My Life in Reverse (12 page)

A highly sensitive and empathetic person who feels and often takes on the emotions of others often at the expense of their own emotional well-being.
[11]

The seeds of doubt

Being dug in deep

Sprouting roots

Full of deceit

Empty words

From lips that lie

The games you play

Are about to go awry

You dug deep down

Into my core

Planting seeds

Of doubt and insecurity

Making me feel

Inadequate and unworthy

Questioning myself

And my foundation

You broke me down

One lie at a time

You neglected to see

That I could grow

Past your lies

On my own

Continue to lie

The proof only fuels me

You gave me roots

Then tried to drown me

Left me at rock bottom

Withering and rotting

When you add a little sunshine

To dry up all the excess

Slowly but surely

That fragile little flower

You started to grow

Then left bent over

Dying in the fertilizer

Will strengthen its stem

Start to stand tall

Flourish in the sunlight

And shine more beautiful

Then anyone thought

They would ever see

What once was killing me

Now gives me strength

To continue to grow

Leaving you in my shadow

As just a mistake

On my path to finding out

Who I really am

Not who you

Tried to make to be

~Julz~

(c) JMM 16

7 months ago (continued)…

It’s about a forty-five minute ride from the airport to his city. It’s cold AF, but I can barely feel it. I’m too busy trying to wrap my head around the fact that my favorite adult sits next to me.

We talk a little, but I think he feels the same surreal shock that I do. He asks if I’m hungry which I very much am, so we stop for sushi.

“I can’t believe I’m here,” I admit from across the table.

He laughs. “Me, either. Glad you are, though.”

“Me, too.”

We get to his place and the butterflies in my belly are in full gear. They’re not the bad kind, but boy are they strong.

He must pick up on my nervousness. “You’re probably exhausted. Want to watch some TV and relax?”

“Sure,” I agree.

We watch this kick-ass show where some garage makes a real Hot Wheels car. When it’s over, he looks at me. “Bed?”

I nod. “I’m going to get changed first.”

The first thing I do when I’m alone is tell my brain to shut the fuck up. I can’t deny my attraction to this man, but I’m not a booty-call kind of girl. Even if it has been months upon months since I’ve gotten laid. Gah! That’s not helping.

My tank top and leggings aren’t super sexy, but they’re comfortable AF—especially after a day of travelling. I find him in his room already in bed and slide in next to him.

“You weren’t lying. Your bed is super comfy.” I say. He’s bragged about it a lot in the past.

“Told you.” I swear I can see him smirk in the dark.

“Thanks for having me.” I say.

“Thanks for coming.”

I smile. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

The next morning…

We may have fallen asleep hardly touching, but when I wake up it’s in a tangle of his legs and arms. It feels so damn good and so damn right that I almost cry.

I slept better than I have in forever. Maybe it’s jetlag, but more likely it’s feeling secure for once.

Confession? I’m horny and love morning sex, but contain myself. It’s still too soon, although I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last.

He has work and I have a lot to get done myself. I spend the day with his big white fluffy dog and make a new best friend. It’s hard, but I do my best not to think of how temporary this is, how the clock fights my time here.

Some people may think I’m nuts. I fell for a guy before I ever met him. I fell for so much more than his looks…I fell for his soul. Maybe that is crazy…but maybe it’s only crazy because it’s real.

I don’t expect him to love me. I certainly don’t want to force anything that’s not there. I just want to enjoy being here while I can.

The day passes quickly. I have a lot of my own work to catch up on. I do the dishes despite him telling me not to. It seems silly since I’m there and capable and all. When he comes home he cooks me dinner. We veg on the couch after until he asks me if I want to go to bed.

Unlike last night, I curl up in his arms. I swear I can
feel
the good in this man. It does things to me. I begin to rub his chest. He begins to rub my back. I can’t contain it any longer and brush my lips to his.

That’s all the invitation he needs. It starts off sweetly, but soon a need consumes us both. Our mouths move with fervor and our hands explore. He flips us around and his mouth moves to my throat, my chest—then lower still. It’s been so long since I’ve given myself to anyone and he knows this. He laps at my core and gently stretches me with his fingers. I come almost instantly.

That’s not enough for him. He does it again and again. “The first time I saw your pussy, I knew I had to taste it.”

All I can do is groan in response.

I’m almost ready to beg him to fuck me when I feel him slide in. Now it’s his turn to groan. We freeze for a moment in unison, while I adjust to his size. He’s big—really big—and it feels incredible.

And then he starts to move.

I come again and again, eliciting a growl from deep in his chest each time. This man is a machine. Nobody’s ever made me come like this before. I swear his cock was made just for me.

An orgasm rips through me so deeply that it takes him with me. We collapse together and he takes me in his arms.

I smile sleepily. “I’m really glad that I came.”

He kisses my head. “Me, too.”

3 days later…

My time here passes too quickly. I get to meet his kid and we get along really well. I get a lot of work done, which is nice to not be behind. I miss my own kids hard, but the peace I find here is incomparable.

Tomorrow is Sunday and I’m supposed to go home. We both kind of sulk over it. We spend more time than usual on the couch, cuddling and not wanting tomorrow to come.

With my face buried in his chest, I can’t stop the tears that well in my eyes. “I don’t want to leave you.” I confess.

His arms tighten around me. “I know.”

“What if I came back?” I whisper so softly that I don’t even know if he hears me.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“What if I moved out here?”

“Are you crazy?” He asks with a chuckle.

“Maybe.” I admit. “I mean I don’t want to if you don’t want me around—it’s okay. But I know I have to leave there, it’s not safe for me and the kids anymore. It’s time to go. And if I have to go somewhere, I’d like it to be here…by you.”

He kisses the top of my head and squeezes me tightly. “Anything you need, I’m here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The next day…

Torn. Literally, my heart tears down the middle. My heart wants to stay here and go home to my kids all at once.

It’s a whole new kind of hell.

There’s also not really any choice. It’s an inevitable thing that we both know but don’t want to face. I pack and get ready. I write a note on his mirror in lipstick. It says BBS.

I hope it’s not a lie.

When everything’s as done as it can be, I join him on the couch. We both procrastinate, as if it’ll stop my departure. Finally there’s no more ignoring it.

I spend the ride to the airport trying not to cry. When we pull up to the doors, we each snap a pic together. It’s so fucking bittersweet to leave this man.

I give him the biggest hug I can and the softest kiss I have. “I’ll see you soon.” I manage to say without bursting into tears.

He reaches into his pocket. “I want you to take this. I’ve had it since I was little.” It’s a little pewter statue of the see-no-evil, hear-no-evil, speak-no-evil monkeys. I grip it tightly in my hand.

“Thank you.”

One more embrace and I go into the airport. At the desk they tell me I’m too late. I whip my phone out.

“Hold on, I missed my flight lol. Don’t go yet!”

“Uh-oh. Okay, I’m still out front.”

The woman behind the counter must see my anxiety. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out.” She tells me. “I can have you out on a flight tomorrow morning. Just make sure you’re here an hour early.”

“Okay, thank you.” I agree. “Is there any charge?”

“Nope, you’re all set.” She assures me.

The definite downside to this is the static I’m sure to catch from the home front. But as much as I want to see my kids, another part of my soul rejoices at the prospect of one more day and night with my favorite adult. From the grin on his face when I meet him outside, he doesn’t mind keeping me for an extra day, either.

That night…

My oldest texts me, upset…

This poor kid. It enrages me to know
he
tries to spy on our private conversation—a conversation between a mother and her child.
He
places so much unnecessary stress on their tiny shoulders to fit
his
own selfish needs.
He’ll
never put anyone before himself—never.