by C C Monroe
“Deep breaths and relax, tensing up will only make it worse.”
“Sure.” She chuckles; I’m glad she finds this humorous. You know, I take back the whole ‘she makes me comfortable with her bubbly personality’ thing. The lubed up probe enters me, actually invades me, and I try my best to not clamp. I take deep breaths and stare up at the ceiling, finding patterns and shapes to distract me. She moves it around for a minute or so, and I swear we’re in a new decade by the time she finally lets up.
“Oh.”
Oh?
“What is it?” She types some words over the images she’s taking before she pulls out the probe of death.
“I’m not allowed to say, I’m only a technician. I’m going to get a doctor. I’ll be back.”
Watching her leave the room, I take a few deep breaths and can’t help but wonder what she found. I can’t stop thinking the worst, first it’s tilted and now there’s something going on in there?
I rub my hand over my lower stomach, begging God to wake me up from this nightmare. My fingers tremble and my chest shakes in heavy sobs. Please don’t let this be anything, please don’t let this be another trial that will destroy me—or Trey.
WHEN WE FOUND OUT IT was the cysts and tumors, I asked them to remove them. But, they couldn’t. They’re wrapped around major vessels, while also variously lining my fallopian tubes and uterine wall. Some we can remove and some we can’t due to their placement. This, combined with the tilting, makes me nearly infertile, with low chances of ever conceiving.
The doctor’s voice faded out after he told me that. All the medical mumble jumble getting lost while I spaced out. No children. No family. No future of building a life with Trey. Want to talk about a week from hell. This secret’s only piling on top of everything else. I really don’t know how I can stay strong. Any more of these constant slaps in the face and I may snap.
Me crying right now to my brother, baring my burdens, isn’t just about Pops or Evan. It’s about the second death that I had to face. Learning about the possibility of never having kids was a death to me, a death over the first steps I may never get, the first words, or the first smiles. The death of the first time Trey would hold our child in his arms. He said to me he wanted children, he told me he would want kids with me, and I’m possibly taking that away, my useless, angry body may ruin our future.
I can’t tell Trey this right now; he’s already been through enough. This isn’t what he needs, and telling him isn’t something I can do right now either.
Tomorrow is the funeral, and I need to get some sort of rest if I’m going to be able to handle the day. My brother and Lana talk with me until my eyes can barely stay open. Slumber pulls me under with the weight of all my troubles.
I WAKE UP, FEELING A gentle tug on my toes. Opening my eyes slowly, I see Lana standing above me.
“It’s time to get up, the funeral’s in a few hours.” I nod and take a few minutes to let my eyes adjust to the light.
“Did you hear if Trey’s up?” I ask, walking up to where Lana is pouring us some coffee, filling me a cup all the way to the brim, like she knows I’ll need it.
“No, I just had Kings go check before he got in the shower. Trey was still asleep.” I just shake my head in amusement; those two are a puzzle, I swear.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” she inquires, handing me my cup. The warm shell of the mug feels comforting against my skin. She can play dumb all she wants but her merry-go-round with my brother is making us all dizzy.
“You two are too much, just get together already.”
Smiling, she moves to the fridge to grab some eggs for breakfast. “Nah. Besides, I heard sex after you start dating isn’t as fun.” She jokes.
“Well, they must’ve had small dicks, because my sex life is phenomenal with Trey.” I think about Trey making love to me and it makes my core clench, causing my panties to go wet. We haven’t had sex in a week, which doesn’t sound like much, but when you are going through moments of hardship, you miss that connection. I miss my man.
“Whore.”
“Slut.”
“Baby?”
I turn fast to see Trey standing in the hallway entrance. He’s dressed in only a pair of dark gray sweatpants that are clinging low to his waist. His hair is sticking out every which way; his beard is a darker shade then the hair on his head, with hints of gray. He may only be twenty-four, but he is just like his dad was, their beards have gray hair. I stop and think how I just said that. I said he is just like his dad was, reminding me of what today is. I hate that I have these moments where I’m laughing one minute and blindsided with reality the next. Like a fresh kick in the ass reminding me that things are complete…shit.
“Morning, handsome. You hungry?” I ask as I stand up and walk over to the coffee pot to pour him some. I can tell he’s lost a couple of pounds from lack of eating, so I throw on some toast while he takes a seat at the counter. I look over my shoulder and see him staring at me, my stomach flips when he looks down at my ass and the length of my legs. I just want to make love to him, I want to connect again, let all of this hurt out and show it through our lovemaking.
“Just the toast, baby,” he says, causing my stomach to do another flip. Calling me a pet name is small, but it feels monumental.
Leaning across the countertop, handing him his plate and cup of coffee, I catch the lust in his eyes as he gets a view of my cleavage. My white nightie doing the trick, I’m glad I chose this. But as soon as the look came, it’s gone. He looks down at his coffee mug and brings it to his lips, taking a sip.
“Here you go.” Making my way around the counter I take a seat next to him. I’m not looking forward to the next twenty-four hours. I am, however, glad Trey has finally gotten out of bed and had something to eat.
“Morning, bud,” Kingston says, patting Trey on the back and walking up to Lana. I watch as he kisses her neck and whispers in her ear. They really compliment each other well, I wish Lana would take the final leap and be with him.
There isn’t much of a height difference, but she is maybe a hundred and five pounds, very slim, with wider hips but smaller assets. My brother is freaking ginormous. He is the kind of guy that has to walk with his arms out to the side slightly, because his biceps are so big. His crew cut and beard accentuate his face and then the tattoos—man, people must fear him when they see him on the street. Little do they know, he’s a big teddy bear who can make anyone smile, even in the worst of times. I love my brother.
“You making me breakfast, beautiful?” I smile when Kings slaps her on the ass and turns to face us while Lana glares at him over her shoulder.
“Maybe put on a shirt, I’m trying to eat,” Trey says, taking a bite of his toast. I reach over and run my hands over his back, my nails leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake.
“I have to put on a fucking shirt but you can walk around without yours? What’s wrong, big boy, you jealous of these guns?” Kingston flexes his arms, his intricate tattoos stretching with his bulging muscles.
“Shut it, shithead,” Trey says, throwing a piece of his toast. Kingston catches it with his mouth, flipping Trey off with a cocky smile while he chews. Kingston gives us all a much-needed laugh. How he does it is a mystery, especially since today is such a somber one. I look at the clock and see it’s nearing ten, and I still need to shower and get ready for the funeral.
“I need to shower, do you need anything?” I stand up and kiss him on the shoulder. He lifts his hand and puts it on top of mine, the small gesture giving me butterflies.
“No, I’ll finish here and then get ready.”
“Okay.” I start to walk away when my hand is grabbed and I’m pulled into his side. His lips landing on mine. It’s all lips before he slides his tongue along the seam of my bottom lip. My lower stomach ties in knots when his hand slides up the back of my leg and he grabs my ass, giving it a strong squeeze. The feel of his soft velvet tongue against mine sparks an eager need in me,
my legs pinch together and my thighs rub, trying to relieve the ache.
“I love you,” he says, letting us come up for some air.
“I love you, Trey,” I reply while he admires me, running his thumb over my cheek. It feels so good to be touched by him.
“Okay, get in the shower you fucking sickos.” I look up and laugh at Kings.
“Jealous?” I question.
“Nope.” He grabs Lana and dips her, kissing her before slapping her on the ass, letting her get back to breakfast. That’s my cue to leave. Only a few hours left until we will be saying good-bye to Pops, I just wish we could take this time and hold onto one another for a while longer.
Trey
IT’S BEEN SIX DAYS SINCE I lost my dad, and it’s been the most unbearable, miserable days of my entire life. I thought losing my mother at a young age was hard, but this is a new kind of pain, a cut so damn deep—I can’t heal it. My mother chose to leave, my dad didn’t.
I finish up my breakfast and go to the room to start getting ready. I smell Shayla the second I enter; it smells like jasmine, taking up the entire space. I hear the shower turn off as I enter the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, my eyes wander, watching her open the shower door and reach for the towel. Shayla’s beautiful body is dripping wet, water droplets glistening against her tan skin. Her lean legs are long and I want to lose myself between them. I miss being intimate with her, but I can barely find the strength to get out of bed, and I don’t know if me wanting to make love with Shayla is too far-fetched, shit—wrong, given the circumstances.
Either way, I spend the days sleeping and drinking away any sober thoughts that will remind me that my dad is gone, how would I even be able to fully appreciate her when my heart, soul, and mind are completely numb? God, today the ache is weighing even heavier on my heart than before.
She wraps the towel around her body and steps out. Glancing back at myself in the mirror, I see my terrible reflection, the shadow of a man staring back at me. My eyes are lined in black rings, dark and shallow. My facial hair is growing fast and lining my face, creating the caveman look. My heart doesn’t just ache, my body does, too. Between the drinking and lack of sleep during the night, my days are on repeat, making me far from being myself. I feel lost—defeated.
“Hey, baby?” I pause, watching her do her simple routine when she comes to stand beside me. Brushing her wet hair first, then taking out the blow-dryer and setting it on the marble countertop.
“Yeah?”
“Can you help me get ready for the funeral?” Her eyes flash and I see her chest cave with the release of her breath. Sorrow etched all over her perfect face, and I soak it up. I soak in all the strength I can from her, craving for her to fix the broken in me.
“Of course, handsome.” She leans in, kissing my chest, causing my eyes to squeeze shut. She kissed her spot.
I’m so fucking thankful for my little woman taking care of me this past week. She’s so small and sweet, you would never know she has the strength of many men; she could part the fucking sea if she wanted to.
I move, sitting on the toilet seat, and wait for her to get dressed. Watching the elegance of her subtle moves as she slips on one of my shirts and grabs my hair product and brush. I wonder to myself how she does all things with strength and grace. How is she so strong for me when she has faced hell as well?
“Do you want me to shave your beard or just trim it?” she asks while she rubs my cheek. Grabbing her waist, I pull her into me, not answering her right away.
“I say good-bye to my dad today.” Confessing, I push my face deep into her tiny stomach, breathing in her scent.
“I know, Trey. What can I do to help you?” she asks softly, her willingness to help me is what I’m most thankful for right now. I don’t have much that I need from her other than her presence. Today will be the hardest day I’ve had to face in my life.
“The worst thing is knowing that I won’t see him again. Shay, yesterday I woke up and felt fucking lost, and I went to call my dad. I’ve been so damn out of it that I forgot he was gone, and when I called, it rang and rang then his voice came through the phone. His voicemail said ‘I’m not in right now.’ It’s killing me. He’ll never be able to answer again.” I cry into her shirt, pulling her tighter to me. Pain ripping through me, and all I ache to do is tear open my chest and pull my heart out so I can stop the constant heartache.
“How come you didn’t tell me, I didn’t know that happened,” she asks, her voice a gentle whisper.
“I’m too emotional. I’m supposed to be the strong man here, not the weak pussy who cries all fucking day.”
“You don’t have to be anyone but who you are in front of me. Trey, you can’t pretend to be strong all the time, you need me too and that’s okay.” Shayla has a point. Don’t I have the right to be broken into nothing, completely burned to ashes? I lost my biggest fan, my first best friend, the man who taught me to be a man. My eyes flutter shut, letting the feel of her hands in my hair wash over me. I know I don’t need to be the strong guy who puts up a front all the time, but maybe I want to because it’s better than facing the truth.
“Just tell me one day my heart will fucking heal,” I ask, knowing she doesn’t have the answer, but I’m so vulnerable that any answer is welcomed, even if I know it isn’t true. My heart will never truly heal after this, I know that.
She touches my face, running her hand around the curves, dips, and edges, looking for the words, I’m sure. “It won’t be easy, Trey, but in time your heart will heal.” I hold those words close to me, keeping them captive in my mind where they can play on repeat. Hope is better than reality, sometimes.
Pulling her tiny frame closer, I urge her to straddle me; she complies and seats herself. I get a glimpse of her shaved pussy and it makes me hungry. I so badly want to take her right here and right now, but in reality, I just need her to tend to me, take care of me like a lioness takes care of her lion.
We sit in comfortable silence as she styles my hair while still straddling me. I inhale her scent and fill my lungs with her smell, finding the last bit of serenity that I can. When she finishes my hair, she trims my beard just a bit, then brings me my suit and tie so I can finish getting dressed. Once I’m ready, I look in the full-length mirror, in the corner of her walk-in closet. I’m dressed in black suit pants that fit me a little bit looser than they did before, I must have lost a few pounds, eating hasn’t been my biggest priority. I have on a black button-up dress shirt, paired off with black shoes and a black tie. My ensemble matching the darkness inside of me. I’m consumed in darkness, my thoughts, my heart, every living part of me. Today, I say good-bye to my dad—today, I let him go.
“THE CLOUDS ARE SO DARK, I’m surprised the rain hasn’t hit,” Lana says from her seat behind me. Lana and Kingston came along in our car, in an attempt to keep me distracted.
“They said it’s supposed to rain this afternoon, so it’ll be here soon,” Shayla says, weaving in and out of traffic gracefully. I watch the way she is holding the steering wheel like it’s delicate, as if the car is working at the grace of her fingertips. The sleek, pinned-back ponytail she is sporting hides none of her face from me, and I can see the way she’s concentrating on the road. Shayla looks beautiful, even on this day she has managed to take my breath away with her beauty.
She’s wearing a sheer, black, long-sleeved wrap dress, tied at her waist, showing off her perfect curves. She wore a black dress under it, the straps sitting on her slim shoulders, the dress ending just above her tiny knees.
Shayla must have lost at least five pounds since I last noticed. She looks smaller then her normal curvy, petite frame, only causing me to feel worse. I don’t want her to suffer alone just to keep me as her main focus—she’s hurting, too.
“It’s the perfect day for a funeral then now, isn’t it?” I say, referring to the rain. I know it’s morbid and a mood killer, but regardless, it’s the truth and today my give-a-fuck is busted.
“
Sorry, Trey, I didn’t mean it like that,” Lana says, putting her hand on my shoulder.
Right away, I apologize for my rudeness. She didn’t deserve that. I need to stop pushing out the people who are only trying to comfort me.
“I know you didn’t.” I grab her hand and she leans in with my light tug. “I didn’t mean to make the mood weird, just a shitty day,” I reply, kissing the back of her hand. I never had a sister but Lana is pretty damn close to being one. I let go and she pats me on the shoulder one more time before adjusting herself back into place.
“You look beautiful, by the way,” I say softly to Shayla, taking a second to look in the rearview mirror to see Kings and Lana talking. The music in the car isn’t loud, but it helps keep the backseat guest out of our conversation.
I reach one hand over and place it on her exposed thigh. Her skin is soft and warm; the heat spreads through me, making her presence even more known.
“Thank you.” A soft smile spans across her face.
I pause briefly, turning into her more. “I want to say thank you…you know, for planning all of this,” I say, squeezing her leg and rubbing circles on the inner part of her thigh, my finger slipping farther down, tucking comfortably between her thigh and the leather seat of her Audi. I want her glued to me; I want to cling to her as much as I can.
I haven’t been much help, and I know Shayla has been working tirelessly to plan this funeral and take care of Kathy. Kathy—fuck, I haven’t even called to check on her. I may be the worst son ever, already letting my dad down by breaking the promise I made to him while he lay in that hospital bed. Flashing back to the day, I swallow hard, pushing back the tears. Keep it together, man.
“I would do anything for you.” She looks over at me with a sideways glance. Her face is beautiful; even if she’s exhausted it doesn’t show. Her words have such a warmth to them, keeping me complacent for the rest of the drive. I spend it silent but focused on everything that is Shayla.