“Zo,” Stenton shook his head softly with a mild expression of contentment playing at his face. “I don’t know when Jenna will be returning. I’d have to check with Srey for that information. But I will say, I don’t want to discuss her tonight. I don’t want to discuss anything outside of you and Jordan tonight.” While studying my eyes, communicating something deeper than the words he’d used, he gave me a soft nod. “Okay?”
It took a few seconds, but I let it go. I didn’t question or meditate too long on my response, especially with his heart shaped lips so close and into my face. “Okay,” I whispered as I returned the nod. Oddly, I understood Stenton’s need to momentarily escape his life for relief. I understood the responsibility of so much and many on his shoulders and I didn’t rebuff him for wanting that relief. My heart raced in my chest and pulse beat a quickened rhythm. Unable to remove my eyes from his, I licked my dry lips. “Meet me in the living room. I have something I want to share with you.” I turned to leave the kitchen and when I made it to the opening, I tossed over my shoulder, “Feel free to bring your drink.”
~~~~~~~~~~
So, what’s the science behind this now?”
Stenton almost had me convinced he hadn’t been enjoying my services. His voice was almost that placid. But there was only so much you could pull over on Elizabeth Barrett. I was just that good, particularly with a former lover. My only true lover.
“Servitude.” I returned while rubbing his long slender, skeleton-like feet in a foot tub in the living room. “I ushered a couple of weeks ago during Marriage Ministry Week at my church. Some of the topics and teachings were surprisingly fascinating. This being one of them. During ancient times, biblically speaking, feet-washing was a big deal, seeing everyone wore sandals and would sustain minor injuries and experience daily stains from the terrain. In some of the more affluent homes, when the host had a visitor, to express good will and hospitality, they would have their slaves wash the guests’ feet.” I singled out his toes. “You’re a guest in my fancy…”—I gesture with my neck and head around the room—“…affluent home. I can see the weight you’re carrying, even though you refuse to talk about it. I just want you to relax and let go of it…until you’re ready to man up and get back to life.”
Stenton snorted then took another nip at his drink. “But how does that read in the context of marriage?”
I shrug. “You know what they say about marriage—not sure if it’s really carried out—man and wife are supposed to be of the mindset of servitude for one another. They are to work every day to strengthen each other and edify the body of Christ. Washing each other’s feet regularly can demonstrate that.”
“You don’t believe it? Sounds like you call bullshit.”
Finding it hard to look at him for some strange reason, I returned, “I don’t know what I believe exactly. I mean, again, it sounds ideal in theory, but most don’t get that mutual responsibility part. All they understand is the wife is to be seen but not heard. She’s supposed to be the homemaker and baby incubator. It’s hard to buy into an institution that doesn’t fit the motif of your existence. I have more in me than that.”
“What do you want, Zo?”
That question stopped me in my tracks. I wasn’t expecting it. Truthfully, I was buzzed and overly comfortable in Stenton’s presence. This wasn’t news to me, which was why I’d decided to avoid his presence. It caused me to lose myself. Like tonight. Am I really washing this man’s feet? He belonged to someone else. Again.
I lifted his left foot out of the tub and dried it off, then went for the right.
“I’m waiting,” Stenton pushed.