Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 85228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
His hands fall to his sides, the ring still on his left hand.
Everyone has their reasons for going to the club, and every time I've seen him, he's been sitting on that sofa just observing. I have no idea what else he does there, but how sad if he just sits and watches because he's trapped in memories of a woman he no longer has?
It hits me that there is little to no chance that he'd be here with me right now if he hadn't lost her. The anguish in his eyes is soul-deep, something that has the ability to change you as a person. Things happened in his life that he had no control over that led him here tonight.
Knowing that makes me feel less valued, as if I'm a concession to a life he'd rather have. Although I'm placing way too much worth on this situation, it doesn't negate my feelings about all of it.
"I'm sorry for your loss," I offer, knowing just how hollow those words are to anyone who is missing someone they loved.
I pull off my robe, hanging it on the bedpost at the end of the bed before climbing under the covers. His weight on top of the blanket creates a barrier that makes me feel somewhat safer. I reach down and lift Kiva to the mattress, waiting to turn off the light until she settles.
I lie with my back to him in the darkness, my head a mess of questions and guilt for the judgment I cast without knowing his story.
My head is a mess, but that's nothing new. I always have a hard time slowing my mind in order to fall asleep. Not for the first time, I wonder about filling the prescription Dr. Moore wrote for me, but the idea of it sends a shiver up my spine.
I've taken it before in college, but it always made me feel groggy and weighed down the next day, but I realize that isn't the only implication.
What if I had taken the medicine in the past and that man had snuck into my house? What could he do to me without me being aware?
Just the idea of being abused and incapable of stopping it or asking for mercy makes my stomach turn.
I don't know if Roman has fallen asleep, but he doesn't interrupt my racing mind to speak. I don't know if I'm glad to be left alone to deal with these thoughts or if I'd welcome the reprieve.
I don't know how I can feel both afraid and calm with him beside me, but he could be a pile of lumber in the bed next to me for how little he moves, despite his presence feeling like a blanket of its own.
I'm not foolish enough to think I could forget that he's there, but I feel no level of threat where he's concerned, not after knowing what I know now.
If anything, I want to wrap my arms around him, hold him to my chest, and tell him just how sorry I am for what he's lost. I want him to know that even though I've never lost someone I loved, I can empathize with him.
But can I really?
Can anyone know how painful such a loss can be if they've never even touched on something so tragic in their personal life?
Going no contact with a negligent mother isn't the same as losing a wife you vowed to love forever. Yes, I felt loss, but it had more to do with losing the childhood I should've had rather than the one I was dealt. It wasn't about her specifically. I know my issues with being touched stem from the time I spent with her as a child before I was placed in state care, but I'm afraid remembering the trauma will be more detrimental than dealing with how my body has chosen to deal with it by blocking it all out.
There's just something about not being able to trust the one person in life who is supposed to keep you safe.
My birth mother's treatment of me, or should I specify her lack of care, is why I've never trusted anyone else. I'd know that without years of therapy. I couldn't connect with foster parents, and that left me bouncing around from place to place until I aged out of the system at eighteen. People called me heartless because I had a hard time smiling and didn't want comfort or affection. That's a hard pill for someone to swallow when they're looking to adopt. It meant I was easily and often cast away in favor of a smiling child who needed hugs and affection.
I know well enough that I can't put my own problems or therapy at anyone else's feet. I can't rely on others to "fix" me. I know that doesn't work. All these things have to be worked through by the individual, but that doesn't stop me from wanting to hold him and attempt to make things better for him.