And heal me.
And hurt me.
And fix me.
And fuck me over.
And punish me.
And protect me.
And level me.
And leave me.
I closed my eyes, releasing a sigh. I’d never been so conflicted in my life. If there’s nothing more Elaine used the bit of her brain to teach me, it was to always choose myself. When Zeek came into my life, I’d quietly begun to transition.
The changes were subtle and I didn’t notice them until the moment the cold, January winds slapped my face as I stepped out into the night air with only my cell, purse, and a duffle bag with close to eighty thousand tucked inside.
Before he entered my world, it only revolved around me. And, I wholeheartedly believed it should. Not temporarily, but for the rest of my life. I was taught to choose myself in every lifetime, every story, every relationship, every situation, every turn, and every universe. Because once my story ended, life would end. Choosing anyone other than self would be a disservice to me and everyone around me.
The world had molded women into believing the male species should be the center of their universe and I was convinced it was the reason girls were forced to be womenfaster and boys remained boys, even as grown ass men. So many mothers sheltered their sons, punishing them and teaching them much later in their lives than their daughters.
From the very beginning, young girls are expected to have independence, common sense, and the ability to do whatever they put their little minds to–almost completely unassisted. Boys' hands are held until they encounter a woman who isn’t willing to hold their hand and sing them lullabies to bed.
Until a coddled man meets a selfish woman, his patterns remain the same. Woman after woman. Situation after situation. Task after task. Responsibility after responsibility. And, it muddies the water. It muddies the world.
If young girls were taught to choose themselves every fucking time instead of submission, domestication, and nurturing, the world would heal. Respect wouldn’t be rewarded. It would be required.
I took a look at Flocco, wondering if his mother had held his hand, too. And, if I was the karma he didn’t know he needed. Because, strangely, my choice was obvious from the start.
Me.
Me.
Me.
Me.
Clarity wasn’t necessary because I made it clear every day. And, this time, I didn’t feel as though I’d have to compromise. Neither did I feel the need to shrink in order to make Flocco feel bigger, better, or in control.
This time?I chastised.Oh, honey, you’re doomed.
I sealed my lids, pulling in more air. The fight inside of me was slowly dying.
As if he could hear my thoughts, Flocco’s hand reached across the center console and linked his fingers though mine. He lifted my hand, pulling it closer to his lips to kiss.
Muah.
Gently, he pecked the back of my hand.
Muah.
Again.
Muah.
And again.
