Margaret and Olivia

Chapter Five: The Truth In Our Lies

"Margaret?" Jackson whispered Margaret's name as though it were foreign to his lips.

"Yes, dear?" Margaret said sweetly.

"Do you love me?" His voice sounded distant, but Margaret failed to notice.

"Of course, I do. You're my one, my only. I loved you then; I love you now; I'll love you always." She smiled innocently at Jackson. Jackson slowly stepped towards her, and she began to hum along to the music. Jackson stood a few inches away from her but felt miles away. His vision had blurred, and he had to keep blinking to keep Margaret in his focus. She placed her hands on his shoulders and began to lift her hips back and forth, moving to the music. Jackson took his fingers and brushed it through Margaret's hair.

"Margaret. I love you so much. Then. Now. Always." He leaned in and kissed her forehead. When he did, a teardrop fell onto Margaret's cheek. His breath smelt heavily of alcohol, a sensation Margaret was not used to.

"Are you crying?" Margaret brushed away the few tears that had formed around Jackson's eyes. "Honey, what is it? What's wrong? Does this have to do with who was on the phone? Who was it?"

"I don't understand." His voice was a whisper that faded behind the music. Margaret hadn't heard him and gave him a confused look. He repeated the statement again, this time a little louder with a shaking voice. Margaret was unsure of how to respond, so she hugged him. His body felt cold against her warm skin. He was no longer crying, but his eyes had hardened and he barely felt Margaret's body pushed against his. The radio sang the siren's love song that created an eerie juxtaposition compared to the two strangers embracing in the living room.

Jackson's icy body suddenly became a sun's descendant. His cheeks were apple red and beads of sweat gathered along his hair line. Margaret pulled away from the embrace and put her hand to his head.

"Jackson, you're burning up. I'll go get you a cold wash cloth." She began to head for the kitchen when Jackson's firm voice stopped her on her tracks.

"Stop lying to me."

Margaret, confused, turned to Jackson.

"Jackson, what are you talking about?" The thought of who was on the phone had already slipped her mind as she focused on her husband's strange behavior.

"Do you love me?" his voice began increasing in volume.

"Yes, of course."

"I don't believe you." Pain echoed in his voice. Margaret stood motionless, unsure of how to react or respond.

"Your silence says it all, Margaret." His voice was crisp and mean, unlike anything she had ever heard.

"Jackson, please, let's sit down and talk this through." She attempted to be cautious, but nothing she did would be able to control the man who stood before her.

"I don't want small talk. I want the truth." His shouts shook her.

"Okay, Jackson, what truth do you want?" she decided to play his game even though it terrified her.

"I already told you." His teeth clenched.

"You want to know if I love you?"

"Yes. Now you're getting it!" His eyes were red and burning. His head was pounding with a headache.

"But, Jackson, I do love you."

"See, there you go lying again." Jackson headed to the stereo and turned off the music, leaving only the clock's tick to pass the time. He began pacing in front of Margaret. He walked back and forth while her shaking body held its breath. He put his hand on his head, trying to control the pulsing pain. He stopped pacing.

"Okay, Margaret," her name was pronounced like poison. "Why don't we try something easier, okay?"

She quickly shook her head, wondering how she could escape. "If you won't honestly admit to me that you don't love me, I'll do it for you. I know you don't love me. I know that 'then, now, always' is a lie. So why don't you just tell me why you don't love me?" His voice was rocky, but he was calm. He blinked away the sweat beads heading towards his eyes.

"But Jackson, I do love you." Her voice didn't even convince herself.

"Lies!" His slurred lips shouted at her. "Tell me the truth. Give me the dignity, the respect, for you to at least tell me the truth to my face."

"Jackson, please." Her eyes were bubbling with tears. Jackson noticed the tears and began to wipe one away. She closed her eyes, for she thought it was over. Instead, he began laughing, not manically, but eerily calm. He took his hand and grasped her two cheeks. She struggled to break from his embrace, but her attempts were useless. His thumb dug into her skin, and he peered into her scared brown eyes.

"Jackson, please." His voice was a mockingly, higher pitch. "Jackson, please what? What Margaret?!" Spit landed on her face; she flinched.

"Are you afraid?" He paused, as though she was capable of replying. He smiled. His bright teeth a daring contrast in comparison to his brilliant blue eyes that were currently a forest fire's craze. Even if Margaret could have spoken, she was too timid to admit the fear boiling inside. Jackson released her from his grip and resumed pacing. Her cheeks were red from his touch. She stood still; the prey anticipating the predator on the cold August night.

"Jackson," Margaret's voice shook, faking calmness. "Why do you think I don't love you?"

Jackson contemplated this question, but he didn't stop pacing. Margaret waited, unsure if he would even respond.

"Because." He paused his speech and movement, as though he was searching for the right words to say. "Because you look at me like I'm just another person. You are always working. You never want to go out. You don't want to be seen with me. Even now, you are looking at me like I'm crazy. You're afraid of me. That's no love. I don't understand. I just want answers. Instead, you play games and act innocent. Mocking me. I love you to the moon and back. Then, now, always. And this is how you repay me?" Jackson looked at the floor and mumbled his speech. Margaret was able to hear enough of it and was in complete bewilderment at the false delusions her husband displayed.

Jackson's icy eyes raised and made contact with Margaret. Margaret searched for the 27 year-old Jackson, sane and sober, the one she had fallen in love with, but this image of Jackson was no longer. The Jackson standing before her was a drunk, angry mess who she didn't recognize. Jackson saw Margaret, but he didn't really see her. His vision was shifting the room and Margaret was an Alice and Wonderland dancing pink elephant. He blinked rapidly and brought his burning hands to his temple.

"I'm sorry." Margaret said while leaning down to sit on the sofa. She wasn't sure why she was apologizing, but it felt appropriate. Jackson nodded his head at her as though she should be the one apologizing.

"I'm glad you recognize that you are sorry. It's because I'm right, right? You are lying. You don't love me?" He came and sat on the coffee table in front of her. Margaret gaped at his words. She couldn't believe he had the audacity to still think she was at fault and lying about it.

"Excuse me? No, Jackson." The bubbling fear turned to a cauldron of anger. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I don't love you. Why don't I love you? Because you are not the man I married. You are crazy and selfish, and I can't stand you!" Her voice no longer contained traces if fear, rather is was laced heavily with appropriate blind rage. Jackson's eyes widened in retaliating anger and shock. Raising his hand, Jackson struck Margaret across the face. The sound of contact slipped silently into the rest of the world.