The Music Producer and the Teacher 3: On Again, Off Again

Chapter 1

I hung up the phone and threw it across the room. Melissa finally stuck her head in my bedroom door. I figured she had been standing outside eavesdropping for most of the conversation. "Hey 'Rissa? You okay?" she asked cautiously. I ran my hands over my face and groaned. Then I nodded. "I think so." I replied. She took this opportunity to walk across the room and sit next to me on my bed. "You guys fight again?" she asked, her eyes full of sympathy. I nodded again. Since I agreed to give Marshall another chance, since I told him I loved him, things have been... shall we say.. tense. 

I cant seem to trust anything he says. Obviously, I knew there would be some complexities to giving a cheater another chance. I didn't foresee this many though. We fight at least twice a week, for varying reasons. He does something I deem to be suspicious, I call him out and he goes from zero to one thousand instantly. He says something hurtful out of anger and then he spends the next day or two trying to make it right. 

Sometimes it is my fault. I have been known to have flashbacks to the day I walked in on them in my sleep. It's as horrible as it sounds. I will then either wake up angry at him or try to avoid telling him; which can either piss him off, or hurt his feelings depending on his mood. Then there's the option of just becoming completely upset and inconsolable. As you can imagine none of the above are helpful.

I am usually always the girl who is in favor of dumping a cheater. "Cheaters never change" is something I usually believe and I also have always believed that being alone is better than being with a man who you feel like you have to keep tabs on. But there is something about Marshall Mathers. I just I wish I could tell you what. He is just unlike every other man I have ever been with. Maybe our age difference is really going to be a bigger problem than I thought. 

I am snapped out of my thoughts by Melissa's hand on my knee. "Rissa?" she asks, waving her hand in front of my face. I looked at her, a familiar worrying look on her face. I saw those looks a lot over the last year or so. Every time I had a panic attack. I haven't had one in a while, but I knew if I didn't do something to stop this fighting with Marshall they were sure to start back.

"I'm fine." I managed finally. Melissa sits back against the headboard of my bed exhaling with relief. "That's the third one in the last couple of days. What happened this time?" she asked. I looked at her for a moment, unsure if I really wanted to tell her. Melissa wasn't exactly Marshall's biggest fan these days, as you can guess. "I'm not really even sure," I said, mimicking her position against my headboard and hugging my knees. "I always feel like I need to be on the defensive with Marshall. Like he's doing something behind my back. It's a feeling that never goes away. I think I need therapy." I looked at her, sitting on my right, without lifting my head from its spot. "'Rissa, you have only been with him about a year. Do you really think this is  worth salvaging?" I thought about this for a minute. The last time I was at Marshall's and we were screaming at each other, literally, I tried to break up with him. I have never seen a man go from pissed off to completely broken so fast. His angry blue eyes softened and grew three sizes. He stood there, just looking at me and when I said what I needed to say and turned to walk out of the house he seemed to teleport right in front of me and begged me not to leave him with his eyes full of tears. I even had to stay the night because he wouldn't let me out of his grasp.

"Yes. It is." I said to Melissa. That was all I said. I was just about to get up to make some phone calls when my phone lit up with Marshall's name. I looked down at it before looking at her. "Well, he ain't calling for me," she said. I rolled my eyes and shooed her out of the room as I reached for the phone to answer it. 

"Hello?" I answered cautiously.

"Hey. Do you have a minute to talk? Or you gonna accuse me of something else I haven't done?"

His voice is cold. I don't blame him. I sigh.

"Yeah, I do. What's up?"

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me? I am so fucking tired of the back and forth with you, Marissa. I just need to know when this ends."

End? Where does this end? I feel myself start to get angry again but stop myself because I suddenly don't have the energy to fight.

"It's obviously no time soon with just us working at it alone. Maybe we should try counseling." I honestly don't know if I expect him to be on board with this or not. I have a full list of reasons why he's being ridiculous when I hear him say, "Fine."

"Fine?" I repeat.

"Yeah. Look, I just don't want to lose you, Marissa. If you think sitting with some random person and telling her our issues will fix it, then fine."

I stopped in my tracks. I was fully expecting another fight. "Um, okay. I wasn't expecting such cooperation, that's all." The line went silent. "I miss you." he said quietly. "I miss you, I miss us. Before I fucked everything up. I would do anything for just one normal ass day with you. Where you don't hate me or feel like I'm up to no good."

I hated hearing him talk about himself this way. I know he would never admit it, but I know our issues have caused him a lot of strife. His eyes don't get the same bright colored blue they did when we first got together anymore. They were usually filled with worry or sadness, or just pure anger.

"Marshall, I don't hate you." I said. He didn't say anything. "I love you. If I didn't do you think I would still be here after all this time fighting with you?"

The line went silent again. The two of us just sat in the silence for what felt like a really long time, but couldn't have been more than a minute or two. "Can I see you?" he asked me. "Please?"

I imagined his big puppy dog eyes at this moment. I really did love those eyes. They stared down at me all the time. I mostly think of cuddling on his couch and looking up at him to say something or just to check on him in general. His eyes would meet mine every single time like he knew the instant I was going to look at him or speak.

"Do you think we can be in the same room together without wanting to kill each other?" I asked, sarcastically. "I'm willing to chance it if you are." he said.

"Okay, I'll be there soon." I replied. Without thinking twice I got up, grabbed my keys and made my way out my front door.