Pretty Hurts (8 page)

“Yes.” I pull her to me and roll us over. Straddling her hips, I tickle her sides. Her laughter echoes in the room, light and musical.

She kicks her legs. “I give. I give.”

I plop down onto the bed beside her and place my hands under my head.

“All right. You hosted last night, so you chill, shower, and by the time you come down breakfast should be close to being ready.” She slides out of bed, and I admire the way my shirt clings to her breasts and skims her upper thighs. I admire the bounce of her ass as she pads out of my room.

I follow a few seconds later, rising and walking into the adjoining bathroom. I strip down, toss my clothes into the hamper, and get into the warm shower. Closing my eyes, I enjoy the spray on my skin. I wasn’t sure I’d be here again with another woman, not after being ditched out of the blue.

Past

I unlock the door and freeze. There are boxes in the living room, the pictures have been taken down from the wall.

“Mar,” I call, walking inside. Closing the door behind me, I step farther into the house. “What’s going on?”

“I didn’t want to be here when you came home.”

I glance up and find her dressed in a pair of form-fitting, shiny, black Capri pants and a black T-shirt that says Barbie in curvy pink lettering. She looks good enough to eat.

“What are you doing? Where are our things?”

“They’re packed up. I’ll leave them in storage until I make more permanent arrangements.”

I run my hands through my hair, completely floored. “What are you talking about? Why are you leaving? I know we’ve had a rough time the past few months, but this is insanely rash.”

Pursing her pouty pink lips, she shakes her head. “No, staying together any longer would be a mistake. We don’t want the same things.”

“Since when? We’re engaged to be married for Pete’s sake! We’ve got a venue booked, a date set, and invitations being made.”

“Those things can be canceled, Edgar. A lifetime of unhappiness cannot be.”

“Where is this coming from?”

“You don’t want children, Edgar. I do.”

“Since when? I’m still trying to understand where this came from.”

“Does it matter? You aren’t willing to bend on that.”

“You know why.”

“I do. But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m not able to compromise on this. I thought I could. But now I see I was wrong. I love you. I wanted to be the woman you needed. It’s clear to me now, however, I can never be that.”

“Yes, you are.” I rush forward, desperate to get her to give us time so I can change her opinion. I grab her hands. “Haven’t we been happy the past five years?”

“Yes.”

“You agreed to marry me because you saw us being together forever. Why let a sudden desire that will probably fade ruin the life we’ve spent so many years building?”

“Because it won’t pass. I thought long and hard about it. I wouldn’t do something this drastic if I weren’t sure.”

“So you waited until I was gone?”

“I wanted to make it as painless as possible.”

“You failed,” I growl.

“You’re too good at convincing me to stay. This is best for both of us, trust me.”

“Marilyn, I refuse to believe that.” I clench my fists as I struggle to wade through the avalanche of emotions tumbling over me. “This is fucking bullshit. If you wanted to leave, you should have said so.”

“I didn’t … I wanted you to bend.”

“There’s no bending when it comes to kids. You’re on board, or you’re not.”

She shakes her head, sending her blonde locks tumbling about her heart-shaped face. “I’m done fighting with you, Eddie. I’m going to go now. We’ll figure out the money invested in the house and some of the bigger appliances later.”

“It’s that easy to just walk?” My voice breaks.

“It’s not.” Her blue eyes well with tears. It’s the first real emotion I’ve seen other than anger.

“I’m going to go. I’ll be back tomorrow while you’re at work for the rest. I-I’m staying with my mom and dad until I get things sorted out.”

She steps back from me, and I watch as the woman I thought I’d grow old with walks out of my life. I could chase her, but I know it’d be useless. This isn’t a spontaneous decision. She methodically planned, calculated, and executed it. How could I not have seen this coming? My stomach rolls. Shame and anger mix to form an explosive cocktail.

I walk over and kick the box lingering in the center of the room. The sound of glass shattering fortifies me. I stomp down, crushing what lies beneath and destroying the box. Panting, I stop when the crunching ends and let the tears fall.

***

Present

I shove the memory away. Things with Efia and I are different. She’s older. At thirty-five, she knows if she wants children or not. We’re taking our time, and things are developing nicely. I refuse to let Marilyn ruin this for me. Chilled, I step from the shower, towel off, and get dressed. As I near the kitchen, the smell of baked batter reaches me.

“Something smells good.” I walk behind her at the stove and wrap my arms around her waist as she stirs eggs.

“I hope you like waffles.”

“Love them.”

“Excellent. Waffles, eggs, and bacon will be served shortly, sir.”

I slap her ass and move to set two places at the breakfast island.

Five minutes later we’re settled, and I’m eating heaven on a plate. Not many people know how to make waffles from scratch anymore. I study her from the corner of my eye. She’s my ideal woman, and I’m going to make sure she stays exactly where she should be, by my side.

***

I knock on the door and beam when my mother answers and hold out her arms. I bend to hug her slender frame. She’s spry at sixty-five, but I’m very aware that she’s getting older.

“Hi, Mami.”

“Hello, mijo. Please, come in. It’s an unexpected surprise to see you here on a weekday.”

“I was on my way home from work and realized it’d been over a week since I saw you.”

“Such a sweet boy, my son,” she says, guiding me inside. “Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Come, I was just finishing a bag of tamales. The grands are coming over for dinner later, and you know that’s one of their favorites.”

“I can’t blame them. They’re good.” I follow her inside the house I grew up in. Between my siblings and I, we’ve kept the place up nicely and made minor upgrades when necessary.

“Now tell me, what brings you to see your madre on such short notice?”

I sit down at the table as she pulls the tamales out of the silver pot I swear we’ve had since forever. “I’ve met someone.”

“Madre Dios, my prayers have been answered.” She makes the sign of the cross, and I shake my head, amused by her fervor.

“It’s new, but I have a feeling about her, Madre. She’s special.”

“Tell me about her.”

“Her name is Efia, and she’s a stylist and a make-up artist.”

My mother frowns.

I click my tongue. “No, don’t look like that, Ma. She’s a good woman. She volunteers with cancer survivors to do their make-up for photo shoots to boost their self-esteem. She’s a wonderful friend, intelligent, and beautiful.”

“Ahh, finally we’ve come to the good stuff. Is she as conceited as that last one? Couldn’t find her too far from a mirror or without her face on.”

“No.” I shake my head and clear throat. “She actually has something called Alopecia.”

“Where they lose their hair?”

“Si.”

“Oh, poor thing.”

“Yes, it was a shock, but she’s dealing with it well. We met when Houston brought her into my shop to cut off her hair.”

Her brow furrows. “I can’t imagine how difficult that must’ve been.”

“She’s had a hard time, but she’s regrouping now.”

“And you were there to help her through this?”

“I was a friend, and yes, I’ll still be here, too. I know this is a lifetime battle.”

“You speak so easily about being in her life.”

“You don’t let a woman like this go, Ma.” I shake my head.

She places a plate down in front of me. “I like the sound of this Efia. But I worry about you, mijo.”

I know without asking she’s thinking about how badly I handled my breakup with Marilyn. “Efia is very different. Her beauty comes from the inside. She has a smile that can light up a room, a big heart, and a clever mind. I think you’ll like her, and I want to bring her by.” His mother had never really liked Marilyn. Mom played nice with her, but a fiancée who had no interest in a family, cooking, or cleaning didn’t earn any brownie points with her.

“You’ve talked her up so much. I can tell you feel strongly about her. We’ll welcome her with open arms here.”

I smile as I take a healthy bite of my tamales. The spiced bite dances on my taste buds and I close my eyes. This reminds me of dinners with the entire family back when my father was alive. It was his favorite meal.

I chew slowly, savoring the taste before I swallow. “Thank you, Ma.”

“Always, mijo. I worried for you, but now I see a sparkle in your eyes that wasn’t there. Perhaps this woman, Efia, will be good for you. Certainly, she must be strong to deal with this disease so courageously.”

“It does nothing to dim her beauty,” I say, feeling protective.

Mom smiles. “I never said it did, mijo. The beauty of one resides within the soul.”

As always I’m comforted by her words. No one can love or communicate like one’s mother. It’s something I learned fast once my father passed. People spend their youth taking their parents for granted, never realizing as they grow up their parents are growing older. I’ve no problems being called a mama’s boy because I know the bleakness that’ll enter my life once she’s gone. It was always a bone of contention between Marilyn and I. She never understood the sense of duty I felt in regards to my family. My mother, especially. If she needed something, as the eldest male it was my duty to provide it. We’d been through hell and back together. Our bond is a strong one.

“Next Sunday we have mass with the family and then lunch. Bring your young lady.”

I wash down the tamales with water before I speak. “I think I will. Now, tell me, how have you been?” I ask, studying her face. She looks well rested, and in high spirits.

“Good. I keep busy with my Red Hats and the grandkids.”

I can’t say how grateful I am for the Red Hat Society and their numerous outings. They keep my mother connected with friends and out and about in the city. She’d seen plays, gone to costume parties during Halloween, and played card games regularly.

“And your job?”

“Good. But you already know this.”

I shrug. She works part time at a local corner store to keep herself busy and put spending change in her pocket. I check in from time to time with the manager. It’s good to let them know she has someone looking out for her. It keeps them from trying to take advantage. My siblings and I pitch in to pay the bills for the home. It’s the least we can do as hard as she worked to keep us clothed and happy growing up. In the blink of an eye, she’d gone from being a stay-at-home mother to working two or three jobs to make ends meet. We’ll never forget that.

“I don’t know what you mean, Ma,” I say.

“Mmm hmm. You’ll stay and visit with the others?”

“Yeah, I have time to do that.”

“Good, you work too hard, mijo. You have to take time away from the shop.”

“I know. I’m working on it.”

“Oh, this woman she’s been very good for you.”

I laugh. “No. I’ve just gotten the business in a place where I feel safe to take a small step away.”

“Always remember, never get to busy working that you forget to have a life.” I see the pain in her eyes, and I know she’s thinking about my father. He was a kind, compassionate, and giving man, but he worked himself into an early grave providing for us.

I reach across the table, grab her hand, and squeeze. “I promise I won’t, Ma.”

“Then I can ask for nothing more.” She blinks and gives me a smile. “I’ll get the rice started for dinner tonight now.”

I watch her walk to the white cabinets we’ve repainted more times than I can count and smile. We did the best we could with the hand we were dealt, and I think we did well.

Chapter Six

Efia

I run my hand over my head. Today is the day … I’m going out hatless. I landed the job at the Boudoir Photography studio, Pink, a couple of months prior. I love it. Every day is something new, and it’s been amazing for my confidence. I’ve seen women of all walks of life taking time out to celebrate their personal beauty. From women meeting fitness goals to those who had a big birthday like thirty, forty, and even fifty. Being surrounded by the body-positive crew and hearing their stories has helped me continue to work my way through my own self-esteem issues. It’s rare that I keep my head covered when I’m there. Now I’m taking that courage and stepping into the world with it.

“You ready?” Edgar asks, walking up behind me.

“I think so. Did you put the gift in the car?” I ask. Today is Liv and Houston’s gender reveal party.

He kisses my cheek. “I did, darling.”

“Okay, then I’m ready.”

“You look amazing,” he says, running his hands over the sliver of skin bared in my two-piece, white crop top and long, white skirt.

“Thank you, baby.”

He hugs me. “Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m going to be until the party starts. At least I have the first half of the day to get the jitters out while I help decorate,” I say with a laugh.

He wraps an arm around my waist and guides me outside to the car. It’s amazing what a few months can do. Most days find us together, and I’m close to giving him a key to my place. I’ve never known love like this.

Love? Jesus.
I’ve always been a wanderer, too busy chasing dreams and traveling to settle down properly. Now I’m working a local job, and fully committed to the incredible man at my side.

He’s been with me every step of the way with the good days, bad days, and in between. His patience is impressive. Still, it’s a two-way street. I put up with his family’s Spanish Inquisition, the sometimes long hours dealing with his shop, and the times he pulls away. I know his story. The things that went down with Marilyn were just wrong. I can’t imagine coming home to that horror show. We’re both a bit damaged, but healing together. The passion between us is potent, but neither of us has pushed for consummation.

I smile thinking of the surprise I have hidden underneath my outfit.
Tonight.
I slip inside the passenger seat and roll the window down as I soak up the sunshine and wind blowing in.
One plus of not having hair: I don’t have to worry about my hair style getting messed up
. I chuckle to myself. Six months ago, I couldn’t have done that.

We park on the street, and I jump out, grabbing the bag out of the backseat.

“Excited?” Edgar asks with a laugh.

“Yes, I’m dying to know what she’s having,” I state.

“She really didn’t tell you?”

“No, the wench did not.”

He snorts a laugh. “How dare she?”

“I know, right?” I wrinkle my nose as I frown, and we make our way up to the door. He knocks. A few moments later Houston answers the door all grins.

“Hey, guys, come on in.” His gaze lingers on my bald head and he pulls me in for a hug. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Houston,” I reply sincerely. Without him, I wouldn’t have my Edgar.

He releases me and does a manly hug with Edgar as I scan the room. “Where’s the woman of the hour?”

“Out back.”

“I’m going to go snag her and see where she wants me to get started,” I say, leaving the men as they begin to talk about Edgar’s latest brew. I slip out the sliding door.

“Honey, I’m home,” I call.

She looks up from her seat where she’s watching the triplets and grins.

“Aunt Efia!” they chime, running over for their hugs. It’s insane that they reach my hip now. I remember when they were small enough to hold in my arms. I give them a hearty squeeze.

“Hi, guys.” I laugh as they return to their playing.

“You’re here.” Liv rises. I take in her burgeoning belly in the stylish, off-the-shoulder turquoise dress that trails around her feet and makes her skin tone flawless.

“You look incredible,” I exclaim, rushing forward to hug her.

“Thank you. Oh my gosh. You know you didn’t have to get me anything else,” she says with a huff.

I laugh. “What can I say? I’m that aunt.”

“Yes you are, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Where’s your other half?”

“Talking beer with Houston.”

“Ahh. Makes sense. You want to put the bag on the table over there? It’s for presents.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I drop the gift off and return to her side. “What do you want me to do first?”

“We can hang up the decorations.”

“No, I can. You can rest your feet and direct me.”

She huffs, but plops in to her chair. At the start of her eighth month, she’s reaching the uncomfortable stage.

“All the decorations are on the table. I figured we’d hang them up in alternating pink and blue.”

“Done,” I say, seeing Houston had done most of the work. I’m just filling in a few gaps and doing the floral arrangements. I quickly hang the pink and blue paper lanterns and return to help her with the mason jars they painted pink and blue.

“Since you can do this sitting, you can assist me,” I say as she laughs.

“Gee. Thanks.”

“We’re just putting one white rose, surrounded by baby’s breath, right?” I say, remembering the post she’d pinned on her board online.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s easy enough.” We begin to clip the white roses bundled on the table between her.

“So you and Edgar seem to be getting pretty serious.”

I glance toward the door to make sure our conversation can’t be overheard.

“We are. I didn’t know I could be so happy with a man. I always saw them as a restraint I didn’t want or need. Someone I needed to be accountable to held no appeal. But it’s not like that with Edgar.” I pause as I try to find the right words. “He’s there to support me, lend advice, and be brutally honest when I need it. It’s like what we have but not platonic in any sense of the word.”

“I’m happy to hear that. You two are a good match. Still can’t believe Houston is the one who gets to take credit for that,” Liv mumbles.

“Ha. If it helps, it don’t think the match-making was intentional.”

“It doesn’t matter to him. He’s so proud, I wouldn’t rob him off his joy.”

“That’s adorable.”

“Isn’t it?” Liv asks.

“How are you feeling?”

“Full. Think of your biggest pig out session, then times it by two and imagine you can’t digest it all.”

I cringe. “I’ll pass.”

“Yeah, and we’re not even talking about the alien effect when you feel the baby moving in your belly.”

The image gives me the heebie jeebies. “Stop, you’re creeping me out.”

She barks a laugh. “All right, I’ll stop.”

We spend the rest of the morning catching up. The guests begin to arrive just before noon. I play secondary hostess, running drinks to people, and making sure the finger foods stay stocked, so my best friend can enjoy her moment to shine. Motherhood has been a long time dream she’d begun to lose hope in. Seeing her dream come full circle fills my heart with joy.

“How you doing, darling?” Edgar asks, slipping up behind me.

“Good. Look at how happy she is.”

“If two people ever deserved it, it’s them,” he says.

“If we can have you all step outside, we’ll get down to the reason we’re all here,” Houston calls out to the group.

I rub my hands together.

We all walk outside. I lean back against Edgar as Liv and Houston light the smoke bomb.
Leave it to these two to be creative.
I hold my breath while the wick catches and burns down. Blue smoke billows out.

“It’s a boy,” Houston yells.

We all clap.

“Yes! I’m getting a brother,” Phoenix cheers as he runs around the yard. I laugh.
Little man is getting more testosterone as requested.
The cake with blue coloring inside is cut and passed around and we open the presents on our sugar highs. I can see Liv’s energy waning as she walks guests to the front door.

I stand from the couch. “I’m going to start cleaning up.”

“I’ll help,” Edgar says.

I admire his thoughtfulness once more. It’s a rare quality in these self-centered times. I kiss his cheek and force myself to concentrate on the task at hand. Our time will come later tonight. Little fairies dance in my belly as I think of the night that awaits us.

When the trash is bagged, and the decorations are down, I return to the couch where Liv is seated.

“The party was awesome, Livy.”

“Thank you for all your help today,” she says.

“Any time. You know that.”

Liv nods her head. “I do, but I appreciate it just the same.”

“Do you need anything else from me before I go?”

“No, you’ve done plenty as it is.” She glances across the room. “Go be with your man.”

“I’ll check in on you tomorrow, okay?” I lean down and give her a hug.

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” I stand and walk over to the table to grab my purse.

“Are you ready to go home, babe?” I ask Edgar.

“Yep.” He stands. “I’ll see you later, brother,” he says to Houston.

I wipe my sweaty palms on my skirt as we leave the house and begin our journey back to my home.

When we step inside the house, I toss my purse onto the table beside the entrance, and he hangs his keys on the hook. I spin to face him.

“What?” he asks with a playful smile.

“I love you.”

His eyes bulge out of his skull, and I smile so hard my face hurts.

“I–I love you, too.”

“I wanted you to know that,” I say as I wrap my arms around his neck and lean back. “The past six months have been an incredibly trying time for me, and you’ve been there every step of the way. First as friends and now as my boyfriend. Its meant the world to me knowing you’re there when I need you. I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you enough for that.”

“Hey, you’re there for me, too,” he murmurs, brushing my temple with his lips.

“I hope you know I always will be. Wherever this leads, you will always have a friend in me, Edgar.”

He cups the back of my neck, and our lips meet. The familiar tingles wake in my body. He’s oxygen, and I’m starved for air. I attack his mouth, determined to explore every inch of him. His hands grip my ass and rub me against his cock. I undulate against him, seeking more friction. My panties flood and my center throbs. I break the kiss, moaning as he nibbles his way down my neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark without breaking the skin. There’ll be nothing sweet about this loving. We waited too long.

He lifts me up and pins me against the wall. “You ready for me, darling?”

“So damn ready.” I press a hand to his chest. “Wait. Put me down.”

He frowns as he lowers me to the ground. I strip off my clothing like it’s on fire, and reveal the lace bra with strategic cut outs and matching crotchless panties.

“Holy shit,” he rasps.

He skims his hands down my sides. “You are so damn gorgeous it hurts, Efia. I want to take my time and savor the moment, but if I don’t get inside of you right now, I’m going to blow my damn load. I don’t want to do that anywhere, but inside of you.”

The thought of his hot stream filling me makes me whimper. I have a come fetish; it’s why I’m on the arm implant. We’ve both been tested and shared our papers as soon as things got physical. It made things so much simpler.

“You want that, too, don’t you, darling?”

“Yes,” I whisper breathlessly.

He attaches his lips to mine and reaches between my legs to rub my swollen clit in slow circles. As he plunges two fingers in, I throw my head back. He circles my walls and scissors his fingers, stretching my tight center as he prepares me to take his wide girth. The meticulous, slow movements have me half out of my mind. I buck my hips up, but he refuses to go faster.