Finding ground

You gaze out at the ocean as you walk and let your brain process your thoughts and feelings. The cold air, the subtle movement of waves in the dim light relaxes you, eases the sharp edge of your hurt. You stop and lean on the railing of the boardwalk, stare out at the moon over the water. The view of the ocean from the boardwalk is one of the reasons you live in Atlantic City. Maisie wanted to live in Vegas, but you wanted the ocean and Maisie gave in. She always gave in. She’d smile, touch your cheek and say “of course, babe, you know I can’t say no to you.”

But now you wonder, was she driven by guilt for taking your voice? From fear that someday you’d find out you could still use the curse? You had managed to stop thinking about Maisie’s curse years ago. But it was back, making itself the focus of your lives again. That damned curse, refusing to stay in the shadows. You sit down on a bench, look out at a passing ship cutting through the water. You think about that first morning with Maisie, when she took away your voice. You didn’t know what would come, but Maisie had followed through on her words that day. She’d done a damn-good job of making it up to you. You’d travelled the world; seen all the places you wanted to go. You’d had incredible experiences, and a whole lot of incredible sex.

You thought about her dad’s question to you just two days after you found out about her curse, “If three days ago you had the choice to have this life at the cost of your voice, would you take it?” The answer was easy; you’d take Maisie and never look back. And you didn’t even know how good it would be. You’d like to think you’d make the same choice today. But now you know that as you were talking to her father Maisie was finding out that the choice you were making was a lie. You were still her master, could still give her orders, you just didn’t know it.

As much as you might try, you can’t really be mad about her taking your voice. Maybe her command back then, that you were okay with “all of this” was behind that. You weren’t able to get upset about her commanding you to be okay with it either. It was weird. You knew it was the curse, you knew that’s why you didn’t care, but it still didn’t matter. You were alright with it. Trading your voice for your dream life with Maisie was a good deal. But Claire, your own daughter not hearing your voice, that was a different story. That you felt. That she would need to answer for.

You think of how you want to approach this. Things you need to tell her, questions you want to ask. There are a lot of them. There are also commands you’d like to make, things you think she should suffer. A lot of them are just momentary ****-fantasies. You know you’d never do it to her. But making it so she can’t speak if Claire isn’t around unless she does certain things? That sounds fitting. That sounds like justice.

The one thing you are certain about is you won’t confront Maisie at home when Claire is there. You know how you feel, you know you are probably going to be loud, and you won’t risk her hearing you yell at Maisie. You won’t do that.

You look around and see the lights from Maisie’s casino in the distance. Not hers in that that she owns it, she’s a partner, does a ton of publicity for them. Seeing it, however, gives you an idea. You pull out your phone, send several texts and walk quickly back to your apartment building.

It isn’t long before Annabelle meets you at the front desk of your building. You momentarily debate setting this up without talking, preserve the illusion, but people are going to find out, so you speak.

“Thank you for coming, Annabelle.” She drops her bag.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Peterson, I just. . . How?” She stammers as you pick up her bag.

“Long story.” You hand Annabelle her bag and a folded piece of paper. “I need you to give this to Maisie when you get upstairs. Wait five minutes before you head up though, and you’ll need to call her, she doesn’t know you are coming. Just tell her I called you and give her this.” You hand Annabelle the note. She looks at it.

“You don’t know when you’ll be back?” She asks.

“Hopefully before Claire gets up, but if not we’ll be there before she gets home or we’ll call you.” You punch up the bank transfer on your phone, 12 premium hours up front. Annabelle wasn’t cheap, especially last minute, but she was the best and Claire adored her.

“Alright, Mr. Peterson, I’ll wait 5 minutes then call up.” She says as she receives payment confirmation.

You say goodbye to Annabelle, thank Gregory at the desk for the use of his paper and walk out. Leaving two very confused people behind you.

You get Maisie’s texts as you walk, she had to get dressed, but she was coming. You’d already heard back from the Casino, of course they have a conference room you can use. You head to the casino, the concierge, Marissa shows you to the conference room, helps you get settled in. When she leaves you sit and re-hash all the things you want to say to your wife, along with the questions you want to ask.

It isn’t long before Maisie arrives. You see her through the large conference room windows, walking fast, her long dress flowing, paired with one of her favorite cardigans to cut the cool evening air. You also see the poor concierge that got you the room trying to keep up without jogging.

“Babe.” Maisie says when she enters the room. You acknowledge her, but speak to the concierge.

“Thanks Marissa, I think we have everything.”

“If there’s anything additional you need, text me directly, Mr. and Mrs Peterson. Otherwise, this entire section will be sealed off, all cameras are locked down, and the Wi-Fi disruptor is on the table, just flip the red switch to turn it on.”

“Thank you, Marissa.” Maisie says cooly, her voice controlled. Marissa takes the hint and walks out, heading down the hallway and out the now locked doors.

“Maisie,” you start but she interrupts.

“Babe,” she steps towards you, her hands out, holding a piece of paper folded over like an offering. “If you will let me, I wrote this note for when you returned. I’d like you to read it now.” She was holding back tears as she spoke. You step forward and take the paper. You turn away, look out the window, out toward the ocean, take a breath and open the note.

Babe,

I am sorry. I have been selfish. I didn’t realize how much until I saw you and Claire tonight, saw what I’d taken from you. I thought I had beaten the curse, when in truth I had just turned it against you, the man who didn’t use it against me.

I have had an incredible life these ten years we’ve been together. Better than I ever could have dreamed, and all because of you. You are the man of my dreams, and you gave up so much for me. I’m sorry I didn’t realize how much I had taken from you.

If the rest of our time together is different, I am okay with that. I’ve had ten years free of the curse; you bore that for me. I will gladly bear whatever you choose for me going forward.

I submit myself to you, my love, my master.

You turn back towards Maisie, and your breath catches. Her dress and cardigan are folded neatly, lying on the table along with her underwear and shoes. Maisie is on the floor, kowtowing naked before you.

“Maisie.” You say, stepping over to her, all the things you planned to say no longer seeming relevant “Thank you.”

She stays still, quiet. You sit on the floor beside her, touch her hair. Just knowing she realizes what she’s done helps, it makes a massive difference.

“I love you Maisie, and while it still hurts, I forgive you.”

Maisie turns her head towards you. “I mean it babe, whatever you want. However you want to use the curse, I’m okay with it.”

“Well, first, I want you to get up.” You stand as she does, walk over to the executive chair at the head of the table and sit in it. You have forgiven her, but that doesn’t mean things will be returning to normal. You point to your lap. Your gorgeous and naked wife comes and sits on your lap sideways, her legs tucked up on yours. She rests her head on your shoulder.

“Maisie, I. . .” You stop yourself, you almost gave her a command without intending to. “I love you, but we have some things we need to hash out.”

She just nods. You take a moment to think, make sure your wording is right. While you don’t doubt your wife’s sincerity, there is a nagging voice that reminds you she has tricked you before. It isn’t wrong, and you want to make sure that you know she is being forthright with you.

“Maisie, for the next hour you will tell me the truth, and you won’t leave things out or say it in a way that you think will mislead me or make me happy.”

“I’ll tell you anything.” Maisie replies.

“I believe you, I just want to know that it’s true.”

She nods. “That’s understandable.” You feel some tears soak through your shirt. You don’t trust her right now, and she knows it. You hope to rebuild that trust, and the curse can help with that.

“Also during that hour, Maisie, no phrase I say will count as a command. Unless I say ‘Emergency’ after your name. Otherwise you will not treat things I say as commands.”

The last thing you want to do right now is sabotage this conversation with accidental commands.

“I don’t know if that will work.” She says.

“Let’s test it. Maisie stand up.” Maisie remains seated. She looks up at you and smiles weakly. You kiss her forehead.

“Maisie, emergency, touch your nose.” She touches her nose. “That work for you?” you ask her.

“If you are satisfied.” She responds.

“No, Maisie, I need you to be part of this, we need to do this together. I don’t want to just be your master, I would like to remain your husband, your equal.”

She sits up, nods, but you can see the doubt in her eyes.

“This might work better if you get dressed.” You say. You can feel her skin getting cold, you don’t want her to be uncomfortable, you don’t want her being submissive. That’s never been your wife, and you don’t want that now. You want to fix things, you want to create a space for your relationship to continue in a healthy way.

“If you wish it.” She says, getting up and walking to her pile of clothes.

She’s being stubborn about this. You don’t like it. “Do you really mean all this, Maisie? Do you want me to take control of you, order you around, ignore your wishes?”

“No,” she answers honestly, “but it’s coming.”

“You really think I’m going to change, that I’ll start using the curse against you.” You stand up, agitated.

“You won’t mean to, it’ll take time. A slip here, a command I agree to there, but the curse will get ahold of you, babe. It always does.” She says it so calmly, like it is common knowledge, a fundamental truth.

“So you thought you’d get out in front of it?”

Her brow scrunches in thought. “Maybe? Mostly I don’t want you to feel bad about it and make it worse.”

“Wait, what are you saying, Maisie?” You didn’t follow what she was trying to say.

“Imagine you slip up, give me a nasty command that you didn’t mean to give me. It hurts me, I’m unhappy and you feel defensive, you want me to understand you didn’t mean to hurt me, but all it does it make it harder to not use the curse. You become angry at me because seeing me reminds me that you hurt me, me being hurt feels like an attack. . .”

“God, Maisie, you are describing a toxic and abusive relationship.” You can’t believe she thinks you would do that.

“That’s what the curse wants, babe. That’s the whole point.” She looks at you, now fully dressed. “A good man, even one of the really, truly good ones, you give them enough power and it will corrupt them.”

The old saying pops into your head. “Power corrupts.” You mutter under your breath.

“And absolute power. . .” Maisie adds, not needing to finish the line.

“So you’d rather me embrace being your master and do what I want to you, than for me to try and fight it only to be corrupted by the struggle to not use it.”

“If you try to be perfect, it will drag you down, babe. If you give it what it wants, maybe it will be content.”

“Is this about Holly, about Claire?” You ask. She had agreed to it at the time, you thought she had embraced the situation.

“I mean, partly?” She says, her forehead scrunching again. “Look at Holly, babe, the curse has let her go. It got what it wanted and she’s better off for it.”

“I see.” You say. Maisie might be right, Holly gave the curse what it demanded, and the curse has largely let her go on with her life. Her life after Claire had been different than the two years she spent trying to deny the curse’s demand that she have a daughter.

“Maisie, do you regret Claire?”

“No!” She looks disgusted at you. “How could you ask me that?”

“I mean, she’s my daughter, but raising your. . .” she cuts you off.

“She’s my daughter too, damn it.” Tears start to form in her eyes. “Just because Holly gave birth to her doesn’t change how I feel about her.”

You feel ashamed that you brought it up, but Maisie isn’t done.

“This damned curse would have affected her whether Holly or I gave birth to her. At least this way there’s only one.” She sits down and starts crying. “Oh babe,” she cries “she’s going to grow up, she’s going to face this.”

“I know.” You say as you walk over to her, put your arm around her. Your thoughts turn to how this mess started. The man that visited Maisie, the man willing to tell others about the curse. Threatening to tell powerful, selfish people about Maisie, about her family’s curse. Tell them about Claire. It doesn’t take much thought to realize how people who stretch or break the law for their own benefit could use the curse. It pushes all the other thoughts you have out of your head.

“Maisie, what was the name of the guy that knows about your curse?”

She looks to you, her eyes showing she is realizing the same thing. “I don’t know, he never said.”

“Maisie, you know the name of the man that visited you, the man who knows about your curse.” You reply immediately

“What?” She asks. Nothing happens. That’s right, you set down rules for this hour.

“Sorry, forgot about the rule I made.” You say, thinking. It's probably for the best you made that rule, instead of stupidly yelling commands at Maisie you should probably come up with a plan on how to deal with this guy, along with anyone else he’s talked to about the curse. Fortunately, your wife happened to be really good at reading people and coming up with ways to beat them.