Page 109 of More, Daddy
“I just dropped Briar off at her house. Dolly and I picked her up at the park near the Eat O Rama a couple of hours ago. I went to Deuce’s to let them chat, and when I came back, she asked for a ride home.”
I chew the inside of my mouth as I pace, unsure of what my friend knows. Does he know the terrible thing I did? Do both of my friends, DollyandHudson, know what I did?
I don’t know what Hudson knows or where he stands, but right now, Briar is my only concern. “How was she when you dropped her? Upset?” I try to make my voice sound unworried and normal, but I never call Hudson, and he never calls me.
“You’re fishing,” he says, “and my wife told me I ain’t allowed to tell you anything.”
“Fuck,” I sigh out, rubbing the back of my neck as I make my fiftieth pass of the space between my kitchen island and the couch.
“But I am allowed to say–” he pauses, and I hear his hand come over the receiver, but he does a shitty job, either as a pro-bono subtle favor to me, or an accident. I can hear their entire conversation. “What did you say I could tell him? That she’s ready to talk?”
Dolly’s muffled voice sounds off in the background, but I’m already snagging my keys off the counter and heading for the door. If she’s ready to talk, I won’t waste a damn second.
Hudson returns to me. “I think talking with my wife helped.”
“Thank God for your wife,” I breathe out, snatching my jacket from the back of the chair at the island.
“You’re tellin’ me,” Hudson says, adding one last thing in a very quiet voice, “she was gonna bike over to talk to you, but it’s dusk and I’m only tellin’ ya because I know you wouldn’t want her ridin’ in the dark.”
After profusely thanking Hudson and Dolly for their help, I end the call a moment later and jerk open my front door, a cool evening already waiting outside.
Also waiting outside?
Briar, the kickstand on her bike out, her blonde hair fuzzy from new evening air, her purse strapped across her chest. In leggings and an oversized T-shirt, and sneakers instead of boots, she looks so small and alone.
I’m off the porch and have her in my arms in a matter of moments, moving us immediately inside. Kicking the door closed, I walk us down to our room, and set her on the bed. She sniffles a little as tears roll down her cheeks and her eyes grow red.
“I was… I was just about to come to your house and get you,” I say, out of breath, realizing just now that my heart is racing a mile a minute. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’m so glad you’re okay,” I ramble. Those things are true, and the longer I stare at her sitting on top of our bed, the more the chaos in my veins seems to calm.
She’s okay and she came back to you, West. It’s going to be okay.
I try to allow myself a moment, to find calm and to remind myself that Briar isn’t Pris. Briar and I have different issues, but we will be okay. We are not the same.
“Briar, I am so fucking sorry about the birth control. What I did was a gross overstep of my access to you and I am so, so sorry. And I’m not going to justify anything I’ve done, but I do want you to understand where it came from. Because the last few hours of my life have forced me to face how I’ve been living." I swallow, so fucking nervous that the back of my neck is drenched in sweat. It’s easy to say hard things to Briar, because she’s my safety, my heart, my everything. But this level of stripping down, baring my soul to her this way? Nerve wracking nonetheless. After all, the last time I showed parts of myself this hidden, I was called a creep and accused of being something terrible. Then I was left with nothing.
I have faith in Briar, and the way she loves me. I have faith in her forgiveness, and I resolve to become better, for her. To prove to her that I deserve her for once.
I meet her blue eyes, shining, gorgeous and youthful, which I’ve now learned translates to capable of forgiveness. All along I thought her youth was a bad thing but in reality, I wouldn’t even have access to her otherwise. Her heart is open, she’s ready to forgive and heal together, to love together.
I was the one who refused, who held myself back and in turn, held us back. It was me, the older, wiser one.
Ha.
I’m so fucking stupid and all I can do is tell her that.
“I’m so stupid.” I weave our fingers together, and our palms kiss. “I was punishing you for pain I was reliving, the pain of what Priscilla did. And I know that’s… completely unfair. And fucked up,” I tell her, shaking my head. The red that rims her eyelids is cherry colored, bright and vibrant, but under these circumstances, terrifying and surreal. She’s so broken, and I did that to her. I shake my head again, sick to my stomach, desperate to speak my piece, hopeful that she forgives me. “But the shock of learning that you weren’t who you said, it just made everything come rushing back. And I’d never really, truly dealt with it. I shrugged it off, told everyone I was fine. But then I shamed myself over the years. Told myself that my sexual needs were wrong because they’d been the reason we broke up. I mean, had I not wanted those things, we’d still be together.”
“No,” she breathes, the word barely a whisper, her pink lips hardly touching. “That’s not right. You shouldn’t be with a person who makes you give up a part of yourself.”
I nod. “I know, you’re right. And I realized that when I met you. And I got so angry when I found out and I’d gone so deep into self-loathing that I told myself I could never be with anyone younger than me, for any reason. That it was a hard limit. Because a person with my deplorable needs should steer clear of anyone younger than myself.”
Her face twists, like she’ll be sick, and she brings a hand to her mouth. But then I see she isn’t sick, she’s sad, and a tear slips down her cheek. “No,” she says, bleary-eyed, sending a spear through my heart. “That’s not true. Wanting the things we want doesn’t mean anything about who we are as people, other than we are people who enjoy fading into a dynamic so intoxicating and powerful that we find a way to connect on a whole other erotic level, while having mind-blowing, life-changing sex.” She shakes her head, tears freely littering her cheeks as she moves toward me, and I don’t have to pull at our joined hands.
Instead, she tugs at mine, and I get to my feet, towering over her.
“I realize that now. But I let her judgement define me and, for a long time, rewrite me. But I see now. I see that it’s you and me, and nothing else matters.” I don’t kiss her yet, because I want her to want it, not feel pressured into it.
She licks her lips, and looks down at our hands for a long moment, making my world spin. Finally, she graces me with her eyes, and I take that as a pass to continue.
