There was no moment of confusion or memory loss when I woke up this morning. No. When I opened my eyes, I was fully aware of the situation I was in-- memory of all that happened yesterday clear in my mind.
Hailie and Marshall, still asleep, lay beside me- each of them mirror images of the other. Hailie, with her back towards me, faces her father- so close their noses almost touch. They're both curled up under the blanket, a hand tucked under each of their heads and lips parted as they snooze. Marshall sleeping soundly, my girly floral sheets surrounding him makes me smile. It's a sight I'll never forget.
I admire them a moment. Watch how their breathing is in sync. How they both are so much alike. How comfortable they both are, here with me. It feels so normal somehow, even though it definitely shouldn't.
Not wanting to wake either of the two, I slowly slip out from the bed and walk quietly out of the room. Once I ease the door shut behind me, I finally let out the breath of air I didn't realize I was holding.
At least I didn't have a dream last night. That would have made all this a lot more awkward. And it must only be in my head that I've slept better than I have in...longer than I can remember. I feel as though I've gotten a full night's sleep, and woken up completely refreshed. Just a coincidence.
I walk to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee and look to see what I have for breakfast that can feed me and my guests.
Sunday mornings at my apartment are usually laid-back. It's- unless scheduled otherwise- the only few hours during the week I have to myself before I'm back to recording, interviewing or performing. To start my day I have a cup of coffee on the balcony, maybe something small to eat, and listen to music or read the newspaper. I just relax and take things slow. Maybe that's boring for some but with my fast pace life, I live for these moments where there are no expectations from me for just a little while.
However, this Sunday morning might be better than any before. Marshall and Hailie, of course, being the main factor. Luckily I'm still technically on vacation- today is an extra day I allotted myself when I took time off when Angie came to stay. So I don't even have to look at my phone till Monday morning.
All I have is some cereal. I need to go food shopping. If I had known Marshall and Hailie were staying though, I would have bought stuff for pancakes or waffles. Maybe bacon and fresh fruit and orange juice. Anything they like, and I'd make it for them. I'd have grabbed the nice dish-ware I still haven't unpacked from storage, so we wouldn't have to use the plastic ones. I'd get up early and cook, so it's all waiting for them when they wake up. And-
Jeez, I think. I didn't realize I had such a desire to be a little Suzy Homemaker.
"Damn." I hear a deep voice say from the kitchen doorway behind me, making me jump. I'm so used to living on my own that a man's voice in my space startles me, even if it's only Marshall's. He's rubbing his eye, stretching, like he just woke up, "Is that what you look like in the mornin'?"
I freeze, a box of Cheerios in hand, suddenly very self conscious. Is it my clothes? I glance down. My pajama shorts and tank top are maybe a bit wrinkled from sleep, but nothing atrocious. Do I have bed hair? I subtly brush my fingers against my hair, feeling the messy bun I have is still intact. I'm not wearing any makeup, but he's seen me with very little on before. Am I hideous to him?
"What? Do I look that bad?" I ask, needing to know.
"Nah...you're fuckin' beautiful." He says and takes a seat at the kitchen counter, adding in a sleepy voice, "If that's what you look like first thing in the mornin', I'mma stay the night more often."
YOU ARE READING
Ain't Nobody Like You
RomanceIt's 1998 and Katherine Arden, an internationally known singer, grows close to new up and coming rap artist, Eminem. The story describes their relationship from 1998 to present day.