Liberty Desecrated

by Tamera Maresh

Maggie Baldwin sat on the edge of her bed and watched Lauren get dressed. Janis Joplin was singing somewhere in the back ground about “Freedom being just another word for nothing left to lose.” Fighting back tears was becoming a norm for Maggie. She did it every time Lauren left, and Lauren left a lot.

Today Maggie was also fighting a losing battle to keep from begging Lauren to stay. These supplications never had any effect. They began playful enough with a “please stay” and a wanton smile, but they inevitably ended in the hopeless discussion of the impossibility of a future together. Ah yes, Maggie’s favorite diatribe: one-hundred-and-one reasons Lauren loved her, but could not be with her. Maggie abhorred the idea of hearing this lecture again, but wanted to present her argument anew, nonetheless. She kept thinking that somehow it would have a different effect, but she knew better, and she appreciated the certainty of tears during this discourse, as well. Maggie strove to avoid tears because, she felt, if they are too common they are simply burdensome and weak. Maggie was careful not to become any more of a burden to Lauren than was absolutely necessary. It was important to her that the benefits Lauren reaped from this affair not outweigh the nuisance. And so she tried to stay herself.

Lauren began freshening her makeup, and Janis gave way to a fast talking disc jockey. Maggie continued to observe her lover. She allowed herself to be dazed by Lauren’s beauty as she applied her lipstick and smiled for the mirror. The words began to come, spilling so haphazardly from her mouth that Maggie felt as if her own voice was an alien intruder.

“Don’t go back to work today,” Maggie ventured.

“Baby, you know I have to go,” came the reply. Lauren moved toward the door. She seemed determined not to let this conversation come full circle. Maggie followed, as did the tears.

“Please, Maggie, not today,” Lauren insisted. Maggie forced a tear soaked smile, nodded in absence of her voice, and opened the door. When she shut it behind Lauren, Maggie collapsed to the floor shaking with the desolation and loneliness that grew more intense every time they met. Maggie clutched her knees to her chest and wondered how it went this far, and how much longer she could survive this partial life she led, as if she could face the alternative. Maggie had no idea how to begin a life without Lauren.

~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~

Lauren Mitchell had been married for eighteen years, and had been having an affair for the past two. And Lauren Mitchell wasn’t the affair-having type. She had a tendency to take commitment seriously, and the affair would have ended when it began, with her husband present in the bed they shared had she not fallen in love. It was his brilliant idea to bring another woman to their bed. Lauren shuddered remembering the night of honesty in which she confided in him that she had always fantasized about other women. She could clearly see the lustful look that came over him when they laid the groundwork for the scandalous meeting. It was the same look she saw every time he encouraged her to find another, invite another, to do it again. Maggie was the third woman who lay in that bed, under his unashamed and prying eyes. She had refused to return, so Lauren had made arrangements to see her secretly, and now Lauren Mitchell was in too deep.

To further complicate Lauren’s life, Maggie was utterly devoted. She shared her life with no one but Lauren. Maggie classified herself as a lesbian. She had come out of the proverbial closet just before she met Lauren. Lauren envied her for it, and dreamt of what it would be like to simply live honestly. Not that Maggie lived honestly, not thanks to their relationship, and Lauren worried every day that she would tire of it and find a “real” relationship – one that would make her life whole instead of so glaringly partial.

Lauren checked her watch. “Damn,” she whispered. Another lunch had lasted too late. Maybe she could slip in unnoticed at the office. Maybe her husband, Clint, had not phoned. Maybe she had not received a call from the school that her daughter was ill and needed to be picked up. Maybe she could work up an alibi for lunch before she returned home at five. Maybe the guilt would not show on her face. Maybe Clint would be tired and not push for sex tonight. Maybe Maggie had e-mailed to tell her she was thinking of her. Lauren wondered how much longer she could survive this double life she led, as though she could face the alternative. Lauren could not imagine a life where all she had to look forward to was her empty marriage and it’s egocentric sex, nor could she imagine telling Clint that she was leaving. And there was Emily – no, she couldn’t break up her family. It wouldn’t be fair – but the life she lead was no less selfish. She felt ripped in half.

~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~
Lauren arrived home at six, daughter Emily in tote, and began dinner. Clint was busy playing on the internet, and Lauren took the opportunity to get in character. She immensely disliked having to speak to him right away; it was easier once she was deeply entrenched in routine. She had the constant fear of hearing “saw your car at lunch today” or “I called at lunch today and you weren’t in.” Once she was in motion with her nightly duties it almost felt like nothing irregular was going on.

Dinner came and went with no accusations, Lauren got Emily to bed, poured herself a glass of wine, and settled in to read a chapter or two of Leon Uris’ “Exodus.” Maggie had asked her to read it. She thought if they read it at the same time they could discuss it together. Lauren knew they didn’t have that kind of time together. She knew Maggie was fantasizing about their relationship. Romanticizing about books, long walks, love songs, and poetry – the things couples do together when they fall in love. God, how she wanted to share those things with Maggie! She wanted to talk for hours about politics, religion, ideas, needs, desire. She wanted to laugh with her, to connect with her. Guilt washed over Lauren once again. She felt like an animal with its leg in a snare. Her thoughts drifted until the words on the page bled together. Her game face wasn’t intact when Clint entered the room and said, in a quiet, nonchalant voice, “I know what you were doing at lunch today.”

Lauren didn’t look up right away. She stared at the book for a moment and turned the page as if she was looking for a good stopping place. “Don’t blow it. What does he know? Is he bluffing? What do I say? Will he want custody of Emily? How do I fight?” her mind reeled. And then she was calm, even relieved, finally it was out. From here, no matter the outcome, she could stop being stagnant.

“You do?” she replied ambiguously.

“Miriam called me and said you two had plans today, but that she couldn’t reach you at home or the office. My assumption is that you were avoiding her.” Lauren finally exhaled. Miriam was the new woman of the hour Clint was trying to get her interested in: a new feast for his eyes, more if she would agree, or simply not protest. She realized that it wasn’t anger she saw on his face, but looming lust.

“Clint, I think we should put these encounters on hold for awhile,” she reasoned. “Emily is eleven, she is smart enough to realize that grown-ups don’t have sleepovers.”

“So she can go spend the night with a friend. I want to see you like that. Baby, you don’t know what it does to me.”

“I have an idea.” Lauren returned to the book. Clint made his way over and began rubbing her shoulders. Lauren knew where a massage would certainly lead, so she downed the rest of her wine and tried to steel herself for the inevitable.

~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~

His drive to work used to be the best part of Clint’s day. He was away from the whining about nothing to wear to school, the rush for the school bus, the clanking of Lauren unloading the dishwasher, and all the responsibilities of home. He used to use this time to think about his and Lauren’s exploits with other women. This used to be a time to fantasize and imagine possibilities, but now he had too much time to think. He knew about that piece of ass Lauren was getting on the side, he had been reading her e-mail for over six months. He knew everything, every meeting, every declaration of love: everything. What he couldn’t understand was why it was happening. He was willing to allow it as long as it included him and he even enjoyed it. That was the kicker, he really liked it, and ever since this Maggie Baldwin had come along he was denied it.

Clint laughed to himself when he thought about the look on Lauren’s face when he confronted her the previous night. That little bitch was scared. He hadn’t told her he knew. He liked to see her squirm, and she would do anything for him in bed, so he was pretty certain that this Maggie whet her appetite, and that was a good thing. Then there was last night. She seemed so disinterested last night, not only in Miriam, but in him. Was this Maggie getting to his wife? How ridiculous. A woman could not fulfill her needs. His wife, Lauren was his, lest this little tramp forget it. He wanted to be a part of their fling. He wanted to show Maggie who was in control. He felt denied and slighted. He got angrier each passing day, angrier with the lies, the words they exchanged, and more bored with the cat-and-mouse he played with Lauren. He felt like the one on the outside, the one out of control. The things those two said to each other. Clint decided, on this particular drive to work, that it was time to play his game at a new level. “It’s time,” he chuckled, thinking to himself, “time to raise the ante.”

~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~

Maggie drove home at eleven to grab a shower before Lauren arrived. Today was both exciting and frightening. For most of their relationship, Maggie had been working to finish her Ph.D. and in the last month she had begun job hunting: today she landed one. It was an associate professorship at a small university in California. The pay wasn’t great, but at least she wouldn’t have tuition to keep up with now. She was starting to get a mental picture of her new life. This is just what needed to happen. She knew she could never move on without an utterly new beginning. The relationship with Lauren had to end for everyone’s sake. How would she tell Lauren? No doubt it would have to be done in a lunch hour – she only ever got a lunch hour, some lunch hour, but not today. Today she would just enjoy Lauren’s company without pressure. Today she would begin wrapping her mind around change, good change, the kind of change with new beginnings. The kind of change big enough to break the debilitating cycle she had fallen into.

Maggie dialed her mom’s number on her cell and left a message about the new job: she just had to tell someone. Everything was coming together. She turned the radio up until the speakers in her run down Chevy cracked with static on each beat and sang at the top of her lungs. Janis was screaming on her tape deck now, “freedom is just another word for nothing left to loose, and freedom.” Sweet freedom.

~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~

Lauren’s mind was made up, for the first time in two years she had clarity. She was leaving him. She would fight for custody if she had to, but she didn’t think that would be necessary. After all, Clint was completely uninvolved in Emily’s life, she was more of a nuisance to him than a daughter. And as for him missing his wife, he could find someone else to serve as his sex doll, which Lauren was convinced was all she had been to him anyway. Her heart beat too fast, she was elated. She could not wait to tell Maggie the news. How would she even begin? She could feel her wings spread as she imagined wiggling out of her trap, and new horizons began to seem possible.

~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~

Lauren let herself in the Maggie’s apartment with her key. Maggie sat at a small desk in the corner of the room reading. Lauren couldn’t help but smile. Maggie had such a grace and it was punctuated by her stinging intelligence when she wore her reading glasses and sat looking so very scholarly. “Hey, Dr. Baldwin I presume,” Lauren chimed.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Maggie reverberated as she closed the book. Lauren moved across the room and removed Maggie’s glasses, laying them carefully on the desk.

“I’m leaving him,” she attempted to say in a matter of fact tone, but the high pitch of excitement snuck in. “I want to build the life you have talked about, with you. You, me, and Emily.” Maggie simply stared. She was dumbfounded. “Say something,” Lauren pleaded. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m shocked, that’s all. Where is this coming from?”

“Last night, I thought he knew,” Lauren explained, “and then I was relieved and happy, and I couldn’t let him touch me, and all I could see was you and me building a life, and I can’t go back to the other now. I have to . . . Maggie?”

“Yes, Yes, let’s do it,” Maggie stuttered. “Lauren, I love you. I just can’t believe this is happening. There is so much I have to say to you, so many plans we have to make. When do you want to tell him?”

“Soon. Oh baby, I’m so scared,” Lauren answered, “but it feels like my life is beginning. After his birthday I think, or Christmas, or when?”

“Christmas is four months away,” Maggie countered. “How do you plan to live till then? What must that be like to make this decision and wait? Why?”

“It will be best that way, you know for Emily and Clint, best to wait. I mean I feel terrible doing this to them, and I’m just trying to make it hurt less.”

“It will hurt no matter when you do it. I, Lauren, I can’t wait. You shouldn’t wait. I have a life, or I need to have a life. I want to have a that life with you, but I won’t wait four months of knowing you want to spend it with me, and sending you back to his arms every night. I can’t do it. Please don’t ask me to.” Maggie’s eyes were blazing. She couldn’t step back enough to decide who was being selfish and unyielding, and she hoped it wasn’t her. It was all coming too fast. Just half an hour ago she was in control and now it was spiraling away from her again, as she found herself in that old familiar position of begging for more. She feared if she told Lauren about the job, she would withdraw her offer. She wouldn’t want to move, not move Emily, she wouldn’t be able to until the divorce was final. If she left for California, would the flame die? Would they change too much? Would that be for the best?

“Maggie I need you to be patient. This is hard for me,” Lauren was saying. “I have been married for eighteen years. Please say you will wait. You have waited so long to be unyielding now.”

“I am job hunting Lauren, this is a hard time to put all that on hold, but I will consider my options. I won’t make a decision without talking to you. Okay?”

“Okay.” Lauren agreed smiling. “Okay. You are all I want. Give me time.”

When Lauren left Maggie didn’t cry. She didn’t shake, tremble, or collapse. She knew it was time to let go: she could not go back either. If it was to be, Lauren would have to make that decision. Maggie knew it was wrong to stay, wrong to pressure Lauren into a verdict before she was ready. Maggie really felt like being right this time, and right felt good.

Maggie began throwing a few clothes in a suitcase and stopped to send an e-mail to Lauren. She wanted to let her know she was just visiting the campus and would be back in a few days. She explained that they could both take some time to think, and make plans then.

She never heard Lauren’s key turn in the door a second time. She never saw Clint’s angry eyes. She never heard the message of congratulations her mother left. She never saw California.

Clint got home very late that night. Lauren was already in bed. She pretended to be asleep, but her mind was livid in excited commotion. When Clint crawled in beside her, kissed her cheek, and whispered, “Good night, Maggie.” Lauren lay there for a moment confused, trying not to change her breathing. Slowly she opened her eyes, and starred at the key ring on her bedside table. The key was missing. Lauren closed her eyes, returning to the oppressive darkness of her silent prison.