Page 33 of Mixed Connection
“Of course. I’ll be right back.”
After relieving myself, I wash my hands and look at my reflection in the mirror. My locs lay down my back, I bend forward and toss my hair over the top so it hangs low, before gathering it up into a high bun at the top of my head. It’s too much to sleep with when it’s down and if I am staying, then I may as well be comfortable. I step out of the bathroom, pulling off my t-shirt and folding it, setting it on top of the chair where I placed my sweatshirt earlier. I curl myself around her, tucking the covers around the both of us. It’s not long before I’m pulling her into me, reveling in the feel of her, loving how perfect she fits against me, and drift off to sleep.
14
Lo
I am so ready to get on the course!
Our carriage awaits. Posthaste!
On another regency romance kick, huh?
I wake slowly, enjoying the warm comfort of my plush blankets. Stretching my legs and wiggling my toes, I feel the wonderful soreness between my thighs from the night before. Bringing my arms up above my head, I stretch them in an attempt to fully wake my body up. The heat is becoming almost too much, to the point that I’m beginning to sweat. Did I forget to turn the air conditioner down last night? I always sleep better when I notch the air conditioner down. I’d much rather bundle up than to be a sweaty mess… like I am, right now.
Maybe I was too caught up with Jameson, the memory of him feasting on me comes to the forefront of my mind; if I wasn’t so warm I’d be snuggling deeper into this oven I call a bed. I’m toasty, way warmer than I normally would be.
Throwing the covers back, I attempt to roll out of bed, but corded muscles flex around my abdomen as they pull me tighter. A different type of warmth constricts me. Flashes of the night before flicker through my head, reminding me of Jameson stretching me in ways I had only imagined during hot showers, and then he stayed with me after I shared about my parents, holding me for the rest of the night. The memories make my eyes misty. When did I become such a sap? Jameson’s strong arms are wrapped tightly around me, my shirt is bunched up around my waist and his hand rests low on the softer and thicker area of my belly. His other wraps around the front of my shoulders in a possessive hold that causes butterflies to swarm within my stomach. If I could wake up this way every morning, I most definitely would.
“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice is deep and raspy from sleep. Hearing his morning voice short circuits my brain and I consider never leaving this spot.
“Just going to the bathroom. I need to cool down a bit.” Why am I blushing in my own damn bed?
He smirks at me then. “Hurry back, I’m sure your day is just as busy as mine and I want to hold you for as long as I can.” Fuck that’s sexy, and I quicken my pace to do just that.
Since he is going to wait for me, I may as well stick to my normal morning routine—we can leave my place together. I turn on the faucet to heat the water so I can wash my face. It’s the only way I’m able to fully wake up before splashing cold water on my skin to cool it down. The cold water is a shock to my system but it is also incredibly refreshing. I finally take a moment tolook at my reflection and realize just how puffy my face is from crying all night.
I never share about my parents, the only people I’ve ever talked about them with are Paloma and Janelle. I was not planning on sharing so much with Jameson last night. My parents just weren’t around, and though I love them and think they were trying their best, they weren’t there for me. Their work was always their first choice. I know they loved me, deep down, I know they did, but I needed more than that. I needed their physical presence in my life more than their money. I don’t fail to recognize how well their financial prowess helped me out in the end, but the fact remains, they weren’t there.
Walking in the door to my grandmother’s house feels wrong today, but I can’t continue to stare at the door like a fool. I need to cross the threshold and just go inside. Rooted to the front steps, I eye the police cruisers parked in the driveway. I hope she’s okay and whatever this is is some kind of misunderstanding. I take a deep inhale, allowing the exhale to relieve some of the tension I built up in my body from simply standing at the door. Finally putting my key in the lock, I turn the knob to see my grandmother in one piece and I feel relieved that all seems well. Maybe all the worry was just in my head.
“Gran, you’re okay. I was worried something happened when I saw the cruisers out front.” Setting my backpack down, I squat to untie my shoes before toeing them off at the shoe rack. “What’s that all about?”
When I take a moment to look into her eyes, I can tell she’s been crying. “Oh honey, we need to talk. Will you come sit down?” She pats the couch before standing, my gaze following her movements as she turns her head towards the kitchen, her hand outstretched to me.
“Thank you ma’am for the water.” The officers come out of the kitchen and notice me. “You’ve arrived.”
“What is going on?” It’s the only question I can get out before my grandmother embraces me in a side hug.
“There’s been an accident. Your parents…they didn’t make it.” The female officer approaches me, her voice sounds like she’s speaking to a wounded animal, unsure of how I will respond.
The officers’ voices begin to sound muffled and muted as I fold into my mind, searching for someplace safe to hide from the terrible news. Taking in the information, I realize I’m upset and the burning knot in my throat urges me to scream or cry, anything really, but I just stand there.
My parents have been ghosts to me for a long time and I’m not sure how to say goodbye to people I was never given the opportunity to truly know. I feel my grandmother walk me towards the couch, sitting me down before thanking the officers and escorting them to the door.
“It’s pretty much a closed case ma’am. Once we have a trial date, we will be in contact,” the deep voice of the male officer says, as he stretches his hand to shake my grandmother’s, before they both leave. I hear the door closing and the lock turning but that’s all I can focus on.
“Baby, I’m going to make you something to eat and some ginger tea, okay?” I shake my head in response to her before getting up to go change. By the time I come back in my oversized, gray sweats and tank, the tea is waiting for me and so is my gran. She tells me what happened and that the person driving will most likely go to prison, but all I can focus on is the fact that my parents are gone.
“I thought I had more time, Gran. I-I thought…I thought I would have time to get them to love me more than they loved their work.” My voice is a croak as she pats my head.
“It’s not your job to get them to love you, honey, it’s not your job to get anyone to love you.”
I swipe a lone tear from my cheek taking another long look at myself in the mirror. After so many years of receiving less than the bare minimum from my parents, I learned I was also accepting the same from relationships. So I closed myself off—from relationships and also from life.
When I made the pact with my therapist and Paloma, it was because I didn’t want to just coast through life, I wanted to experience all it had for me. I didn’t want to just accept the bare minimum anymore, and expecting more began with sayingyesto myself. Therapy allowed me to build myself up and to dream of what I want in a partner. I want to be first thing on their mind. To be loved after spending so many years feeling unlovable—I want to be loved for being me.
I close my eyes for just a moment, take a breath, and pull my hair up into a high ponytail. I’ll wash it, but it’s not happening today.
