Chapter Sixteen
Ifeel the press of Gannett’s lips at the nape of my neck, and I feel the weight of his arm draped over my waist, both as real as reality can fucking get.
He stayed. He’s comforting me, and yet I can’t take " you’re so much different than him, Gordy" at face value.
What the fuck is wrong with me, that I simply cannot believe him?
Christ, I should be marveling that I was able to hold myself together—to get us both off—without having a total breakdown.
I was damn near close that entire time, but the panic attack never came.
After all this time he and I have spent together, some inner part of my conscience—like a beacon of light, cutting through a fog-laden harbor—told me he was safety.
I should have been blissed out and sated afterwards, but instead I chose to let shame and defensiveness back in. I lashed out at him—the first person to ever touch me with the express purpose of bringing me pleasure and not pain.
He told me "it’s okay" as if it was perfectly acceptable that he let me take my pleasure, to overcome the embarrassment that I felt by letting me take charge, all for me to turn around and snap at him—turning him into a punching bag for me to hurl my verbal insults at. Every part of me wants to trust Brooks, that there’s someone out there who is willing to treat me with the care I deserve, and yet, in the quiet of the aftermath, I can’t seem to believe that either.
I stare blankly at the wall, wondering where the hell this goes from here, until I feel his warm breaths, which are fanning over my upper back, even out.
He’s asleep. I carefully roll over to study him.
His long lashes flutter lightly, and long breaths flow in and out of his pillowy-looking parted lips.
Clearly, my latest barrage of insults had little effect on him getting to sleep, the way it niggles at me, keeping me up.
While my delivery probably could use some fine-tuning, I wasn’t wrong when I said that this man right here wouldn’t be able to stick to a no-strings-attached, we just make each other feel good scenario, despite me now being hyperaware that we could indeed make each other feel very good.
Gannett, for all his perceived flaws, deserves better than someone as broken as me.
He should be realizing his own sexuality with someone who isn’t even half as screwed up as I am.
He’s going through enough on his own, and doesn’t need to add trying to fix me to his list—that will undo all the hard work he’s put into himself lately.
He has remained sober, despite how much I know he struggles with it from time-to-time.
He has been there as much as he can for his girls.
He puts whatever free time he does have now either out on the boat, working on himself at the gym, taking up home improvement projects that I’ve been letting go by the wayside around this apartment, and getting some actual goddamn sleep—don’t think I didn’t fuckin’ notice that the man barely ever slept before moving in with me.
The last thing he needs is a burden like me, anchoring him in place when he should continue moving forward.
Noise in the kitchen prompts me to slip out of bed to see what’s going on.
When I peek out, one of the girls has used a stool to climb onto the counter.
She’s in her Disney Princess nightgown, standing tip-toed, tongue out, trying to reach a cup on the top shelf.
I pad out and ready myself to catch her, in case I startle her when I whisper, “Whatcha up to?”
Sure enough, she gasps and falls backwards.
I catch her and gently set her down on the floor.
Instead of answering, she bites her lower lip, casting her eyes towards the floor, flushing with nervousness.
I’m going to assume this is Tatiana, given the thick layer of glittery eyeshadow she’s adorned with.
“Were you thirsty?” I ask her, and she nods.
I grab two cups down from the cupboard, and she tilts her head, curious.
“I’ll have a drink with you,” I tell her, then add, “When I was younger, my mom used to find me in the kitchen because I couldn’t sleep well either.
We used to have a special drink together, and that always helped me get back to bed a little easier. ”
Her eyes go wide and a smile creeps across her face when I pull out the jug of milk and the bottle of chocolate syrup in my fridge. “Do we hafta tell Daddy or Terra?” she whispers. “He’ll make me have water, because that’s what Mumma wants. And Terra would drink it all and steal mine too!”
I shake my head, grinning. “We can keep this to ourselves, then. More for us.”
She giggles. “Okay. Thank you, Mr. Gordy. I love chocky milk.”
“Me too,” I agree. “That and snack cakes. They remind me of my mum,” I tell her as I fix us both a glass of the good stuff, remembering the way my mother always used to find a way to sneak me one of the treats on my birthday or on holidays.
Marlin would never have permitted any kind of celebration in our house, but on those days, I’d always find a holiday themed treat hidden under the corner of my pillow.
“What is your mumma’s name?” she asks, shyly attempting conversation.
“Gordana,” I tell her.
“Are you named after her?”
I offer her a soft smile. “Something like that, yeah.”
“Where does your mumma live?”
Well, that’s a hell of a sucker punch I didn’t expect. She’s a kid, though, asking innocent questions. I’m just impressed she’s talking to me. “Heaven,” I reply, fighting back the knot in my throat.
“Oh,” Tati replies, her eyes casting downwards at her cup. “I bet she gotted there because she was a good mumma and made you chocky milk to help you sleep.”
It was ovarian cancer, but, for the sake of childhood na?vety, we’ll go with Tati’s theory.
If there is such a thing as Heaven, I’m sure that my mother is there, and her ticket in would have been from all the ways she tried to bring a little light into our dark world.
That’s why I legally changed my name, because if I was going to be anyone’s junior, I wanted to be her’s—not his.
“What woke you up?” I ask, suddenly concerned that perhaps her dad and I made too much noise in the shower, and also needing to change the subject, before I break down in front of a kid.
Her little green eyes dart over to the shut bedroom door, then narrow.
“Gulligan stole my pillow! Him’s sleepin’ on it now.
Terra invited him in when Daddy dozed off,” she whisper-hisses.
Sure enough, when I crack open the door, the gull is napping, like a cat, on one of the pillows—posing no threat to Terra, who is fast asleep on the other side of the queen-sized bed the girls share.
Fuckin’ Gannett and that stupid friggin’ bird. He’s relentless about turning that thing into a household pet.
After polishing off our drinks, I offer to watch a movie with Tati, hoping that will eventually get her to doze back off on the couch.
I pass her a throw blanket and scroll through the child-appropriate streaming apps on my TV, and finally settle on one titled It Takes Two when Tati points giddily exclaims, “Look! Twins!”
Tati cuddles into my side, wrapping the blanket up around her shoulders. “I like dis movie,” she tells me, yawning. “Do you like it too, Mr. Gordy?”
“I’ve never seen it before,” I tell her, though it does look like it has a similar plot to a movie from my past that I’ve seen more than my fair share of times.
One I watched with another little girl, one I knew as Marie, curled up at my side.
That movie was her mother’s favorite, but I can’t remember the name of it now. ..
“Do you like my daddy?” Tati peers up at me and asks, bringing me back into the moment.
Caught off guard, I blink at her. “Your daddy is a good man,” I tell her honestly. A man too good for me, and whom I should have no business wanting the way I do.
“Yeah, he is,” she agrees sagely. “But do you like him?” she repeats, putting more emphasis on that specific word.
I sigh, nodding. Because, underneath it all… “I do like your daddy. Very much.”
She smiles. “The next time Terra and I get to spend the night here, it will be Valentime’s Day. His birthday, too. He told us that earlier…”
“Oh yeah?”
She nods, yawning again. “Can we get him them snack cakes you said your mumma gave to you? The pink hearty ones? Those are my favorite.”
“I think we can swing it.” I grin down at her. “How about this? Plan what you want to do the next time you come over, and you, me, and Terra can throw him a special birthday party. We’ll do whatever you come up with, I promise.”
“Pinky promise?” she asks, holding up her tiny pinky.
“Pinky promise.” I wrap her finger with my own and give it a little squeeze. God, this reminds me so much of something Ryann would do…
Her eyelids start getting heavy, though the movie has just barely started. She curls up into me even more, a weak smile tipping the corners of her lips up. “I like you, Mr. Gordy. You’re nice. Not scary, like I used’ta think.”
A knot forms, causing my throat to tighten. “Thank you, Tatiana. I like you too.”
I sit and watch the movie for a little longer, unwilling to move and potentially wake the sleeping girl again.
I don’t know how long it’s been, but I feel like I’m stuck in a state somewhere in-between half-lucid and half-asleep, when suddenly, I feel the couch cushion on the other side of me press downwards.
I lazily will myself to look over, but the space is empty.
There is a certain energy in the room I can’t quite put into words, though—like the feeling right before a lightning storm rolls in.
It was The Parent Trap. I can’t believe you forgot the name of it. We watched it so many times! I always did like playing matchmaker. Who’d have thunk I’d be doing it now, with my bestie, from here…