Holy mother of Joseph!
I couldn’t handle the weightiness of the gesture and my mouth was as dry as a desert, so I got up to empty my bladder, then ambled downstairs for something to drink. I didn’t see anyone while I downed two glassfuls of grapefruit juice. When I was done, I glanced in the living room, then the dining room for them, specifically Jordan. I gave up, not wanting to search the massive house. They’d find me sooner or later. Perhaps I’d call to locate them. I needed alone time anyhow to figure out just how much of my recollection of last night was reality. I was really…drunk, a state I didn’t frequent. Nonetheless, I couldn’t deny how much fun it was to let go and act my age without any worries. And when Stenton appeared out of nowhere, wrapping his long arms around m—
I abruptly grabbed my phone.
Me: Hey
It took nearly five minutes for his reply.
Stenton: Hey to you. Is everything all right? How are you feeling?
He was likely alarmed by my text. Rarely did I message him this way. I knew he must have been referring to a possible hangover. Ughhhh! My brain was still fuzzy, hence this text.
Me: Ummmm... Physically? Fine. Mentally? Eh...
Stenton: Anything I can do?
Me: Yeah. Was last night real or was I dreaming?
Stenton: Do you dream of me?
Ughhhhhh...Stent! I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to get caught up again and forget again. I had to remember he belonged to someone else. The phone chirped again. I guess I’d taken too long to reply.
Stenton: You’re making that clicking sound with the back of your throat.
My mouth stilled. I couldn’t swallow for moments long.
Me: It’s just that...
I couldn’t continue. Call it paranoia, but I couldn’t type out our offenses from last night. I didn’t want to leave a paper trail. I couldn’t create the possibility of someone discovering what we did and using it against Stenton, publicly. He wasn’t that type of man. His reasons for doing what we did, I couldn’t extrapolate, but it didn’t mar his good character. Then why did I feel guilty about the fondness of the memory?
Stenton: You did nothing wrong Zo. We’re good. Accept my expressions of congratulations and nothing more.
Me: But it’s more than that. I was wrong…am wrong. I feel guilty.
Stenton: Wrong? Guilty about what?
Just then, the door cracked. My mom’s head peeked around the frame. I dropped the phone to my side, not sure why I felt the need to hide my conversation as though she’d be privy from afar.
“You’re still up, I see,” she observed.
I split a half a smile, in the midst of yet another impasse with my lone source of pleasure and confusion: Stenton Rogers.
“Get some sleep, honey. We’re gonna take JR and run to the market. I need a few things for dinner.”
“You’re staying another night?”
I was surprised my parents made themselves at home here. They’re stodgy homebodies outside of being back home in South Carolina.
“Stenton insisted we stay all weekend. I figured why not. Your dad isn’t happy, but what else is new?” She shrugged.
Stenton: Zoey... About what?
I needed to get back to him.
“Okay, Momma.” I sighed as I brushed my face, lost in my emotions.
“You need anything? We’re still celebrating you, baby.” Her eyes illuminated with the brightest gleam. She was proud, I was proud, my dad was proud…Stenton was proud.
“No, thanks.” I warily studied the phone in my right hand. “Ummm... After my nap, Jordan and I are going to head back home. I have an early morning.”
Stenton: WTF Zo? Guilty about what?
Geesh! Impatient much? I lifted the phone and tapped feverishly.