If I could stand the sight of him, I could get a better understanding of what he was. Nothing about his drug world is being reported on the news. Yazmine hasn’t uttered a word about it and neither have Chanell and Kim who I met for lunch over the weekend. I don’t think his silence has ever been so painful.
What’s bizarre is how my period was late until earlier today when I found my panties lightly soiled. I came in from work today, threw on a tampon, and I’ve been feeling a pinch of blues ever since. A few days ago, in my crazy mind, I had flights of fantasy of being pregnant, though, I’m sure, loneliness was driving that wish. I still don’t want kids. But I want him, a piece of him if that’s all I can get.
“What’s on ya mind, beloved?”
Things go quiet. I don’t know how to respond. I’ve not discussed Azmir with anyone since our split. I’m embarrassed to speak my truth aloud. Silence spans for minutes long as I fight my emotions. I’m struggling to keep them within.
I lose.
“I miss him,” I cry…like actual tears, tears that won’t hold or slow. It’s almost like breaking a dam.
Within seconds, I feel two sets of warm arms surrounding me. Though I can’t stop the tears, I don’t understand why I feel so sad. I know that if I returned home to the marina, Azmir would welcome me with open arms. It isn’t that complicated a situation. Yet, my emotions can’t take my circumstances. My reasoning doesn’t resonate with feelings. I’m a mess.
“You want me to call Azmir, honey?” my mother asks thoughtfully. “He’ll be right over, I know it.”
“Yeah, he would,” Yazmine confirms.
“No!” I choke out, suddenly finding an anchor for my rabid emotions and unrelenting tears. “I’ll be fine. I’m not ready yet.”
Samantha throws Yazmine a knowing gaze. What it means, I don’t know and quite honestly, right now I’m feeling extremely sleepy.
“I’m going to shower then to bed. I’ll be fine,” I murmur as I toss the blanket off and saunter into the house.
~~~~~~~~~~
As I lay on the most distressing air mattress, trying to find my way to sleep, suddenly I hear the doorbell ring. I wonder who it could be, seeing that neither Yazmine nor Samantha know many out here that could visit at this hour. It has to be close to eleven at night for crying out loud.
I hear animated chatter from afar. What in the world is going on? The voices are getting louder as they come closer to the back of the house.
Ahhhh... Now, I can hear, in detail, distinct voices!
“Azmir, beloved, just give her some time alone. Don’t go running her off,” Yazmine admonishes.
Azmir? Here? What does he want this late at night?
Immediately, I hear my mother chime in, with her not so inconspicuous whispering, “We making strides. You sure you wanna risk ‘dat, barging in here, forcing her to talk?”
“Time, baby, time,” I hear his mom beseeching.
“I just need to talk to my wife,” Azmir’s baritone is laden in distress. It is a tone that I don’t recognize. “I’m not here to harass her. Please…just give me a minute to speak to her,” he demands in a manner that is not to be wrangled.
The CEO’s here.
Right after that, I hear my door open. The light glares from the hall as Azmir’s lengthy frame appears larger than life, quickly opening and shutting it behind him.
I lay on the air mattress frozen, unable to move, barely able to breathe. This man still has that affect on me. I don’t know what his purpose is for being here. I faintly hear him finagling with his possessions—at least that’s what I presume—before approaching me.
Suddenly, I feel him reaching for the bed, in search of me. He immediately locates me. I’m still lying stiff as a board, in total shock of his presence.
Is he angry?
Will he harm me for staying away for too long?
“What are you doing here?” I ask briskly.
He doesn’t respond right away. In fact, the silence is so long that I wonder if he’s going to answer at all. The room is so quiet that I’m afraid to swallow, sure that he’ll hear the awkward sounds of the anatomical workings in my throat. I can’t speak. I’ve nothing to say.
“It’s been eleven days since you’ve left me. And thirteen since I’ve touched you,” his voice is impassive and steady. “Our bed is cold and unwelcoming since you’ve been gone. Azna doesn’t even sleep there anymore. He’s been in his own bed.” He snorts, “Imagine that.”
Under the darkness of the room, I smile. I’ve missed Azna. Clearly, I miss my bed. I grossly miss the accoutrements of the high rise at the marina. And now that he’s just inches away, I realize how much I’ve missed Azmir’s heavenly scent. His virile and robust presence. The way that his natural body oils mix with his cologne, has always stirred my libido.
I reach over to the floor lamp, switch on the dim light, and have to give my eyes time to adjust. When they do, I see my husband, kneeling over me in dark suit pants, and a lavender dress shirt with the first few buttons undone. I grab my cell to check the time.