11. Winnie
11
WINNIE
“ H i,” I mumble shyly, lifting my head to look up at him what must be hours later. The minute Johnny lay flat on his back, placed me on top of his naked body, then grabbed the throw blanket from the back of the couch to spread on top of us, I conked out. Of course, I remember us both saying I love you ; it came so naturally that even when I replied and Johnny’s body twitched beneath me, I let it go. Maybe he didn’t want me to hear; that’s okay, too. And honestly, we both probably should keep our lips zipped closed and hands off one another until everything is out in the open.
“Hey, sleep good?” he asks. I move my hands until they’re beneath my chin and prop myself up on top of them, giving me the height I need instead of having to hold my head up. All of a sudden, tiredness seems to sink into my body bone deep. The podcast I listen to would say that’s because I’m finally allowing myself to live after being a caregiver for so long. The adrenaline I’d been running on finally slowed to a screeching halt, and after this next conversation, it’ll all be out there.
“Better than I have in four years,” I admit.
“About that. Thinking we need to reconvene our conversation from earlier.” The playful look that was on his face when I first woke up has changed. This is serious Johnny, the kind of man he becomes in work mode when someone pisses him the hell off. I don’t want to be on his bad side, not now and not ever again.
“You’re right. Let me get up and put my clothes on.” I need to shield myself in the form of fabric.
“Doing it right here. We’re both going to lay it out and do it where we are.” The air whooshes from my lungs. So much for hiding myself from what I’m sure will be pity once I get everything out in the open.
“Okay, I’ll go first?” Way to go, dumbass , I mentally say to myself. Weren’t you just trying to put your clothes on to hide this part of the story, and now you’re just like ‘Oh hey, I’ll start talking, no big deal.’
“Whatever is easiest, mi esposa.” Him calling me his wife is a good start. I settle in for the long haul.
“Well, where to begin?” I try to collect my thoughts. There’s so much to discuss, and if we’re ever going to get Sebastian tonight, I need to get it out now. “Here goes nothing. Melanie’s death was a blow yet wasn’t. I didn’t cry, didn’t grieve. I became relieved; that’s the only way to describe it. She wasn’t fighting her demons anymore, her battle was over, and as bad as it sounds, Sebastian didn’t have to see his mom strung out one day, happy the next, or leave for long stints to get clean only to fall off the wagon again. It’d been a vicious cycle, and the only reason I stayed…” I take a deep breath.
“Sebastian,” Johnny answers for me.
“The one and only. I might not have birthed him, but he may as well be mine. When she delivered him, it was me who held him, me who fed him, me who bathed him, and I’d never hated my sister more than on the day she gave Sebastian life. It was supposed to be us. We were meant to have a child first. We waited till everything was up off the ground, I was working, we were in our groove, and neither of us did a single thing to protect us against having a child. I did what I knew needed to be done—put my big girl panties on, became an aunt rather than a mom, watched for signs that Melanie wasn’t at her best, and then I’d do what I could to keep Sebastian away. I was there for his first words, his first time eating solids, his first steps, and his first tooth. It pained me to drop him off at a daycare at such a young age, but I couldn’t trust Mel, and she didn’t put up a fight.”
“Mierda.” Johnny’s watchful gaze is on mine the entire time I spill the beans. There’s so much more to say, except Johnny was there before when my sister would go on a bender, overdosing on whatever she could get her hands on, and he's seen her vomit all over herself more than anyone ever should. Needless to say, it happened a lot. I’d get her into a detox program, she’d go through the process, come out with a willingness to change, and then it didn’t matter where we lived or where she went, she’d find her next high.
“Yeah, so, there wasn’t a funeral. I didn’t put it in the newspaper. I had her cremated, received permission from a state park, and spread her ashes. Allowing her to finally be free. She may have put me through the wringer, causing me to need more therapy than I ever thought possible, but I also realized this addiction, no, this disease isn’t something that’s easily curable. The success rate is around forty to sixty percent, which means there’s just as much of the same rate for failure.” This isn’t even the worst part about what Sebastian and I have been through. I’d go through it all a million times over if it meant I could protect my nephew. Now, fate isn’t in my hands; it’s in the state of Georgia’s along with Johnny’s. It’s ultimately up to other people on how things will play out.
“I didn’t understand that until Mom got her hooks in me, I made a lot of mistakes, and the biggest one was giving you an ultimatum. Fuck, I’m sorry, Winn. So damn sorry for being a dick, for you going through all this alone, and for not being there to hold you through the process.” His hand lifts, cupping my cheek, then he swipes his thumb along my skin. The rough texture is a contrast to my smoothness. Even though he predominately runs the club, he’d have no problem stepping in to help his staff. I think his time as a barback in college taught him a lot on-the-job training when it came to the manual labor and knowing how shit can get if there aren’t enough hands on deck. It seems like he still jumps in whenever necessary, and I imagine the club has gotten bigger and better. Johnny doesn’t do half-measures. He’s a go-big-or-go-home type of guy in every single aspect.
“Thank you. Apology accepted, and now you need to hear mine.” How could I ever hold him at fault with how things ended? We’re both to blame.
“Winnie,” Johnny tries to interrupt with his need to take the fault for our break-up.
“Listen to me, please.” I place the palm of my hand over his mouth, shutting him up from talking any further. “I left you, and I shouldn’t have. I chose my sister over you. I could have reached out to help from anyone—your parents, our friends, my boss. They all would have helped without so much as blinking. Yet I chose to run, to cut ties, and maybe a bit of that was rooted in embarrassment and shame, but a lot of it was because Melanie threatened to terminate the pregnancy. And yes, it’s always a woman’s choice, but when we got to the hospital, she didn’t know her last menstrual cycle, so they did an ultrasound. Melanie was twenty weeks pregnancy. I heard his heartbeat, saw this cute little blob, and there was no turning back. You know me, you know how I grew up, being unwanted. I didn’t want that for a child, not if I could prevent it.” Johnny nods when I take a breather from spilling my guts.
“Alright, we’re both sorry. We both fucked up, me more than you, and that’s a motherfucking hill I will die on. Hush. Finish out the rest, get to the reason for coming home to divorce me, and then I’m going to tell you something that may make you want a divorce even fucking more.” My stomach drops. Johnny would never do anything to make me want to divorce him besides to protect Sebastian. Unless… I audibly gulp. Unless he moved on. I take a moment, my eyebrow furrowing. He wouldn’t be with me if he were with someone else. There is also a moment when I think that maybe he’s moved on and had a child with another. I spiral for a minute, thinking about how I’d accept his child with someone else seeing as how I’m raising my nephew. Then I get my shit together, reminding myself that this is Johnny Gonzales. He’s not that guy. His mom and dad would also stand in line to give him the smackdown, so to speak.
Yeah, so, now that I’m done losing my shit for a moment, I’ll finish my story. “Sebastian doesn’t have a father, well, not on paper. Melanie never told me who his father is. Whether she knew or not, we’ll never know. He’s not on the birth certificate, and when the hospital asked, she shook her head. That was the end. I didn’t bring it up because why start another never-ending argument? We went on our merry way until Melanie passed away, and I didn’t think about the fallout when news went around that she’s gone, and the system would knock on our door.” I take a deep breath, controlling myself before getting into the meat of the problem.
“Sebastian,” I start, but emotion clogs my throat. Johnny soothes me by running his hand down my outer arm. His other is still cupping my cheek, too. Through all of this, he’s kept his skin on mine in every way possible.
“Sebastian has some developmental delays.” The delayed potty training, his speech took longer to come to him than kids his age, and there’s been talk about his behavior, mostly because he’s not showing any signs of grief since Melanie has been gone. He isn’t a crier; he shows excitement, but any signs of sadness aren’t there. I think it’s more of his brain protecting itself after witnessing what he has as well as the drug use Melanie put him through while pregnant. “The only way I could get help was to go through the state. This was before Mel passed, but when the next appointment came and they asked where she was, Sebastian blurted out she was dead.” It’s hard not to let out a snort. Seb is oftentimes matter of fact.
“Jesús Cristo.” Johnny’s eyes close for a moment, trying to control his own chuckle.
“You can laugh. I do now, too, when I think about it. At the appointment, though, I was mortified, but what can you do? Anyways, getting back to the story at hand, I’m basically fostering him. Since we’re technically married, I can’t do anything without you there. I have two choices: divorce or prove that we’re fit to be parents.” My chest rises and falls. Johnny’s cock stirs beneath me, and if this weren’t such a pivotal moment in time, I’d slide up his abdomen and impale myself on his length. Instead, I wait Johnny out. He doesn’t say anything, more than likely mulling over everything I’ve dumped on him. The waiting kills me, but I get it. It’s a lot, we’re a lot, and Sebastian and I are a package deal.
“Gotta do something.” He knifes up, flipping me to my back, and doesn’t seem to have a care that he’s buck naked or that our combined dried cum is still on our skin. I watch as he moves to our piled clothes on the ground and rifles through them until he finds his jeans and pulls his phone out.
“Johnny,” I say his name, pulling his attention.
“Hold on a minute. I’ll explain everything in a second.” I give him his time, sitting up, tucking my legs beneath me, and situating the blanket to cover my nakedness, the complete opposite of what Johnny does.