Page 46 of Truce Of The Matter

Her words are barely above a whisper and the sadness in them matches her eyes. Seeing her in this state is fucking with me heavy and all I want to do is pull her into my arms and somehow take her sadness away. So, I step forward but she steps back. But when her hands reach up to brush the tears falling off her cheeks, I close the door and rush to her. Right before I wrap my arms around her, she starts shaking her head fast as hell then holds her hands up.

“No, please. You can’t fix this. I can’t let you hold me and make me feel better,” she cries.

The fuck?

“Ay, that don’t make no sense,” I say, then snake my hand around her. She places her hands on her face and when I pull herinto me, her hands initially push into my chest but when I kiss the top of her head, she stops resisting. She sighs loudly then drops her head onto my chest. “My job is to always make you feel better,” I tell her as I wrap my other arm around her.

When she’s encased in my arms, her sobs turn into loud cries and she screams into my chest. An actual, full, agony-filled scream vibrates through me and suffocates this living room. Her excruciating shrill causes a sharp sensation of pressure in my chest and I hold her tighter, trying to ease whatever has her obviously hurting.

I don’t say shit though because I don’t have the words and from the sound of her cries, I don’t even know which words are needed right now. So, I hold her, mutedly, then slowly walk us over to her sectional. I ease back on it and pull her down with me. She continues to cry, softer, and I still just hold her. I’ll hold her all evening if this is what she needs.

Her soft cries eventually fade to a whimper, then to a few sniffles. I feel her arms drop and her body shift before she lifts her head. Her sad but pretty eyes peer up to mine then she shakes her head. When her eyes lower and she starts to bow her head, I place my hand under her chin to stop her.

“You want to tell me what’s wrong?” I ask and she shakes her head. “Why not?”

“Because she will still hate me,” she mumbles.

“Who?” I ask. Tears fall down her cheeks and I gently thumb them away. When I do, her eyes lift, she shakes her head, then scoots off my lap. She sighs and that shit is heavy as hell. I feel it all in my chest. “Beautiful, what’s wrong? Who?” I question, trying to figure out who or what she’s talking about because now I see this ain’t about her mother.

More tears fall and she wipes them away this time then sucks her teeth. In a somewhat angry tone, she huffs, “Every time I’m around you, I’m crying. Do you realize that shit?” But she doesn’tgive me time to answer. “Every time and I never cry. No. Not Truce Redmond. I’m a lot of things but a crier? Hell no. I don’t cry because tears don’t change a gotdamn thing. Ugh!” While shaking her head, she furrows her eyebrows then stares into my face. “You need to run while you can.”

“Run? Ay, I’m not going no damn where,” I assert.

“You should,” she utters. Then, she lets her body and head fall back on the sectional. “What happened to Aryel’s mother?” she asks out of no where, seemingly changing the conversation. My eyes question her but she insists. I don’t have any issues with telling her; it’s her timing.

Why now? At this moment?

“Please tell me. I need to know.” Her big pretty eyes expand and she pleads with me through them so I just go with it.

“Aria and I met in Vegas. I was fighting there and she was a ring girl,” I begin and her eyebrows raise when I say ring girl. “The girls that hold up the round cards in boxing matches,” I explain and she nods, slightly. “I had seen her at a couple events but after my Bowden match, she approached me. It was after eleven at night and she asked me to breakfast. She was actually from Vegas and knew of some all-night dinner off the strip that served it. We went, and really, she never left my side after that.”

“Love at first sight,” she utters.

“Nah. It wasn’t that at all. That only happened once when I was in junior high,” I admit and her eyes perk up. She knows I’m talking about her. “But I felt like we had a connection and it grew into love, at least for me. I thought it was for her too but I know now that it was about the fame and the money with her. She went everywhere with me and never missed a photo opportunity. I mistook that shit for support though.

“We married six months after we met and she moved to Miami with me. My condo wasn’t enough for us so I built us a home. Nothing was ever enough but I was so busy fighting myway to the belt that I didn’t see that shit. I definitely overlooked it when she got pregnant. I was so damn happy and just ready to be a dad. Aryel was born three months after I won the heavyweight championship and everything changed for me. My baby girl and my wife were all that mattered to me.”

“Then,” I sigh, the memories of that time flashing in my mind. As if by reflex, I stretch out my left arm and make a fist. “Then, every fucking thing changed. A drunk driver totaled my ride and ended my boxing career. It ended my marriage too. Since I was no longer a boxer, she didn’t want to be my wife anymore. I went to physical therapy and when I got back to my home, she was gone. Really gone and she took everything but our child. She left Aryel with the nanny, loaded her Benz with her clothes and shit, and dipped.”

“She left a fucking note on the bed. A note; she couldn’t even face me and tell me. I was angry, mad as hell, but I had my baby to think about. So I did just that. I took care of Aryel.”

“She left her baby?” Truce asks incredulously.

“Yeah. She did,” I say.

“How could she do that? Leave her own baby,” she says. As she shakes her head, her tears return, pouring out.

“I don’t know. She came back into her life but that shit has been half-ass. Deep down, I don’t think she wants to be a momma.”

“And that’s all I wanted,” she mumbles but I hear her. Before I can ask what that means, she blurts out, “I’m fucked up, Rex.”

She’s not making any sense and I’m back to being confused. I don’t know what the hell is going on. She can’t stop crying and keeps switching the course of our conversation. Trying to decipher this, her, I inch closer then wrap my arms around her.

“You are the least fucked up person I know. What is going on? Tell me. Why are you crying?” I ask, pleading for her to tellme so I can do something, anything, to properly console her. I’m in the blind right now and don’t know what to do.

“Daija. She’s not my sister. That year I left Ridge Pointe… I was pregnant and I couldn’t keep her. I couldn’t keep my baby, Rex. They made her my sister and now she knows. She knows and she’s never going to forgive me,” she rushes out then exhales like she was holding her breath the entire time she spoke.

She tries to wiggle out of my arms, retreating, but I hold onto her firmly. I’m not letting her run. Her pain is evident. She’s really hurting and needs me.

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