Escaping Mr. Grayson [UN-EDITED]

Chapter Eight.

          Adequate. I think that's the best thing you could say about this place. Bed? Check. Breakfast? Check. Decorated in grandma style beige and flowers? Check. Smells a little of bleach? Check. Classic furniture? Of course. Clean bedding? Probably. Well, I hope so anyway.

          Mr. Grayson suddenly stops midway and pushes my wayward hair behind my left ear. Within only a split second, he gets close enough to roam my eyes. I'm assuming this means that he's calm down from the little incident we had earlier. I hate it, but I'm terribly awkward and I feel as though I'm now forced to walk on egg-shells so I just stand there in front of him without saying a word.

"What happened?", he asks nonchalantly before sitting down on the brown couch

"What do you mean?"

"Why did you fight with your mother?"

"Oh, uh she's decided to sell my childhood home. I've lived there my whole life and so did my father, well, until he left anyway." I explain, "I just don't want her to take away the only constant memory I have of him"

"Have you tried to tell her all of this? Doesnt she understand where youre coming from?"

"Ive tried. She wont listen. You know, she never used to be like this. She never used to be such a huge headache.", I pause, trying not to break down in front of him. "When my father left, he left us completely stranded and with absolutely nothing. I swear I had never seen my mother so broken but still so motivated to fight for my survival than she was after he left. I watched her go from a fragile, bro-ken housewife to a strong and independent business owner of a successful advertising firm. But even as I watched her grow so positively, I watched her die out. She thinks I dont realize it but, she absolutely loathes me for not hating my father. She hates me for being a part of him and, it drives her crazy that she can't get rid of me, so instead, she's trying to get rid of the closest thing to itthe house"

"Just because she hasn't dealt with it, they way you have, doesn't make her a monster. Find a compromise with your mother"

"Easier said than done", I sigh. "Listen to me going on about my own stupid family drama when I dont even know the first thing about yours"

"Come here", he demands, standing up.

          I keenly walk over to him and stand close enough for me to breathe in his scent. I expect him to start to pour out his entire family history to me but instead, his arms wrap around my back and in one gentle pull, our skin touches. He teases me at first, kissing down my neck slowly, gently, carefully. But it wasnt gentleness that I wanted. Not now. Then, his hand moves down my cheekbones to my lips. That's when the kissing starts and I knot my fists into his hair, how I love the softness. It ignites a feeling inside of me that Ive grown to know all too well around Mr. Gray-son as of late. With such swiftness and charisma, he lifts me right off my feet, carry-ing me towards the bed where he lets me fall with a soft bounce. I sink into the mat-tress and watch as he unbuckles his Yves Saint-Laurent belt. The sight on its own is enough to send me even further off the edge.

          We lock eyes for just a moment and all of a sudden, he's all business right after. I relax and let him do all the workundoing my jeans, pulling them off, kissing from my toes upward, slowly all while he keeps his hands on my legs, always just a little higher than the kisses. I feel my back arch in anticipation, knowing where his fingers will soon reach. My head rocks back against the pillow and as he does, the first moan escapes my lips. It is pure Ecstasy.

                                                      ***

"Thank you for coming", I say to him, knowing that in a few minutes, I would have to leave the safety of his car and go back into the house. Back into reality until I get to see him again in our next rendezvous.

"It was my pleasure", he says, "And I mean that literally." His cheeky comment makes me squeal inwards and I feel my nose wrinkle.

"The pleasure was all mine. I mean that literally too," I smile

"I'm sorry if I frightened you earlier", he says unexpectedly, taking me by surprise

"That's fine", I murmur, "You were just concerned"

"You know that you can trust me, right?"

I nod my head yes and turn to open the door.

"Wait", he says. I turn back to him and he gently straightens one of my braids. I grin at him and look away shyly. "thank you"

"No more crying Miss Tembo"

"No more crying", I repeat

"That's my good girl"

***

          When I tiptoe into the house my mother is seated in the living room with only the fireplace burning as the main source of light. On the TV screen right now is CNN, which is now showing scenes from some kind of bombing going on some-where in the world. My mother notices my return and for whatever reason thinks that now is the best time to let out even more of her frustrations.

"That was incredibly irresponsible of you Nailea. Where did you go? Do you know how worried I was? How dare you just up and leave after we have a small disagreement and not even bother to tell me"

"Mother, I do not want to have this conversation with you right now. Okay? Can we please just not do this?" I moan

"Oh, Im sorry. I didnt realize that the only time Im allowed to have a healthy conversation with my only daughter is when she feels like it," she says sarcastically, making me even more irritated than I already am. "How selfish of you Nailea...how incredibly selfish"

"You cant actually be serious," I complain, "you are the one who wants to completely burn all of the littlest memories I have of my own father! you are the one who is constantly and persistently shoving all of your dreams and your failed attempts at life down my throat! You really want to know why I left? I left because I was genuinely, from deep down inside my heart mother, afraid that if I stayed even another second in this house with you, I would end up murdering you" —I pause— "So no mother. No, I am not the selfish or even the toxic one in this mess of a relationshipyou are!" I finally come to an end. And this is followed by one look at my mother who I now notice is crying.

"Well Im sorry you feel that way Nailea. I didnt realize how much of a terrible mother Ive been to you," she cries.

          I sigh then look to the screen which is still on the news channel, except now theres something on about the Obamas. I look away from the TV screen and back to my mother who is still putting on her victim act. Ive seen this performance a dozen times. This is what happens when your only present parent is a full-blown narcissist. They blame you for being selfish, tell you to talk about it and the minute you defend your actions and put even the slightest bit of blame, thats rightfully theirs, on them, they start to cry. But you see the thing is, you cant do that, you just cant be that kind of person. Ive had about enough of all of this. Its unhealthy and quite frankly, I. Am. Done.

"You cant just cry and expect everything youve done to disappear. You cant do that mother," I say, feeling emotionally drained at this point. "You....messed me up. You really did" —I pause— "And, crying about it doesnt make all of that just go away.