Page 4 of Choosing the Chief

This would have been easier if I didn’t wait until she was on her sick bed to show an ounce of emotion toward her, but this is the way it is. I’m infatuated with her; I always have been. The moment she accompanied my performance partner Ella to an open mic freshman year, I knew she would be mine. It doesn’t matter I spent the next 15 years convincing her that we were no more than bickering siblings sharing an equal devotion to Ella Jenkins. That was necessary. I needed to hone my particular sexual inclinations into something more palpable. I needed to become a man she would give her self-control over to. I’m ready, but she definitely is not.

I know she’s popping pain pills; I just can’t prove it. She may be in my house, but I don’t have her under surveillance. I respect her privacy too much for that, but I’ve been around enough to know the symptoms of opioid addiction and she’s got them. The profuse sweating every night is not only from night terrors. Her slurred speech is not just another side effect of the accident. Her mood swings give me whiplash and she’s become super secretive. When she first got here, she used to leave her door open, but now she locks it whether she’s in or out of her room. I know what she’s hiding.

I can’t let her go. I crave her. Sometimes I stare at her as if my resolve alone will strip her naked and into my arms. I want her in my bed begging me to make her come. I want to spank her for her disrespectful mouth. I want to reward her for her beautiful heart. I meant what I said. If she finally goes to therapy, I will let her go home. I shed my fear of therapy long ago. Maya should shed hers as well.

But if she doesn’t start to take some responsibility for her care, I’m going to have to pull away to protect my sanity. Maybe I should finally respond to the letter Kofi sent me and go to Ghana for a while. I don’t know how I will survive it, but I can’t keep doing this. I care for her deeply, but she is wearing me thin. I’m concerned about my own mental health as a result of watching hers. I’m always worried she is going to do herself real harm.

It is 9 p.m. before I calm down enough to step into the shower and let cold water run over my body. My cock got excited when I talked about putting Maya over my knee, and I had to take care of him on my own and that put me to sleep. I wish I could just go to her and release this tension, but I am careful not to cross the line while Maya is healing. I will not take advantage of her. When I get the privilege to make her body mine, it will be an undeniable and mutual desire. Until then, I will jerk off to the thought of her essence. She’s intoxicating in every sense of the word. I think she knows the effect she has on men. She was a model after all, but I don’t think she knows that she has me under her spell as well.

I turn the water off and step out of the shower. I grab my towel and dry off. As I slip on a pair of black silk boxers, I hear Maya let out a primal scream. I run into the hallway. The shouts are loud and confusing. “No! No! Don’t leave me, Mama! Please don’t leave me.” She says the words over and over again. This dream is new. Usually she relives the crash. I’ve never heard her ask for her mama. She never got the chance to know her.

When I approach her door, I knock. She continues to scream. “Maya!” I yell as I knock. She continues to wail and cry out for her mama. Right! She’s still asleep. I try the knob, but it is locked. My heart breaks with every sound she makes.Fuck it!I kick the door down.

The screams are constant even when I finally reach her. I take a quick glance around the room and realize it’s a mess and the room reeks. That’s so unlike Maya. When I climb onto the bed to grab her, I feel how soaked her sheets are. She can’t sleep in here tonight. I tuck her head to my chest and shush her. I rock her slowly. She begins to calm down.

As I pick her up, I spy five prescription medicine bottles on the dresser.Where did she get those?I carry her down the hall to my bedroom. She’s whimpering into my chest, still half asleep. I’ll have to wake her up—she’s cold, sweaty, and needs fresh clothes. Once we reach my room, I lay her on the silver satin sheets that cover my bed. I cross the room to my dresser and grab a T-shirt and a pair of pajama pants to dress her in. I hear her whimper.

When I get back to her on the bed, I lie behind her and pull her close to me. Spooning her is more intimacy than I usually prefer, but I want her to feel safe. Plus, I’ve had to rock Maya back to sleep more times than I can count since the accident. But this time is different. The terror is more violent. I start to nuzzle her neck and whisper her name as I gently rub up and down on her arms. “Maya, wake up. It’s just a dream. Maya, wake up!” She stirs and trembles before I hear a small gasp. She’s awake. Her breaths come fast. She’s still afraid. I shush her again and start to speak in Twi. It always calms her down “Me do wo…Wo ho ye fe…Wo do me?”

Her breathing slows. I hear her exhale. She abruptly breaks away from my embrace to turn and face me. She shifts her hand underneath her head and lies back down. Our bodies are still touching. Her eyes are wet with spent tears. She gives me a weak smile. “Why do you always say that to me after my bad dreams? What does it mean?”

I stroke her face with the back of my hand. “I say it because it works. You’re breathing always returns to normal. What I’m saying really doesn’t matter.”

She chuckles softly. “Yes, it does. What if you’re casting a spell on me? Some voodoo I’m helpless to combat.”

My hands slip to stroke her neck. “What spell would I cast on you?”

She gently grabs my wrist mid-stroke. “A spell to make me stay.” She places my hand on her waist. I begin to massage. My eyes search her face.

“I don’t need a spell for that, Maya. You will stay. Tonight provides additional supporting evidence for why you need to. Not that we need any more of that either.”

She starts to cry in earnest. “Fuck! Well, conjure up something that can put me back together again, Adom. I feel broken.”

I look at my life’s one true obsession wondering how she slipped away from herself.It doesn’t matter. I will put her back together again. I am the incantation and the cure. I place a kiss on the tip of her nose and then her eyes. I wipe away the tears. “It’s going to be OK. Let go and let me be your rock.”

She shuts her eyes tightly. “Can I sleep in here with you tonight?”

“Yes.” I say it without thinking. This is a first. I never let women sleep in my bed. “I need to put you in something dry first.”

She nods her head. I reluctantly let her go and run over to my bathroom. I run a hand towel under hot water and grab some cocoa butter. When I return, she’s sitting up and looking nowhere in particular. I stand at the foot of my bed and gesture for her to come to me. She scoots down and sits on the edge of the bed. She’s wearing a silk pajama set. “Stand up.” She obeys. I crouch down to remove her pajama pants. She is indeed wearing black silk panties. I stand and gently unbutton her top. Once it falls to the floor, I recognize the push-up bra that rendered me senseless earlier. I take the hot cloth and sponge her from head to toe. Her breath catches every so often and I take note of those spots. The way her ass looks in this thong is criminal. I try not to linger.

I use the cocoa butter to lubricate my hands and I place a layer on her beautiful skin—the smell of cocoa butter always made me sleep well as a child. I grab the T-shirt I placed on the edge of the bed earlier and she lifts her hands for me to dress her. She wants to be taken care of.

Once I’m done, I lead her back to bed, and she lies down. I join her and shift my body to invite her head to my chest. She obliges and I tuck us into the satin surrounding us. We settle into restful breathing before she speaks again. “Adom, you still didn’t tell me what the words you speak over me mean.” I squeeze her tightly and sigh.

“Well, they mean a couple of things. One phrase I say is, ‘you’re beautiful.’ The others are of no real consequence,”I lie. I squeeze her body, letting her know I’m done sharing.

“You really think I’m beautiful? Even now, after the accident? Even with these?” She points to the multiple scars on her waist and the few on her right thigh.

“Yes, I do. To me, you’ve never been more beautiful because you’re vulnerable for the first time since I’ve known you. Exposure looks good on you, Dr. Taylor.” I look at her scars. “You know I would never bullshit you. I’m telling the truth when I say I would forget you had scars if you didn’t point them out. Your beauty overshadows them.”

She strokes my stomach absentmindedly for a few minutes before speaking again. “I want to see myself through your eyes. Can you cast that spell?”

I nuzzle the top of her head and nod. “Yes. I know just the thing.” I lean down and kiss her like her future depends on it.

Chapter Three

Inebriation

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