Читать книгу Both Sides of the Fence 2: - M.T. Pope - Страница 12

Bumpy Night

October 28^th, 2018, 11:13 P.M.

I tossed and turned in the bed all night, trying to get me some rest, but it just wasn’t happening. I heard Shawn come in at about eleven o’clock, but he had not come to bed yet. His behavior had become more and more erratic lately, and I was becoming suspicious. In fact, we were just getting back to being intimate again. It took us both a while to get comfortable with each other after all that went down in our lives about ten years ago.

The children were clueless that the one they were calling Dad wasn’t really their father. There were days when I just wanted to sit them down and tell them the truth, but I chickened out every time with excuses that only appeased me. How could I tell my children that their father was a bisexual maniac that I cheated on their “father” with?

Shawn was of no help; he was still having nightmares about his molestation that he still didn’t want to talk about. I didn’t push him, out of love, but sometimes I wanted to shake him out of the funk that he got into that made him cut everybody off emotionally.

I sat up in bed and contemplated the task before me. I got up and walked sluggishly to the bathroom to sprinkle my face with some water to help wake me up fully. I looked in the mirror and surveyed the worry lines around my eyes. I had small, puffy bags under my eyes that also showed my restlessness.

The past couple of years had been rocky, but we survived. The cheating, lies, and homosexuality had taken their toll on Shawn and me, but we survived. The hours and hours of counseling both together and separately had helped us pull the bootstraps up, as they say, in our lives.

I pulled out some of that L’Oréal eye cream from off my vanity and smoothed it on my face, like I had been doing more and more lately. They say black don’t crack, but I was an exception to the rule. I attributed it all to stress, though. Shawn was on track to recovery and healing, but I kept worrying about some of our secrets coming back to haunt us.

I walked downstairs and saw Shawn sitting in the living room with the television on the Golf Channel. Shawn wasn’t particularly into sports, so I knew he wasn’t watching it. He was in one of his moods again. His shit was almost as annoying as my PMS was. I didn’t know what to expect.

I walked around the sofa and I noticed he was crying. I sat down and started rubbing his back, trying to comfort him.

“Baby, why is this shit happening to me? All I want is a normal life with my wife and kids.” He laid his head on my shoulders as I wiped the tears that flowed from his eyes.

I knew and didn’t know what he was getting at. I tried my best to sympathize with my husband, but sometimes I just didn’t get him. To top it off, my shit was constantly staring me in my face as well. Literally.

I refocused my attention back toward Shawn and his issues. He was in therapy for the last nine years for this molestation drama. It seemed like he was making headway, or so I thought.

“I am fucked up,” he said, exhaling his frustration.

I continued to console him, knowing he needed my full attention.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I messed up tonight.”

“Huh?” I moved away from him slightly with a look of fear. I wasn’t ready for him to tell me what I already feared and knew.

“I got drunk tonight.” Shawn hung his head low.

I breathed a small sigh of relief. I just knew he was going to say he slept with a man tonight. “It’s all right, baby.” I cradled him in my arms, like he needed at this moment.

Don’t get me wrong. I was upset about the drinking. It just wasn’t extreme enough for me to blow up over.

Besides, my ass should be on somebody’s park bench with a forty-ounce and some weed, because I had my own demons to wrestle with. Each time I looked at my children and saw that monster James in every one of them, I wanted to sedate myself.

“Come on upstairs,” I said as I helped him up and escorted him to our bathroom to get him in the shower.

I ran him some bathwater and bathed him like he used to do the kids when they were young. He continued to be apologetic as I helped him out of the tub and dried him off. I helped him to the bedroom and dressed him in his pajamas.

He slept like a baby as soon as his head hit the pillow. I looked at him as he slept, and wondered what he was dreaming about at that moment.

I got up again and went to check on the kids. I first went to check on the baby of the family, Diana. I peeped in on her. She was a sound sleeper, so I walked in and kissed her on her cheek. I looked at her as she was entangled in her sheets. She was a wild sleeper.

“Just like your fath”—I couldn’t even say it, and it hurt even worse to think about it.

A single tear slid down my face as I made my exit to visit Ashley in the next room. I pulled myself together and just peeked in her room, because I know how teens like their privacy. She was sound asleep with earphones in her ears. She was probably listening to her iPod. She was becoming very musically inclined and sang in the choir at the church we now attended on a regular basis.

I then made my way downstairs to the basement where Alex slept. He was becoming such a little man. He’d begged Shawn and I to move him into the basement so that he could “get his world together,” as he said.

I crept down the stairs and noticed him sitting at his computer. “What are you still doing up?” I rubbed his wavy hair.

He gently pushed my hands away. “Mom, you messin’ up my waves,” he said with a smile on his face.

I had to admit, he was easy on the eyes. “It’s time to go to bed,” I said in a stern voice. He was on that Facebook all the time, chatting with his friends.

“All right, Ma, as soon as I check this last message,” he said as he gave me a kiss on the cheek.

I turned around and made my way to the kitchen to fix some warm milk to help me get some sleep. My grandma used to give me this remedy every time I was having a restless night. For some odd reason, I had a feeling that something was about to happen. I just didn’t know what.