Game of Chance

 

Chapter 30

“Contessa?  Contessa, please,” he pleaded.

Tremulously, she lifted her tired eyes to his.

He caressed the side of her face with his palm.  “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered reassuringly.  He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt her face nuzzle into his hand.

“I’m so sorry,” she cried brokenly.

“Baby, it’s not your fault.”

“I should’ve—could’ve…”

“Done what?  Nothing.  Baby, we did all the right things.  We did everything we were supposed to do.”

“But—”

He cut her protest off, “No buts.  Tessa, you did wonderfully.  Okay?  Perfectly.”

“I—”

“I don’t want to hear it.  Stop blaming yourself.”  

“I will always blame myself,” she said harshly.

“Suit yourself,” he returned angrily.  “But I will never blame you.”

//

“Hailie, Contessa’s coming home today,” Marshall said.

“Is she all better, Daddy?”

“I don’t know, baby.  It’s been very hard for her to accept…our loss.”

His voice caught as he stumbled over his words; he was having trouble understanding why they had to go through this himself.

//

She stared blankly at the small mahogany coffin as it was lowered into the freshly moved ground.

“My beautiful baby boy,” she whispered and kneeled onto the ground.

“It’s okay, baby,” Marshall said as he knelt down with her.

“Oh, Marshall,” she wept and leaned against him.  “I’m so sorry,” she repeated over and over again.

“God, Contessa, it’s not your fault,” he said sternly.

//

“Curtis, what do I do, man?” Marshall asked as he leaned back in the chair.

“I don’t know, Marsh,” he sighed as he signaled a waiter.  “Just be there for her.”

“I just don’t know how to comfort her.”

“Sure you do.  You love her.”

Marshall seemed startled and raised his eyes to meet his friend’s.  “I…”

“You don’t know?”

“I—I do.  I think.”

“Have you ever told her?”

“No.”

“You should.”

“But I’m not positive.  She would think it was false now, anyway.”

“Maybe, but it wouldn’t hurt to say it.”

“It would.  She gets her panties in a twist every time I say anything nice lately.”

“Is she still blaming herself?”

“Yeah,” Marshall sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  “She’s been home for over a week, and all she does is lay in bed all day.”

“Let her.”

“The doctor said she needs to start living life.  She’s physically ready.”

“But not emotionally,” Curtis pointed out.

“I miss my Contessa.  I lost my son, I don’t want to lose her, too,” Marshall whispered and blinked his eyes to clear the tears threatening to fall.

“You do love her,” Curtis said finally.

“I do,” Marshall echoed.

“If you can’t tell her, show her.”

“How?”

“You’ll figure it out.”

//

“Contessa,” Marshall greeted, surprise evident in his voice.

“Hi, Marshall,” she said shyly as she stood over the stove.

“How are you doing?” he asked awkwardly as he put his keys on the counter.

“Good,” she said with a small smile.  “Really,” she added as his eyes questioned her sincerity.

“I didn’t expect you to be…up.”

“Neither did I, but I had a visitor today.”

“You did?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“My father.”

“I didn’t know he was coming, otherwise I would have had someone pick him up.”

“I didn’t know, either.  I didn’t know you remembered to call him.  Thank you.”

“It’s all right,” he replied.

“My father reminded me of something.”

“What’s that?” he asked, taking a seat at the bar as he watched her throw ingredients into a pan.

“That life goes on.”

“Yes, it does.  Just how did he, um, get you out of bed?”

“He practically kicked my ass out of bed.  Something like, ‘Tessa, what the fuck are you doing?  Get your dramatic ass out of bed and go talk to your man.’”

He laughed despite himself.  “Did he really?”

“Uh huh.  He’s like that.  He knows how to handle me, I guess.”

“He’s your father.”  

“Yes…  I’ve completely ignored your feelings,” she said.

“Contessa—”

“I’ve been distant lately because firstly, I still…”  Shaking her head, she stopped.  “I was angry at you.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t think you were upset.  You still went to work, still did everything you’d normally do.”

“I have to,” he replied.  “I can’t sit around and think about it, Contessa.  I can’t.  We had a boy, Contessa.  A beautiful boy.  We would have been the best parents ever.  If I’m working, I can’t think about it.”

“I know,” she assured him.  “I know that now.”

He nodded.

“My father asked me something that I didn’t know how to answer.”

“What?”

“What are we going to do now?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Where are we going?

“Contessa, if you’re hinting at something, maybe you should just tell me, because I’m not following.

“I—I love you,” she blurted out as she moved the hot pan off of the flame

“I—”

“Don’t say anything,” she warned.  “I’ve loved you for a long time, Marshall.  I don’t want you to say anything.  I don’t know if you love me or not.  I don’t even know if you could ever love me.  Right now, there’s too much pain that has happened for me to believe any declaration of love.  I have to know that it isn’t out of sympathy or out of obligation.”

“You know I wouldn’t say something I didn’t mean.”

“Maybe.”

“Tessa!”

“Marshall, just don’t, okay?  I know you care about me, and that’s enough.  That’s enough for me.”

Chapter 31

Author: zines@aol.com

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These stories are for entertainment purposes only.  They are completely fictitious, and the authors mean no harm to EMINEM, his family, friends, or anyone else that may have been depicted as a 'real life' character.  No money was made on the fiction here, either directly or indirectly, i.e. paid advertising. In other words - it's just a bunch of shit we wrote for fun. Please don't take it seriously.