“It was a mistake,” I add quickly. Because I should have remained in control of myself.
“Was it?” she asks gently. “Consensual sex isn’t a bad thing, Danae.”
I swallow because it’s time to tell her the whole situation. “I don’t even know his name, Josie.”
There’s a pause. “You don’t know his name?”
I let out an uncomfortable laugh. “No. I didn’t ask. He didn’t ask mine either.”
“That is extremely unlike you.”
“Tell me about it.” I admit.
She’s quiet for a moment, then asks, “How did it make you feel?”
I stare out into the dark yard. The answer rises up before I can stop it. “Free,” I answer. “And reckless. And like I wasn’t carrying everything for once. Wild.”
She exhales slowly. “Maybe you needed that. Letting go isn’t a bad thing, Danae.”
“I needed a stranger?” I ask perplexed. “Josie Mosie, that’s not being responsible. I literally don’t know the man I gave access to my body.”
“You needed to remember you’re still you,” she replies firmly. “You needed to feel like a woman. Embrace your feminine energy. You take on so much for all of us. You are allowed to have a moment for you. I’m happy for you. For one night you got to be free. Not just a caregiver. Not just the responsible one. Just Danae.”
My throat tightens. “I didn’t tell him anything,” I reply softly. “About my life. About Grandpa. About any of it. For a few hours, none of it existed.”
“And then?” she asks.
“And then it was over,” I say. “I woke up alone. He was gone.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think you’ll see him again?”
“No,” I reply, even though the word doesn’t sit easily. “It was clearly a one-time thing.”
“Does that bother you?”
I think of the way his absence lingered longer than his presence. Of the warmth that still ghosts my sheets sometimes. “Maybe,” I admit. “I’m not sure what I feel or think about it.”
“Life’s messy,” she sighs.
“Easy for you to say,” I tease. “You’re glowing and pregnant and in love.”
She laughs. “I’m also terrified.”
“You’ll be amazing,” I encourage. “Motherhood suits you, Josie Mosie, and so does being a wife and partner. Dean is good for you and Justice and now this new little life.”
“I know,” she replies. “But I’m still glad you’re coming. I need you.”
I smile, warmth spreading through my chest. “I need you too.”
We hang up not long after Papa stirs and calls my name. I help him have some water, answer the same questions I’ve answered a hundred times, reassure him until his breathing evens out again.
When I finally crawl into my own bed, the house is quiet in a way that feels less heavy than usual. North Carolina fills my thoughts, Josie’s laughter, playing hide and seek with Justice, a newborn’s weight in my arms, the promise of something different.
I stare at the ceiling, my mind drifting back to the night I only told her half of because how crazy would she think I was if she knew the truth. I met a man because he held me at gun point, kidnapped me to my own house, all to stitch him up. Then he returns to give me the best orgasm of my life all without ever stopping to get his name. Yeah, that makes me sound unhinged not responsible. The details I keep tucked away are because I’m certifiably insane. The way I never asked his name because somehow, in that moment, it didn’t matter. That makes me a lunatic.
