Page 110 of Absolution

Twenty-Seven

Kerry

I look at us as others must see us. We’re picture perfect. We look like any other couple in the park, the mother sitting on a bench, enjoying the sun, the father playing on the playground with their two-year old daughter.

If they only knew.

No one but me knows of the darkness in him, of the longing in his eyes he doesn’t know that I see. No one knows of my long, lonely nights when I wish we were that normal couple, when I put a hand between my legs and conjure up the memories of our latest meeting, fantasizing of it happening again, fantasizing of his possessiveness, the fright that turns to heat, of his complete domination over me.

It’s as if he hears my thoughts. His dark eyes dart up and meet mine for a brief moment, making my heart stutter.

We share so many secrets, and then there’s the one we never share: where we stand with each other.

He’s the only man I want, but I can’t function when I’m with him. He devours my whole being. We’re just not meant to be. So why do I long for him every moment of my life?

I close the journal and put the pen down. I brought it because I figured I could catch up while we’re here, but I have nothing to say. I glance again at father and daughter. He is good with her, really good. He’s good for her.

Does time heal all wounds? I don’t know. At least it makes it harder to remember why they hurt in the first place. He sacrificed himself for our daughter. He’s her father, a hero, and a real person, a real man. No matter who he is, and what he has done in the past, it doesn’t matter anymore.

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