Page 33 of 5+Us Makes Seven

Though it had been five weeks since our last encounter together, I couldn’t stop thinking about that night. I had woken up on the couch alone in my apartment with the smell of Carter still wafting around me. I opened my eyes and expected to see him there. Smiling at me with his naked body pressed against me. Comforting me before I rolled him over and took him how I wanted to again.

But he wasn’t there.

It was only me surrounded by my unpacked boxes.

I wasn’t sure what I thought was going to happen. After all, he did agree to keep things platonic after that one night. And he had kept his word. Our wine nights never devolved into sex and I never spent another night wrapped up in his arms. Neither of us succumbed to the other and I never felt his lips against my skin again.

Not after that second night of passion we shared.

Things were going really well with the kids, but a part of me felt as if something was missing. My nightmares returned, and I woke up several times some nights with gunfire ringing out in my ears. I could hear myself screaming for my children. Holding my arms out for them to run to me so I could get them to the bus. I would wake up with tears in my eyes as I chanted their names. Sometimes I would wake up shaking and crying.

Sometimes I would even wake up yelling.

I could tell Carter worried about me sometimes. I wasn’t much of a makeup person, so whenever I had a rough night it was usually written in the bags underneath my eyes. I tried to drink coffee in an attempt to wake myself up in the mornings before going to his house, but sometimes it was a fruitless endeavor.

More often than not I was taking naps alongside Clara in the afternoons.

I had grown closer to their family. The boys wanted me to come to their sporting games I had enrolled them into and Clara wanted me to come play on the weekends. I spent as much time as I could with them in an attempt to drown out the nagging sensation at the back of my mind.

I wanted to know how my kids were doing.

My kids all the way in Bria.

Were they keeping up with their programs? Were their mothers helping them with their words and sign language? How were their developments going? Had there been any fighting recently? Were they all safe?

Were they all still alive?

“Natasha?”

“Hmm?” I asked.

“Did you hear me?”

“Sorry, Carter. What were you saying?” I asked.

“Nathaniel wants to know if you’re coming to his soccer game Saturday evening.”

“Oh, of course I am,” I said with a smile. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Yay! Thank you so much, Miss Nattie. You’re awesome!” Nathaniel said.

He ran at me and flung himself into my arms and I barely had the strength to catch him.

“I can’t wait to see you play,” I said breathlessly.

“Let’s give Miss Natasha some breathing room,” Carter said.

“Oh no. He’s fine. I promise,” I said.

But I could tell by the look on Carter’s face that he wasn’t convinced.

I went home after dinner, turning down Carter’s usual offer for wine. I couldn’t keep my eyes open another second. My body was shaking with exhaustion as I tumbled into my bed, falling face first into my pillow. I couldn’t remember if I had locked my front door and I didn’t care. All I wanted to do was close my eyes and sleep.

Once I closed my eyes, however, I saw them.

My kids back in Africa with fear in their eyes.

I could hear the gunfire off in the distance as I rolled them out of their beds. I could feel them in my arms as I carried them to the bus. I saw my thumb trying to catch all of their tears as Nwabudike drove the bus, trying to get us away from all the fighting.

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