Loose Ends Part 16

"Now, I need to know, baby."

Mia attempted to pull me into her embrace as she placed my hand between her open legs. She was moist. I pulled away even though my d.i.c.k was standing at full alert.

"Mia, we aren't going to do anything until I hear you say that you want me to make love to you."

"Don't make me beg, Brice," she said playfully with her eyes at half-mast. "You know."

"No, I don't. That's why I'm asking. I'm not kidding, Mia. I need to know that you want this, too. As much as I do," I said in a serious tone. "Tell me."

Mia hesitated for a few seconds, looking back down at her hands as if the answer were there. Then she looked back at me with confidence.

"Brice, I need to feel you inside me. Please make love to me so that I can sleep soundly tonight and know that I didn't imagine the other night. I need to know that this was all worth it."

With that, we retreated back into our little world where no one got hurt, to where there were no worries or regrets, to where we loved each other endlessly. However, as we would soon learn, that world existed only in our imaginations.

Mia Brice is like a drug, and I'm addicted! A straight-up drug addict. I've had withdrawal symptoms for five years. I know what we've done-three times now-is totally wrong. I can't seem to stop myself; when Brice looks at me or touches me, I lose all control. My brain turns to mush. My body and heart betray me. I crave him, feen for him! I love Christian with everything I have and I know he doesn't deserve this. Yet I can't stop. I'm caught up.

I knew this reunion with Brice was a serious mistake. In the back of my mind, I knew I still loved him. Does that make me sick? I mean, the man used to beat the s.h.i.+t out of me. Yet he could make the best love to me, could have me begging for more, and still can. But even with the beatings, I knew he still loved me. I don't know; Brice and I were like oil and water. He loved me so much, but that love brought out the worst in him. His love came out in ugly ways: jealousy, possessiveness and control.

Five years later, Brice still has this control over my mind and body. When I'm with him, I can't think straight; he suffocates me, makes me high and makes me do crazy s.h.i.+t. Christian has been off the past few evenings. In fact, he has made sure he has the evenings off-just to please me. Yet I'm so confused that all I do is sleep. When I'm troubled, I sleep my life away. And Christian knows that. He knows something is very wrong. He just doesn't know what. Thank G.o.d.

I feel so guilty, so unworthy of Christian's love. Always have. Yet, when I think of Brice, my body trembles when it remembers-remembers his touch, his smell, his voice. I haven't made love to Christian since I've been with Brice. I'm afraid that I'll call out Brice's name in the heat of pa.s.sion or that my body won't respond. There's no way in h.e.l.l that I can let Christian find out about this. It would kill him, and he would hate me. I couldn't live with him hating me. That would kill me.

If I'm really honest with myself, I'll admit that I've always felt unworthy of Christian's love, that he is too good for me. I came to him as damaged goods. Brice had done such a number on me that it was a wonder that I could love again. But I did. I love Christian so much. That's why I can't understand what's happening. So I sleep and keep everything inside.

I can't tell Sharon about this. What would she think of me? I've told her too many times how much I hate and despise Brice. No, Sharon wouldn't understand my spreading my legs for him. Mama is out of the question. I mean, you can't tell your mama that you're s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the man who almost ruined your life. So now I sleep to hide from my emotions, from Christian and from myself.

Mama always says, "what's done in darkness comes to light." She has tons of these sayings that she quotes all the time. I've heard that one millions of times. Well, it didn't take long for the light to s.h.i.+ne brightly. Christian found out the awful truth about me and Brice.

It was three and a half weeks after the affair had started. Christian came home from work earlier than usual one evening. Lyric was staying the night at Mama's house. She had been spending a lot of time over there lately. I was sleeping as usual; I hadn't even bothered to change out of my PJs.

Christian found me in the bedroom, lights off, in bed with the covers pulled up over my head.

"Mia, get up! We need to talk," he said in a demanding tone, yanking the covers back and shaking me by the shoulders.

Even in my sleepiness, I immediately knew that something was up. Christian didn't talk to me like that.

"Okay, okay. What's up?" I asked, wiping the sleep from my eyes and leaning back on my elbows.

"You tell me, Mia. What's up? Why all the sleeping? You don't want me to touch you. Why aren't you dressed? What's the deal?" There was urgency in his voice.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't been feeling well lately. That's all." I looked down.

"Like h.e.l.l! Don't lie to me, Mia," he screamed in my face.

Now I was wide-awake. I didn't say anything. I just cringed back against the st.u.r.dy bedpost.

"I've talked to our neighbors, the Petersons. I know Brice was over here three weeks ago. They described him perfectly. I also received an interesting phone call from Kree," he yelled, pacing back and forth from the bed to the mahogany dresser.

"What are you trying to say?" I asked in a tiny whisper.

"I'm not trying to say anything. I'm stating facts. You tell me, Mia! I'm going to ask you this just one time, and I want the d.a.m.n truth!"

I quickly closed my eyes and said a prayer. I knew my life was going to end with his next question.

"Do you hear me, Mia? I want the truth. Are you capable of the truth?" he barked, taking me out of my reverie.

"Yes, I heard you." My eyes began to water, and big tears slid down my face and bounced off my cheeks.

"Did you sleep with Brice?" His voice cracked with emotion.

I couldn't look at him or answer the question. I dropped my head and wiped away tears from my eyes.

"Silence is golden. I guess that answers my question. Huh?" There was so much hurt and anger in his tone.

"I can't believe you'd do that to me, to us." He held his head in his hands and sat down on the edge of our bed.

I started sobbing uncontrollably.

"Don't cry now, Mia! Were you crying when Brice was f.u.c.king you? I want to hear you say it. Tell me that you let him f.u.c.k you. Say it!" He lunged in my direction.

I jumped back on my knees and pushed myself against the bedpost. For the first time ever, I was afraid of Christian.

"Say it!"

"Yes, I slept with Brice. Is that what you wanna hear? I'm so sorry, baby. I didn't . . ." I sobbed.

"Yeah, you are sorry. A sorry b.i.t.c.h!"

"Christian, please don't hate me. I made a mistake . . ."

"You know what? You are so pathetic, Mia. You make me sick to my stomach. You literally make me want to puke. You let Brice screw you after all that s.h.i.+t he put you through!" he screamed.

Again, I jumped back in fear. Christian was breathing fire and spewing venom.

"Dammit, Mia. As much as I want to, I'm not going to hit you. That's your problem. All these years, you've waited for the moment when I'd hit you. You've never totally trusted me or given me all your love. You held back a part of yourself, and I didn't care. I settled for what you could give me, for what you were capable of giving."

Silence. Heavy sobs.

"I'm not Brice. All men aren't like him. My love doesn't come with pain. Understand I'd never put my hands on you. I love-correction, loved-you too much for that," he said, near tears as he moved toward our dresser again.

"What are you doing?" I screamed, realizing he was taking out clothes.

"What do you think? What does it look like? I'm getting the h.e.l.l out of here. I can't stand to see your f.u.c.king face." He pulled out an overnight bag from under the bed and started packing underwear, socks and a few s.h.i.+rts and pants.

I tried to put Christian's clothes back, but he pushed me away. My sobbing continued, and snot ran from my nose.

"Christian, don't leave me, baby. I love you! Please don't leave me. Please don't leave me!" I screamed, throwing myself at him. I was totally out of control. I was pathetic.

Christian pushed me off him. "You have a funny way of showing love. I don't need your kind of love, Mia!"

"You wanted this reunion, not me! You forced us together. You did this. I didn't want this. You wanted this, not me." I cried, jabbing him repeatedly in the chest.

Christian pushed me aside like I was nothing. "Yeah, Mia, I did. However, I didn't know you'd end up sleeping with Brice. Stupid me! I thought you'd remain faithful to me, not drop your drawers the first chance you got."

"It wasn't like that. Baby, stay here and let's work this out. I promise, it's over. It won't happen again. We can go to counseling . . . I'll do anything you say. I love you so much," I cried frantically as I clawed at his s.h.i.+rt.

"I don't give a f.u.c.k what you do! Don't you understand you betrayed me? You betrayed our marriage, our love." He pushed me, hard, back on the bed, picked up his black overnight bag and headed toward our bedroom door.

"Christian, don't leave me! I can't live without you." I sobbed into the sheet on the bed.

"Mia, grow up. Call your lover, sleep your life away. Better yet, go to h.e.l.l! I don't care! I can't believe I thought you were special. I can't believe I once loved you," he said without even glancing back in my direction.

"Where are you going? Where will you stay?"

"Anywhere but here!"

The front door closed with a violent bang. With great effort, I inched myself backward on the bed and got back under the covers. I felt like nothing; Christian's words had reduced me to a feeling of worthlessness. I was suddenly cold, and felt so alone. I'm not sure how long I cried heart-wrenching sobs before I fell asleep.

Much later, I vaguely remembered the ringing of the phone pulling me out of my restless, fretful sleep. I didn't have the strength to answer. I heard the answering machine pick up and Mama's voice saying that she'd talked with Christian. She wanted me to call her as soon as possible, and said Lyric could stay with her for the night. The mention of Lyric's name brought a tiny smile to my dry, parched lips. Lyric, the one good thing left in my life. She'd be better over at Mama's house. I turned over and cried myself back to sleep. Images of an angry Christian played over and over in my mind throughout the night. Even in sleep, I felt the depth of his hate.

The next day, I managed to get out of bed around noon and took a long, hot shower. I looked a mess. My eyes were puffy and swollen from all the crying, and my hair was matted down and stinky. I attempted to eat a slice of toast with b.u.t.ter and drink some hot tea. Physically, I felt a little better; mentally, I was a wreck. Emotionally, I was devastated. I called Christian's job and was told he didn't come in. I placed several more calls, but no one had heard from or seen him. I was pulling my hair out with worry and concern.

I made the dreaded phone call to Mama and explained in between fresh sobs what had happened. To my surprise, she wasn't judgmental or shocked. Mama didn't say "I told you so" or anything like that. She did say that she was here for me and always would be. Mama also agreed to keep Lyric for another day until I got myself together. Lyric didn't need to see me in the emotional state I was in. Children pick up on more than we think.

"Pray, Mia. Prayer changes things," Mama stated.

"Okay, Mama, I will."

"And I'm praying for you too, sweet pea."

"Thank you, Mama."

"We fall down, but we can get back up."

"I know, Mama. Thank you."

With that, I solemnly hung up the phone.

For the remainder of the day, I moped around the house, not doing much of anything. I kept expecting to hear from Christian, hoping he'd tell me that we could work this out or that he'd forgiven me. His phone call never came, and I sank deeper and deeper into a depressed state. Late evening found me crashed on the sofa, covered up with my favorite green throw, in front of the TV, which I wasn't watching, with an uneaten sandwich and soda. I couldn't keep anything in my stomach.

When I heard the doorbell ring, I got a burst of energy. I jumped off the sofa, expecting to see Christian, who'd forgiven me for my transgressions. I swung open the door. Brice was standing there. We just stared at each other like two strangers.

"May I come in?"

I didn't say anything. I walked away, defeated, sat back on the sofa and drew my knees up to my chest.

"Mia, I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen," he said in all sincerity as he sat down next to me.

"Your wife called Christian. How did she find out? I thought you said you were being careful."

"I thought I was. She followed me one night. Can you believe that? Kree thought I was acting strange, and she followed me over here."

"Oh," was all I could say.

"I thought I was being careful, baby. I honestly didn't mean for this to blow up in our faces like it has."

"I have nothing now. It doesn't even matter anymore. It happened. It has blown up in our faces, and Christian hates me. You should have seen how he looked at me. Like I was nothing. He's never . . ." Fresh tears streamed down my face.

Brice pulled me to him and consoled me as if I were a small child. We sat like that for a while, with Brice holding me. No words were spoken. None were necessary. The only sounds were my cries and Brice's gentle a.s.surances.

When I finally looked up at him, I saw pure anguish etched on his handsome face. I knew then that he was truly hurting as well. I lightly touched his face and traced his five-o'clock shadow with my fingers. We kissed almost timidly. When Brice stood and held out his hand, I took it and followed him into the guest bedroom. He undressed me and then himself. We made love slowly for hours. There was no need to rush. I felt the love in Brice's every touch. Afterward, I fell into a deep sleep, wrapped in his arms. For a few hours, I felt safe.

Much like the night before, the ringing of the phone pulled me back to reality. Brice didn't want me to answer it, but I thought it might be Christian. I yanked it up on the third ring.

"h.e.l.lo."

There was a pause.

"Put my husband on the phone!"

I handed the phone to Brice, pulled up the sheet to cover my nakedness and turned my back to him.

"It's your wife."

I don't know what Brice said to her. I remember he was angry and loud. Very loud. I tuned it all out and realized that Christian still hadn't bothered to call me. When Brice was finished, he gave the phone back to me, apologizing. Calmly, I placed it back on the cradle. Everything was surreal.

"Baby, I'm sorry about that." He pulled me back to him and kissed my forehead.

"No, I'm sorry. Go home, Brice. Go home to your wife."

Brice started to protest. I held up my upturned hand.

"Please, Brice. Just go home."

He knew it was pointless to argue with me. Brice kissed me on the cheek and left. I didn't bother to see him out. I heard the door close softly. I was thankful that sleep rescued me from my living nightmare and wrapped its safe, comforting warmth around me.

Another couple of weeks had gone by and the start of the new school year was fast approaching. I was living the life of a recluse. I didn't go anywhere. I didn't do anything. My life, if that's what it was, was spent mostly in bed. I didn't have the strength or the will to do anything more. I wasn't eating; I couldn't keep anything down. I was always nauseous or throwing up. Mama had come over and cleaned up the place. She said I ought to be ashamed of living in a pigsty. Mama was still taking care of Lyric for me, because I just didn't have the patience or the frame of mind to do it myself.

Sharon had stopped by a few times as well. Shortly after Christian left me, Sharon stopped by unexpectedly to find me sitting in the dark. She washed my hair, which was starting to grow back, and gave me a pedicure and manicure. She painted my nails and toes bright red, my favorite color, which did nothing to help my mood. Most of the talking was done by her; I had nothing to say.