Her eyes flare at my teasing, but some of the red recedes. “My legs are shaking pretty badly.”
“Know.” I can feel the trembling in her whole body. I want to take over, strip her, help her pee, then tuck her into bed. I know she’s embarrassed, but I want to care for her in every way. I want that right, and that privilege. But I’m not going to scare her again.
“Pull my panties down…don’t look please,” she begs. The hands on my shoulders are gripping so tight I might actually bruise. I want her marks on me, just not like this. Because she’s afraid and weak. No, I want her nail marks in my shoulders as she shoves me down to pleasure her.
I slam my eyes closed but the image plays on the back of my eyelids like a move. I threaten my cock with bodily harm, then slide my hands back up until I’ve hooked the panties, drawing them down past her knees. I feel her body shift as she sits. “Give me a minute, please.”
“Ok,” I say with a smile, exiting the bathroom. As soon as I close the bathroom door behind me, I fold over, bracing my hands on my knees, gasping for breath, trying to regain control of myself.
I’ve got my dick somewhat handled by the time she calls me back in. We follow the same routine in reverse; me pulling her panties up with my eyes closed. I give in to my need to hold her by wrapping my arm around her waist at the sink, taking all of her weight as she washes her hands and brushes her teeth. When she’s done, I scoop her up and take her to the bed, leaning down so she can pull the bedding back, helping me slide her in. The soft glow of the bedside lamp creates dancing shadows along her face. I slowly move to sit on the bed, facing her.
Her glassy eyes are ancient, weary.
“Today was heavy.”I say, exhaling. “And I don’t know how to make it better for you. I’m sorry I pushed or tried to mansplain your own life to you. You’re right, I guess. What I think of you doesn’t really matter. I just…”
“You just what?”
I almost can’t bring myself to say it.“I used to get so angry with my mom when she would fight him. The beatings were always so much worse, so I didn’t understand why she’d do it.”
“She fought back so she could live with herself.” She says flatly.
Wincing, I replay the beatings my mom took, looping the past like an old strip of film.
“I’m starting to see that. She used to fight all the time. Then some of the time. Then not at all. Then she was just…gone. She left us.”
Her hand fists on blanket. “She left you behind? With him?”
“Yeah.” I say quietly. “It’s good she left. He would have killed her.”
“Why didn’t she take you with her?”
I shrug. “You might be able to tell me.”
Her mouth tightens. “Trying to run with a child would be…agonizing.” She says apologetically.
“Explain,” I beg her, desperate for some insight into my mom. I want to understand why she chose to leave me behind. I need it.
“I had a network of people helping me, and it was still terrifying. Most days I felt like a robot, going through the motions. In the back of my head was this…certainty…that he would find me. That I would die. I was in my most basic lizard brain.”
She shifts, reaching down to trace a crease on the sheet. “I saw some mothers in the shelter. They looked so…worn. They never ate a full meal, always giving extra to their kids. Their focus was on the children as they themselves were wasting away.”
“Were you afraid that was going to happen to you?”
Her eyes flash, and she nods slowly. “I was terrified of it.”
“Of raising a baby?”
“I didn’t do a very good job keeping myself safe. The idea of being responsible for a baby was overwhelming. And the idea that I would be connected to Brent for the rest of my life…I hated it. Maybe that’s why I miscarried. Maybe God knew I wouldn’t be a good mom.”
There’s so much wrong with that statement. I clench my jaw so I don’t explain to her how wrong she is. How amazing she is. “How did you feel about losing the baby?”
Her fingers are picking at the sheet now, and I can’t stop myself from reaching out to cover her hands. She looks at me, searching for any sign of judgment. She won’t find any with me, ever.
One tear spills from her eye. “Sad, but also relieved. I would have taken care of the baby, but it was a scary time. Having a baby on the run…was not how I would want to do it.”
“Course…not.” I want to hold her. She’s experienced so much loss, I don’t know how she stands it.“Babies are miracles. You should be coddled, and loved, and not have to worry about anything when you’re pregnant.”I want to be the one to take care of her, especially then, when she’s round with my child.
She smiles sadly, eyes falling to the bedding between us. A big yawn cracks her jaw.
