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I stared down the barrel of the lesser of two evils: the flesh-and-blood disappointment of a human man, or a life trapped in my imagination with a fictional lover.
For a few minutes, sometimes even for a few days, I could pretend that I was someone different. I could let go of the chains that shackled me to the earth and disappear into a marvelous something.
What a sensation to know someone well enough to hear the cadence of their silence.
schadenfreude
“I’ve marked all those who’ve wronged you,” he said. “Consider me protective. I can’t control who answers the marks.”
“You’ve told me before, and I know I need to listen, even if you’re one hell of a habit to break. A life with me isn’t what you want. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you in the way that you needed me.”
“Not quite, but you’re getting closer. Cool guy. He put his clairsentience to way better use than your dumb ass. Hate his fan club, though.”
I expected I wouldn’t see the heirlooms again unless my mother died or stopped being a bitch long enough to apologize. The former was more likely.
I knew enough of her drastic mood swings, her intense temperaments, her bouts with depression and her quickness to anger to immediately back off. I’d been born into a house on fire, but through cautious steps, I’d learned to manage the source of the flames.
“No one considers what’s spelled out there in the verse. If no other gods can come before him, he confirms the existence of other gods. And
Given their belief in the sanctity of marriage, I remember asking my mother once if you could leave your husband if he hit you, and she’d said that no, you couldn’t. If you picked an abusive man, then you made your bed and you had to lie in it. You could only leave him if he hit the children, and even then, it was only for their safety. God, she said, hated divorce.
Absolutely NOT
“If someone adores you for your chaos, what’s the best way to honor that love? If they treasure your rootlessness, if they celebrate your anarchy, if they love you as you are, do you think they’d be dancing in the streets if you gave up the very essence at the core of your being that made them fall for you?”
“I hate those things.” My mouth opened, the uneaten cookie falling onto the plate where I’d left the dredges of my coffee. It had been abhorrently sweet. I shoved it away as I asked, “Then why do you buy them?” “In case my little sugar goblin stops by,” he said, ruffling her hair as he passed in a return to his room.
He’d kept the pantry stocked for twenty years, just in case she paid a visit.
Raised in a state of hyper-awareness given the quickness of parental mood swings, I was extremely perceptive to every shift in energy, every micro-expression, every twitch of the eye or tightening of the mouth.
All I wanted was what I’d been denied—a life without worrying about bills, a life where I could stay in my pajamas and order sushi, where I could sleep peacefully, where I could breathe without debt sitting on my chest like the fabled sleep paralysis demon.
“I am yours, and you are mine. And whether it’s in this life or the next, we will always find each other.”
“Love.” He said it like a prayer. “I always know where you are. Imagine my surprise when I felt you step into my kingdom without me. And then to feel you so close…”
“He’s loved you for more than two thousand years,” Caliban said. “You’re his daughter-in-waiting in his eyes.”
I used to say there was a special place in Hell for those who mistreated those who worked in service but was once again confronted with the turn of phrase. Perhaps I should start saying there was a special place on the bottom of the ocean, or in the Antarctic, or perhaps Ohio.
He kissed me like I was about to die. “I love you,” I said quietly. He pushed his lips to the place where my hair met my forehead as he said, “I’ve always loved you.”
