One of his arms was completely wrapped around her waist, under his t-shirt, his palm hot against her skin. His other hand cupped her jaw, holding her head in place, like he was afraid she would try to get away.
She didn't. She kissed him back. She would have to feast on this fantasy for a long time to come, so might as well end it with a bang. She stood on her tip toes and gave as good as she got, moving her tongue against his while she raked her fingernails up his back, settling her hands on his shoulders.
She was pretty sure he would've kept going till they passed out, but when she got dizzy, she had to pull away. She dropped her forehead to his chest and took deep breaths through her nose, inhaling him. Memorizing him. She felt his lips on her head.
“Don't do this, Mischa,” he whispered.
“I'm no good right now. I'm broken,” she replied.
“Let me fix you.”
“I'm sorry, Tal.”
They broke apart.
“This is wrong and you know it,” he called her out.
“Maybe. It won't be the first time. But I'm getting better at dealing with it,” she told him. He moved into the hallway.
“Do me a favor, Misch?” he asked. She turned towards him, but he wasn't facing her. He was staring off down the hall.
“Anything,” she responded.
“Take care of you. Take care of your heart. And don't … don't forget us,” his voice fell into a whisper.
“I could never. Not in a thousand years. Not at all.”
He gave a curt nod, then walked off down the hall. She watched till he turned a corner and got on an elevator.
Mischa shut the door. Slid on the chain lock. Then she took a couple steps. Paused. Then walked into the bathroom and threw up; a particularly painful experience, since she hadn't eaten since breakfast the morning before.
The love of your life, and you didn't even know him.
~Mischa~
I made a conscious decision to cheat on my husband.
I can't say that it went well. It certainly didn't go according to plan.
If I could do it over, I would have done things differently.
When I first accepted the job overseas, I would've talked to him then. Told him that I wanted to separate, and me working abroad would be our chance to explore life without each other.
I would've gone to Italy. I would've met Tal. It wouldn't have been scandalous. It wouldn't have been a secret. It would have been two people meeting, two people dating, openly. I wouldn't have been so nervous and panicky and overwhelmed and unsure. I would've been more aware, I would've noticed all the signs, I would've asked more questions.
I can only hope he would've answered them.
But I'll never know. And he'll never know. And Mike will never know.
Because I did it all wrong, and instead of cheating on my husband to feel better about myself, I upset three lives. Broke three hearts.
Oh, and was involved in a low key international terrorist incident in a foreign country.
But I feel that part was minor in comparison.
~Home~
To say things weren't good at home would be a drastic understatement.
And even just getting home had been an ordeal. The Turkish government hadn't wanted her to leave. Mischa was an employee of a known terrorist aider-and-abetter. That was frowned upon in the best of situations.
This wasn't one of those.
After arguing over her visa for days, suddenly, she was given permission. Just like that. She could only assume that Tal had intervened on her behalf, and she was grateful.
But she didn't see him.
She flew home, but she didn't have anywhere to go. She hadn't called Lacey ever again, and Mike still wasn't returning her phone calls. The apartment was half hers, of course, he couldn't keep her out, but she didn't want to be more bothersome than she already was to everyone around her.
Her little stint as an international-woman-of-mystery had become somewhat infamous. Peter got arrested in Turkey, and the story blew up.
“U.S. Insurance Agent Aids al Qaeda”
“Insurance Agent from Detroit Sells to Terrorist Groups”
“al Qaeda Life Insurance Policies, and The Man Stupid Enough to Sell Them”
The last article heading was her favorite.
Her name was mentioned a lot, and she got requests for interviews about her relationship with Peter, about her detainment in Turkey, about her interactions with the super secretive military security company, Ansuz. About her interactions with a very specific agent within that company.
She declined all of them.
She stayed in a hotel at first. Another goddamn hotel. Her father picked her up at the airport and he drove her to the hotel, promising to help her find a place as soon as possible. He made good on his word, locating a shitty apartment in a decent part of downtown Detroit. It was small and it was old and it was ugly.
But it was hers.
They quickly found out that Misch's dad would have to loan her the down payment for the apartment – the savings account she shared with Mike had been cleaned out. Zero dollars. Her company had offered her a hefty severance package, which she gladly took, but she wouldn't get the money for a while. Her checking account was pretty close to tapped out. If she didn't find a job, pronto, she'd be living with her parents again.
How fucking depressing.
Mike wasn't speaking to her. Her friends weren't speaking to her. Her own mother wasn't speaking to her. Her father basically had to meet up with her in secret. The only interaction she had was with a corner grocer, and the few newspapers that kept calling her.