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Noah
In the one hundred thirty-two hours and thirty-four minutes since I read the letter from my mother, I’ve had time to cool down. During the first twenty-four hours, I didn’t want to think about it. I wanted to push it so far from my mind that I could somehow forget that I had even been brought into this world by that person. The fakest smile was plastered on my face while I pretended I didn’t know the truth. Brazen saw right through me. Once he pushed me to face the reality, I broke down.
I tried to rationalize what she had done. I made excuses and searched for redemption where there wasn’t any. Brazen listened to me ramble on like a crazy woman. Then, I got pissed. There was so much venom running through my veins, I wanted to drive straight to Seattle and confront my mom right then and there. I wanted to out her. I wanted to look her in the eyes when I spoke my own truth. I wasn’t going to be a coward, writing things down in a letter. I wanted her to hear from my mouth what she’d done to me. Brazen calmed my hostile mood swing.
Then, I didn’t even want to get out of bed. Every thought was all-consuming. Every action was crippling. I cried until there weren’t any tears left. Brazen was my strength and helped me find the will to understand I was stronger than the words she had written to me.
My father abandoned me before I was even born, and I’m named after the man.
For life, I’m connected to a man I’ve never met and probably never will.
I wasn’t enough for my mother. I became a burden, one that held her back from life and love. I needed the essentials of life, but she only saw me as a way to fill a hole inside her. Does the man she holds so high on a pedestal really know the manipulative, narcissistic woman he married?
Denial. Bargaining. Anger. Depression.
Yet I haven’t completely reached acceptance.
Not of her, that woman who was supposed to be my mother.
But I have found recognition for what I feel in my heart for Brazen.
The last five days have been a roller coaster, but today is a new day, and as I knock on Brazen’s door, I am completely resolved in my plan. I smooth my dress and fiddle with my hair. He opens the door with a smile, and I struggle not to literally fall head over heels at the sight. What I feel for him is strong and seemingly not going anywhere. Our connection only gets mightier, and we become more interlinked with one another.
“Hi.” Even my voice sounds goofy.
“Hi,” he playfully mocks as he holds the door open for me.
“I have something for you,” I tell him.
“Oh, yeah? What is it?” He kisses my neck while I walk deeper into the house.
“Follow me, and I’ll show you.” I head for his bedroom with him hot on my heels and his lips still grazing my skin.
Brazen and I have gotten hot and heavy. We’ve made out until both of us were practically vibrating with sexual tension. I’ve touched myself in front of him, and I’ve had my hands on him, but very rarely does Brazen explore my body, which has made me almost desperate for his touch. I saw the way he reacted to my body in that art class, and I know how much he wants me, too.
I’m not asking for the gentleman anymore.
I’m asking, begging, demanding for the lover.
It’s time.
Three steps inside his bedroom, I reach down for the hem of my dress. The fabric tickles my skin as I pull the garment over my head and toss it to the floor. The cold air from the vent swooshes over my skin, contrasting the heat inside me. Brazen doesn’t take his sight off me for a single second, and it fills me with power. I want him to forever look at me as he is right now.
“I’m ready,” I tell him as I stand, stripped down to my bra and panties before him.
He looks up before he responds, “What are you saying? Ready for what?”
There must be something extremely interesting up there on the ceiling because he keeps his sight upward instead of returning his eyes to me. I advance toward him and gently place my hand on his jaw, tilting his face down to look at me. I need all of our connection right now.
“I’m ready for this, ready for us. Touch me, and let me touch you. I want to be with you. I need it.”
He bites his lip as I speak, and indecision courses through him. He searches for answers that I hope are written all over my face.
“I want to have sex, Brazen. Is that clear enough?”
I keep my head held high and my shoulders pushed back. I’ve never been more positive of anything in my life. I want Brazen—not because he was there for me this last week, but because I know he’ll always be what I need.
“Noah, there’s no rush.”
