Chapter 14 #2
I sighed, grabbed my phone and started to doom scroll on TikTok, avoiding eye contact with her.
I hated lying. Hated having to lie. I really wanted all of this shit to be over.
I’d been hiding for years, and I was tired of that.
Still, regardless of how tired I was of lying and hiding, I had to keep at it for only God knows how much longer.
Hopefully not too long. Hopefully this would be over sooner than later.
I could have ended it then. Could have told her I didn’t stay at the hospital with her father because I didn’t want to.
Could have told her I couldn’t stay with him because despite him being hurt, I couldn’t stand the sight of him.
How was this going to work? Him being home. Him being under the same roof as me, with all of this pent-up resentment? I didn’t know. Didn’t feel like thinking about it either. Just wanted all of it to end. Stupid ass. Who goes and gets into a car accident? He just had to come back here, didn’t he?
“I know something is going on,” Aubry mumbled. “I wish you would just tell me. I’m not a little girl, ma. I’m eighteen. And I can tell when you and dad are fighting. The other night—”
“The other night was nothing—”
“The other night was a lot. I heard everything. Bumping and stuff. Y’all were fighting. Dad put his hands on you and instead of you telling me the truth, you’re covering up for him.”
I sat my phone down and laughed. Giggled, really. Her father put his hands on me, and I was covering for him. Was that what they thought? Her and her brother? Oh God.
“Bry,” I paused and sat up, leaning forward for emphasis. “Let me tell you something… if your father would have put his hands on me, he would have been in the hospital that same night. Not tonight. That night. He didn’t put his hands on me—”
“You put yours on him? Something was happening.”
I took a deep breath and rubbed my lips together.
I was kind of at a lost for words. Didn’t really know what to say.
Was I supposed to tell her yes? Was I supposed to tell her we were ‘wrestling’?
She’d just have more questions. Questions I wouldn’t have answers for.
Questions I really didn’t have time for.
I thought about telling her the truth. Thought about just…
putting an end to it. Putting it all out there.
Like fuck it. What did I have to lose? Nothing really.
Not a lot. Not by telling her. But Duke.
Duke stood to lose a lot and telling her wasn’t a decision I could make on my own.
She’d hate her father. She’d turn her back on him.
She’d feel what I felt. And I didn’t want that for her.
I didn’t want that for any of them. When the time was right, we’d tell them.
Together. As a unit. Because despite where we stood, Duke and I were still that.
For now. A unit. And something of this magnitude couldn’t be handled lightly.
Again, I took a deep breath. “I don’t want you to worry. About anything.”
“How can you tell me not to worry when something happened? Then the next day he’s supposedly on a work trip? Ma… I’m not a little girl.”
She kept stressing that. Kept trying to get me to see that she wasn’t a child and that she could handle whatever I threw at her. But the truth of the matter was that she wouldn’t be able to handle this. I knew it. I felt it in my bones.
“When the time is right, we’ll talk. In the meantime.” I paused and tossed a couch pillow at her. “Clean the dishes, twin.”
She laughed. “Twin?”
“Yep,” I said through a stretch, as my phone chimed.
Checking it, I saw that it was a text from Crescent. Chills ran down the back of my neck, and I massaged there. Instead of opening the text, I hit the lock button on the side of the phone and stuffed it into the front pocket of my robe.
As soon as I got back to the house, I talked to the kids for a second about their dad and showered immediately after.
Had to scrub Crescent off of me. The entire time I showered, I thought about him.
Thought about his hands on me. Thought about his lips on me.
And then, my thoughts… they drifted to Duke.
I wondered at what point in time did he get hit.
I wondered if it was in the middle of me having an orgasm.
Or did it happen with Crescent’s dick deep down my throat.
Or in the midst of me squirting on his tongue.
“Ma,” Aubry said as I walked away.
“Yeah girl?” I tossed over my shoulder.
“I can handle big girl stuff. You know that, right?”
I thought we were off of that. Thought me mentioning the dishes and getting up from the couch was a clear indication that the conversation was over.
“I know, Aubry. I’m not treating you like a kid. I’m treating you like my child who don’t need to be worrying about grown folks business. Your father didn’t hit me—that’s all you need to know.”
“You need to tell Gabe that, then because he’s pissed at dad,” she mumbled.
My phone chimed again and I brushed my fingers over the back of it.
Crescent fucking Carter. He had no idea.
I liked Crescent but realistically, I was messed up.
Sad mostly, in search of an escape and he just happened to be that.
I felt a little bad. Felt like I was using him.
Felt like eventually, feelings would grow and I wouldn’t be able to match that.
I wasn’t the woman for him. I was fucked up.
“I’ll talk to him,” I reassuringly said.
This was draining. Every part of it. From handling the kids with care, to carrying the burden of the truth. Both were heavy. Weighed down on me like a ton of fucking bricks.
Once I made it upstairs to the bedroom, I fished my phone from my robe and finally went to open his message. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach at the sight of his name and a smile spread wide across my face. Couldn’t help it.
Closing the door behind me, I opened his message. He was checking on me. Asked if I was cool. I hit him back and told him I was. Right after he asked if I ate. I kicked my house shoes off and crawled into bed, phone in hand, feeling like a little girl, giddy about hearing from her crush.
Crescent and I texted for hours. Not about anything in particular.
Should have been talking about work but we weren’t.
It was just casual conversation, and it felt good.
As good as it felt, I knew I was falling down a slippery slope.
One that would end with me bruised and battered at the end of it.
Earlier, I told him I couldn’t get use to us.
And it was true. I couldn’t. I couldn’t just end one situation and jump into another because it made me feel good.
What would happen when that stopped? When the butterflies faded?
When the ‘honeymoon’ stage ended? When the tingles stopped?
When who he really was surfaced? I’d be in my feelings.
I’d be deep in, stuck again, in a situation, on yet another roller-coastery merry-go-round.
I didn’t want it because I knew, in the pit of my stomach, that this was fantasy.
It wasn’t real. Not even the tingles. Not even the way my heart raced when we were around each other.
Not even that red string theory Emerald talked about.
“Listen,” I said with a pause. “Just call me when you’re getting discharged.”
“I can’t call you before then?”
“I just said call me when you’re getting discharged.”
“Damn, Ne. You still don’t want to talk to a nigga? I’m laid up in the hospital—”
“With a few broken bones,” I pointed out as I looked up at the building with a sigh.
It was late in the evening. I’d just left the office.
I had a couple of meetings today, finished a few projects, finished up with Crescent, and had to sign off on a couple of renders.
It was a busy day. An okay day, but a busy one.
Felt like the minute I got out of the car and walked into that building, my okay day was going to turn into a bad one.
With a deep breath, I looked up at the building and tossed my head back against the headrest. I was at therapy.
I was supposed to be here a week ago but a week ago I felt like shit.
A week ago, this with Duke was very fresh and I was running.
Felt like I was still running. Hell, I’d been in the parking lot bullshitting for the past ten minutes.
Five minutes ago, I was supposed to check in.
But I was stuck. Not only because I was on the phone with dumb ass but because I was cemented by the fear of being judged.
She couldn’t do that though… right? All she could do was listen.
But because I was insecure, her opinion meant a lot.
And I just… I was in no mood to be judged.
I wanted and needed understanding. Would she give me that?
Or would her eyes read that I told you so I couldn’t stop thinking about.
I mean, Chanté hadn’t told me a damn thing.
Not for real. This came from left field.
This fucking baby. This got damn child. A child he was acting like I’d forgotten about.
She didn’t say he would have a baby on me.
So, I told you so didn’t apply here. Still, failure tormented me.
We failed. I failed. The marriage I worked so hard at keeping together failed and that fucked with me.
Sometimes more than the fact that he had a baby on me.
We were supposed to work. It was supposed to last. I was supposed to move past my issues, and we were supposed to grow old together.
What the fuck was this?
“I could have lost my life.”
Right, right. I knew that. That fact was the only reason I’d answered the phone for him. Didn’t mean I wanted to talk to him. Didn’t mean things were just… erased.
“You didn’t,” I paused. “Look… like I said, just call me when you’re discharged.”
“That won’t be for a few days.”
“Okay well… call me in a few days.”