact, that it would still be a problem. 

 

Because Angie was only ok with poly life where it benefited her needs and desires.  My street went two ways. Her’s did not. 

 

So it was her jealousy that ultimately blew up our relationship. But her jealousy would have no teeth if not for me, yet again, falling into feelings for other people.  It was better that we were no longer with her.  

 

But the notion that my feelings get us into trouble was now firmly cemented. 

 

I was trapped in Marcy’s memories, watching reruns of stupid, horrible fights with friends about who I’m allowed to be friends with. How I can be friends with more than one person. Jealous girls and their possessiveness over my attention. Eating away at my soul. Making me not want to be friends with any of them, but still feeling that love. That affection. That desire to just make everything all better. That unrelenting wanting for everyone to just... be friends. Just be happy. Just fucking shut-up and stop being petty for one moment and we can all just have a nice fucking time. 

 

How goddamn hard is that?

 

Hard. Apparently. 

 

The message was clear. Pick some friends. Stick to those friends. Be loyal to those few, and don’t stray because you might have to see their ugly jealousy beneath. Just have a handful, and pay careful attention to each. Or else. 

 

*Or else* learn that everyone you love is a stupid petty fucker who doesn’t, and never, did deserve you. 

 

*Or else* be alone forever. 

 

Well I didn’t want to be alone. 

 

But I was. 

 

Right now. 

 

Where was Marcy?  None of these memories could see me. None of them could touch me. Or hear me. I was abandoned in Marcy’s childhood. 

 

“Marcy?”  I said, and I could barely hear my voice. “Marcy!?”  

 

Nothing. 

 

I closed my eyes. Maybe I could go somewhere else. Maybe I could go home.  

 

At the very least I could dream of home.  Every time I opened my eyes I was still in Marcy’s bedroom, but behind my eyelids I could see Lizzy. 

 

Sweet Elisabeth with bouncing honey hair and big mahogany eyes.  She always soothed my every ache. 

 

“What is it, my love?” Her sweet voice echoed in my ear. 

 

“I am trapped, and I can’t find a way out.”

 

“My poor aristocrat. Locked in his golden cage.”  Her fingertips combed through my dark hair.  “I know what will make you better.”  

 

She held a long stemmed pipe to my lips and lit it. I breathed in sweet, musky smoke and exhaled all of my woes.  Through the haze Lizzy enveloped me in thin, milky arms.  Her rosy lips danced across my jaw.  I breathed her in like she was opium. 

 

[Seth and Reggie commentary pop-up: R- Ooh! And this doesn’t get you going?  S- I mean, I ship it, but I’m getting more like a cute animal reaction than anything else...]

 

Our love was a conversation without words.  Every sigh, every moan, every utterance of the other’s name was an entanglement of the soul.  She inhaled my pain and exhaled relief into the very core of my being. 

 

“Jack,” she breathed my name. And then louder, “Jack!”

 

My eyes popped open and there was Marcy.  In my lap. Staring at me. 

 

“Where did you go just now?” She demanded. 

 

“I was going to ask you the same,” I said, “I was lonely without you.”

 

“Oh yeah?  You were lonely? So you were getting off in your fucking head?  Huh?”

 

[S- Did she just grab his..?]

 

“C’mon, Marcy. I’m not aloud to think about stuff now?”

 

“You’re aloud to do what I fucking tell you to do!!”  She bellowed. I recoiled and she grabbed my face. “You can’t just run around doing whatever *feels good*!”

 

[R- Oh. Shit.]

 

I looked away from her.  Back when it was just me and Marcy, she made it clear that it was my job to have fun when she couldn’t. Marcy was tense and uncomfortable all the time. I thought she liked me to go to parties and cut loose. 

 

“You were the first one!”  She yelled at me and held my face in her hand again so I would look at her. “And I trusted you!”

 

“I’m sorry!”  I pleaded “I didn’t mean for everything to blow up like this!”

 

“You never MEAN for anything to happen, Jack!”  She snarled. “It just fucking HAPPENS!  Is that right, Jack?  You didn’t MEAN it so it’s just ok now?!”

 

“No!  Marcy!  I’m sorry!  I said I’m sorry!  I’m trying to apologize!  ‘Cuz I fucked up!”

 

“Well it doesn’t make me feel better!!  It’s *my body* you use to *fuck everything you see*!”

 

“I don’t— Marcy that’s not what—“ I scrambled to put my words in order. I could see that she felt used and hurt, but the number of people I’d had without her input was two... Kate, And Susan.  But that clearly felt like a lot to her, or maybe it was the frequency that bothered her, not the number of partners?  

 

She’d been starting to lose interest in sleeping with Angie, but.. I guess we all thought it was because she didn’t like her anymore.  Maybe it was sex she didn’t like?  But the body wanted it, and I thought Marcy was on board with us serving it’s need. 

 

“I’m sorry, Marcy,” I said finally, because I couldn’t think of anything else to say that would be helpful. 

 

Marcy scowled at me. “No you’re not,” she said, “but you will be.”

 

She grabbed me through my pants again. 

 

“What are you..?”

 

“Now *you* don’t have a choice,” she spat.  She snapped her fingers and a mirror appeared next to us. “Watch yourself,” she demanded, “all you can do is sit here and watch it happen!  I can feel your anxiety and I’M IGNORING IT!!!  How does that fucking feel?!!”

 

[S: Oh no...]

 

Marcy unfastened my pants, and she held my face so I had no choice but to stare at the mirror.  She looked so angry.

 

I didn’t mind that she was jerking me off.   I mean.. it’s complicated. I had a fetish for strong women with a rough hand. Marcy could put her foot on my throat and that’d be.. pretty great, actually.  No, what I minded was her genuine anger towards me.  What I minded was that she was mad at me for fucking around, and instead of groveling appropriately, she was making me get off in front of her. 

 

It was a perfect little guilt spiral. 

 

I wasn’t proud that I ignored her anxiety when I was Out, but that was my job wasn’t it?  It was hard to do sometimes but that’s what I was supposed to do.. wasn’t it?

 

I tried not to look like I was enjoying this, because emotionally I was devastated, but physically this was really doing it for me.  That’s probably what she wanted. She wanted me conflicted and vulnerable.  She wanted to have the power here, and she did. 

 

I was more than willing to let her have it. 

 

I reached for her when I was close and she knocked my hands away. She was cold, hard, and unyielding. I was alone. 

 

Marcy pointed my face toward the mirror again and I watched myself—

 

I whimpered. 

 

I felt overwhelmed. 

 

Overcome with emotion. 

 

I felt it well up in my chest before it burst out of me.  It was the same sensation that followed a lot of good finishes Outside.  It was cathartic.  I usually felt relieved to have it out, but this time it left me feeling hallow.

 

Marcy showed me no love. 

 

She just disappeared. 

 

“Marcy don’t!”

 

But she was gone.  I covered my face and cried. I didn’t want to be alone. 

 

I always felt so alone. 

 

[R- what the fuck?!

S- Savage. 

R- That was so fucking violent!  Oh my god!

S- Come on. Marcy’s always been a little agro. 

R-  Ok, but this does not make me feel better about the situation!

S- I hear you, man. Did that remind you a little bit of..?

R- Sharon?  Yea it kind of did.]

 

I wondered if this was how she felt when we used her body. 

 

Hollow. 

 

Empty. 

 

Wrong somehow?

 

I couldn’t quite place the feeling, but I knew I didn’t like it.