Authors: Electa Rome Parks
Loose Ends (2 page)
Mia
I believe that no matter how bad your heart is broken, the world doesn’t stop for your grief.—Author Unknown
The nightmares ... they started again; it had been almost a year since the last one. Twelve peaceful months in which I almost, just almost, forgot the sheer terror of seeing
him
towering over me like some unstoppable, superhuman force. One year in which I felt normal and whole again because I had finally cleansed him from my system, from my soul.
Him being my ex-husband, Brice. It was still hard to get my mouth and mind to speak his name again. Speaking his name brought up too many memories, memories that I didn’t want to deal with, memories that I couldn’t deal with yet. And it has been five years since our divorce. Brice, the man I thought was my soul mate in life, my black knight in shining armor, the love of my life, the man of my dreams. The man I gave my heart, mind and body to, willingly and unselfishly. Brice soon became more like the man of my nightmares.
The nightmares were so real, for a few minutes when I was between being asleep and waking up, I thought I was still with him. He still possessed me, and it scared me to death. Brice used to beat the shit out of me, whenever he wanted to, just because he could. Brice controlled me totally. Brice was a man who would lay down the law, his law, and expect me to follow it . . . or else.
I’m embarrassed to say that it took me a while to end it. No, I didn’t enjoy getting my butt beaten or being treated like a child by a man who screwed me whenever and however he wanted to after he beat my ass. I stayed because I thought he would change, that my love would make him change. And yes, I loved him with all my heart and soul. It took a trip to the hospital for me to wake up, literally, and see the light before it was too late. Still, he took a part of me that I could never get back. You see, he took my heart.
They say life is full of paradoxes. How could you both love and hate someone? I didn’t know, but I did. As crazy as it might sound, a part of me would always love him. A part of me would always belong to Brice. That’s sick, isn’t it?
I couldn’t ask for a better life now. In fact, I have been blessed with a wonderful husband, Christian, who adores me; I know that for a fact. Christian was Brice’s best friend. Actually, they were more like brothers. It’s all so complicated. The ties that bind. Christian gave up everything for me. I know; my life read like a soap opera. Now I’m mostly drama free.
Anyway, Christian and I have been married for three and a half, almost four years. It’s been wonderful; our marriage is everything I never had with Brice. I love my husband so much! When Christian makes love to me, I feel it in his touch, his eyes and his soft, whispered words. We have a beautiful two-year-old daughter named Lyric. We named her Lyric because she brings joy and harmony into our lives. She has a head full of hair and green eyes just like her daddy. Yeah, life couldn’t be better. This is the family I have dreamed of all my life.
If only the nightmares would stop. That way, I wouldn’t have to see him again. And then I could forget.
As I lay on my back, stared at the cream-colored ceiling and made a mental checklist of the things I needed to do around the house the next day, I turned over onto my left side and smiled at my husband, Christian, asleep with not a care in the world. I could watch him sleep all night. Christian is such a handsome man and he’s all mine. I’m not being boastful; I’m just keeping it real.
He’s paper-bag brown, a few inches over six feet tall and roughly 225 pounds of pure man. Christian has the sexiest pair of green eyes, bedroom eyes. With his broad shoulders and iron-board stomach, for a man thirty-eight years old his body could easily pass for that of a twenty-eight-year-old. His looks aren’t why I love him so; I love him because of his heart. It’s wide-open for me.
An hour earlier Christian had shown me how much he loved me in his own special way. Just thinking about that gave me goose bumps up and down my arms and a familiar tingling between my legs.
Tonight was date night! At least once a month, Christian and I set aside one night, a Friday or Saturday, to do something together, just the two of us. Christian and I had only been together a little over a year and a half when we had Lyric.
Anyway, date night didn’t have to be anything extravagant. Usually it was something simple, like going to the movies. I love horror flicks. There’s something about all that blood and gore. I know, call me bizarre. Sometimes we go dancing at one of the hot spots in Midtown or out for a nice dinner in Buckhead.
Christian and I took Lyric over to Mama’s house for the night, where she’s spoiled beyond reason. Lyric loves her grandmother to death and vice versa. I’m so proud of Mama. She has gotten her life back on track after a bout with alcoholism that lasted for years. That’s another story in itself. AA, the twelve-step program and a strong will have made a big difference in Mama’s life.
This evening, Christian had everything planned the minute I unlocked the door and walked into our stucco home from a hard day at work. It had been a busy day—a busy week—at Fairfield Elementary School. I am a third-grade schoolteacher to a bunch of hyperactive, rambunctious but adorable students . . . my children. However, at the end of the week I am ready to relax and unwind with my handsome husband. In our sunken living room, I was greeted with kisses by both Lyric and Christian. Lyric was finishing up her snack of graham crackers and Christian was cleaning up the trail of crumbs that followed behind her.
As I slowly undressed and stepped into the fragrant, lilac-scented bubble bath he had waiting for me in our garden tub, Christian drove Lyric over to Mama’s house about seven miles away. He had placed candles around the tub, with light jazz playing softly in the background. With a glass of my favorite white wine in hand, I lay back and closed my tired eyes as I immersed myself up to my neck in bubbles. I could feel the tension drifting away inch by inch. I was in seventh heaven and must have dozed off briefly, because I suddenly awakened when I heard Christian moving around in our bedroom. As I prepared myself to step out of the bathtub, Christian came in with a big white fluffy bath towel and dried me off so erotically that I didn’t want him to stop.
Slowly, he led me into our bedroom with passionate kisses. More candles had been lit, illuminating the room. Christian placed me gently on our king-size bed with the burgundy comforter and rubbed me down in my favorite Victoria’s Secret body oil. In between massages, we exchanged warm, deep-tongued kisses and loving caresses. Christian and I didn’t take it any further; we had all night to savor each other. The night was still young.
After I dressed in one of my sexy, see-through black negligees that Christian simply adores, he brought in a small tray of fruit, cheese, crackers and more wine that had chilled in the refrigerator. He took a quick hot shower and we spent the remainder of the night watching old movies rented from Blockbuster, snacking and cuddling. I could watch
Sparkle
and
Cooley High
over and over again. They are true classics.
Sparkle
and
Cooley High
over and over again. They are true classics.
We had dessert around midnight, when he pulled off my gown with his teeth and seductively kissed me from the top of my head to the bottom of my toes, taking his time to appreciate all of me, inch by inch. Christian knows every mole, nook and cranny on my body. He is in tune with my body. The climax of the evening was when he buried his head between my parted thighs and feasted until I begged him to enter me.
I glanced over at the green numbers on the digital clock that sat on our cherry-wood nightstand and noticed it was almost two A.M. The last few nights I had insomnia. I guess it was my body’s way of rebelling against the nightmares. I was too afraid to sleep. Most evenings, I read and watched Christian sleep, like tonight.
I reached over to caress his cheek and he turned in my direction. Instinctively, Christian pulled me to him in our spooning position. As he held me in his semitight embrace, I could feel his love radiating warmth throughout my body.
“Mia, you still up?” he asked in a sexy, sleepy voice. “What time is it?”
“Yes, I’m about to go to sleep. I just finished reading my
Essence
magazine. Go back to sleep; it’s almost two A.M.”
Essence
magazine. Go back to sleep; it’s almost two A.M.”
His warm hand traveled to my right breast and gently squeezed. I let out a soft moan. “First tell me who’s the man?” he asked.
“Boo, you know you are.” I smiled at this familiar game we always played.
His hand traced an imaginary line down my taut stomach, stopped and dipped between my thighs and gently rubbed. “Let me hear you say it.”
“Baby, you the man! You own my stuff. It has your name stamped all over it. You have copyright papers,” I said in the most serious tone I could manage.
“You know that, and don’t you ever forget it or I’ll have to prove it to you again.” Christian snuggled closer to me and nuzzled my neck.
There was a comfortable silence as we appreciated the moment and our closeness in the early-morning hours.
Christian spoke gently into the darkness. “I love you, baby. You and Lyric are my world.”
“I love you more,” I declared, lifting my right hand to caress his cheek.
“Promise me you’ll never leave me.” His silliness returned. “I love you so much, I’d drink your bathwater,” he shrieked in his best Chris Tucker imitation.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, man,” I said, giggling. As we laughed again, Christian pulled me closer into his safe embrace and we slowly drifted into our own separate slumbers.
Christian
I believe that no matter how good a friend is, they’re going to hurt you every once in a while, and you must forgive them for that.—Author Unknown
After sleeping in until nearly eleven, Mia and I finally ate a light brunch of ham-and-turkey sandwiches, fruit, chips and iced tea. I haven’t slept in that late in a while. I usually rise with the sun. It’s true what they say: Old habits are hard to break. You see, I’m ex-military, and rising early and putting in several hours of hard work had been drilled into me at a very early age. I was discharged from the marines a few months before I married Mia, my one true love. I didn’t want to bring her back into that environment again for various reasons.
Now my full-time occupation is being a loving and devoted husband and a doting father, and working as head of security at a financial institution in Midtown. There, I work everything from first to third shift, usually rotating my schedule. I like a hands-on approach; I like to know my staff, and found this way allowed me to accomplish that.
After I walked Mia out to her black Ford Explorer, opened the driver’s door for her, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and watched as she drove off to pick up Lyric, I silently wondered again what was bothering her. I know my wife all too well, and something was definitely on Mia’s mind. She still had dark circles under her eyes like she didn’t sleep a wink. Mia did a lot of tossing and turning again last night. And a few times I even heard her call out softly in a fretful sleep, but I couldn’t understand what she was saying. I wrapped my arms protectively around her and eventually she calmed back down.
These dreams have been going on for roughly two, three weeks at the most, and Mia refuses to talk about them. I’m positive I know the subject of her dreams—Brice, her ex-husband and my ex-best friend. Mia hasn’t seen him in over five years. The last time Mia set eyes on him was in the midst of a violent fight, when he was beating her ass and she ended up in the hospital.
It’s been almost that long for me as well. A few months later, Brice and I had a confrontation before his departure overseas with the marines. I guess back then we were both running from our own internal demons. Brice chose to run to another country; I chose to remove myself from the source of my pain and bittersweet memories. That time frame and period in my life seems like light-years ago. The person I was back then doesn’t even exist anymore.
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