Chapter 9 #3
It was safe to say I didn’t wake up in a good mood.
Last night wore me out physically and emotionally.
But there was more. A lot more. All I ever wanted was to actually have a happy birthday.
Every year since I was turning sixteen had been spent longing for something else.
Eighteen years of not getting what I wanted had a toll on me and didn’t make looking forward to birthdays enjoyable.
At all. I woke up to a wet pillow every year because every year had been spent caring for and being a version of myself, I truly did not want to be.
It was ridiculous. My longing for true unwavering happiness and a tad bit of freedom.
All I wanted was a cabana or something on a white sand beach.
Wanted to wake up to the sunrise and waves crashing.
And true happiness. The white sand beach, the cabana and the sunrise would only be that without the happiness.
I was truly clawing for it. It was sad… not knowing what it meant to be completely free and happy.
At thirty-four I was still doing the things I did at fifteen.
But this was the life I was handed. Didn’t matter how often I sat, with my eyes to the ceiling, fantasizing about a life that felt very, very out of reach. Every year, that island getaway and happiness seemed further and further away from me.
With the backsides of my hands, I swiped my tears away and sat up on side of the bed.
The smell of bacon immediately filled my nostrils, and I sighed.
He was making breakfast. A birthday breakfast. The only time he got up before me was on my birthday for the breakfast. It was a Mills-Morris household tradition.
Every birthday, the birthday person was woken up to their favorite meal.
Today, I didn’t want it. Didn’t want them to barge into my room, praising me with hot food and a mimosa.
Today, I didn’t want anything but a happy birthday from my kids and then to be left alone.
Swinging my legs to the side of the bed, I stood and walked over to the balcony doors that overlooked my backyard.
Shaking my head, I thought about what I told him about the party.
I prayed to God he texted them people and told them the party was off.
If not, and they showed up, that would be a mess for him to clean up.
I no longer gave a damn about saving face.
Didn’t care that they would ask questions or any of that.
Family made me put on a mask I didn’t like to wear.
Happiness. Within my marriage, and hell, within my life.
I was slowly losing my got damn mind in both.
What I needed more than a birthday celebration, or gifts was a therapy session.
But then again, did I even really want that?
To see that look of ‘I told you so’ on Chanté’s face? Hell no. I needed to isolate.
When I got like this, I sifted through the mess to find something to be grateful for.
But honestly, life was kicking my ass. The only good thing about it was the contracts I kept securing.
Business was good, but I wanted everything to be that way.
Sometimes, I felt ungrateful. Like, I wouldn’t get what I wanted because I spent so many years complaining about what I didn’t have.
With a sigh, I opened the doors and walked out, allowing the early morning breeze to sweep across my face. I sat on the chaise lounge and pulled my knees up, enjoying the breeze that crept between the little opening in my pajama shorts.
I didn’t expect to bring my birthday in with insecurities. Not like I used to. I just… thought it’d be like any other birthday for the past couple of years. Bleak. Longing, with that invisible clock hanging over my head. Time was flying.
Hearing the balcony door slide open pulled me out of my thoughts. I didn’t move. Kept my eyes straight ahead, on the red cardinal sitting on the fence. I tensed up the minute I could see Duke in my peripheral.
“Good morning,” he greeted, closing the door behind him.
I didn’t say anything. It wasn’t a good morning. Was before he came out.
“Look, bae, I?—”
“Please. Not right now,” I interrupted.
All of a sudden, he wanted to talk. The man that never liked to talk about anything had so much to say. So much to defend. Fuck him. I didn’t want to hear anything he had to say.
Instead of leaving like I hoped he would, he kneeled in front of me.
Gazing up at me with raised brows, I could see the pain and lack of sleep in his eyes.
You think I cared? Absolutely not. I wondered if he could see the same in mine.
I tossed and turned all night, the same way I did before I got on that couch with that bottle of wine.
“I’m not letting us continue the day like this. We have people?—”
“No we don’t,” I interrupted. “I told you I didn’t want a party.”
He hung his head low, shook it and reached out to touch me. I pulled my knees further up against my chest, wrapping my arms around them, resting my head there.
“You can’t do this to us, Ne. You gotta hear a nigga out.”
“I don’t have to do anything,” I told him as a breeze beat against my skin, whipping through my hair.
I closed my eyes and imagined I was anywhere but there.
Didn’t want to be anywhere near him. Wished I was on that white sand beach, away from it all.
Wished I was fifteen again. Wished I could be given a second chance.
If it were possible, I would have walked the other way.
Wouldn’t have walked by him and his friends.
Wouldn’t have given him the time of day.
Wouldn’t have had a crush at all on Ducati Morris.
Forgetting him, never knowing him, would have been easier.
Did I love my children? Absolutely but my kids were mine and I would have had them regardless.
At a better time in my life, as a better me, with a better man.
I wanted a do over. Life was unfair. I wasn’t dramatic.
Wasn’t being a brat. Just… I was a woman scorned who deserved better than what God had given her.
Turned my back on the church because of that, too.
“We’re a team, Mahogany. A team. You can’t just shut me out, baby,” Duke continued to plead, his cries falling on deaf ears. “Can you at least come down for breakfast in a couple?”
I didn’t say anything to that neither. Just nodded, promising to attend breakfast only because my kids would be present.
I was living for them. Doing for them. Once again.
Doing for everyone but Mahogany. I was tired.
Dead tired. Regardless of how tired I was, I still couldn’t come to a solid decision.
Did I stay, or was I to leave? Was it truth? Or insecurities?