It’s instantly addictive.
I’ll go into withdrawal the first time I have to think about whether or not I have enough eggs to make the breakfast I’m craving.
The first time I miss one of my walks because it’s raining and I don’t have a treadmill—or space for one—I’ll probably cry.
I’ll never forget our time here. Being on the grounds, even without access to the entire property, while researching its history has been a magical experience.
I’ve gone to bed exhausted in the most delicious ways. Full of good food, and Kwame’s thick dick.
I let out a sigh of satisfaction and stretch my arms, fingertips straining for the ceiling. “Do you believe in heaven?” I ask Kwame. It’s the first time I’ve spoken today, and my voice is rough with sleep.
I love that he doesn’t mind that I like to wake up and not talk until I’m ready. It’s one of the luxuries I discovered from living alone. The ability to have quiet whenever I need it.
I also love that he doesn’t mind if we skip good morning and get straight into whatever is on our minds.
“Is that a rhetorical question?” He doesn’t look up from the tome on Byzantium history he’s been reading all morning.
He brings one of his long fingers to his mouth, licks the tip of it and turns the page leisurely.
“No.” I turn onto my side, propping my chin “I’m asking because I want to know what you think.”
“About heaven?” He closes his book and places it on the table next to his side of the bed and stretches his muscular arms and turns his face toward the sun.
“Yes. Or have you never heard of it?”
“Ha! You’re the sinner in this duet, baby. Literally and figuratively.” He grins and dodges the swipe of my pillow.
“Are you going to answer the question or just make fun of me?” Iprod his calf with my foot.
He rolls his eyes upward as he ponders my question. “Ihopethere’s a heaven. For the sake of everyone who believes in it.”
“But not you?”
“It feels hypocritical when I absolutely don't believe in hell. What about you?”
“I believe in heaven. But I live like this world might be all there is and try to make it as close to whatfeelslike heaven to me.”
“And what’s that?”
“Waking up knowing what my purpose is. To not owe anyone anything. To be proud of my work. To have the security of a roof over my head, fair pay for the work I do, people I can close both eyes around.”
“Sounds like you’ve got heaven.”
“It’s felt like that all week. There’s something so tranquil about this place.”
“I think you could make anywhere feel like that.” He sighs and gazes out of the window that lines the wall our bed is facing. “It is so beautiful to look at though,” he says with a wistful twist to his mouth.
I scoot close to him and drape an arm over his waist and lay my head on his shoulder. “It is. You have a stretch of the Potomac riverfront all to yourselves.”
He nods. “I was obsessed with this river when I was growing up. It’s the oldest thing in this landscape. Ancient. It’s a different river depending when you encounter it. But here, after it goes over the great falls, it shallows out. And you see that stone island?” He points out into the distance, and I sit up straight and follow his finger to a pile of rocks that splits the current.
“That’s the primordial bedrock that was here before the first humans arrived here a thousand years ago.”
“Wow, is itthatold?”
“Older. But also brand new. The riverbed is constantly eroded by water that has never stopped running. It’s never the same river twice. And every time I stepped into it, I was a different person, too.”
I nod in agreement. “Yes, every day is an opportunity to do something different.”
