Asher's Sonnet

by Ja'Nese Dixon

  They got the location and Asher announces heading off to Ireland. I’m wondering when he planned to tell me.

  “So, Ireland?” I ask Asher. He looks back across the table at me.

  “Yes. Now that we have the location Dylan is determined to get Impose Brew. And they’re based in Dublin.”

  “When was this decided?”

  “Today.” He reaches for my hands, and I cross my arms over my chest. “We need to head out in a few days to Dublin to secure the final vendor. We’ll be there about a week. I’ll be back before you know it and then I’m all yours.” He whispers the last portion.

  “Excuse me, I need to go to the Ladies Room.”

  I stand. And he does too.

  “Alone,” I add. I glance at Yuki, and she’s occupied on her cell phone. I make my escape.

  I leave the table. My insane mind playing the same promises in my head. We need to sign a contract, then I’m all yours. We need to meet with another realtor, then I’m all yours. We need to get Smith & Jameson open, then I’m all yours.

  I don’t believe Asher.

  I pace the sidewalk outside the grill having a one-sided conversation.

  I thought myself lucky. Asher Smith walks into the room, and every woman stops, mid-conversation, and takes notice. He is that guy. Tall, dark, handsome…cliche in words but he embodies them, and he picked me. Well, we picked each other. And somehow I missed it. The big, red warning signs and it’s too late. I love him, but love’s not enough.

  I hate the thoughts running through my mind. Jasmine Smith, the laid back, roll with the punches woman, I championed “it will work out” with cheery optimism. Disgusting, sappy, holding my breath for the happily ever after.

  But life has taught me to suppress that side of myself. And here I am trying to figure it out.

  Everything has an expiration date.

  And that is not always happy. Not always sappy. Not always a beautiful, happily ever after tied with a huge red bow. I like red bows. And in my haste to attain the sappy I failed to devise an exit strategy.

  I take a deep breath and turn my face to the sky. I can hear my heart cracking due to the distress. At the reality of admitting, even if only to myself, that my parents may be right about my marriage to Asher.

  It’s not his trip to Ireland. No, I want him to succeed with Smith & Jameson—and they will. It is the unanswered question I dare not ask, because I don’t want to hear the answer. Did he consider me when he said yes?

  Did he think, let me talk it over with Jazz? No. And that hurts. These are the whispers feeding my doubts.

  Why don’t people warn you about this part of marriage? The making two independent people one part because in all the advice about happily-ever-afters I wasn’t warned about this.

  I wonder if this is the same tug-of-war my parents experienced. Not the four but my mother and my father. They call each other their “trial marriage.” They later remarried and have remained married to my step-parents for the majority of my life. But for a moment in time, they were happy. We were happy. Then the hating and fighting began.

  I don’t want to ever come to hate Asher. I’m certain that would kill me.

  Are Asher and I merely a trial marriage? A right of passage for me to get this phase of life out of my system? To throw my career away, move to Texas and buy a puppy? To screw up, get my act together, and find the one I’m meant to spend my forever tied to?

  I stop at the corner and gaze back at the door of the grill. I should have brought my purse out. I walk back and glance inside. Asher throws back his head as the three of them laugh and talk.

  But a forever without Asher would mirror hell for me. Not in a, I’m extra dramatic, don’t take me literal way, but in a he is the sun that helps me bloom kind of way. I’m over the top, but I don’t care. I just have to tough it out. We’re both learning this marriage thing. A little space is what I need to clear my head.

  “Jazz you need to get your shit together.” Is the best advice I can muster. I’m going to Cancun, even if I have to do it alone. I need to get back to me. The real me.

  4

  Asher and I are passing ships. He spends his days working with the contractors for Smith & Jameson. Yesterday I spent the day working with Momma at a local women’s shelter. We folded clothes, stocked shelves, I even worked in their garden. Today I finally decide to talk with Wesley about the job offer. I schedule a meeting in New York in a couple of weeks.

  I glance at the time quickly finishing my dinner. Asher should be here shortly. I want to be in bed, eyes closed before he returns. I start loading the dishwasher when I hear the garage door open. I head towards our bedroom on a mission.

  I peel off my shirt and remove my earrings as I nearly run the short distance, tossing my earrings on the dresser and my shirt in the hamper. I reach around to unsnap my bra.

  “Let me help you with that.”

  My heart is racing as I feel him moving closer without turning his way.

  “I got—” Too late. I swallow the moment his fingers slip beneath my straps and pull them down my shoulders. I exhale trying to steady my breathing. His nearness scrambles my brain cells.

  “Talk to me, My Lady.” His hands snake around my body catching my bra, and by instinct, I catch my breast. “Let me.” Asher’s voice is low, his much larger hands cup mine as his body presses against me.

  My head falls back resting on his chest as he slowly massages. Squeezing with a slight pinch of his fingers on my nipples stirring a pool of need. I shouldn’t. We shouldn’t. Making love to him only makes it harder.

  The words are caught in my throat as his hands move with expert precision removing every stitch of my clothing. My pants and panties hit the floor. Then Asher turns me to face the mirror attached to the dresser across the room.

  Our reflection is beautiful. My caramel skin to his chocolate. His hazel brown eyes shine through the darkness enhanced by the slightest beam of light from the window. But I don’t need it to know every inch of Asher’s body.

  His strong profile with firm full lips, broad shoulders towering over me protecting me from the seen and unseen. But my knight has armor made of titanium.

  “I can’t address what I don’t see. So, I need you to tell me what I can do to make this right because I know that somewhere in your mind you are fighting us.” Asher is speaking to me as his hands move, one cradling my breast the other catching the moisture he’s invoking between my thighs. “And for the life of me, I don’t get it. But I’ve made up my mind to stack the odds in my favor.”

  His hand dips lower and massages my jewel in time. The sensation rising with each hushed whispered. His tongue travels up my shoulder and nips my ear. “Are you ready?”

  I want him deep inside me, knowing I shouldn’t.

  “Say it Jazz.” His eyes darken dangerously meeting mine in the mirror.

  “I’m ready.” My words clash with heavy breathing. I want Asher to relieve this ache he’s igniting with every roll of his hand.

  “Ready what?” His finger teases the doorway of my agony. I arch my back and feel the firmness of his manhood.

  “I’m ready Mr. Smith.”

  Asher walks us to the dresser placing my hands on the top. “Don’t move.” He parts my thighs, and he slips inside, filling me. “I plan to brand every part of your existence, your over-active mind, your delicious body.”

  Pleasure pulses through my veins as I throw my hips back catching every thrust, his words wash over me. Our eyes lock in the mirror. My breasts bounce in protest as my body nears the peak.

  “Asher.” I squeeze my eyes shut to block out my heart’s reaction to him. He blows hot air in my ear, telling me all the ways he’ll love me.

  “Open your eyes, My Lady.” His gruff tone tells me he’s not far from the peak either. “Look at me.”

  Hungry eyes meet mine, his hands grip my hips and the rhythm increases. Gone is the melodic rock but a primal need as we move in unison, as one. My body is on fire w
ith pleasure, his name drips off my lips like warm maple syrup, echoing off the walls of our home.

  A look fully male reflects off his face. A look that still makes my heart turn over in my chest. And he’s all mine.

  My body goes limp, and he lifts me up in his arms carrying me to the bed. His mouth on mine, he enters me. And his eyes plead with me. Love me.

  His mouth tenderly caresses mine, and I have hope for us. Our kiss is slow, filled with promise as he growls his release.

  “I love you, Jasmine.”

  “I love you, Asher.”

  I greet the day under the weight of Asher’s body relieved that he’s still here. My head is on his chest with his arm draped around my waist and his leg tossed across mine. I can’t move without waking him, so I wait.

  I survey his face, my sleeping giant. My finger brushes his full eyebrows, the bridge of his nose, and traces his mouth.

  “Alright now girl, you about to get round two.” A slow smile crosses his face.

  “You won’t get an objection out of me.” I giggle as he manages to pull me closer.

  “Are you ready to tell me what’s going on with you?” He yawns.

  “We’ll talk in the morning.”

  I wake a few hours later to an empty bed. I push up and glance at the clock. I sniff the air and smell bacon. He left.

  My growl of frustration echoes through the house.

  “What’s that all about?” Asher is standing in the doorway in his suit.

  “I thought you left before we could finalize the plans. I want to book our flights today.”

  His gaze stills. It’s the one he gets right before… “Jazz, I really need to make this trip to Dublin happen. Then I promise, I’ll take you to Cancun.”

  “Right.” I roll my eyes in disbelief tossing back the covers. It doesn’t matter. “Well, I’m going.”

  “Not without me.”

  “Says who?” I place a hand on my bare hip. I feel ridiculous naked while Asher is dressed to kill.

  “Says me. Take Yuki and Tiffany, y’all can make it a girls’ trip, and we’ll plan a special trip for our anniversary.”

  “Don’t stress yourself. I need the time to think anyway.” And I’ve made up my mind. I move to step around him, but he blocks me.

  “Jasmine, why do we have to do this?”

  “We’re not doing anything. You are going to Dublin, and I’m going to Cancun. It will give us space to see if this is what we want to do.”

  “What does that mean?” His eyes narrow.

  I don’t respond. I’ve said all I plan to say.

  “Here we go again.” Asher falls back.

  I’m at the dresser, I reach for his drawer as usual and decide against it. I move to my side and push around the clothes not seeing much though my blurred vision.

  “I’ll give you just enough rope to hang yourself with,” he says over my shoulder.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I spin around.

  “I knew you were spoiled when we married. Always wanting things your way. I want you, Jasmine, as you are.” Annoyance mars his chiseled face, his accusing gaze holds me hostage. “But you have to stop trying to change me. Love me as I am or you’ll have a hellish forever because I’m not leaving.”

  “News flash Asher. You have a wife. And I’m here stuck in this house, alone.”

  “That’s your choice. How am I supposed to provide for my wife if I don’t work? I’m building this for us. But you can’t see past yourself.” He lets out a sound of exasperation.

  “Why did you ask me to marry you, Asher? Huh?” I yell with force of all my bottled up anger. “Why? If you’re determined to live your life the same? You could have left me in New York, instead of dragging me here.” I’m breathing heavy, hands flying in the air and he’s cool as a cucumber. “But nothing bothers you.”

  “Jazz, you don’t want to do this.”

  “Wanna bet?” I side step him and resume digging in my drawer for a shirt, panties, something. My breasts are hanging, and my heart is breaking. I have to get out of here. The more I dig, the more tears fall, and I don’t get it. We have sexual chemistry by the boatloads, but day-to-day seems forced. Or maybe I’m forcing it? I shake off the thought.

  Rhonda’s words are ringing in my head, don’t push. But I’m pissed. I changed, uprooted my life for our marriage, and he gets to remain unfazed. Where is the unity in that?

  “You know what? I’m going to let you cool down. Because you obviously need some space.” I glance over at Asher as he air quotes “space.”

  “And when you get back I’ll be gone.” Air quote that! I square my shoulders. I’ve waited months for this conversation, for him to respond in anyway other than aloof.

  “Jasmine Nicole Smith,” his nose flares and his eyes darken, “you are playing with fire.” His voice is lethal.

  “And I’m done with this conversation.” I return to finding clothes to cover my naked body, dismissing the warning edge in his tone. And in half a second he’s behind me, his mouth against my ear.

  “You are my wife. Wherever you go, know that I will find you.”

  I glance up in the mirror, and his eyes are trained on me. Rage is staring at me, and I put it there. But I can’t take it back.

  “Do whatever you want, just know divorce is not an option.” His chilled statement speaks louder than any other.

  “I’ll do whatever and whoever I want.” The words tumble out, and the moment they leave my lips I know I’ve gone too far.

  Don’t push! my inner—sane—self is screaming.

  Asher turns and walks to the door, and I stalk in the opposite direction to the closet. I have to leave now. I yank the large suitcase from the top shelf careful not to hit my head in my haste. When I return, Asher is quietly watching my every move.

  “Jazz put the bag down and talk to me.” He opens his hands to me. I swallow hard to bite back the tears.

  “This conversation is over, Asher,” I say shaking my head. My hands move between our bodies, I’m careful not to touch him. My body yearns for his touch, to rip his shirt off, to forget I asked, and he agreed. But I can't.

  I mistakenly look into his eyes, and my resolve cracks a little. I step forward and freeze, making love to him would only make matters worse. The flash in his eyes says, he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

  I drop my head and snake past him, tossing the empty bag on the bed. Trying to ignore the love in his eyes, I yank the zipper open and stalk back to gather my clothes. With every step I know I’m making a decision. This can save my marriage or end it.

  But we have to fix this. Find a better middle ground, because I’m tired of hearing myself, let alone, repeatedly asking Asher to squeeze me into his life—our life.

  I grab a handful of hangers. Asher doesn’t move as his eyes follow me. I openly toss his favorite black dress in first. The one that hugs my curves just so. I usually can’t keep it on long enough to leave the house. Yep, that one.

  I recall the string bikini. I stalk back to the closet and pull it out of the drawer along with my journal of his notes.

  His rage-filled eyes meet mine, his expression is a mask of stone. I toss the journal inside, lingerie, and then bikini follows. I hear the intake of his breath.

  “You know what, knock yourself out. And now I’m done.” A sudden thin chill hangs on the edge of his words. I retrace my steps, his eyes are burning a hole in my back.

  I emerge with more clothes, and the room is empty. Asher is gone.

  Icy fear twists my heart, I’ve just started a war with my husband, and I pray I win.

  5

  “Jazz when are you going to learn?” I whisper to myself on the airplane. I booked the first flight I could that would take me away from Austin. I called my parents and told them I was leaving the country on a week vacation, not that I left my husband. I invited Yuki by voicemail to join me, but I don’t expect her to join me. I’m sure Asher told her about our fight.

  I should h
ave listened to Momma’s warning, but no, I let my feelings get in the way again. I’m on a roll, I quit my job, and I leave my husband. Can this year get any worse?

  I paid extra to board early and have two calls left to make, Asher and Momma. I stare at my cellphone, and I call Momma first hoping she doesn’t answer.

  “Hey, baby!” Momma answers. Just my luck.

  “Hey Momma, I just want to tell you I’ll be away for a…a while.” I glance out the window to the runway, trying to smile. The more I hear the words aloud, I realize the state of my life and my marriage.

  “I need to take a vacation.” She laughs. “All my babies boarding planes and covering the globe. Well, have fun sweetie. Call me when you arrive and travel safely.”

  “I…I will.”

  “Love you, baby.”

  “I love you too.” I disconnect feeling worse.

  Asher didn’t tell her. I bounce the phone against my forehead. There must be a way we can build a life together. But we have to both want it. I spin my wedding ring around my finger searching for the courage to make the final call. I glance up to see people trickling on the plane and the flight attendants closing the overhead compartments.

  It’s now or never. I call the house and leave a voicemail. I’m too chicken to talk with Asher. I apologize and tell him my flight information and close the call letting him know I’m safe.

  “I love you, Asher.” My eyes sting with unshed tears. I put my phone in airplane mode and focus on the paved airstrip leading me towards a reset. It’s got to be better than this.

  I’ll use this time to reconnect with me. And part of me hopes Asher will follow, but I’ll have to leave that to God. We found each other in a sea of people on the Las Vegas strip. I smile at the memory. I was heading one way and he the other. Our shoulders brushed, and I felt the current of heat that passed through us. How did that turn into this?

  Maybe Cancun will help me figure it out or help me find the courage to say goodbye.

  An elderly woman sits next to me. I wiggle in the seat to give her a little space to settle in as she moves around. Then I glance out the window replaying our fight. What did I think my behavior would yield?