by Nikki Sex
The best thing about school is my father is never there. Also, I can go to the library.
I like to read. I read all the time. Right now I’m reading, “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.” I wish I knew magic. Sometimes I imagine I’m Harry Potter, even though that’s silly, because I’m a girl.
When I marry Mr. Brand, Timmy and I will go away and live with him. I’ll have babies of my own and we’ll live happily ever after, just like in fairy tales.
I go to Mommy’s room. It’s dark, but I can tell she’s still in bed.
“Mommy?” I say. I open her bedroom curtains to let in some light.
“Go away,” she says.
I go into the kitchen. There’s only enough powdered milk left for the baby. I make a bottle for Timmy. I know exactly how to do it. I shake up the powder and water until it’s just right.
I pull a carton of corn flakes out of the cupboard and pour some into a bowl. Because I’m so cold, I put hot water on them. I sit on the only wooden chair that isn’t broken and start to eat.
Corn flakes aren’t too bad without milk.
A girl at my school, Cindy Basset, always throws away most of her lunch, so I’ll eat that later. I’m quiet and I’m sneaky. She doesn’t know I watch her. When she throws her lunch in the trash can, I take it out and I eat her food.
Cindy throws tons of stuff away—half a sandwich, an apple and cookies. Everything’s all carefully packed up.
Cindy Basset is so lucky.
Timmy begins to wake up. He makes a sniffing noise that sounds so cute. When I hear him waking, I feel lucky too.
I take the bottle in to him. When he sees me, he smiles. I get that tingly feeling again. I’m so happy!
Timmy needs me. Timmy loves me.
I love him so much it hurts, but in a good way.
I pick him up, sit on my bed with him on my lap and I feed him his bottle. This is the best part of my day. I love to hold my little brother. I love being with him. On weekends, I get to be with Timmy all day long.
When he finishes his bottle, I pick him up, walk around and pat his back until he burps. He smiles at me and his chubby hands pull my hair. He is so soft and warm and he smells so good. He has a special baby smell only babies ever have.
I change his diaper, but I can’t stay with him. I have to go to school or else the social worker lady will be mad at my Mom. I take Timmy in to her because she has to wake up.
Mommy has pulled the curtains closed, so it’s dark again. Darkness is safe, but something about this darkness scares me.
Something bad is coming. I know it. I feel it. It’s coming!
I’m OK. I’m OK. I’m OK. I’m OK… I chant inside my mind.
Mommy wants to go back to sleep, but she can’t. I pull the curtains open again to let the light in.
“Mommy, Timmy is here. I have to go to school.”
Mommy makes a kind of unhappy moaning sound, but she sits up on the bed and takes him into her arms. When she does, she smiles down at him. She loves Timmy too.
Bang!
The front door slams open. Mommy’s eyes go wide. We both freeze at the sound.
We can’t move.
My heart jumps up into my throat where it pounds, pounds, pounds! I need to get Timmy and run. Run and hide. Quick, hide!
Why can’t I move?
“Fucking bitch!” he yells.
Arms out, big and scary, Daddy comes into the room. He smells like beer and he’s so very angry!
Daddy is like Lord Voldemort in the Harry Potter books, but he doesn’t hurt people with his wand. Daddy uses his fists instead. He screams so loudly the sound hurts my ears. I start to shake. His words slice into my ears like a knife stabbing, stabbing, stabbing.
“I just lost my fucking job! I was late because of you!”
He grabs Mommy and drags her up to her feet. His hand is raised, he’s going to punch her in the face, but Mommy has Timmy!
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it won’t happen again!” Mommy cries out.
Daddy’s fingers ball into a tight fist. I know this look. He’s going to hit her but she’s holding my baby brother!
I can move now.
I can run away.
But I won’t run. I’m so scared, but I don’t care what happens to me. I have to save Timmy! I’m such a mouse. I’m such a coward—but not when it comes to my baby brother. I do something then that I’ve never done before.
“No!” I scream, and run toward him.
Smack!
Daddy backhands me with his closed fist. My head feels like it’s exploding. I hear a loud crunch—I know that sound Daddy broke my ribs and once he broke my arm, but I think he broke something in my face this time.
I slam into the wall. The whole world tunnels down. It goes yellowy, then greyish and black.
My ears are ringing, ringing, ringing.
The baby is crying, crying, crying.
Mommy is screaming, screaming, screaming.
I try to get to Timmy. I have to save him, but I can’t seem to move. I see two of everything. Two of Daddy hitting, two of Mommy being hit.
I see two hands grab two Timmys. Two babies fly out of Mommy’s arms as my father takes my baby brother and throws him across the room. He is a blur as he comes toward me.
My little brother’s tiny baby cry is long and loud. It sounds like a police siren.
THUD!
Timmy slams against the wall a little way from me.
He isn’t crying now.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
Daddy keeps hitting Mommy. Mommy is quiet now too. Is he going to kill her this time? The thought seems to come from somewhere far away.
Is Voldemort here? This pain is worse than any pain I’ve ever felt. This must be the Cruciatus Curse—the dark wizard’s Torture Curse. Harry Potter screams when he is cursed, but I can’t make a single sound.
I suddenly realize I can inch forward if I try really hard.
I slowly drag myself toward Timmy. He is quiet now.
His head is wrong.
His eyes are closed.
He looks like he’s asleep.
Please baby Jesus. Please let him just be asleep, I pray. I put my arms around him and cuddle into him. Just like Timmy, I close my eyes. There is so much pain in my face and head. So much pain in my heart.
The fear of losing my little brother hurts most of all.
This is too much. I can’t take it.
The pain goes away suddenly.
Like my baby brother, I sleep too.
I feel nothing at all.
~~~
“Wake up, Renata!” a male voice yells. “Wake up! You’re dreaming!”
I regain a sense of awareness on hearing the panicked, anxious sound. I become aware of a hand clamped firmly on my shoulder, shaking me.
When I open my eyes, I know where I am, but I still feel the loss of my baby brother. Oh God! It’s as though I’ve lost Timmy all over again!
My grief is inconsolable.
Grant looks down at me, concern etched on his face. With sudden comprehension, I discover it's his hand on my shoulder. He woke me from the nightmare of my past.
I’m hysterical. I sob so hard I can’t breathe. Hot tears fill my eyes and stream down my face. I can barely see Grant. When he gathers me into his arms, I grab hold of him so tightly my fingers and hands hurt.
“It’s OK, it’s OK, it’s OK, Renata,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you, beautiful, I’ve got you.”
Grant’s voice is deep and calm, rumbling soothingly against my chest. His big, solid body firmly presses against mine, embracing me within the safety of his arms. He’s a living promise of comfort and sanctuary. His warm hands glide over my back, gently patting and stroking.
It takes so long to get my tears and my breathing under control. Grant is kind and patient. He pats, and soothes and calms me until I regain myself.
Wait… Grant is touching me!
The man who is disturbed by touch, is holding
me. I don’t know how he’s able to do it but he is. There’s no tension in his arms. His body is pliable and relaxed—his attention is on me.
As I come back from my terrible visit to my past, I have to wonder. Just who is the therapist here? Like a skilled counselor, Grant doesn’t interrupt me with awkward, unwanted questions, nor does he lose his level-headed equanimity.
He’s so good to me. Maybe, I should be paying him.
Chapter 26.
“Close your eyes and I'll kiss you, Tomorrow I'll miss you.”
― Paul McCartney
~~~
Renata Koreman
Briley wakes me at six in the morning. I can’t believe he let me sleep through the night, especially since it’s his first night in a new place. What a great baby!
When I open my eyes, I see the weather has turned dark and rainy, not just a little rainy… it’s pouring outside. I check, no new emails and my iPad forecasts showers and storms all day long.
I should've known that was a bad omen, but I was too happy at the time to think of it.
Despite the lousy start to my day caused by my horrendous nightmare, I slept surprisingly well, although I probably only got about five hours total.
I chat and play with Briley while I change his diaper. He’s so easy to care for, and the generous smiles he bestows on me makes my heart melt.
I wander downstairs to the kitchen and take my anti-depressant, first thing, with a small glass of milk. Assuming I'd be awakened by a hungry baby sometime during the night, I'd prepared his bottle before I went to bed. Now, I just have to add warm water, shake it up and feed him.
Grant has an old-fashioned percolator type of coffeepot. With the baby in my arms, I switch that on while mixing Briley’s baby formula.
Mitten meows politely, so I open the front door and let him out.
Dressed in a bathrobe, I talk cheerfully to Briley the entire time I take care of these tasks. I shower him with compliments, tell him what I'm doing and explain the reasons why. He’s a responsive little thing, smiling and excited to have my attention.
When his bottle is ready, I sit on the couch in the downstairs family room, overlooking Grant’s garden. I hold Briley on my lap while I give him his bottle. He’s soft, warm and cuddly.
There is nothing quite like the pleasure of holding and feeding a baby. I feel as if every mothering hormone I have is standing up, stretching out their arms and singing loudly from the joy of it.
All is right in my world and it’s more than just 'right.'
There is nowhere else I’d rather be than right here, right now. Of course, this is all enhanced by the ultimate pleasure of living in the same house as Grant.
Speak of the devil… my breath catches as I hear the sound of feet lightly jogging down the stairs.
Grant’s coming! My stomach does somersaults at the thought of seeing him. Talk about a stimulus-response reaction. My breasts tingle and my inner core pools with heated anticipation. He’s almost here!
I attempt to paste a calm, nonchalant look on my face and try not to think about how tragically pathetic I am for this overreaction. Yes, I’m in the throes of a wild and crazy crush. Yes, it seem like true love. No, I can’t see myself getting over it anytime soon. And no, I couldn’t be happier.
As though I’ve conjured him up from a sexy, wet dream, the man himself enters the room dressed in a snug tank top, running shorts and running shoes. He’s smoking hot. But he's not just any hot guy.
It isn’t only Grant’s body that attracts me—it’s him, all of him. We’re drawn to each other by chemistry and maybe more. Whatever it is, it's intense. We both know it, we both feel it.
“Mornin’,” he nods with a slow, easy smile.
“Hi,” I reply, bowled over just at seeing him again.
“Did you sleep all right,” he hesitates, “after that bad dream?”
“Strangely, yes, I did,” I tell him.
My eyes travel slowly down his long, lean body, drinking in every inch of his splendor. He's all slim hips, narrow waist and broad shoulders. Everything about Grant is so incredibly hard. I can’t help but be in awe of the sheer male power of him.
Is he going out for a jog? That's real dedication, especially in this weather. Mmm, he’ll come back all sweaty and manly, smelling fantastic… good enough to eat. My mouth waters at the thought.
A flash of white hot lust zips through me. I raise my head to meet his gaze and my heart stutters.
“What?” he asks. One eyebrow arches with a look of inquiry.
“You’re just so damned beautiful,” I tell him.
Shock and surprise register on his features. He snorts, then laughs—a rich, masculine sound. “You need your vision checked, darlin,’” he says.
I think I’ve both pleased and embarrassed him. We stare at each other for a long, long moment. His eyes hunger for acceptance…and something else. Is it love? Damned if I have any idea what mine are communicating to him.
This self-reliant, ultra-self-contained man wants and needs me.
The tension between us grows, sensually charging the air. Grant looks away first, ending the moment.
“I'm going out for a run now,” he says. “I’ll be back soon.”
I watch every long, lean inch of him as he strides past the kitchen and around the corner, out of my sight. A couple of seconds later, I hear the front door open and then shut.
Grant’s gone.
Briley soon falls asleep in my arms. I put him over my shoulder and burp him as I walk upstairs. I carefully place him on his back in his crib and kiss his forehead. He’s still dressed in his baby sleep sack, so he won’t get cold.
I take a quick shower and get dressed. Keeping in line with the sensible nanny concept, I put on a white cotton button-down blouse, coffee colored shorts and a linen drape jacket. I also apply a tiny amount of make-up, brush my hair, don white leather sandals and I’m done.
Just in time, too, as the doorbell rings. I check my phone—it’s only 7 a.m. Who would visit at this hour? Perhaps Grant forgot his key?
Without a care in the world, I blithely open the door.
Several policemen are standing on the doorstep. All except one are in uniform. An emotional tidal wave of terror crashes down over me.
Who died?
Memories of Jamie’s death, the deaths of my baby brother and my mother all slam full-force into my mind. I’m instantly transported to my past in just a heartbeat. My body begins to shake uncontrollably.
Is Grant dead? Prior bullying encounters with men in police uniforms flood my thoughts. Why are they here? What do they want with me?
Someone whimpers and a moment later I realize the sound is coming from me.
Suddenly, I’m terrified.
A full-blown panic attack instantly hits me. Usually, I have some sort of warning before a complete meltdown strikes, but not today.
I have to get out. I can’t be here!
I’m suffocating. I can’t breathe!
My chest heaves. I can’t control it. Panting in short, fast gulps, I gasp for breath.
I’m like a frightened animal. Whatever logical thoughts I had, scatter into jagged fragments of visceral terror.
I want to run away as fast and as far as my feet will take me, but I'm unable to move. My vision tunnels.
Will I live or will I die?
Shut up, stupid!
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
This is going to be bad. Something awful is happening! A sense of impending doom takes over my mind.
I hurt! This chest pain is agonizing. Am I having a heart attack? No, of course not. It’s never actually been my heart. This is just another panic attack.
I’m OK. I’m OK. I’m OK.
But I feel as though I’m going to die.
My heart races, pounding like a drum in my ears. I clutch my chest and gasp for air.
Someone's talking to me—I try to tune in for a moment, becoming briefly aware his lips are moving, but I can’t seem to un
derstand a word he says. I can’t hear anything other than the wild beat of my racing heart. Every sound is incomprehensible white noise.
There’s a terrible knot in my stomach.
Please, God! Where is Grant? I need Grant!
I haven’t had one of these attacks for ages. I’ve forgotten how painful they are. I can’t think! I can’t think! I’m so frightened! In this horrifying moment, I can barely remember my own name.
Am I going to pass out? My fingers and my toes tingle, my muscles jump and twitch. Pain shoots down my legs.
Am I losing my mind?
I struggle to focus on relaxing my muscles and slowing my breathing. With my hands on my chest, I inhale and count my breaths.
I’m OK. I’m OK. I’m OK. I’m OK, I begin my mental chant.
The words help me focus. I’m OK… one, I’m OK… two, I’m OK… three...
For a moment, I actually see the faces of the men in front of me. This is too funny! I’m overwhelmed by a wild and reckless desire to hysterically laugh out loud.
They look as scared as I feel.
Chapter 27.
“There is no intimacy without vulnerability.”
― Brené Brown
~~~
Grant Wilkinson
I’m drenched through and through. A heavy rain beats down on me, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt lighter.
I usually jog but today, I’m so happy I effortlessly sprint. Everything’s so easy. I’m not even breathing hard.
Life is good!
My shoes smack against the wet pavement in a rapid rhythm as I run.
Slap, slap, slap, slap.
I take a 5-mile run at least four days a week. It usually takes me 30 to 35 minutes from start to finish, but I'm so full of energy this morning. I’m totally buzzed. Today, at my current speed, I’ll be done in well under thirty minutes. That's great. I’ll get to be home with Renata that much sooner.
Body, mind, spirit—it’s that triangle again.
My mind and spirit are light and free, so this is reflected in my body. I feel as though I could run all the way to the Oklahoma border and not get tired.