Page 82 of Blue-Eyed Jacks
Goddammit.She was going to make me say it.“I love you.I love you so much, I’d do anything to make sure you are safe.”
“Safe isn’t happy.”
“I want that for you, too.”
The silence between us felt like a showdown that started wars.I’d said my peace and had to wait her out.There wasn’t a problem I hadn’t been able to solve, fight, or bide my time on.
“Fruit Loops.”
I tried to catch up where that made sense in the conversation.Was she calling me nuts?Wait.She was letting me in.I’d asked about my daughter’s favorite cereal.“Zoe’s?”I asked to clarify.
Kate nodded.“We’ll need milk, bowls, bleach, towels, and a whole lot of stuff…”
She still hugged herself as if holding the seams together.Or shutting me out.“Will that make you happy?”
I got the evil eye for saying that.“What?”I threw my arms out.
“Taking care of Zoe makes me happy.Seeing her happy makes me happy.”
Ah.This was great insight.And it alsosucked.“You aren’t just her mom.”I braved a step closer, then another.“You’re allowed to have something thatmakesyouhappy.”I brushed a finger over her hand.Her gaze locked on me, searching my face for clues.Or gauging how far she should trust me.
The corner of her mouth twitched upward.
“Happy.”I reminded her.
Kate’s fingers slipped into the belt loops of my jeans.“What about you?”She tugged me closer.
“I’m always happy.”When I was with her.Unless she was hurt.But even then, there was the unexplainable “rightness” to the things I did to help her.It pushed out all the awful things I’d done and filled me up with something.
Hope?
Maybe.
It was more nebulous than that.Fleeting like the flash of silver scales in dark water.Something you longed to catch, devour, or absorb but were woefully lacking in lure and skill to hold.
“Even when you’re angry?”
Happy when angry?“Hell yeah.I’m alive and about to beat some dumb motherfucker up.And even if I lose, I’m giving it my all just to fuck their shit up.”
She laughed at that.“I worry about you.”
“Don’t.I got it all under control.”As we’d talked, I’d been slowly walking her backward.Her legs hit the bed.
She startled and looked at the mattress behind her.“You certainly seem like you do.”
“Trust me.”
“Never.”
“Smart girl.”I kissed her, swallowing any argument before it was formed.In doing so, we made our horizontal nest and slowly lost our senses and our clothes.I laid back, waiting for Kate to shimmy out of her underwear and admiring her freckled skin and the pale flush of pink in its tone.
My hands skimmed her waist, tracing a pattern of silvery lines that started about two inches from her belly button and disappeared into her mound.She caught my hands.
“Stop.Those are stretch marks.”
From Zoe.
“Let me see.”Now that I knew, I tried to imagine her rounded with child.My breath caught.A wave of sadness threatened to drown me.“I wasn’t there.”I retraced the marks and counted the largest scars.Eight.There were little ones, almost too faint to see.
