That one nuclear event in my life. That one horrific day.
The day my parents died.
Everything stems from that day.
If I could go back and change thatoneday, my entire life would be different. I would be a different person. I wouldn’t be this broken, weak man constantly pretending he’s fine all the time.
Sometimes I thinkshe’sbetter off, not having to deal with him anymore. Other times I just want her around. Most days I’m grateful he’s gone because I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I still had to deal with him—if I knew he was living and breathing the same air as me, getting three meals a day, television rights, socializing, and everything else people get to do whenincarcerated… while my mother’s body lay cold in the ground. It’d drive me mad.
Franklin is one of the only people who know what happened that day, one of the only people I’ve ever opened up to about it. I’ve told him more than I have told any of the therapists. My brothers and I don’t speak about it, even though we experienced it together. Maybe being vulnerable and spilling my darkest thoughts and secrets to a man who didn’t deserve them was stupid… but I thought he’d be there for me. He promised he would. I didn’t realize his being there had a time limit, though. I didn’t realize I’d run out of the amount of support my husband would give me.
I mean, I flew thousands of miles to see him, and yet I’ve never felt further away. And though I’m torn about him, about what to do and how to feel, I can’t stop thinking about someone else. Someone… so very different from Franklin, who came into my life and somehow keeps showing up.
Would Franklin even care that I hooked up with someone else?
Of course not. He’s hinted that he’s okay with me doing so, though I know that was mostly a benefit to himself.
Heneeds to let off steam,and since I’m in Chicago and he’s here… well,it’s just sex, Jericho. It doesn’t have to mean anything.
He’s warned me to be discreet, well before the first time I hooked up with someone else. And I don’t miss how he casually brings it up, every now and then. Like it’s no big deal, something as simple as talking about the weather.
I’m not blind. I see the way he plays me. Really, I do, yet… I always turn a blind eye to it, because what else am I supposed to do? He’s my husband. I chose him. I married him. I got on this flight, thinking maybe if I saw him, things would change. That I would be harder to ignore.
Miles wasn’t close to the first person I hooked up with, and he probably won’t be the last. Though it did take me a lot longer to allow myself the permission to do that than it did Franklin—that I’m sure of. Guilt ate at me for years until I learned that those few moments I’m buried inside someone can be good. I can feelsomethingstill.
This is the life I’m destined for. I should probably be used to it by now. I should stop hoping that things will be fine the way they are and accept that this dark cloud is my cross to bear.
Only the darkness of my life doesn’t seem so dark when I think about Miles. About that bright light that radiates from him. Pure sunlight and happiness, so bright that it bursts through all the shadows in my heart and my mind. And it’s not intentional. He just… does it. Without even trying. There’s just something about him that lightens my mood and makes the air around me less heavy when he’s around.
I shouldn’t be thinking about him, especially not while I’m in my husband’s pool, about to go inside and lay in our bed.
That one word hits me harder than it should. Our bed? When has it ever beenourbed? Since he moved here, we’ve never shared the bed together. None of my things are in his room; he keeps my stuff in the spare closet because he says he needs room in his for all his things since he lives here full-time, and I don’t. There’s no space for me. Not here, not back home, or anywhere in between. Because I take up too much.
I’m just an obstacle for him. I’m only in the way when it comes to Franklin—an obstruction in his way of life—yet I’m too weak to say or do anything about it. I can’t give up on this because I gave up on her. I won’t do that twice in one lifetime.
I push off the glass panel and float backward, looking up at the moon as I try to clear my mind, if only for a few moments. Just a few seconds of peace is all I want. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt any sort of peace, aside from small moments here and there.I guess that’s not entirely true. I have felt it more, recently, when a specific person is around. Which is disorienting on its own because I know nothing about Miles. Not really. But something inside me just likes when he’s near. Kind of like the way magnets are attracted to each other, pulled together by some invisible force. That’s what it feels like to me when Miles is around.
He texted me the other day, but I didn’t answer because I knew I was coming here, and it felt wrong. Not because of Franklin, but because it felt unfair to do that to Miles, even if he is none the wiser. That alone should be enough of a sign that I need to give up on this marriage.
After our hookup, the phone call, and his fire station visit, I needed space. I already think about him too much, and yet… I don’t want to stop; but I feel like I should—like I’m supposed to. I’m thinking about him now. I want to answer his text. Hell, I just want to talk to him. I think what hurts the most about it is that I know Franklin wouldn’t care a single bit, even if I did it right under his roof. He wouldn’t care if I did it while he was in the room. Anything to stop me from bothering him.
So, why? Why do I stick around? Why do I let him do this to me?
Franklin’s out with hisfriendsat some black-tie fundraiser event that his firefighter husband isn’t welcome at, meaning he likely has some eye candy on his arm. Probably a pretty blonde with big tits and sharp nails he’ll beg to scrape down his back in a fancy hotel room tonight.
Franklin likes pain with his pleasure, more than one might think. I loved giving it to him, seeing him break beneath me; turning into a puddle of nothing in the bedroom, while out in public he was the strongest, most powerful man I knew. He’s always exuded that energy out there, for everyone to see, but I got that other part of him, and it made me feel powerful, too.
And yet here I am, swimming in his pool, while he’s somewhere else, smiling at billionaires and flirting with women he pretends to like, because he’s too much of a coward to admit he likes being fucked in the ass. I still don’t know how he’s kept people from finding out he’s married to me, since that’s public record and all. He works hard to keep it quiet—or at least not make a big deal about it. I’m sure people have mentioned it over the years, but he’s good at catching things and keeping them under control.
I get out of the pool, wrap the towel around my naked waist, and grab my phone from the table before heading back inside. I throw on sweatpants and dig through the wine fridge for something good. Nothing sticks out, so I go for the liquor cabinet instead, grabbing the bottle of Johnnie Walker to take with me to the couch. I use the remote to turn on the fireplace and the large screen TV that’s only used when I’m here.
TV is for the mindless,Franklin says.Who has time for that?
“Me, that’s who,” I mutter to myself.
Why does he even have the TV if he hates it so much?
I pop off the cap and take a swig. It goes down harshly, but after a few, it’ll be like juice. That’s when it gets dangerous—but what’s the worst that can happen? I’m here alone.
