Page 291 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

I think back to four in the morning,

when he’d returned from the bar

and I avoided him at all costs⁠—

eye contact,

physical contact,

verbal contact,

staying on one side of the bed,

pretending to be asleep,

so he wouldn’t find out the cold, clammy truth: Raymond owns me and my addiction. And that means I’ll always be a disappointment.

Despite it all, somehow,

I still wake up surrounded by him.

And somehow,

it’s a mistake I want to keep making.

“I wanna move on,” he says when I don't answer, voice lazy, deep as his hand slides down my body. “‘Cause I can’t go another second without your pussy in my mouth.”

I grab his wrist, stopping him.

“I don’t need it.”

His head tilts, confused.

“You don’t need it,” he repeats,

then hates the aftertaste.

“Morning, afternoon, night,

“middle of the night⁠—

“you told me that.”

“I did.”

There’s an awkward pause,

his eyes bouncing between mine.

“This about what happened yesterday? With Ben?” His brow lifts. “‘Cause I ain’t apologizin’ for protectin’ you. Could I’ve handled it better? Yeah, probably. But I know when you’re okay and when you’re not. And when you’re not? I’m steppin’ in. Every fuckin’ time.”

“I had it under control.”

“Yeah. Right. You really showed him⁠—”

He tries to pull free to check my ass, sliding my cotton shorts up to see where Ben had smacked me.

My imagination transports two seconds into the future, to that alternate timeline of him seeing the damage: