The Cyclic Love

His eyes were like rubies—red and bright. He smelled of the faint scent of lilac, and every morning, he brushed against an attractive leg as he passed her desk. She longed for his touch, she truly did, but such romances were frowned upon in the work place. Rightfully so, because if they ended badly, how was one supposed to handle that? These are questions Marissa had every moment, but her heart pitter-pattered every instance her mind wandered to his image. She was a woman in lust, and he was the prey she wanted to nab—in more ways than one.

Days became weeks, weeks became regrettable months, and every second that she longed for his touch became minutes of eternity that she adamantly denied her yearnings. Every day became a chore--a dance--she dreaded to partake in, but she ultimately found herself in a circle with the person she wanted. It was a desire so strong that every part of her burned when he was near. It was craving so sensual that every thought of him made her higher than any drug could manage. She wanted it. She wanted him.

Long talks with her girlfriends about the situation amounted to nothing as she ignored every warning, every comment, and every inch of advice she had received. Her eyes were glazed over and replaced with small, pink hearts that danced when “he” was the topic. Her lust might have just become love. A love that was only nurtured and maintained in her mind. Her mother suggested that she was delusional. Marissa knew better; she was not delusional. Unless her mother meant that she was mistaken about the fact that her unobtainable love was, of course, unobtainable. If that were the case, her mother was correct. Marissa planned to prove that…one day. Soon.

That day did come, much sooner than she anticipated. The routine she had become accustomed to continued, but this time she grabbed his hand on an impulse and rubbed it against her thigh. She smiled a flirtatious smile and allowed her eyes to climb his landscape. Her prey stared back at her, his eyes lingering on her lips and his fingers cupped in hers. A smile crept across his face as he disappeared down the corridor. Marissa continued to stare longingly after him, blissfully ignoring her work. The steps to love had begun and she was excited. No, she was ecstatic, delighted, elated—she was on cloud nine.

Cloud nine quickly became cloud ten on their first date. Everything went great. They laughed, shared stories, swapped an adequate amount of saliva, and ended their time together on an incredible high note. Every day was a new adventure for Marissa and she treated her love as if he were a king. She was his queen, and he made sure everyone knew. No one had ever made her feel so good. No one ever could; or so she believed.

Over time, her feelings began to fade. The excitement was gone, but she was committed. Days became weeks, weeks became months, and those months became excruciating years all in the matter of minutes in her messy cubicle. A cubicle that used to be clean and full of the secret love she had for a man; that had begun to change. No longer did he slyly flirt with her by brushing against her leg. No longer did he share secret meetings with her in the coffee room and gently caress her round face. Their love was a being that was struggling to live, and she realized this the moment her eyes began to flutter at the sight of another she had just met. His eyes made her blush; his breath made her shiver. Everything about him urged a craving so deep within her that she could scarcely contain the shrill squeals her mind made in his presence. She wanted it. She wanted him. And someday, she would have him, but not before she let go of a dying flame with a quick snuff from her hand and a soft cooing to his heart. This would have to happen soon if she were to pursue another. It would happen tonight at dinner—shared weekly, but minds always absent.

Marissa sat at the table alone, her soft curls complimenting her face as she drank nervously from her glass. A million thoughts raced through her mind. What would she say to him? How would she say it? Could she say it? Was she making a mistake? All these notions played like a broken record and sweat began to form on the edges of her face. Several minutes later, her partner joined her. His eyes were distant and he lost the smell that once danced gleefully in the canal of her nose. Conversation was almost nonexistent as they sat in silence. Waiting. They were just waiting for someone to make the first move. Both were waiting for someone to bring up a point of interest or to say something funny. Something. They needed something. Anything would do at this point. So Marissa became brave. She spoke the first words:

“Mark, I had a real good time,” she began while fidgeting in her chair. Her eyes were on him, but it was clear that her mind was on something else entirely. “And I guess we have to discuss this at one point or another.”

He smiled and nodded. He had nothing to say. Was it because he expected this or was he just nodding to an unheard song in his head, Marissa wondered. She didn’t particularly care anymore; she just wanted this over with. It was torture.

“I didn’t want to hurt you, but I never thought we’d fall out of place.” She lowered her head and grabbed onto his hands. His touch was cold and uninviting. “I met someone. He’s cute and funny. We’ll have each other and that’s just how it is—“

Mark stared at her, his eyes unmoving. She could feel herself gasping for air. He was unnerving her with his silence. She had to go on. Not only for herself, but also for the budding love that was situated at the base of her throat.

“Ok, this is difficult for me, ok, Mark? I had something that I loved the most, but my friends kept telling me that maybe it was wrong…”

“So, you met someone and….” His words stuck to her like glue. His eyes were filling with the tears she wished she could avoid, and the quivering of his lips made her heart sink. She was upsetting him. In all of the time she had ever known him, she had never seen him like this. Never this hurt or this much of a wreck.

“I guess there’s nothing else I can say.”

“…I wish you never looked at me that way,” he said with a low tone while clenching his fist.

Marissa closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift into the ocean of her mind. All the good times played back. The hugs, the kisses, the time they spent together—all of it. It made her feel warm and bubbly. It made her glow like a star sitting on the horizon of the galaxy. Then the darkness swept in and killed every glimmer of light it could find. All the fights, the words they shared, the slammed doors, the pain, oh god, the pain. She was grateful for both. One because it made her life so incredibly exciting and loving and the other because she could finally replace it with something better…she hoped. If love was a war, then she was covered in its blood.

“It all just got so complicated…and—,” her words faded into the deadness of the air. Her eyes remained closed and still, but she could hear the chair push back, a body sliding from its position, and a gust of wind as that body rushed past her without a second glance. A tear rolled down her face and she knew it was over for good.

“There’s nothing else left to say,” she whispered.

It had been about a month since they had last spoken, and work returned to being mundane. Marissa sat at her desk and allowed the sounds of typing to drown out her fleeting thoughts. When it was time for lunch, she took out a mirror and allowed her eyes to linger on her appearance. Her face was blushed and covered in makeup. Her soft curls, in a simple hairdo, rested against her cheek and provided a slight curve to the appearance of her face. A soft hand brushed against her leg and she smiled. She was a woman in lust and she knew what she wanted. Could she put herself through this again? Would the outcome be the same? It didn’t matter. She was a predator and she desired her next victim in more ways than one. Maybe things would be different this time. Her eyes lingered on the man as he disappeared down the corridor and the cycle began again.