“So I asked her, ‘If you like him so much, why don’t you marry him?’ She told me I was being petulant, and I needed to grow up and give it up.”
Bambina followed me into the kitchen as I set a box of donuts, a small baggie, and two coffees down on the counter. Bambina ran around my feet, expecting her usual.
Setting my bag on one of the stools at the island, I dug in the small baggie and bent down to hand her the doggie donut from the bakery. She took it and ran off to find one of her beds. It took her a little while to finish one.
After pulling my coffee closer, I took a glazed donut from the box. It took me a minute to realize that I just stood there, picking apart the donut, not eating or drinking. I sighed deep and long, feeling like I needed off my feet, and when I went to sit on a stool, I missed the seat and fell to the floor.
“Shit! Gotta go!”
After Cilla said the words, I heard her and Bambina run toward me. Bambina tried to lick me in the face, but after I stroked her head, she ran off to get her treat. She came back a second later, settling next to me, chewing on what was more like a bagel than a donut.
I looked up as Cilla stared down at me.
“Are you hurt?” She held her hand out, but instead of taking it, I slapped her palm, like I was giving her a low-five.
I didn’t move after that. I couldn’t answer.
Was I hurt?
Yes.
Every inch of my skin was tender, some places bruised, but no place as sore as between my legs. Sitting was agony, which was why I hadn’t the entire night, but my feet were on fire from standing on them for hours. Not to mention the pain in my head from where the peg had ripped out a chunk of my hair.
It all went so much deeper than that, though.
The enormity of what we’d done the night before seemed to hit me like a ton of bricks as soon as the burning sun came up, trying to reveal secrets that were best left buried in the darkness.
More than the physical reminder, and what it meant, I was disappointed in myself.
For not asking questions. For not demanding answers.
I was programmed not to ask questions. Not to seek answers. But this was much different.
Then again, even though I wanted to know, after last night, the truth terrified me. Of what it could possibly mean.
More than death, I was afraid of losing him. Of losing the only thing besides my dog that felt like mine. That felt real. That felt like the meaning of life.
“I’m your only oath.”
Cilla handed me my donut and my coffee. Then she took a seat next to me on the floor, two chocolate-glazed donuts in one hand and her coffee in the other.
“Are you hurt?” she asked again, taking a big bite of her donut sandwich. “’Cause I know people.”
I grinned a little. “Not in the way you think.” I set my coffee down and picked a small piece of my donut, eating it but not really tasting it.
We became quiet for a minute or two.
She sighed. “You werenotwearing that dress when you left. I remember. So something happened. Tell me. You’ll feel better.”
“Let’s just say that he went berserk, but I didn’t get a ring after. It’ll probably be more like a new rule on the dress code when I go back to work.”
She laughed a little. “And…the monstercanfeel.”
“Something,” I said, going to hand her the rest of my donut after she finished her sandwich.
She pushed it back. “Eat. No man is worth your food.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Those donuts are damn good.”
“They’re all right,” I whispered. “Joe’s Holes are better.”
