Letting My Heart Decide
DANAE
Iwoke up feeling like I’d slept on a cloud. You couldn’t tell me the mattress wasn’t specially made for me from the moment my head hit the pillow. And I knew a good mattress because I owned one myself, but I was ready to take this one home with me. Not that I’d have to steal it anyway. If Aura even thought that it was something I wanted, it was as good as ordered. The thought made me smile involuntarily.
Picking up my phone, I climbed out of bed and left the room to find Aura. The smell of something savory and roasted floated in the air as I opened the door. I made my way toward the kitchen, slowing my pace once I heard voices. I heard Aura’s first. His tone was calm and controlled, like he was being mindful of what he said. When he identified the voice on the other end by calling out to her, I smiled. It was his Grandma Lettie.
We met in passing a few times at a couple Sullivan gatherings, and the words of wisdom she imparted into me always left me teary-eyed. It was like she knew my life and knew what to say, kinda like my own mother but without the judgment. From the conversation I caught, she’d been walking him through a recipe. Then, the conversation switched to adifferent subject that made me listen a little harder. They were talking about me.
They spoke about the way Aura courted me as well as my resistance to it. While I couldn’t see his face, his responses made it clear that he wasn’t letting up any time soon. And then, his grandmother said something that even made me think about the reason I’d been forcing my heart closed to him.
“And just what if Danae isn’t ready for the lifestyle of Aura Sullivan? What if she’s shying away from the weight that comes with your name? What if she doesn’t want the protection because it comes with a different way of living?”
I walked back to the guest room as quietly as I could, taking her thoughts with me. Hearing her speak, those words made me realize that I felt the complete opposite. I didn’t mind that Aura had a name. And I already had his protection without having a title. I was rooted in who I was as a woman. Being a part of the Sullivan clan wouldn’t make me feel less than.
Being Aura’s woman didn’t scare me as far as what I had to take on. His way of protecting could be a bit much. But what I feared was what his reaction would be once he knew who I used to be tied to. What would he say if he knew that the woman he openly claimed as his knew that he’d taken a life and never spoke anything of it?
I’d been asleep for what seemed like all of five minutes before Byron walked through the door, high and on bullshit. It was one in the morning, and I’d just laid down after putting my apartment back together. It was in complete disarray after one of our many physical altercations that resulted in a busted lip and a bruised back for me. For him, a deep gash on his arm. I felt every part of the fight, while he merely shook it off. One would think that it would make him leave me alone, but this bastard was crazy. Drugs would do that to you.
Before I could brace myself for round three, he pulled me out the bed by my legs. My back hit the bedpost on my way to the floor.
“Ouch!” I shrieked as the pain vibrated up my spine.
“Get the fuck up,” he said while pacing the floor like a mad man.
Byron was as dark as night, so while I couldn’t fully see his face, the streetlights that peeked through the blinds showed his silhouette as he paced.
My body moved before my mouth could argue. Although I was slow, I knew I had to get up. I knew that if I resisted, it would only prolong the fight, and by the way he was pacing, this nigga wanted to spar. My body ached, but there was no way I was going to just let him beat my ass and not defend myself. So, with all the strength I had left, I stood, took a deep breath, and squared up.
I didn’t have much fight left in me, and quite frankly, I was tired of boxing with this man. Tonight, one of us was going to end up in the back of a police car or the back of an ambulance. The blade that sat under my tongue said that I’d be the one posing for the mugshot. In an effort to intimidate me, Byron stared menacingly in the darkness. Having been in this same position with him recently, I knew he was thinking about which part of my body to attack first.
Byron and I were the same height and probably the same weight since he started putting that shit up his nose. But he was still a man, a man who had two times my strength when he was off the drugs. I braced myself as he stepped forward, and then his phone rang. It was a business call. I knew the ringtone because I had assigned it at his direction. Byron was one of those men that acted handicapped when it came to technology.
I felt temporary relief when he stepped back and answered the call.
“Yo.”His voice came out gruff and dry, instantly becoming Banga, the man the streets knew.“Aight. I’m on my way.”He ended the call and walked toward the door. Before leaving, he turned back to me. “I’ma call you. Answer the phone.”
“Mmhmm,” I replied.
“You heard me?”
“I heard you.”
“I love you.”
I didn’t respond. He knew he’d have to beat those words out of me before I said it back. He hadn’t heard them in months. I was sure it hurt his heart more than I hurt his ego, which was why he never forced me to repeat it.
“I ain’t playin’, Danae. Pick that shit up,” he repeated before leaving.
Like clockwork, the call came in ten minutes later. Being on the phone while Byron was out taking care of business used to be cool. In my head, my man was so sprung off me that he had to hear my voice, even when he wasn’t around me. As time went on, my silly ass learned that it was his weird way of keeping tabs on me and controlling my day. I didn’t realize it then, but I was creating a codependent monster.
“Danae,”his voice came through low and somewhat gentle.“I’m sorry about earlier, baby. I ain’t mean to hit you that hard. You know I get caught up sometimes.”
I didn’t speak because I was having a hard time digesting the bullshit that had just come out of his mouth. Byron never took accountability. Everything was somehow my fault. God forbid a bitch merely breathed on a Thursday. Unable to trust my voice, I remained quiet.
I could hear gravel crunching beneath the tires, followed by the car door opening. Figuring he’d reached his destination, my finger hovered over the end button.
“Mute your phone,”he instructed.
