The Second Time Around- BWWM

Chapter 5

Kiya leaned against the closed door with her eyes shut tightly. She was trying to fight off the weight on her heavy heart, but all of the tension between herself and Isaac on the ride back to her house seemed to zap any energy from her. Her body trembled as if all of her emotions were fighting one another inside of her. She tried to gain control, but her rational mind was overwhelmed by the onslaught of memories replaying behind her closed eyes.  The day she signed her divorce papers, Kiya promised to never cry over Isaac Porter again. She had kept that promise for three years, but she felt the familiar sting of tears come on. She whimpered like a wounded animal calling out for help, and with her back still pressed against the door, she dropped her belongings and crumbled to the floor.

Her deep wailing reverberated through the empty room. She lay curled up like a newborn against the door without any regard for how much time had passed. She cried for so long that she wondered if the tears would ever stop coming. Kiya opened her eyes to stare at the glossy streaks on her hand.

She wondered to herself why people claimed to know things "like the back of their hand" because Kiya could not remember the last time that she looked at her own with a critical eye. The last time she could recall was the day she removed her wedding band. Back then, she seriously wondered if the skin previously hidden by the band would ever regain it's tawny brown coloring, or if the change would be a permanent reminder of her failed marriage.

The skin eventually did regain its uniform coloring, just as Kiya eventually regained her composure. She gathered her strength and pulled herself up from her spot at the front door.

The kitchen still smelled faintly of the sweet syrup and savory bacon Isaac prepared for breakfast that morning. Kiya opened the windows in her kitchen to allow the early afternoon breeze to carry away the smell. Kiya scrubbed the already spotless kitchen until it gleamed bright enough to make Martha Stewart jealous of her domestic skills. She wondered if the sudden urge to clean was motivated by a desire to wash away her memories of her ex, but she pushed her analysis of the situation to the back of her mind.

Once the living room received the same meticulous cleaning, Kiya moved on to the bedroom. She stood in the doorway for a few silent moments; surveying the space as if it were a crime scene that she was reluctant to disturb. The sheer white curtains swayed gently in the breeze of the open window. The steel gray sheets were still in a crumpled heap and her colorful quilt had been pushed to the foot of the bed.

The bedroom was filled with reminders from the night she'd spent with Isaac. Several bottles of perfume were turned on their side from a run in they had with her backside. Isaac had carried her into the bedroom. Isaac was so eager to get her clothes off, that he'd pushed her up against the vanity table to remove them. She was sure that if she hadn't insisted on moving, he would have made love to her in that very spot.

She relived the sensation of her jeans and underwear coming off together when Isaac tugged them over her hips. Shuddered at the look of desire in his dark eyes. Kiya felt an aching between her legs at the memories of her lover's skillful touch. Her body hummed with the sweet soreness of being sexually satisfied and, just as instantly is she replayed the night, she pushed it aside knowing that it could never happen again.

Kiya finally entered her bedroom and took a seat on the edge of the bed. She looked at her belongings again but resisted the urge to reminisce about how they got there. She took the pillow Isaac had slept on in her hands and breathed in the masculine scent he'd left behind. Kiya threw the pillow across the room when the familiar prick of tears began to form in her eyes. She then sprang to her feet and stripped the bed of all of its coverings tossing them in a heap with the pillow she'd already sent careening toward the door.

The force from ripping off the bed covers was strong enough to send the small silver picture frame on her nightstand crashing to the floor. Kiya cursed under her breath as she rushed over to grab it. She looked over her shoulder out of pure instinct. She always checked to see if Gavin was in earshot when she used bad language. He had a knack for catching her and scolding her about her "potty mouth". With Gavin still in school, she allowed herself the courtesy of another four letter word when she saw the cracked glass. Kiya carefully removed the photograph of herself and Gavin. She checked the paper for any blemishes as she ran her finger over the image. The pair of them clad in matching mouse ear hats from the surprise trip to Disneyland when he was still just a toddler.