Page 18 of Cuffed By Your Love
Her laugh lingered in the kitchen, warm and steady, the sound that could light up a dark room.
That same laugh echoed in my chest as I stared at her stone, my voice breaking.
“I thought it’d be me, Temp,” I whispered. “Thought EJ would know me in folded flags and secondhand stories. But it was you. My love, my world, you left me first.”
The wind moved through the trees then, brushing across my face, curling around me like a robe I could almost smell her.
“You still mad at me?” I asked softly. “’Cause I’m still mad at you. You went to that damn store for hot fries and ginger ale. I told you I’d go after work, but you swore I was tired.”
I laughed, broken and empty, shaking my head from left to right. “You were always too damn considerate, baby.”
I picked a blade of grass and shredded it down to nothing.
“My love,… I’m struggling,” I whispered. “I ain’t touched another woman since you left. You know that, right? Couldn’t even look at one without feelin’ like I was cheating on your memory.”
The breeze whispered through the branches again, as if to change the subject.
“But there’s this woman.”
I froze, then smiled faintly. “Yeah, I know. Chill, Tempest, damn. I can hear you. You’d say, ‘She better not have been in your damn face, E, I know that.’”
I chuckled for real this time, shaking my head. “She wasn’t. She ain’t even trying to be seen. But there’s something in her. Pain. Real pain. She walks like grief strapped to her back, but she talk like she used to shine before life swung on her. And when I looked at her… I felt something.
“And I don’t know what to do with that. She ain’t you. She could never be you. But when I see her, I see pain. The same kind that lives in me. And for the first time, I felt something stir that wasn’t just grief. And that scares me, Temp. ’Cause wanting anybody but you feels wrong as fuck.”
The breeze pushed again, stronger, tugging at my hoodie, pulling at me like hands I couldn’t see.
“I ain’t saying she’s your replacement. Nobody could ever fill your shoes. But I’m tired, Temp. Tired of sleeping alone. Tired of rolling over to cold sheets. Tired of carrying your memory like a coffin strapped to my chest, dragging it through every damn day. Baby, it’s heavy. Too heavy. Some nights, I swear I’m crying out for you, like I’m Mario and shit. You played the fuck outta that damn remix with him and Lil’ Wayne, baby.”
A laugh slipped through my throat, broken and jagged. I swiped my hand across my face, shaking my head. “You probably clownin’ me right now. Sounding corny as hell, but I mean every word.”
Another sliver of wind wrapped around me, sliding along my neck like fingertips.
“Thanks, my love,” I whispered into it, my voice cracking.
The wind swept harder then, steady, and sure, almost like she was pushing me forward.
“If you sent her, I’m listening,” I said, breath shaking. “If you didn’t… tell God I’m sorry in advance. ’Cause I can’t keep doing this alone.”
I stood, brushed the dirt from my jeans, and stared at her name one last time.
The wind kissed the back of my neck, and I took it as her answer.
“Thank you, my love.”
And with Jonay’s name burning at the edges of my lips, I walked back toward the truck, heart heavier than ever but finally ready to move on, and I had my wife’s blessing to do so.
Back at the precinct, the locker room was filled with the scent of Axe body spray and male ego. Some of the guys were still outthere smelling like poor choices from high school and unfulfilled responsibilities, but I kept moving. I was halfway through putting on my SRPD jacket when Chambers slid up next to me, loud as ever.
“Hey, yo, Edmonds, E Dub! You out here smelling like soul ties and sandalwood. Who the hell got you moisturized at eight a.m. on a Tuesday?”
I rolled my eyes, the exasperation evident as I shook my head without even looking up. “It’s cocoa butter and peace, fool. You should try it.”
He smirked and popped open his locker with a shoulder. “Peace? You haven’t had peace since your wife passed. You finally tapped in with a therapist, or is somebody touching your spirit… and maybe a few other places?”
“Chill, bro,” I said, raising my eyebrow and giving him a glassy glare.
“Nah.” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “Let me find out Mr. Grief and Grind out here making googly eyes at somebody. Who is she, though?”
