Chapter Eight #2
She looked at her computer sleeping peacefully on her desk.
She should be sitting in front of it getting all the work Aja paid her to do done.
But remnants of her conversation with Holden came back to haunt her and all she could think about was what terrible thing had happened to Colton while he was in the army.
“Why do you care?”
She moved to the plush leather sofa against the long wall of her office and flopped down on its big cushions as she attempted to come up with an answer to her own question.
Why indeed? It wasn’t like she owed Colton anything.
He’d lied to her. If anyone in the situation had righteous anger, it was her.
But somehow as her mind tried to figure out what had happened, anger wasn’t the emotion spreading through her body permeating every cell and spreading quickly throughout her nervous system. Concern was.
She stretched out on the couch, closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. Her head was full of noise and her thoughts were all over the place. Focusing on work wouldn’t happen as long as she was this distracted.
“Why are you letting him get to you like this? It’s none of your business.
You’ve got enough trouble in your life with this Hastings situation.
” Adding Colton to her quickly lengthening list of problems wasn’t smart.
And yet, part of her brain was still trying to figure out what had happened to him.
“He lied to you, Seneca. If he did it once, he’ll do it again. You can’t trust a man who makes his living by lying. Walk away.”
It was sound advice that she should really follow.
But a memory from their morning romp between her sheets flashed across her mind.
Everything about those moments felt as real as the couch beneath her.
The way he’d touched her, the way his body had responded to her caress, to her pleasure—you couldn’t fake that.
At least she couldn’t. And not knowing whether he could or not was the real issue.
It was the reason she was obsessing over him and his story so much.
The flip-flopping of her emotions was making her dizzy, even as she lay stretched out on the couch. Brooklyn had warned her to keep it light in this very office, and as she sat there contemplating this situation, she realized if she kept on this path, things would be anything but light.
Unnerved by the unbalanced way her feelings left her, she maneuvered onto her side to pull her phone out of her back pocket. She tapped on her phone until she found the contact in her favorites she was looking for and carefully touched it to initiate the call she desperately needed.
The ringing alone was enough to let her feelings settle down. By the time she heard that familiar “Hello, baby,” come from the other end of the line, the raging sea of emotions was starting to ebb into steady waves.
“Mama.”
The deep relief resonating from her voice had been unexpected. Even when she’d spoken to her mother in prison, she’d learn to keep her voice light so her mother wouldn’t worry about her more than she already had. But somehow her need for some mama-lovin’ wouldn’t be hidden from Deena Daniels.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
Seneca took a deep breath, rubbing the heel of her palm against her temple, trying hard to sound as normal as she could.
“Nothing,” she replied. “I just miss you.”
“Awww,” her mother cooed. “I miss you too, baby. I wish I was with you right now.”
The sound of her mother’s voice was like liquid calm pouring all over her, seeping into her skin and organs like a much-needed nutrient. Her heart was starved for even a small moment in the presence of the woman who had been her rock throughout her entire life.
“Since you mentioned it…” Her voice was still shaky, but less heavy than when she first spoke.
She took a breath to try to even out the emotional waves still vibrating through her voice.
“I know it’s late notice, but do you think you could come out for a visit this coming weekend?
It’s my thirty-fifth birthday and I can’t think of a better way to spend it than with my best girl. ”
Her mother chuckled on the other end of the line. “Yes, I was there when you were born. I’m well aware of when your birthday is and how old you’ll be, Seneca.”
A bright smile bloomed on her face as she imagined the sarcastic expression her mama was no doubt wearing when she uttered those words.
Deena’s sense of humor was the greatest gift she’d passed on to her daughter.
It had kept Seneca sane in the face of some really dark moments in life, including when the concrete walls of her cell felt like they were closing in.
“You know what I mean, Mama. Will you come out? I can buy you a plane ticket. Ninety minutes in the air and you could have an armful of your baby girl.”
“I would love to baby.” Seneca’s heart swelled at those four words.
It didn’t matter what she was going through, some mama-lovin’ would fix it all.
“But I can’t. It’s too soon for me to request time off from work.
I’m on schedule, and no one is gonna switch with me to give me a weekend off.
Weekends are precious commodities when you’re in nursing. ”
Disappointment flooded her chest and the bottom fell out of the floor of her stomach. Just like that, her hope dwindled to dust, and she was right back to the unsettled chaos going on inside her head and—if she were honest with herself—her heart.
“I’m really sorry, honey. I would love nothing more than to spend your birthday with you. But even though I can’t, how about I give you the next best thing?”
Seneca sat up and placed her phone flat on the cushion next to her and then turned on the speaker function to prepare herself for the ritual she knew was coming.
It was the same ritual her mother used to lessen the bottomless sadness that tried to swallow her whole while she was incarcerated and cut off from everything and everyone she loved.
Just like before, when it all seemed too much for Seneca to bear.
Her mother said, “Close your eyes.” She did, grateful to only see darkness as the tears began to slide down her cheeks.
“Wrap your arms around yourself…” again, she did as she was instructed, exactly when her mother told her to do it, because it made it all the more real “…and squeeze with all your might. Know, deep down in the bottom of your soul, wherever you are in the world, my love will hold you tighter than any human arms ever could.”
Behind the veil of her closed lids, Seneca could see her mother standing in front of her as she had so many times before.
Her arms were open, welcoming her only daughter to rest her cares on her ample bosom.
She wrapped Seneca in her embrace, and placed a loving hand on her head and whispered, “I love you, baby. Don’t nobody love you like I do.
” And on cue, just like she had whenever they’d shared moments like these in person, she’d give Seneca a warm, wide smile that beamed with all the love and light she held in her heart for her only child and ask, “All better, baby?”
Seneca could feel a trembling smile settle on her lips. As always, even though nothing would feel better than having her mother beside her right now, she really did feel better. “You know I do, Mama.”
She could hear Deena’s chuckle vibrate through the phone’s speaker and it washed over her like a cool spray of water on a hot Texas day. “Of course, you do,” Deena answered. “Mama always makes it better.”
“You certainly do. I love you, Mama.”
“Aww, sweet girl. I love you more.”