But no one said anything, and she was issued a new key. Her phone started ringing again on the way up to her room, but she still couldn't talk to Mike.

No, that would have to wait till the tears stopped. They had started on the elevator ride up, and weren't showing any signs of stopping. Not when she got into her room. Not when she crawled into her shower. And not when her husband called again, an hour later.

~Mischa~

Something I have learned in life is that things are never as they seem.

You think love is one thing – turns out, it's whole big barrel of fucked-up-ness.

You think marriage is one thing – turns out, it's an even bigger barrel of fucked-up-ness.

You think you can plan something down to the letter – but really, things will go down however they're going to go down, regardless of your planning.

You think you've made up your mind – but someone can make it up for you.

You think you're resolved to do something – and then you do the exact opposite.

God, everything I've ever thought is wrong. Every. Fucking. Thing. Mike. My feelings for him. Our marriage. How I could fix it. How I couldn't fix it. How I could cheat to feel better about myself. How I could keep it a secret so he could continue feeling good about himself.

Wrong.

I had resigned myself to not cheat – then it had happened.

I thought it would make me feel better – it made me feel amazing.

I thought I could keep it secret – there was no way I couldn't tell him.

~Telephone Speak~

“Hi.”

Misch twisted a lock of hair around her finger. She'd given herself many hours to calm down, to think of what she would say. In her original “plan”, she had been ready to keep it a secret. Just a one time fling she could keep to herself, a memory to keep her warm. Having actually gone through with it, though, she quickly realized there was no way she could keep it a secret. There was no way he could never know.

For starters, she was feeling an odd combination of amazing and wretched. Tal had fucked her into another plane of existence – part of her had stayed there. She had never had sex like that; Tal had made her feel things that no one else had ever made her feel. It was like he'd owned her body, yet had given it back to her. She was a Rubik's cube, and Tal had solved her.

Wretched because it wasn't right. She knew it wasn't right. Mike was still her husband. Still her best friend. It was so fucked up, but when she'd been reliving some of her moments from the night before, she'd had the strongest urge to call Mike, to talk about it with him. Like they did with everything.

It made her feel sick.

She couldn't keep that from him. Couldn't keep something so monumental from her best friend. Couldn't lie to her husband. She didn't know how she had ever convinced herself it was even a possibility. She felt like she was drowning. It was awful.

She had slept with someone. Let another man fuck her. Now it was over, she'd gotten it out of her system. She would throw herself into her work, she would tell Mike the truth, and she would get on with her life.

Whatever kind of life it will be … please, don't let him hate me.

“Hey, babe! How are you? I was getting worried,” Mike's voice sounded scratchy over the line.

“Sorry, I was kind of out of sorts today. Took a shower, took a nap,” Mischa told him.

Fucked myself with my fingers, pretended they were another man's – someone with dark eyes and a strange name.

“Rough life,” he laughed.

“Look,” she sighed, “I wanted to talk to you about -,”

“Oh, hey! I meant to tell you, my mom is coming to stay here while you're gone,” he interrupted her. She scowled.

“What? Why? You know I hate it when she messes with my stuff,” Misch complained.

“C'mon, it's not so bad. She'll take care of me while you're gone,” Mike pointed out.

“I don't like it. I don't like that she -,”

“Oh! And Roger scored tickets to a basketball game, I'm finally gonna see …,” he interrupted again, and that was it. Misch was staring out the window, watching the breeze ruffle the gauzy curtains. While her husband prattled on, her mind wandered. Made its way back to a moment in time that involved long fingers and a tricky smile.

She shook her head.

This isn't right. He never listens to me, just wants to talk, and I never listen, and don't care what he has to say.

“Mike,” she said his name sharply.

“What's up?” he responded, chewing on something.

“We need to talk,” she gentled her voice.

“I thought that's what we were doing,” he laughed. She glared again.

“No, that's what you were doing. I haven't opened my mouth in ten minutes,” she snapped.

“Babe, I've told you, you gotta speak up. You get mad, but how can I know you want to talk if you never say anything?” he chuckled. The urge to throttle him was strong.

Calm down. You're a lying, cheating, slut-bag – he's allowed to be a dick.

“We need to talk about us,” she stressed. There was a long pause.

“What about us?” he asked.

“We've got some problems, Mikey. Some big problems,” she sighed.

“It's not that bad, babe. It just seems like that cause you're so far away,” he tried to convince her.

Soooooo far away, you have no idea.