“Shut up Tate.”
“Ha-ha. Never,” I say.
We laugh some more and I talk even less. The alcohol and my buddies is what my system clearly needs. It’s almost dawn, and the club is milling around empty. Holland is nowhere to be seen, and B is on her counter muffling some intense screams. From pain or pleasure I cannot tell, but their discretion is lacking some sense of class. Nix is half-asleep playing with the bowl of nuts before him, waiting for his open tab and Holland to finish molesting B pleasure-wise. Damon and I are having a sobering conversation in between silent glares.
“You know what Tate?”
“What?”
“You need time. You both do. It’s the one way to fix this whole mess.”
“But,” I start and sip, noticing Holland’s tattooed hands on B’s thighs from afar, “I don’t want time. I need this fixed now man.”
He sips the last of his beer and settles his bottle by the tiny plastic coaster. He smacks his lips and looks straight into me. “Then go.”
“Really?”
His face is not the kind that tells anyone twice. I grab my jacket and push my butt over to the exit. “Bye B. Bye Holland.”
“Mmmhmmm…right there baby.” Only B can hear me and waves hurriedly. Holland is in a place I like to call ‘mute oblivion’.
Right. Hopefully they get to finish in a room.
*
I drag my foot off the metal and halt the beast. I walk out and get to the gates. They are open. Step after step I jump the metal staircase, till I’m at the top. In my head I have a list of apologies and new vows waiting to be spilt on bended knee. In my heart, I feel blank love and sheer happiness, hoping she will listen to what I have to say.
There is no point to it. The blank love in my heart can be replaced by simple bleak gray, or whatever the medal for not having foresight to anything is. I should have seen it coming, but then again, the blind bat wasn’t just a fairytale my coach told me. He left his family to seek fortune and fame far away, Terry said. He wanted to fly and be amongst the eagles, but for obvious reasons he couldn’t. One day, the bat went to the last of the eagles closest to the cave he was living in just before dusk and asked, ‘Is it alright to be amongst you tonight?’ The eagle looked at him once, and tore out his eyes. The bat cried out, ‘Why are you being cruel to me? Did I do wrong by you?’ The eagle kicked him away with a beat of his wings and left him one final piece of advice, ‘With or without eyes I see no difference in you. Tread in the darkness as you would with sight. Perhaps you will realize the things you lost in there.’
I feel lie the blind bat right now, only worse. My losses should have been cut long ago. The door is open, and the bed made.
Waryn is gone.
Chapter 14 - Waryn
The leaves are browning and the air thinning. No sun in sight, but my front lawn seems to have taken a beat-down from the elements nonetheless. The taxi cab pummels away at the road with an angry and frustrated driver. He was a small man, clammy all over his face, and I hurriedly gave him my congratulations to his wife in labor. The call from his first born son in the background of a yelling woman about to pop one out had come in while we were cruising the cab from the airport, behavior I might say would get me yelling back at him. The constant yelling at the heavens on how he could get another child to add to his sixth in this toilet economy loudly made me forget my own menial problems.
But in the black smoke that fills my lungs and eyes, I wretch in the memory of what has made me come back here. The moment I open the door and walk right in, I can taste the presence of death linger all over. There has been no presence since the day I upped and left for Philly inside my old house, and I tend to think it was a bad idea at the time.
The living room carpet is damp. Lucky for me I left my luggage between the tiny black gate inside my compound and the outer lawn. I have to check on the source later. The air is stuffy and full of a weird garbage smell emanating from the kitchen.
All is as I left it; neatly stacked in boxes and ready to ship out. The original plan was to sell the house, and I was on my way to that place with a few prospective buyers. Then the bit about the tub being haunted in a way by my brother spooked most, well, all of them out. The boxes are my saving grace of sorts; a reminder to leave the moment I get the chance.
I heap my weight onto the plushy comforts of my old recliner. Dust bunnies retaliate. Not many gals can talk about such luxury, but I like my leather. However dusty and inane I might look in it, thighs up. The ceiling, cemented and old, stares back at me.
I am home.
No point in taking a shower right now. Thoughts are what plague me, all the way from the moment I walked out of that door. He never realized the harm he had done to me. Humanity must have been a loss to him, never taking into the consideration how all of this would make me feel. I have to give it to him though; Eric did have one mind of manipulation.
I sit on my side and flick through my jacket pocket. There’s an éclair I have been saving since the plane ride just for this time in peace and quiet. The wrapper loudly announces itself to its environs, and the sweet chewy gentleness of the chocolate bathes my tongue with richness divine.
I place my hand near my back and scratch an itch. A cold metallic feel grazes my skin; the ring. I rise and take my time on my heels. The leather generously squelches back as I stand. In the waking awkwardness, I stutter and talk to myself. It rarely happens, but this is one of those situations.
He knows how I feel about him. I really don’t understand how any man worth his salt and the two knuckles between his legs would stand the brass to insult what we have. He’s my husband for crying out loud, and he still went on with Eric’s request.
With Tatum, I am mad. Furious even. I close my eyes and see his body over mine grinding the dust of our animalistic pleasures into fine air. His breath into mine is holy and the slamming of his thick, sloppy and hard meat into my wanting cunt hellish.
Fuck! How can I love someone so much and yet hate them from the very root of my core? How could Eric try to think that making Tatum ‘look after me’ by feeding him the guilty tablet make anything better? Years of neglect don’t make anyone a bigger or better brother; they just make him look weaker. Killing himself and dumping me onto another human being as dead weight, and still I cannot think of him any other way than my brother, as much as I want to see him as a snake.
I can’t keep doing this. I need someone to take my rants and make them their own.
The phones are still disconnected, but in one of my bags I know I can reach her through my cell. I dash for it and find it in the carryon. Sarah Thomason’s number is second on my speed dial after the local pizza guys, Hefe’s.
Maybe I should order a large meat deluxe first. Extra onions. Extra sauce.
*
“Son of a bitch!”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“And he just let you go like that?”
“Well, I’m the one who left. I don’t know how or where he still is.”
“Wait. So you left his house at a time only known for whores-”
“Hey!”
“Just making a point and not trying to hurt you in any way sweetie.”
“Okay.”
“And then you drive off into the night and leave a perfectly made dinner of burritos and good hot sex-”
“I don’t think you get my point Sarah-”
“Hush child. You leave Tatum behind on your two week wedding anniversary to go sleep in a weird, smelly, wank-filled spreads of a motel, then wake up at – what time did you get up honey?”
“I’m not furthering what you’re trying to sell here.”
“Waryn. Come the fuck on. Walk with me here.”
“Four a.m.,” I say defensively.
“You get up at four a.m. in the fucking morning, and pack up to head to the airport. Then you get on the quickest flight to Boston into the same house that your dead brother left in your possession. The same brothe
r who offed himself for your sake and left you in the care of the most delightful man I have never met. And you call me here to eat pizza and sip lemon tea as we banter over how much of a failed life you have?”
The pizza is way over cold by now, and the tea, in the flowery mugs I tried to free from the carton boxes in the kitchen cabinets, steaming low over the rims. Sarah is astride me on the couch that Eric loved sitting in. The recollection brings no joy.
After the pizza got delivered just as I like it, I dialed Sarah in. She was around the neighborhood, and in that respect came by to see how I was doing. All was great, up until…
“You’re married?” she cried. The moment she got through the door and saw the ring she flipped the fuck out. The hug got lighter, the stories got shorter, and all she cared about was not seeing me walk down the aisle. In retrospect, I think it’s the fact that she wasn’t there as my maid of honor. We had been talking about that stuff ever since we had slumber parties and candy bars in bed. It made, and still makes me feel like I have committed the vilest act of sacrilege to the cause.
“It was a random decision in Vegas and-”
“Oh! So now you got married in Vegas! What happened to our friendship Waryn? Oh, the horror!”
She went on like that for hours on end, munching on the cheese and sipping kettle after kettle of lemon water. I couldn’t even start on me getting a tattoo, the Expo, or the drama that happened at the tattoo parlor, or how perfect she would be for Nix Pastor.
I keep looking at her lips move. They’re onto something about life and flashy cars, or trust and swinging monkeys. Either way, I snap back into reality and focus on her.
“…which makes me believe that you are an entitled and stupid ass bitch.”
I’m sorry, what now?
“Sarah…why?”
“Because, genius, you think this guy Tatum spent his entire time tattooing you and falling in love with you enough to break open the walls of your awkward sex life, just coz he read some letter from your dead bro? I might not be an editor like you Waryn, but I’ve got enough sense to see that this douche loves you…and you love him just as much.”
Arguing with Sarah is like making love to a doll, seems easy but is a challenge unseen. Well, we did get married for two weeks. And we had the best sex of our lives too. He also did cook once in a while…
I might have overreacted; might being the operative word.
“Aaaah, I see that face Waryn, and I think you’re seeing some kinda weird ET light in here. Are we good?”
“Yeah we-”
Ding dong.
We both turn our heads to the door. Only Sarah and Craig, the delivery boy, know I’m back in town. I was sure to be very discreet; I hate surprise guests. The doorbell rings once more, and we are compelled to place our mugs on the coasters stacked at the center of the table. I rise up at the third bell, and wonder if the garbage guys could be here this time of…
The door swings open. It hits the wall as if to announce the door ringer. He stands tall and wide, his hair matted across his face from some unprecedented running, his skin red from the heat, and a touch of flicker in his eyes. Tatum Driggs is in my house, his veins popping out like they owe him a soul.
“How did you find me?”
“Can’t a man use any means necessary to find his wife anymore?” His arms are akimbo. I give Sarah a fleeting look, and all we are screaming is that his arms are akimbo!
“Okay. I don’t want you here. You-”
I hold it. His arm is up and his face down. The bitch is on today.
“I didn’t fly all these miles with no shower or food or water to come and hear another berating from you. That night you left Waryn, last night, I was devastated that you would think I would in any way jeopardize what I wanted to have with you because of Eric. I was never with you out of a sense of duty for your brother Waryn. I chose… I choose to be with you Waryn…” His arms are finally out of his akimbo phase, and my focus is entirely on him and his mouth. “…because I am in love with you. Always have, always will.”
“Aaaaw…he said he loves you Waryn! You see? ” a teary-eyed Sarah starts with a wink in her finish. “I’m Sarah by the way, best friend you never heard of.” “Hi, Tatum. Husband.” “Aaaw! I’ll leave you two to it then.”
Sarah leaves with her hands wiping away at her eyes through the screen door that leads to the patio. It is just the couple now.
“Waryn, I’m not leaving without you.”
“I’m not going anywhere Tatum.”
“Fine by me. I like the look of that couch on my butt.”
“Oh no you don’t.”
“Yes I do. See, I even said it in an unrelated event.”
“Tatum, come on. What do you want from me?” I ask.
He edges closer to where my feet are planted and holds my elbows in his palms. He stinks. Yet I still want to kiss him. Love is a drug I swear.
“I want you to come back home with me. You don’t want to live here in this place of bad memories, do you? Isn’t this a part of the reason you left?”
“Like your home doesn’t have a bad memory.”
“Waryn, the letter was a mistake, alright? And I accept that. I should have told you what was in the letter the first time you asked me in the parking lot. But I didn’t. I’ll call it a husband’s fallacy, okay?”
All this way to make a point. I feel a tiny waiver of emotion towards him the longer he caresses my arms. “Tatum, I need to know…”
“Anything…I’ll tell you anything.”
“Did you manipulate this entire marriage thing? I need to know if we were both as hammered as I was, or you wanted me and the boys hammered so that we could go do something as stupid and beautiful as get married.”
“Waryn, if in my drunken state I could discern the awesomeness of being married to you, then I officially approve.”
“Ha-ha, really? You’re kinda getting all caveman on me again.”
“Need I remind you that you are my cavewoman? Should I drag you by the hair all the way to our matrimonial bed?”
“No point for that. But still, I have my doubts that we can make this thing between us last with its shaky foundation and all.”
“Alright Waryn, I’m going to ask you to list the plethora of things that have changed between us. If anything has, then we can use it as a reason to site our separation. I still love you baby. I got involved with you for the sole purpose of wanting to be with you for the rest of my years, not because your brother asked me too. And besides, all Eric wanted me to do was check in on you from time to time and see how you’re doing. I highly doubt he wouldn’t punch me in the face when he realized that’s not what has been going on between us.”
“Oh you would definitely get a punch in the face,” I concur. “But…”
“Oh crap, but?”
“But,” I go on despite his facial cringe. “I think Eric would have wanted us to be happy. It only makes sense for him to ask the last man who, sorry to say, beat him to nearly an inch of his life to take care of his younger sister.”
He brings me closer to his chest, and I take a whiff of the musk i should have been wearing right about now if I hadn’t left. He takes his smile and shoves it through my eyes. I love this warmth.
“Will you let it happen?”
“What?”
“This happiness. Can we both let it happen for the both of us?”
“Ha-ha. Tatum Driggs, you are bat-shit crazy. And I love that in you….so yes. I’m willing to give this a shot where you are.”
“That’s what a man wants to hear from his wife,” he says right before our lips mash together and I hop onto him.
God he feels so rough and good. My groin has been wet ever since my last thought of his swollen cock sipping the ever flowing juice from my cunt. The sweatpants I’m wearing are wet at the crotch already, and my tongue inside his throat by the time he slams me into the wall. Hurriedly we take off what we can, and he eases into me smoothly. No resistance, no e
mptiness.
“Tatum, oh…ungh!”
“Baby…I love you.” “I love you Tatum.”
Tumescent nipples slide across each other. He smells of musk and sweat, dirty but so fucking good. Into me he goes on and on, my panties slid to the side for his convenience and mine as well. I can feel him grow thicker…and thicker…and bigger, and more in-depth…fighting for that itchy fire’s satisfaction with no stopping. I yell and moan out in ecstasy, shutting my eyes in this world and opening them in the place where we live alone, naked and bended to each other’s will.
“Fuck me Tatum…oh! Fuck your wife!”
And fuck me he does. On the wall we come and squirt into the budding valleys of our lust. On his shoulders I kiss and rest into him, where our love sprouts and flourishes. He walks with my legs clinging to his waist round to the bedroom, I think, where I had lain down a clean sheet to lie on in between unpacking.
Good things come to those who plan.
He pats me on the back as my nipples crest the sheets. My legs are spread wide open, and he penetrates from behind. “Oh! Like that baby…just like ooh!” He’s lifting me up and pounding into me harder than life. Fuck yes…this is how I want him, rough and in love, like uh! Like his slut…like his slutty wife ungh! Ready to fuck his mind all day every day until the day we end.
I only remember a sip of water from my bag, and then a long piece of dick at the back of my throat before I slept. When I wake up, we are alone in the night, covered in warmth and a sheet. I am in his chest, and his arm covers my entire torso.
This is what I want. I snuggle up close and breathe in the musk on his chest hair. He wakes up mildly and turns to me. “You okay Waryn?” I lick my palm and head it to where his thick helmet rests. On grabbing and smoothening alongside it he tenses.
“I will be in a few.”
Epilogue - Waryn
There are a couple of things that have become clear to me in the entire period I have traveled from my former house to my matrimonial one; never let my companion go for anything in the world, to always leave a ton of ice in the bucket where I left the champagne forty-eight hours before, to always kiss my husband when he turns or laughs, and to finally, always be there for myself when my husband is. Two is always better than one I suppose.
Two Bad Groomsmen_An MFM Menage Romance Page 38