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My presence is non-existent to him. He’s too transfixed on the shapes and colors hovering over him, giving me the perfect opportunity to lose myself in appreciating him. Today, I talked about Joel—not a lot, but enough to open up old wounds. I didn’t want to talk about him, and I don’t want to admit I have read the release letter over and over again. Not only do I read the letter repeatedly, but I also check his Facebook to see if he says anything, if he post pictures of wherever he is, just so I can reassure myself that he is still in Utah and far away from me. But, his Facebook is blank—no updated information, no recent posts, just blank.
I debated admitting this to Kings countless times, but I never do. Too convinced I will buy myself a one-way ticket to the crazy bin, and if I know Kingston, it will send him into a fit of jealousy.
“I wonder what your first word will be. I think it should be Dada. He loves you so much, little man. He puts up with my crap so he can spend every day with you. Pretty special man, huh?”
The music on the mobile starts playing, and he smirks with his gums on full display.
“You are my best accomplishment. You give me purpose,” I say out loud, watching him play until it’s time for his milk.
Feeding him his dinner, I head upstairs and get him ready for bed, and then put him in his bassinet in our room. Deciding it’s time for a bubble bath, I wait till he’s asleep then grab the baby monitor so I can hear him over the running water. Throwing in some lavender-scented bath bombs, I undress then step into the warm, inviting water.
When the water fills to the brim, I use my foot to turn it off and sit back, cozying into place and shutting my heavy, burning eyelids. Today took a lot out of me. I feel alone and unsure of my surroundings, like I’m standing on unsteady feet while the ground under me rumbles wildly.
I miss Kings. I want to talk to him, for him to make sense of all this, but I can’t do anything because the space is needed for us both. I run my hands over my body with the loofa, lathering it in more lavender scent, exfoliating my skin to kill time.
It’s a Friday night. I’m all alone and bored. It feels like I’ve been alone for months now. I can’t remember the last time Kingston and I went on a date, made love, or even lounged around the house together. I’m starting to rethink the whole going out with Shayla thing. Too bad it’s too late for the rain check.
My phone vibrates next to me where it sits on the lid of the toilet. Sitting up, I use the dry washcloth next to me to dry my hands before grabbing the cell.
Sdog: When the boys are out, and I’ve spent the last hour in the bath since the twins fell asleep.
#Bathproblems
I chuckle and open my camera. Snapping a picture of me in the bath with my tongue out, I send it to her.
Me: Same. We are pathetic, but hey, at least we’re clean. Lol!
Sdog: Nice nipple shot. What do I owe you in return?
I open the picture and zoom in. Sure enough, my nipple is sticking out of the sudsy water. I shake my head and chuckle.
Me: Shit, you got the special treatment. I will take a vag pic for $200 please. LOL! JK!
I wait for her response, opening my music app and playing Kane Brown’s “There Goes My Everything.” My head begins to move along with the rhythm, the words reminding me of the one man who will always have my heart. My phone vibrates, and it saves me from a live reel replay of the past four months.
Sdog: Sorry, those are reserved for my husband, and I have met my nightly quota. I already sent him two! ;p Lol!
Me: Lucky bitch, I haven’t even seen Kingston naked in months. I got a glimpse the other day, and that was about it.
I see the dots dancing, and then the song on my phone stops as Shayla’s name displays on my screen. I huff. I should know better than to even give her an inkling that we aren’t okay.
Bringing the phone to my ear, I take a deep breath. “Shay, I’m—”
“Sissy, please talk to me. Don’t shut me out.” Her tormented voice echoes like a shotgun through the receiver. I blink a couple times and drop my chin slowly. Shayla and I have pretty much become strangers too, like everyone in my life, and I really miss her. I miss her always being there to listen to me and pick me up when I’m falling to the rubble I have created all on my own.
“Shay, it’s not good.”
“Give me ten minutes and I’ll be there.”
I hear the sloshing of water, and before she can hang up, I protest. “No, don’t wake the babies up just to come see me.”
“I don’t have to. Kathy is here. She’s in town from Portland house hunting. I’m on my way!” With that, she hangs up abruptly to keep me from objecting. I surprisingly feel flooded with relief. I miss her. I miss anyone from the life that once was beautiful for me—before Joel, before the abuse, before all the things that happened that made me the mess I am today.
I climb out and towel myself off as fast as I can, grabbing one of Kingston’s big tees and his briefs. I slide them on and shield my body in his clothes, pretending they are his arms around me, the smell of him lingering on them, filling each intake of breath.
Kingston is dominant; his presence affects any room he walks into. He owns it, charms the pants off of it, and there is something about that knowledge that turns me on more than anything. God, I miss his touch.
Shayla knocks and I move, rushing out of the room. I shut the door as quietly as I can, making sure I don’t disturb my little man, and then hurry down the stairs before she starts ringing bells.
