Love Hurts

I'll get on my knees for You.

CHARLOTTE

a couple of weeks later...

We have created a weekday rhythm. Before the sun is fully settled in the sky I am up, with Asher either already here or coming over. After the 'ding' of the coffee pot alerting that it is ready we each make a cup and walk Rose to school. After the hugs and good lucks of a school drop off  we walk back to my home, where Asher continually asks me questions about everything. In which in the beginning I answered begrudgingly, now... not so begrudgingly. 

Once back I grab my things and head to work if I'm on that day. Asher either stays at the house waiting and working or goes out and does, whatever he does until Rose gets out of school and he goes to pick her up. Which is awesome for me because not only is Rose able to spend time with her father but I am also able to save some money because I no longer send her to daycare. The days where it is just us are...interesting. We run errands together, grab coffee, bring Charlie on walks. It's like I said...interesting and almost natural. But how long will he be content with this life he is living? Him and Charlie have been staying over in the guest room a lot, which is fine but Charlie, and Asher of course, have become such a prominent fixture in Rose's life that when Asher does stay over in the condo he bought she misses, her furry friend, and of course her father. 

I feel as though there was a shift in the air. Rose, like I, is unaware of what exactly this shift is, but is conscious that something has changed. She has started to probe with questions like when are we going to be a whole family? Or when you get married can I be the flower girl? Each time I pause and have to regain conscious thought on how to breathe again because I feel as though I was side tackled by a sumo wrestler. How do you tell your ever hopeful daughter that it will never happen? When living in a world with so little hope what gives me the right to stomp on hers? Is it selfish of me to let her keep her hope, and let the reality of the world rip it away from her instead? Like it does to all adults. So instead I continually say the same thing, 'we are already a whole family, ours just looks a little different' or 'if mommy ever does get remarried you will most definitely be in the wedding.' It placates her enough until she re-asks the questions again.

We still haven't talked about what happened all those weeks ago. Initially he brought it up everyday, and I would simply not respond or say later. Every day turned into every couple of days, which turned into now once a week. I am not sure what he expects to get out of the conversation. Truly nothing has changed, and it's not like he did not know how I feel. The beeping of my third alarm cuts my thought process short: time to get moving.  Today is a rhythmless rhythm day... it's the weekend. Rose, Asher, and I will undoubtedly spend the day together. After dragging myself out of bed and styling my long black hair with my new shiny Dyson Airwrap, courtesy of Asher. After every failed attempt to have a conversation the man has gotten me a gift, out of apology? Bribing? Who the fuck knows. I refused to accept them in the  beginning, but the man knows what I like and I am sucker for thoughtful gifts. A flicker of dislike would shine through me initially when I used or looked at them. But I cannot stop him from spending money so I may as well use them. Does that make me a bad person? Maybe, but I like nice things and he owes me more than what a Dyson Airwrap cost, may as well milk it. After applying a couple of layers of mascara to my eyelashes surrounding my grey eyes I turn to leave the bathroom to finish getting ready.

...

ASHER

I received a call from my mother this morning. In the last five years whenever talking to her or my father I felt hatred. A type of hatred that was personal but instead I placed on them, and their involvement in making me loose Charlotte. When in actuality they did nothing. In my immature and spoiled mentality I refused to accept the truth. I knew what I did but a small part of me still blamed them for my actions. Which is unfair, they do not have power or control over the actions. I do, I am the only one that chooses how to react with the information given to me. I accept I reacted so incredibly poorly that I have secured my spot in hell. I will spend the rest of my life content in my future and apologizing if it means I can bask in the radiance that is my girls. Though the 'my' part is still debatable: I will always be theirs, the issue lies in if they want me. But that is my new life purpose... being who they need. Though being who they need was the goal all along, I found a newfound peace and vitality in my recent acceptance. 

I think this to myself as I knock on the townhouse on the outskirts of the bustling D.C. area, a tray of Starbucks and Charlie's leash in one hand. I hear the muffled pitter patter of my daughters feet as she yells 'Dad!' on the other side of the door. She started calling me Dad a couple weeks ago and I swear each time she says it my heart skips a beat. I have determined that it is one of my favorite words. I am beyond grateful that she has forgiven me enough to allow me into her tiny little life, even though I think she is fully aware that she has me wrapped around her tiny little finger. 

The door swings open and Charlotte's mini me stands before me. "Hi Dad!" 

I laugh, "Rose what did I tell you about opening the door without your Mom?"

"Not to do it, BUT I knew it was you so it shouldn't matter."

I refrain from another belly laugh, and put on a semi straight face, "it does matter don't do it anymore, okay?"

"Ugh fine okay. Is that a hot chocolate?"

"Yes, it's for you," I hand her drink, "Extra whip cream for you my dear, be careful it might be hot. Where is your mom by the away?"

"She's in her room, you can go see her I'm gonna go watch TV!" My desire to see her mother  outweighs my desire to sit and watch the Disney channel. I leave Charlie with Rose and grab Charlotte's coffee. I walk to her room to see the door slightly cracked open. I give it a little rasp while slightly pushing the door open and freeze. Charlotte is leaving her bathroom in what I would assume is a satin set due to her love for them and the abstract design but instead just wears some undies. We both stand still, our eyes find each other and we stare. Fuck I want to kiss her. I want to take the three steps to her, wrap her in my arms and never let her go. But alas, I instead stand there like an idiot and stare. In all her getting ready glory I am left speechless and it seems galless. If I am not mistaken she is as attracted to me as I am to her. I noticed the increase in her breathing as my eyes lower from hers and track across her body. Her chest rises and falls faster as I make it across her stomach and down towards her endless legs. My brain is no longer in the chat, instead my legs lead me into the room place her coffee on a bureau nearby and gently close the door behind me. I take a hesitant step towards her, her dove grey eyes darkening. I take another step towards her, one more to go, her eyes tracking me. 

"What are you doing?" She asks.

"I'm not sure. I just know I need to be close to you..." I take the last step that engulfs me in all things Charlotte, the back of my hand lightly brushes the back of hers - I can't help but drop to my knees in front of her. My hands land on my thighs, I stare up at her in a truly submissive place. But I am okay with that. She has the power, she has the control -  over me, over this situation, and over my life. I stare up at her with awe as the burning desire to touch her turns into a flaming inferno of need. Yet I remain still the only movement in my chest as I watch her study me. 

A small hand, slow and unsure in its movement makes its way from her waist towards my face. Stopping a hair-breaths length away from touching me, she asks again in a voice akin to a whisper, "what are you doing?"

"I'm kneeling to you."

Her hand eats up the small space between my cheek and her palm. I let out a shuddering breath, her touch both calms and lights me up inside. Bringing me relief as well as sparking the blood that runs in my veins on fire. I don't just want her, I need her. Like my heart needs blood to pump,  I will continue the work to earn her...if it's the last thing I do. 

...

So sorry. Thank you to those that are patient xoxo. 

Much love,

Lewis

(p.s. Not proof read or edited)