chapter six.
brix
Two long hours crept by while I stayed downstairs, willing myself not to go to my bedroom.
I needed Cyn to be deep in REM sleep before I went up.
I wanted to watch her rest, the way I used to when we were happy.
I wanted to adore the rise and fall of her chest, the light breathing of a woman who’s the most beautiful being on the planet.
My wife.
When I finally decide to go up, I open the door and smell her skin and the fragrance she put on.
She usually wears lotion that smells sweet like vanilla.
Yeah, that’s what I smell – vanilla. I walk over to the bed to get a closer look at her tucked comfortably inside of what used to be our bed.
The bed where we loved hard. Tested its limits.
Cried out in passion for each other. Laughed together.
Watched late-night news. Held each other.
I miss those things. I want them back. I want her back, but she’s made it clear that that’s not happening.
So, for now, I’ll take what I can get – this image of her in this peaceful state where she’s not downplaying our separation with sarcasm.
She’s the picture of perfection with her hair all splayed over my pillow, those perfectly-sized lips that I miss kissing, that dainty nose that flares when she sees me, and her light brown skin tone that ushers me to press my lips somewhere on her body.
I close my eyes and let her scent encompass me.
Cynnamon.
She’s my favorite melody. Poetry without words. A well-seasoned dish. A soft breeze. A dessert after dinner. She’s my life balled up into one fireball of a woman.
We’re not in a good place, yet she still did this favor for me. That must count for something. I know I fumbled with her, but that doesn’t have to mean that all is lost.
I’m hoping to use this time to possibly get back in her good graces.
I know I did wrong by her, but there’s no other woman for me.
I think she knows that, too. It’s just too difficult to get through the tough exterior she built around her heart, and I can’t blame her for it. I supplied the materials.
I get up in the morning, stretch and rub my eyes, adjusting to the light.
My joints crack as I sit up on the sofa.
It was a highly uncomfortable experience sleeping on the sofa, especially since I’m used to sleeping in the luxury that is my king-sized bed – the bed that’s empty right now. Where did Cynnamon go?
I glance at the clock on the wall above the TV. The time is five past eight. I stretch again and, after visiting the bathroom, I head downstairs in search of her, but she’s not down here anywhere either. Opening the front door, I step outside, stretch again and notice her car is gone.
Where did this woman go so early?
She has the day off work. She told me she was off the rest of the week, so why get up so early?
I head back to my bedroom to get my phone, and once I retrieve it, I call her.
She answers, “Jeez Louise–how did I know you were going to call me?”
“It’s the natural thing to do when I wake up and my wife is missing.”
“Your estranged wife, and missing is grossly overstated. Just because you cannot see me doesn’t mean I’m missing.”
I sigh and say, “Cyn, cut me some slack, okay? I realize I’m at your mercy here, but you don’t have to be at my throat for showing concern for you.”
“You know what? You’re absolutely right. It’s a new day. A new start. So, let’s start over. I’ma hang up. Call me back.”
“Cyn—”
Click.
She hung up. I call her back, and after the phone rings a few times, she answers, “Good morning, Brixton. How goes it? I hope you’re having a splendid start to your morning.”
She’s still with the antics. I say, “Good morning, Cyn. What are you up to this morning?”
“I got up early this morning to run by my place to get some stuff, and I figured I’d stop by Signature Select to womanize your house a little. You have no candles, no flowers, no softness–no nothing. It’s cold and bleh up in there.”
“That’s your fault.”
“How?”
“You took all that stuff when you left.”
“Oh, I did, didn’t I?” She laughs. “Well, you didn’t need it.”
“Apparently, I did if you’re out buying more of it. Just let me know what I owe you.”
“Brix, hush with all that. You don’t owe me anything.”
“Actually, I owe you a lot, Cyn, but all the money in the world won’t be enough to cover the debt,” I say before I realize it. It was on my heart, and it just came out.
Not even acknowledging my words, she says, “I’ll be back soon. Do you need anything while I’m out?”
You, baby girl. I just need you back in my house. Need to feel your energy—all that good energy that used to flow freely between us. But even if it ain’t all love, Cynnamon, I just need you. I’ll take bits and pieces until you allow me to have all of you once again. I’ll take whatever I can get.
“Brix?”
“Oh. Um…maybe pick up a few extra sodas.”
“Don’t tell me your mom is still addicted to Pepsi.”
“Like an addict.”
Her laughter flows through the line. She says, “Alright, I’ll grab some. Be back soon.”
“Okay. Thanks, Cynnabun.”
“Don’t call me that,” she says, then hangs up the phone.
I toss the phone on the bed and then take my time getting ready – choosing a suitable outfit to wear for the day to pick up my parents from the airport.