AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Cameron was always an anchor for me.
So many times, I felt like a ship floating away from the shore I wanted to be docked at. So many times, I felt like I couldn’t handle one more day. So many times, I felt lost, and he was there for me. He was always, always there for me. He rooted me, anchored me. He kept me exactly where I needed to be.
And I’ll always be grateful for that.
And I’ll always miss him.
The tears come before I expect them to. I should have expected them. It’s just that it’s been two years and I should be out of tears by now. I should be done crying. I should be done pining for my lost love.
I should be done missing him.
Tonight’s scene was so much fun, but so intense. I didn’t expect to orgasm in front of a crowd. I didn’t expect to come in front of a group of people. I never have before. Somehow, though, I thought about Odessa’s words, and I focused on the fact that tonight, I was just a submissive and nothing more, and I was able to let go.
I was able to stop thinking about my kid.
I was able to stop thinking about my job.
I was able to stop thinking about my dead husband.
For just a little while, I was able to be free, and it felt fucking fantastic.
And now I’m home and everything is hard.
Somehow, I manage to make it upstairs to my bedroom and crawl into bed. I don’t brush my teeth or wash off my makeup or take off my clothes. I just get in bed, and I curl up in a ball, and I cry. I cry and I cry and I cry. I wish for a different world: one where my husband was still alive. I wish for a different life: one where I wasn’t so alone. I wish for a different ending: one where my daughter still had a father.
And eventually, I cry myself to sleep.
*
I wake up when my alarm goes off at ten. I shut it off, but don’t fall back to sleep. I have two hours before I have to pick up Bennett. I have two hours to myself and I have no idea what I want to do.
First things first: I need to get cleaned up.
&
nbsp; Somehow, I manage to pull myself out of bed. I feel like I have a hangover, which is weird because I didn’t drink at the club at all, and I only had two glasses of wine when I got home. Then again, I did do an awfully lot of crying.
I make it to the bathroom and start the shower. Then I look at myself in the mirror. I’m a wreck, a mess. I’m not even a hot mess. I’m just a mess. My makeup is smeared from my crying. My eyes are still swollen. Hell, even my hair has gone against nature and just completely freaked out.
Everything about me looks awful.
I brush my teeth and stare at myself the entire time. I know that something has to change. I’m not exactly partying hard, but I’m playing at a sex club. I’m playing at a club and I have no right to be doing this. I’m a mother. I should be focusing on my daughter and making her happy. I shouldn’t be going out late. I shouldn’t be leaving her with a babysitter. I shouldn’t be doing any of those things.
“It’s just single mother guilt,” I tell myself out loud, remembering what Susan said the last time I expressed these thoughts.
Christina, everyone feels guilty about the things they can’t give their children. Everyone feels bad when they can’t give their children the world, but you know what? It’s not your fault he died. It’s not your fault that he was a military man. It’s not your fault, and you do not need to feel bad for needing a break once in awhile. No one was meant to do this alone.
Susan is a war widow, like me. We met at a support group shortly after our husbands died. They were both killed around the same time, so we’ve been able to go through the stages of grief together. We’ve been able to move through the stages one at a time, and we’ve been able to help each other.
Having Susan doesn’t make up for losing Cameron. Not by a long shot. Still, it’s nice to have someone who understands what I’m going through, who knows what it’s like to lose someone, who knows the struggle of raising a daughter on her own.
We both feel guilty so much of the time, but we do our best to move past that.
Susan has a boyfriend now: a nice man called Jim. He’s completely ordinary, completely normal, and completely perfect for her. He even has a completely regular job; he’s a teacher.
I’m happy for her.
I’m happy she’s been able to find some sort of normalcy in her life.
