I meant to get her pregnant; although she doesn’t know it and I don’t think I can ever tell her. It was my intention, the night I left campus and drove all night to get to her, yet I didn’t know it was until I felt myself on edge and I made the decision not to pullout. I wanted her pregnant. I needed the excuse to move back to Beaumont and be with my friends.
One weak moment is all it takes and the rest of the whiskey is down my throat. There wasn’t much left, at least that’s what I’m telling myself as I finish off the glass. The burn feels good and instantly starts to numb my self-inflicted pain. My pity party has a reservation for one, and I’ve already arrived.
Pouring another two fingers, I don’t waste any time letting the potent liquor coat the back of my throat. I’ve missed this flavor and I can tell it’s missed me. I pour another, and another, until the bottle provided by the hotel is barely inches from the bottom. The more I drink, the louder her voice is.
“Do you love her?”
“Do you love her?”
“Do you love her?”
“NO!” I roar as I throw the glass against the wall. The bottle of whiskey follows it quickly, shattering into tiny shards of glass as the rest of the booze makes its mark on the otherwise dull wall. I bend over at my waist and start to heave, barely making it to garbage can. It’s been so long since I’ve puked up liquor and it’s a good reminder as to why I shouldn’t drink excessively.
After a long, hot shower, I’m in bed with my laptop, waiting for Josie to connect so we can chat. When she finally does, I’m graced with my beautiful wife, her hair loose on her shoulders and wearing one of my t-shirts.
“Hey, I’ve been looking for that,” I tell her before she can say hi. I know she kept the shirt, but teasing her about it is fun and I like to see her smile.
She grins, pulling the collar up to her nose. “It doesn’t smell like you anymore.”
I adjust myself to a more comfortable position in bed, putting my arms behind my head. My chest is on full display for her, so I’m hoping she can see her name.
“Do you see my tattoo?”
“Yes.”
“What’s it say?” I ask her.
“Jojo.”
“And who is Jojo?”
“Me,” she says.
“Hmm… does Jojo love me?”
She nods. “More than words.”
“I love you, Jojo. I know I’m not home to show you, but I need you to trust me and believe me when I tell you there isn’t another woman in this world that can compete with you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Fuck, baby,” I say as I sit up. “What can I do to prove it? I told everyone at the press junket that I love you and they’ll still twist my words. They need the drama to sell their story. We don’t need that shit in our lives; we have too much going for us.”
“I just worry that I’m not enough. I’m not into that scene and sometimes I feel like you need someone who is.”
“You are more than enough, Jojo. I don’t know what I can do to show you that. You’re the one I want, day in and day out, for the rest of my life. If I can’t have you, I don’t want anyone else.”
“Please stop.” She’s laughing so hard, she’s disappeared from the screen. I know it’s cheesy to recite lyrics, especially ones that I haven’t written, but getting her to laugh was my goal.
“Liam,” she says in a sweet, quiet voice after she’s calmed down. “When you came back I never thought we’d be where we are right now. Please have patience with me. I’m scared and feel like I don’t belong in your world right now.”
“I don’t need anyone but you. But if you want to put on a short mini-skirt and some fuck me heels, I’ll happily prove that fact to you by bending you over the couch and making you scream my name.”
“Oh God.”
“Yeah, you can say his, too.” I pause and study the woman that I love, the person I would quit this life for if she asked me to. “Baby, can you do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
“Show me your boobies. I really miss seeing them.”
Josie rolls her eyes, but takes my shirt off anyway. My eyes bug out slightly because they look larger than the last time I saw them.
“Jojo, did you get a boob job while I’ve been gone?”
“What? No,” she scoffs at me, rolling her eyes. “Why would you say that?”
“Because I know your boobs very well and unless we’re in super high-def, they look bigger.”
“Be nice, Liam or I’m shutting you off.”
I fall back and place my hand over my heart, causing her to laugh. I take advantage of her high spirits and ask her to touch her boobs. She rolls her eyes, but does it anyway. And when I ask her to get kinky with me, she happily puts herself on display for me, reminding me of everything that I’m missing.
When I get to Metro the next day, Harrison is on stage, playing for Layla and her former guitar player. This moment brings back memories, both good and bad, of the first time I ever stepped foot into this place. Once again, Layla owns the stage. It’s like she’s hasn’t even taken a break from performing by the way she’s moving to her music.