Jackson
S he was pregnant. With my child…
My logical mind can’t handle the information. I have to put all of my energy into taking care of her because otherwise, I’d spiral into a very dark place.
I rub a lathered wash cloth gently over the skin of her shoulders and back, faintly tracing the lines of her tattoo. Her dragon. It suits her. The powerful, fire-breathing creature carries a likeness to the fire that burns in her. My fireball.
It’s hard for me to see her so broken after I’ve known her to be so strong. The unanswered questions that have bothered me for the last few weeks have clicked into place. The reason she’s been crying so much and the long weekend she wouldn’t get out of bed.
I should have been beside her, taking care of her from the beginning. I was afraid you couldn’t love it because it would be mine.
If anything, I failed her. I should have never made her feel like she couldn’t tell me the truth. She didn’t trust me enough with the truth and that kills me.
The washcloth in my hand continues its journey down one arm and then the other, doing everything in my power to put the woman I know back together. She’s so small in this big bathtub and the way she’s hugging her knees to her chest isn’t giving me any sign of hope that she’s okay.
“I’m going to drain the water before it gets cold.”
She nods subtly against her knees and I move as fast as I can, grabbing the biggest fluffiest towel I own and some clothes from my closet, not wanting to leave her alone for more than a few seconds.
“It’s white,” she murmurs as I hold the towel up as a partition. “I might still be bleeding.”
“It doesn’t matter. I promise.” I hear the water falling off her body as she stands and I have to remind myself that I’m a decent man even though every molecule in me wants to see the water dripping off of her skin.
She steps onto the tiled floor and I fold the fabric around her, covering her from her shoulders to her knees. When she doesn’t move to dry herself I wrap my arms around her toweled body and she sinks into me instantly, making my chest tight.
She doesn’t say a word as I dry her off and I can only hope that she hasn’t because she’s starting to trust that I’ll always do the right thing when it comes to her.
“Do you want me to help you get dressed?” I hold my breath waiting for her response. I don’t think she’s incapable but it’s too fulfilling being able to take care of her like this. For once, she’s letting me take care of her without a fight.
Her head nods against my chest and I’m simultaneously relieved and worried that she’s letting me. Her devastation over this situation radiates out of every poor, reminding me how big I know her heart is. She tries to hide it, but I knew the second I saw how she worried over her brother that she was a big softy on the inside.
I drop to one knee in front of her and line my underwear up at her feet. She raises one delicate foot and then the other, letting me slide them up to her calves, and then up her thighs. My fingertips skim her soft skin while I remind myself to inhale and exhale.
I tug them up until they’re high on her hips because they’re way too big, but they’re black and they’ll be comfortable. Once less thing of hers to stain.
She’s watching me closely as I stand back up with a little more warmth in her face.
“Turn around, I’ll put my shirt over your head,” I offer.
Her eyes stay on mine as she drops the towel where she stands. I can feel the muscles in my neck straining to keep my head from tilting downward. This woman, I swear.
If she’s in the mood to challenge me then she must be feeling better. I don’t mind, as long as it means she’s okay.
I loop the shirt over her head and she raises her arms, allowing me to slide them into the arm holes. Somehow I get the shirt on and remain a gentleman at the same time.
The first time I see her beautiful body without anything concealing it won’t be by accident. I want her fully on board even if it means a lifetime of waiting.
My t-shirt looks like a dress, hanging to her mid-thigh, but I like it much better than the ones she normally wears. I have nothing against second-hand clothing, only against her wearing men’s shirts that aren’t mine.
“Come on, into bed.”
She shuffles out of the bathroom and hooks a right before I navigate her back the other way and to my bed. She is not going anywhere. She’s mine until tomorrow at least.
She sits on the edge of the mattress as I change into shorts, her eyes widening slightly when I come out of the closet without a shirt on. Maybe it makes me an asshole because she’s had an awful day but I don’t regret it in the slightest.
One of these days I’ll get her to admit that she’s attracted to me. Won’t be today, but hopefully one day because I’m sure as hell attracted to her.
She comes quietly as I pull her against me, tucking her body against mine in the middle of the bed. I carefully tuck each blanket around us, cocooning her in warmth, encapsulating our bubble of sadness.
No words are spoken as I watch her eyelids get heavy. I keep watching as her long lashes flutter softly closed and the tension from her brow disappears. Her head rests on my arm but she’s leaning on me fully. Finally.
My thoughts drift in and out, contemplating all of the ways I can erase her burdens permanently. I’ll shoulder it all to maintain her serenity.
* * *
Jackson - Six years old
“Mommy. Why don’t I have a daddy?”
It’s Saturday morning and Mommy just made me her big weekend breakfast. It’s our tradition and I usually eat two plates.
“Well, honey. Um. What makes you ask that question?” Mommy sets her fork down on the kitchen table and looks at me as I stab my pancake.
“The kids at school have dads.” I shrug my shoulders and keep tearing up the pancake that I don’t think I’m hungry for anymore. Yesterday was Dad’s Lunch Day at school and I was one of the only ones who didn’t have a lunch buddy. Mommy is the best but I don’t understand why she is always alone.
“You do have a dad, honey. One day, I think I’ll tell you about him but it’s not anything you need to worry about now. Okay? I’m sorry if you feel like you’re missing out.” She reaches out to hold my hand, stopping me from destroying my pancake.
“But, where is he?”
“He’s a very important man. He’s busy working for the President of the United States.”
“The President?”
“He has an important job and has to be there at all times. That’s why he isn’t around.” She smiles but her eyes are watery.
“Oh. Okay. Will I ever get to meet him?”
“I don’t know, Jacks. I don’t know. Maybe when you’re older.” She shrugs her shoulders and takes her plate to the sink. I don’t ask any more questions.
I don’t want to make Mommy sad.
* * *
I startle awake, confused, and disoriented. It’s daylight, I never wake up in the daylight. It isn’t until I blink a few times, and feel the warmth wrapped around my body that I remember. It was only a nap and it’s still early evening. The sun won’t set for another few hours.
The body pressed to mine in every spot possible is all-consuming, giving me more comfort and peace than I’ve ever thought possible.
However, impossible for me to remain decent in these conditions. She feels too good. Especially when she starts to wake up and instead of rolling away, she rolls even closer, plastering herself to me entirely.
Her hand searches for something, tapping the pillow by my head, then my shoulder, until she finds my neck, sliding her palm until it cups my jaw. The way that her thumb brushes against my cheek is a loving caress that she probably has no awareness of doing.
I don’t care. She can touch me any way she pleases, in her sleep, awake. It doesn’t matter, I’m at her mercy whenever she wants me.
Have been for quite some time.