Page 53 of Out of Office

“Yes, I know how working through the weekend without breaks feels. But you must promise me you’ll stop before it gets dark tonight. You need to reset before the week starts. What are you wearing tomorrow? Do you need me to press it?” I strolled away to the kitchen to grab my own plate but turned back when her keyboard clacking stopped.

“Are you real?” she asked in awe.

“Stop it. I’m home until we get my work permit. Did you think I would sit on the sofa and surf channels?” I brushed her off and kept approaching the kitchen.

“I just wish I could take time off to spend it with you.”

“You still can,” I said, trying to keep my tone relaxed. Genevieve sighed but didn’t respond, and I didn’t push. She’d shared Anita’s words of wisdom on Friday night, and they weighed heavy on her.

Same as the A.D. Nicholson situation.

Not knowing what the right step forward was, I understood my mental block with the entire situation wasn’t healthy either. I’d been turning the idea in my mind over and over, wondering what was the right step to take. Something that honored me and my additional needs.

So, in an attempt to keep all my options open, I agreed to meet with Gen and her boss later this week. The money I could canvas for us and for everyone in Panamá was a strong motivator.

“We will find the time,” I said, attempting to cheer her up.

“Sure, yeah. I know,” she responded, but there was no conviction in her voice.

The alarm woke me up before Gen, just as I had planned. After putting my plan in place I slid back into bed and Gen curled up, her warm back and booty pressed against me, and I skated my hands down her hips, today’s onesie blue with palm trees all over. She’d confessed she’d bought it after returning to Florida after our two-week idyllic time. I loved how passionate she’d been about our time together, and to find she had filled her journal with detailed accounts of those memories, including the time in Casco, made me wonder how I could support her to have time to lean into something that gave her so much delight.

Gen stirred, and her breathing changed until her eyes fluttered open.

“What happened? Did my alarm go off?” she asked, confused.

“No, not yet. I woke you up a little earlier than usual, but I want you to disregard the clock for now. I know when you like to leave the house. Can you trust me? I’ll make sure you’re on time.”

“Oh...okay,” she agreed, filling me with determination.

“Okay, come. I have the tub ready for you.” I stood up, gently tugging her until she stood next to me.

“A bath? At this time?”

“Trust me...remember?”

“Time of my life?” She grinned as she trailed behind me. The scent of lemongrass and green tea infused the bathroom; the internet was a great resource for finding the perfect mix for a wake-up bath. Gen’s giddy but confused energy was amusing as she stripped and got into the bath.

This time was for her, for her relaxation, for energizing before her day. Still, I couldn’t front, witnessing Genevieve’s stunning body sinking under the clear water, her ebony skin sleek in the places not submerged, the tip of her dark chocolate nipples goading me to taste; her closed eyes as she allowed herself to relax... It was a transcendent experience. I would be privileged to do this with her for the rest of my days.

“Are you gonna stare? Not that I mind,” she said, then smirked.

“Nah, I need to make sure to keep you on track,” I said and stood up. “I’ll be back. No need to look at the time.” I cautioned from the door, and she nodded, eyes closed.

I finished the porridge I’d made for both of us, one of my grandpa’s old recipes from the islands, which would make sure Gen had something more substantial than her usual coffee.

I played some mellow reggae as I guided Gen to them, leaving her there to finish getting ready.

Whispers and soft words, that was all we used as she finished her makeup, then sat with me to eat breakfast. When she was done, I held her hands and asked her to close her eyes again.

“What? Are you sure I’m going to be...”

“Shhh...this is my routine, without the bath, during my regular mornings after my parents passed away. I needed connection with myself... I felt lost for a while. Meditation in the morning and evening helped a lot. I had stopped doing it for a minute, but being here...”

“Do you feel lost?” she murmured, pain coloring her question.

My eyes shot open to find her wounded gaze.

“No! I mean, being here has inspired me to want to build new routines together. I don’t feel lost, but I don’t want to lose myself when my well-being could affect you. I gotta be well to be good for you. And the same the other way around. Maybe if we do this together...think of it as preventive maintenance,” I finished hoping she understood.

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