Chapter 4 #2
Dinner finished, we head for the bathroom.
Unlike the ramp and my new van, the tiny space is not built for people who need a little more working room, so getting her into the tub and scrubbed down takes a little bit of maneuvering.
Thanks to years of intense physical therapy, Zara can walk short distances on her own, but is not super coordinated or fast, and letting her attempt it across the linoleum with slippery feet would be hazardous.
So, when she’s finished, I bundle her up in a towel and carry her into her bedroom.
She hates being hauled around like this, but until I can come up with a better option, safety will always come first.
The trailer has two bedrooms, and hers is the bigger of the options. Mostly because she has more stuff than I do. Between her clothes, toys, and electronics, Zara takes up an immense amount of space.
Exactly how I want it to be.
After getting her toweled off and dressed in her favorite pair of pajamas, I blow her hair dry, making sure it’s smooth and tangle free, before tucking her into bed.
One of the perks of keeping her so busy is that she generally crashes hard the second her head hits the pillow, so within a couple minutes, the rest of the night belongs to me.
I take a quick shower of my own before bundling up in sweatpants, and an oversized T-shirt, and my favorite plush robe. Slapping a moisturizing mask on my face, I flop onto the sofa and switch on the television. Time to attempt to stay up-to-date on my favorite show.
I’m barely five minutes in before there’s a quiet knock at the door.
Because of course there is. Hopefully it’s the guy who was here Saturday looking for my mom. I have a fair amount of feminine rage I need to expend, and man it would feel good to wail on one of the people who refuse to let me fully move past the shittiness of my childhood.
I answer the door with a baseball bat and a smile, all my excitement evaporating when I see who is actually on my porch.
Doug grins at me, brows waggling as he takes in my current condition. “You look sexy.”
Of course I do, but that’s irrelevant right now.
Sighing, I slide my weapon of choice into place behind the low table that holds my purse and keys. “What are you doing here, Doug?”
“I just thought maybe you’d want some company.” He leans in, peeking over my shoulder. “Is Zara in bed?”
“We’ve had this conversation.” Many times. Sleeping with him a year ago was not one of my finest moments. He’s not bad looking, and has a tolerable personality, but the man was terrible in bed. Like, laughably bad.
Actually, I did laugh. Which he mistook for glee, I guess?
“I’m not fucking you again.” I’ve said it this plainly before, and I don’t have much hope he’ll listen this time either, so I take my rejection a step further. “I shouldn’t have done it the first time. It was a mistake, and I try my best not to make the same mistake twice.”
Which makes me think my brain isn’t classifying what happened with Trevor as a mistake. Because I am most certainly interested in doing that again. I won’t, but I’m definitely interested.
Unfortunately, as usual, Doug doesn’t seem to catch my drift. His feelings don’t look hurt. His ego doesn’t deflate. He simply leans against the door frame, like he’s trying to get comfortable. “You must not remember how great it was, or you would definitely want to do it again.”
Well, now I’m just pissed. Considering grabbing the bat again after all. I don’t like being told what I do and don’t think. I’ve made my own decisions for as long as I can remember, and I’m not about to start deferring to someone else. Not now, not ever.
Especially not a man who couldn’t find a clit if it hit him in the face with a baseball bat.
“I don’t remember how great it was, because it wasn’t great, Doug.
” I’ve tried to let him down easy, but since the effort was obviously wasted, I won’t be putting any more in.
“It was terrible sex. Quite literally the worst I’ve ever had.
I don’t know how anyone could do so many wrong things in a row, but you managed.
” I inch back just enough to close the door, since I don’t want him to misread my words and actions yet again and think I’m letting him in.
“You probably need to look at some diagrams and research proper techniques or find a woman who doesn’t like orgasms.” I start swinging the door closed.
“Have a good night.” After shutting him out, I lock the deadbolt then flop back onto the sofa.
I don’t know what sort of dry spell voodoo made me think having sex with a guy who lives in the same trailer park was a good idea. Probably the same dry spell voodoo that made me think fucking the owner of the company where I work was a good idea.
Honestly, having sex with Trevor might have been an even worse decision than fucking Doug was.
Because I need this job. For the first time in her life, Zara has great health insurance.
No more waiting months for the care she needs, or searching through limited lists of practitioners for the best option available to us.
And I need the income just as much. Zara only gets more expensive as she gets older, and I will never make her do without something that brings her joy. Something that will give her the fullest childhood possible.
That means, no matter how great it was, or how much I wouldn’t mind doing it again, having sex with Trevor has to be a one time thing.
I’ll just pretend it never happened and move on. I’m sure he’ll get the hint much faster than Doug has.