Page 41 of Vows in Sin
Not slip on pink high heels and run to my bearded daddy dom for an emergency re-set spanking.
I take a minute of calm to visualize. I set my intention. Too afraid I’ll chicken out later, I take a deep breath. And I make the call.
We do small talk. Her job is going well. I finally admit to someone that mine isn’t going so well. She tells me that I’m too talented to worry, and it feels good to hear it. Then, the conversation turns to Sissy.
This time, I can handle the wave of emotion that rises within me.
This time, I’m going to open up. We get through the first part okay, then I take a risk and say, “Sometimes I wonder if it would be better if I did tell my friends about my past, my family, about Sissi. Then they would understand my radio silence during those times when the pain gets too much.”
“Alessi is too precious to become a source of pity,” she murmurs.
Her words settle in my heart, expressing my fears. “Yeah. I know what you mean. I’m afraid they’ll do that thing people in our firsttown did. Give me those sad looks, constantly telling me how sorry they are.”
She gives a choked laugh of agreement. “That was the worst.”
We’re both quiet, thinking. Finally, I say, “And I don’t want to share her with anyone because I’m as protective of her in death as I was in life.”
“Thank you,” she says. “That’s how I feel, but I couldn’t put it into words.”
Mom stays quiet, giving me space to form thoughts. “She’s not something for people to feel sorry for me, give me sad looks over,” I tell her.
“Like we said, we’ve been through that before,” she agrees.
“I’m so glad you moved us out of that town.”
“Me too!” She laughs. “Bunch of busybodies. Don’t know why they were more worried about our lives than their own.”
“Was it before binge watching became a thing?”
I was twelve then, and all the kids were beginning middle school together in sixth grade, bused in from other elementary schools. It was a larger town, and plenty of kids had single parents.
“You met Tabitha at your new school. You two were peas in a pod! I was so happy when you found her. First day, right?”
“Yeah. I was so nervous I dropped my lunch tray.”
“First lunch at a new school is the hardest,” Mom says it with such knowledge that it makes me remember she was a military kid, moving around a lot, with a new school almost every year.
“There was a loud clank, and an explosion of green peas, water splashing over my new Nikes. Remember the ones I saved up all my babysitting money for?”
“Yes. You took care of those neighbor twins all summer. You did great. I was so proud of you.” There’s a smile in her voice. “Tell me the rest of the story.”
“I stood there. Frozen. And I waited for the laughter. But it never came.”
“The new kids had more to do in their town than just stand around making fun of people.”
I remember the moment so vividly. People stepped around me, chatting with their friends. I tell her the best bit. “One guy looked down at me and smiled. “Party foul!” he said. Then he winked. I don’t think I’d ever been winked at before.”
She laughs. Then stays quiet. Listening.
“I said, ‘Classic me,’ then bent down to clean up. Out of nowhere, a girl with green eyes and dark hair swooped down beside me.”
“Tabitha?” Mom guesses.
“Yeah.”
“Classic her.”
“Right.” I can still feel her long braid brush against my arm as she scooped up peas with the empty bowl. “She said, ‘I always hated vegetables.’”
