Jaded (The Butterfly Memoirs)

by Kane, M. J.

  That, among other things, bothered me most.

  How long had she known she was dying?

  Her doctor informed me after her passing there was nothing that could have done to slow the process or save her. Yes, the cancer had indeed gone into remission. No, there were no signs of it when he’d given her that diagnosis a year ago. There had been no reason to suspect cancerous cells hid inside her marrow, making the bones brittle. Thus the reason she’d easily fractured her hip. Eventually the cells spread to her vital organs. It had only been a matter of time.

  Time she’d been well aware of for six months. Time she’d kept the severity of her illness hidden.

  Why didn’t she tell me?

  “Zack, baby, you need to eat something.” Yasmine stood in front of me, blocking the view of the setting sun. “You haven’t eaten since yesterday morning. That’s not healthy.”

  I focused on her face. The concern was apparent in her grey eyes. She squatted in front of me, forcing me to see her instead of stare out the window.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  That wasn’t true. My stomach growled, my head hurt; I needed sustenance. The act of chewing and swallowing would be too much. As it was, saying two words was a challenge.

  Yasmine placed one of my hands against her chest. “Do you feel that?”

  I focused on where my hand rested; over her heart. I could feel the rhythmic thump, thump, thump, and nodded.

  She placed my hand on my chest. “Do you feel that?” I forced myself to nod. “That’s life, baby, yours and mine. We have a life ahead of us. I know it’s hard because I miss her too, so much.” She paused as tears welled in her eyes.

  I creased my eyebrows, feeling the same thing about to happen to me. Men weren’t supposed to cry.

  Had my father ever cried? I couldn’t remember a day when he had been upset about anything. He always had a smile on his face and a positive outlook on life. ‘A dream in his heart and hope in his eyes’, as my mother put it. There was something else witty she’d say when talking about him, for the life of me I couldn’t remember. I stared at the coffee table where my cell phone sat. I could call and she’d…

  I groaned and closed my eyes. A tear fell. I gritted my teeth, clenched my jaw, and tried my damndest to suck it up. I was a man, not a punk, not a sissy. I shouldn’t be crying weeks later. What would Yasmine think of me?

  What was I now? A momma’s boy?

  I pushed my frustration into the pit of my stomach, opened my eyes, and focused on the beauty that sat in front of me.

  My wife.

  “What are you cooking?” I forced myself to ask.

  Relief passed over her features. “Chili. If you’d rather have something else then—”

  I reached out to run a hand over her cheek. Her skin was so soft. “No, that’s fine, whatever you made is fine.”

  She smiled a little and leaned in to kiss me.

  I placed my hands on the side of her face and rested my forehead against hers. “You have no idea how much I love you.”

  “Yes I do, it’s as much as I love you.” She kissed me again, this time a little longer. “Come on, I’ll make you a bowl.”

  She stood, then walked to kitchen.

  Watching her body was like watching a work of art. Every movement was sensual even when she wasn’t trying to be.

  When was the last time we’d made love?

  I closed my eyes and sighed. It had been during our honeymoon. The night before…

  Sorrow rushed over me and threatened to take over. I forced the emotion away to clear my head.

  Yasmine reached into the cabinet for a bowl and glanced over her shoulder. I rose and walked towards her.

  An ache in my chest made food no longer a necessity. I needed something else. I needed to feel her body against me. I needed to know that emotionally we were still in tune. I needed to get rid of the pain nested in my heart since the moment my mother took her last breath.

  I needed my wife.

  “I don’t know how much you want, but…whoa,” she dropped the ladle in the pot.

  I wrapped my arms around her waist, drew her against me, and buried my nose into the soft flesh of her throat. She smelled like home and love. Laughter and life.

  It was exactly what I needed.

  I ran my hand down the length of her arm holding the bowl and coaxed it out of her grip; the dish settled on the counter.

  I slid my hands to the edge of the little red tank top she loved to wear around the house, ran my fingers underneath to the soft flesh and flat expanse of her belly, up to her breasts. I reached her nipples and discovered the lack of a bra. I traced her throat lightly with my lips; kiss by seductive kiss.

  She gasped and leaned against my shoulder.

  “Zack…”

  “I need you…I need you…,” I murmured, and drew the straps of the tank top off her shoulders.

  She didn’t move to jump me, instead, she settled against me, letting me take my fill. My hands drifted to the top of her sweat pants and untangled the tie. They dropped to the floor. I slid my fingers between her thighs, beneath the lace panties to naked flesh. I wanted to feel her body tremble against me.

  Her release was music to my ears, flooding my senses, driving me to do more. My mouth was parted, ready for the kiss she gave me. She reached for my hand and led me upstairs to our bed. I stood as she undressed me, absorbing the feel of her hands along my skin.

  Naked, she crawled into bed and held a hand out to me. I lay beside her, pulling her into my arms. The feel of her bare flesh against mine was exactly what I needed. This connection, this intimacy reminded me of how much good I had in my life, despite the loss of family.

  Yasmine was my family.

  My wife twisted in my arms and kissed me, long, slow, deep. I sighed and rolled her on top of me.

  “We need a condom.” She reached for the nightstand.

  “Why?”

  She paused, hesitancy on her face. “I know we said we wanted to have a baby, but we can wait.”

  “Why wait?”

  Yasmine laid her hands on my chest. “I thought that…it’s just…I don’t want to push you into committing to starting a family so soon after... I thought you may not be ready.”

  “I don’t want to wait, Yasmine. Nothing has changed. I still want to start our family. I need this. Don’t you?”

  She nodded; I guided her mouth to meet mine.

  I got lost in the sensation of our bodies as we rolled together, against one another. She gave and I took, losing myself deep inside. When I came, my release was more than physical, it was mental. It was a moment of forgetting the pain of loss and remembering the joy of life.

  When we were done, I was not fully healed, not by a long shot, but our mating solidified our need to be together as a couple. As one.

  My eyes closed, my breathing returned to normal. I realized the pain that dissipated was now replaced with something else. For the first time in weeks, I was able to think and see things clearly.

  I didn’t like what I saw.

  “What’s wrong?” Yasmine sat up next to me, rested on an elbow, and traced the hair on my chest with a finger.

  I stared at the ceiling in the darkened room. “Do you really want to know right now?”

  “Yes,” she said softly.

  I ground my teeth. My life wasn’t fair. Every time I found something to be happy about, killjoy kicked me in the nuts and stole everything.

  Visiting my best friend for the weekend ended in the death of my father.

  The first time I was supposed to be married, discovering my mother had cancer threw a monkey wrench in the plan.

  Now that I married the women of my dreams, my mother died without a warning.

  “It was selfish of my mother to keep her dying a secret.” I didn’t hide the anger in my voice.

  Yasmine stared at me. “What?”

  “Think about it. I did everything in my power for the last two years to see she had what sh
e needed. I took her to doctor’s appointments, paid for prescriptions her insurance didn’t cover, held her hand while she threw up from chemo. It was work, and I didn’t care. She needed me. Even after everything was supposed to be okay, I still took care of her, Yasmine. When she found out no matter what either of us did, she was still going to die, she kept that to herself. What kind of shit was that?”

  When I glanced her way, I noticed her expression was one of unease. I’m sure what I said was nothing like what she thought it would be.

  “For the past few months she pushed me away. ‘You need to get a life’, ‘you need to be married’, and ‘you don’t have to keep sitting around keeping me company,” I huffed. “Why didn’t she come out and tell me, ‘I’m dying, get used to not having to take care of me?’ Obviously it’s what she wanted.” I sat up; Yasmine’s hand slid off my chest.

  “Zack…maybe she…”

  “She what? Didn’t think I could handle knowing the truth? I’m a grown man. Who took care of her when no one else would? I did. I deserved to know what was going on. I should have been told she was dying, okay? I should have had time to prepare for it, not find out during the happiest time of my life. During our honeymoon? That was unfair to you…to us.”

  Unable to sit still, I got out of bed and stormed naked around the room. The pain in my chest needed an outlet. Unfortunately my wife was in the room. I struggled to aim my anger at any and everything else but her.

  “But Zack, what if…”

  “What if what?” I snapped. “What if she thought I was too soft?”

  “No, what if she didn’t want you worrying about her? What if she wanted you to live your life and not get stuck in hers?”

  I stopped pacing.

  “I’m serious. I think she was afraid if you knew she was dying you’d push everything away. Your job…me.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Why would I risk losing the one person in my life I was sure was there for me? Why would I push you away?”

  Her eyes widened. “Because you did it before.”

  I shook my head. “No, I didn’t push Melissa away. I asked her for help, told her I loved and needed her, but she ran. You were never that way. You were already there, helping me, helping her. Hell, you even moved in. I never would have had to ask you because you were always there.”

  Yasmine stared down at her hands.

  I resumed walking. “I should have been there; I would have known something was wrong. But you were there while I worked over-time. Could you tell something wasn’t right? Could you see the signs? If you did, I know you would have…,” I stopped dead in my tracks. Yasmine continued to stare at her hands, never meeting my stare. “You knew?”

  Her eyes closed and tears fell.

  “You’re fucking kidding me.” My knees went weak and I leaned against the dresser in disbelief. “Yasmine…you knew?”

  More silence, more tears.

  My heart dropped in my chest. “You knew she was dying and didn’t tell me.”

  “Zack, she made me promise—”

  “How did you know?” My chest tightened to the point where breathing felt impossible. My fists balled.

  “She told me—”

  “She told you, but not me.” I ground out.

  Yasmine kneeled on the bed and held out her hands. “Don’t be mad. I wanted to tell you but she made me promise. She wanted to be sure you didn’t break up with me.”

  “That is bullshit.” My jaw throbbed from the grinding of my molars. “Why would she tell you, someone she hardly knew, but keep it from me, her son?”

  Yasmine flinched as if I slapped her. My words were harsh, but I didn’t give a shit. The woman I pledged my love to knew more about my mother’s health than I did. The woman I married kept a secret from me, something I should have known.

  “She wanted you to be happy, Zack. She didn’t want you to sit by watching her die.” Yasmine got out of bed and walked over to me. She reached out and I pushed her hand away.

  “And you obviously thought I was too weak to handle the truth. What kind of man do you think I am? Because I cared about my mother’s wellbeing I would be emotionally cut off from loving you because she was dying?”

  I’d never yelled at Yasmine before, much less anyone else in my life. I was unable to control my temper. Of all the things to deal with, learning my wife knew what was going on with my mother and kept it from me was unforgivable.

  “You should have told me. It wasn’t your right, hell; it wasn’t her right to assume you knew how I would respond. You’re as bad as Melissa.”

  Yasmine’s mouth dropped; her eyes wide with shock.

  Finding out the two of them felt they knew what was best for me was more than I could handle.

  I needed to get out of here. If I didn’t I would say something I could never take back.

  I grabbed my jeans from the floor, dressed, and stepped into some shoes. An empty gym bag sat at the bottom of the closet. I stormed around the room and grabbed clothes, stuffing them into the bag.

  “Baby, what are you doing?” Yasmine followed me, panic in her voice.

  I tuned her out and continued to pack.

  “Zack, you’re scaring me. Talk to me, please. We can work this out. I’m sorry, I am so sorry…”

  I stopped, took a deep breath, and forced myself to face her. Fear was on her face and in her eyes. She clasped her hands over her chest.

  Her heart could not be hurting as much as mine. I was betrayed by the two women I loved more than life itself.

  Part of me wanted to drop my bag and pull her in my arms.

  The other part wanted to cuss her out for robbing me of the time I had left with my mother.

  I’d be able to forgive my mother. But Yasmine…

  “I need to get away from here, from you. I don’t know if I can trust you anymore.” I clutched my chest as pain shot to my heart, and oddly enough, to the ring on my hand.

  “Why would you say that? I was doing what you mother asked me to do! I didn’t agree with it, Zack. You don’t know how many times I wanted to tell you, how close I came to telling you. I am so sorry! I should have listened to myself and not your mother.”

  I pursed my lips and held up a hand. “No, don’t apologize now, it’s way too late. There’s nothing you can say or do to make me change the way I feel about you right now.”

  Yasmine sunk to her knees on the floor in front of me, sobbing.

  “I’m gone.”

  I strapped the bag over my shoulder, jogged down the steps, and grabbed my key out of the dish at the door.

  I didn’t look back.

  Chapter 36

  He’ll come home…he’s got to come home.

  I sat in the living room all night repeating that mantra.

  When I promised to keep Ms. Belinda’s secret from him, I failed to calculate the cost. I didn’t consider how he’d feel if he ever found out.

  What had I done?

  We’d been married for less than a month and I’d already failed as a wife.

  The image of Zack’s pained expression plagued me every time I closed my eyes.

  ‘There’s nothing you can say or do to make me change the way I feel about you right now.’

  The pain of his words radiated through my body, making it hard to breathe.

  I huddled under the covers of the throw blanket on the sofa, clutched my cell phone, and ran my thumb over the blank screen. No matter how many times I called, he didn’t answer. It didn’t take much to figure out where he’d gone; his mother’s house. Every part of me wanted to go there and beg for forgiveness and pray he would understand the reason why I kept his mother’s secret.

  But a part of me wondered how much had been done for Ms. Belinda?

  How much had been done for me?

  Sacrifices were made by both of us since the night we found Ms. Belinda on the bathroom floor. Moving up our wedding date, continuing to stay with her even though Zack wanted me to move in with him…none of it was a h
ardship because I had come to love Ms. Belinda as my own mother before Zack and I acknowledged our feelings. I did my best to persuade him to stop working to pay for our honeymoon, but of course there was no way for him to understand without me telling him the truth.

  Even though Vegas had been wonderful, I would have been just as happy leaving the ceremony and returning to our home. Being with him was what was important, not the location.

  If Zack had found out, she would have been angry, but at least the two of them would have acknowledged the fact their time was running out and made the best of it.

  Ms. Belinda’s anger with me would have been easier to deal with than my husband no longer trusting me.

  My fear of losing him had manifested anyway. I should have known this would happen. With my relationship track record filled with lies, deceit, and heartbreak, I was destined to be alone.

  Carlos promised to love me, but decided having his choice of women was far more important.

  Javan played mental games. One moment we were lovers without strings, and then out of the blue, he proposed. I never questioned his intentions because it felt good to have someone want me. How was I supposed to know it was a lie to cover his ass?

  And now Zack.

  The one man who proved beyond a doubt he loved me. He’d been perfect, done nothing wrong. This time, it was my fault.

  I allowed my vulnerability and Ms. Belinda’s reasoning to persuade me to keep Zack in the dark. I should have trusted our relationship to be strong enough to know he wouldn’t leave me.

  Damn Melissa for popping back up in his life. If she hadn’t, then I wouldn’t have been afraid. So what if the woman had personality flaws? She was beautiful. She had something with Zack I didn’t have….a history. She had been the woman he wanted to marry.

  How could I compete with that?

  I was nothing but a woman who slipped beneath his relationship radar.

  He was right, I had assumed the worst. If Melissa ran away from him because of the work it took to care for his mother, why would I do the same when I lived there? I already helped. I would have been there even if he didn’t want me to be because I would have been there for her.