I explain to them that he needed some air and went to get the car to pick us up, but I can tell they don’t believe that when we get to the parked car and Joey’s just sitting in the passenger seat. The girls don’t ask him why he left, and he doesn’t apologize for doing so. I hate this feeling, not only is he hurting our kids, but I feel anxious and constantly cautious of what I say and do, not wanting to upset him. It reminds me of being with my father, and I will be damned if Joey makes our girls feel like my dad made me feel.
I’m on the verge of blowing up at him, losing my shit and letting him have it. But one day I look up on the computer for reasons why he would be acting this way, and read about PTSD. I realize there’s nothing I can do for him, but he needs to talk to someone. I want to talk to him about it today, and plan to when the girls go to bed. Joey’s in the front room as I hear a knock at the door and I start for it but hear the door open, and I pause just around the corner.
“I’m bringing this back, I’m Michael, you must be Joey,” Michael says.
“Mr. Pederson.”
My brows furrow at not only Joey’s correction, but his tone of voice. I hear the door creak as it begins to close. I haven’t spoken to Michael since he tried to kiss me, and I wonder if him bringing this over was his way of getting to talk to me.
“Is Katie here?” Michael asks.
“Why?”
“We usually take the kids to Sunday market-”
“No, she’s busy.”
The door closes and I push away from the wall, taking a few steps and meeting Joey in the front room.
“Your boyfriend brought your dish back,” Joey states, handing me the casserole dish.
I say nothing, and I don’t honestly have the energy to get into this with him. I know Joey’s thinking the worst, his mind coming up with a million things about Michael and me. Nothing I say will convince him otherwise, especially right now, when I feel like he’s just looking to lash out at someone.
The girls sit at the table talking loudly as I get drinks together for dinner, setting them down by each girl. The food’s already out and I’ve dished a serving on each of their plates. When Joey enters the room, it’s like the air shifts. I’ve always felt his presence, but now it’s different. Ever since he’s been back, it’s like I can feel the tension radiating off of him. The wood chair scratches across the floor as he pulls it out and takes a seat.
“Mom, it’s too hot,” Lily says.
“Blow on it,” I tell her, filling up glasses of water for Joey and me.
“What kind of meat is this?” Natasha asks.
“Ground turkey.”
“Good, I don’t like ground beef,” she informs us.
I don’t reply, since her tastes change from day to day.
“Do you know what beef is?” she asks Lily. “It’s cow!”
“Ew!” Lily exclaims.
Causing Goldie to mimic.
“Well, what do you think ground turkey is?” I ask.
“Mom, don’t even tell me.”
I smile as I turn, looking at Joey and expecting him also to be smiling. But he’s not, he’s looking down at his plate, his fork poking his spaghetti. I set the water down beside him.
“Water okay, or you want something else?”
He shakes his head, but doesn’t look at me. I inhale deeply and smile at the girls who are now talking about a princess show on television. I sit beside Goldie and put some more pasta on her plate.
“I want that for my birthday,” Natasha states.
“Be good and maybe you’ll get it,” I reply.
“I want it for Christmas,” Lily says.
“We can’t both have it,” Natasha tells her.
The two begin to bicker and Goldie joins in. The volume increases, but I’m so used to it, it barely phases me. Abruptly, Joey stands, the sound of the chair on the floor causes everyone to freeze in surprise. And we all watch as he walks out of the room, leaving us silent. After a moment, the girls look at me.
“Mom?” Natasha says.
“It’s okay babe, Daddy isn’t feeling that good,” I tell her.
“He’s never feeling good,” she replies, looking down at her plate.
I reach out and put my hand on her arm, rubbing up and down as I dip my head.
“You know, he’s just having a hard time. A lot of things happened when he was gone, and it just takes some time to get over things that are scary or sad sometimes…right?” I ask. “Like when you have a nightmare, sometimes you forget it and fall back asleep right away. But then sometimes you think about it in the middle of the day, or when you’re laying down to sleep months later. Some of my worst dreams I still think about…he just needs some time.”
She looks up at me and nods.
“We all just need to be patient, and know that Daddy’s not mad at any of us, he’s just adjusting.” I look around the table as I say this and try to reassure our girls.
After I clean up dinner, and the girls are getting ready for bed, watching two episodes of a show they like in the living room, I venture up to our room. The door’s closed slightly, but I hear him talking on the other side.
“I know, but it’s hard…I don’t know what to do, or how to be,” he says.
He’s silent for a moment before saying. “Yeah, I’ll call you tonight when everyone goes to sleep…you too.”
I push open the door and stand in the doorway, crossing my arms beneath my breasts. He’s sitting on the bed, his head down as he holds his cellphone in his hands.
“Who was that?” I ask, knowing he won’t tell me anyhow.
He doesn’t answer me, but stands from the bed, walking over to the closet.
“I found a house in Plantain, we need to start packing.”
My brows furrow with the sudden news.
“Okay, when are we-”
“That why you got in shape?” he asks, stepping out from the doorway. “Michael’s wife must be in good shape, right? That’s what he likes?”
I step back with shock, shaking my head out of disbelief.
“Are you serious?” I ask, feeling the pent-up rage I’ve been holding in boiling to the surface.
“Why else get all in shape? Not for me, so it has to be for that ass-”
“For myself!” I shout, pointing a finger at my chest. “How dare you ever think I would be unfaithful to you after all this time. That’s really bullshit Joey-”
“Just start packing,” he tells me, ending the ‘conversation,’ and returning to the closet.
I follow right behind him, not even close to done with this. But he slams the door before I can reach it, and I hear the lock turn.
“Yeah Joey, just keep avoiding everything. But you can’t slam the door and pretend that everything between us is resolved, I’m not your doormat to walk on when you’re upset. I vowed to be with you through sickness and in health and all that, but I won’t let you drag us through hell with you.”
I stop and close my eyes. I know this isn’t his fault, the way he’s feeling, he can’t help it. Part of me thinks I should just keep my mouth shut, fighting will only make things worse. But I refuse to be the punching bag another time in my life, I don’t deserve it and I won’t have it. I close my eyes and rest my forehead against the door, lowering my voice.
“I know you have a lot going on, but I’m here for you, and to talk,” my voice trails off when I feel my voice begin to tremble. “Will you please talk to me?” I almost beg because I feel desperate. He can talk to this mystery person on the phone, but not me? I wonder if it’s harder because we’d be face to face.
When he says nothing, I finally turn away and head back downstairs after a few minutes. The rest of the evening Joey stays upstairs until I put the girls down for bed and he goes out to sit on the front porch.
I’m in the bathroom, the shower’s on as I lean over the counter towards the mirror and pluck my eyebrows. Startling when the door opens behind me, I’m naked and feel a little intruded upon when Jo
ey comes in. I look at him in the mirror, wondering if he’s going to see me and close the door like he didn’t know I was here, or he has to pee or something. But he’s naked too and hard, which also surprises me.
I set the metal tweezers on the counter, and the urge to cover myself is my first instinct. Then he’s behind me, his hand at the back of my neck and pushing me down. My breath hitches at the unexpected movement, and my hands plant on the counter to keep from smashing my face on the countertop. But he continues pushing down, causing my arms to bend until my cheek’s pressed onto the cold marble.
His other hand forces my legs apart, and I oblige. He then roughly runs his blunt fingers over my folds, testing my readiness. I’m getting wet from knowing we’re about to have sex, but still I’m taken aback by his approach. I hear him spit on his fingers, then rub the liquid against my entrance. I can’t see anything but the wall beside the sink but think maybe he licks his palm and rubs it over the tip of his cock because it’s wet when he presses against me.
I breathe out when his cock slides into me, I’m wet, but not that wet. And I inhale sharply as he fills me completely, both his hands now on the back of my neck as he starts fucking me. I’m able to get out of my head at how good he feels inside me, unleashing a rapid tempo with his hips. Ignoring that he’s not saying anything, not touching me like he used to, just fucking me.
I grow wetter, and my breathing picks up, but his hands are pushing his weight onto me, and it’s starting to become painful. I fight that involuntary response I have to pain, going to another place in my head and checking out. In my heart, I know Joey’s not intending to inflict pain on me. This isn’t like it was when my parent’s hurt me, it’s not. I repeat that to myself over and over, to keep myself in the present.
His hands move around to the front of my neck, pulling me back and up, arching my back until the top of my head is against his chest. His hands are tight, but the position allows his cock to hit deep. I look up at him, his eyes are squeezed shut, his brows furrowed, his lips pressed tightly together. And I close my eyes to not see that he’s not with me right now. But this feels good, my body unable to connect to my brain that I shouldn’t be getting any pleasure from this, but I am. I moan and bite my lip, not wanting to be too loud since the girls are asleep down the hall.
Steam fills the room from the shower, and then we’re on the floor. He’s moved me onto my stomach, the bathmat under my chest as he lays me flat onto my front. Then he squats down behind me, his feet beside my hips as he raises my ass up and enters my pussy. I groan and bite my lip again to muffle the sounds I want to make, he’s fucking me hard, so goddamn hard and I begin to slide along the floor.
His hands take my forearms and pull them back, before his hands find purchase on my shoulders. I come from the position and his vigorous efforts. But it doesn’t make me feel good just to have done that, he’s not even acknowledging that I orgasmed. His fingers grip hard and he begins to inhale sharply through his teeth, and I know he’s coming by the way his body tightens and jerks.
In this moment, I pray he takes me in his arms, we get into the shower and this is when he can show me affection. But he doesn’t. He pulls out of me, stands, and leaves the bathroom while closing the door behind me. I’m lying there, on the floor. My body almost shaking with what the fuck just happened, and from my orgasm.
My head is churning all these thoughts and rationalizations, conflicting what my heart’s feeling. Maybe I’m being paranoid, maybe I’m thinking too much into this. Maybe because I know there’s been weirdness between us since he’s been back, I was searching for things to be wrong with this. But my heart’s telling me is there is no blame on my part.
I feel my eyes begin to well-up as I sit, and I stare at the closed bathroom door. I inhale deeply and lean against the cabinets under the sink, covering my mouth as I begin to cry. I’m not upset about the sex we just had, under other circumstances, it was probably the best sex we’ve ever had. What’s making me upset, what’s fucking eviscerating me, is there was no connection. He was fucking me like I was just someone, anyone. Not me, not the girl he’s known for years, not his best friend, not the mother of his children, not his wife…just someone.
***
Packing the house up in North Carolina was bittersweet. This was the house I’d brought the girls to from the hospital, where I raised them so far. So many memories, but I hoped that a new house and a new start might be just what we needed. The move was hard on the girls, leaving their friends and schools behind. But I told them repeatedly that they’d make new friends, and that now Grandma and Grandpa would be close and that seemed to appease them. I felt like the move would help me too, having my support system there.
I hadn’t talked to Michael since he tried to kiss me, didn’t even go over to say goodbye to him or his boys. But I was relieved to leave that behind. Even though I looked back at how he would’ve even gotten the idea that I would be interested in him like that, I told myself he was just lonely, that he probably wasn’t thinking. It was just another thing I was keeping from Joey, along with my miscarriage. I wondered about that too, maybe losing the baby was a sign that my marriage was failing and ending.
We moved into a four-bedroom bungalow house only a few blocks from Gwen and Joseph and around the block from Maven and Dornan. I really loved the house, with navy blue siding and white shutters and trim. It only needed a few updates, but we were able to move in before having to work on anything. As a housewarming gift, Emily offered to do all the landscaping for us with her company, which I was grateful and super excited for.
The girls adjusted quickly, making friends in no time and loving that they could see their grandparents anytime. Joey kept getting his mysterious phone calls, and continuing to not talk to me about what was weighing on his shoulders. I just felt like there was no good time for me to sit and talk with him, only allowing more of a gap to come between us. I can’t explain how lonely and abandoned I felt.
Not only were Joey and I barely speaking, we hadn’t been physical since the night in the bathroom. At first, I knew his emotions were raw, and he was still healing from his injuries. I got the sense from him that me and the girls were the last things he wanted to deal with, so I didn’t push anything, and maybe I should have.
Being back in Plantain, Joey was never home. Always at the club or out somewhere, I didn’t know where and didn’t ask. I knew Maven could sense something was going on, but she never asked me directly about it and I didn’t tell her. I didn’t want to voice my fears, almost like that would make them real. But not talking about it was depressing me, causing me to morph back into the introvert I’d been before I met Joey so many years ago. The girls made me happy, and anytime I was with them, my smiles weren’t forced. It was anytime Joey was around, or I was alone and really thought about what was happening.
It was a Wednesday when Gwen called me at home, asking if I’d go pick Joseph up from the club and take him to a doctor’s appointment. He’d been having problems with his bike and she was at work and unable to take him. The girls were at school and I’d had a job interview at the salon in town earlier but was free.
I was feeling pretty good about how my interview went, and I was excited and optimistic about the job, figuring I was going to be needing my own income soon if Joey decided to divorce me. I grab my car keys and head over to the clubhouse, parking outside the building and debating on whether I should stop by and see Maven first, but as I get out of my car she’s pulling up in the mustang and parking beside me.
“Hey girl,” she smiles.
“Hi.”
“What’s up?” she asks.
“Coming to get Joseph, you?”
“Just got back from lunch,” she says.
We start walking towards the oak doors, as she asks me about my interview. I’m just telling her how I hope to hear back from them with an offer by this afternoon, when my eyes adjust to the dark space and land on Joey, with another woman.
My feet s
top, my eyes moving back and forth between the two. They’re sitting alone at one of the tables, beers in front of them as they sit side by side. They seem in deep conversation and I don’t understand.
“Katie,” Joseph says from the bar.
Joey’s head shoots up, his eyes connecting with mine. I blink and close my mouth, swallowing the dryness. My brows furrow slightly as I inhale deeply. Joseph walks over to me and puts his hand on my shoulder, turning me back towards the door.
“We have to hurry if we’re going to make it on time,” he says, leading me out the door.
I let him, my feet wanting the hell out of there since my brain’s short circuiting.
“How about I drive,” Joseph suggests, reaching for the keys.
I nod as he takes them from my fingers.
“Actually, why don’t you just take my car…I need some air,” I state in a robotic voice.
He says my name but I start walking down the driveway, I inhale and the air gets stuck in my throat. Without thought, I just walk, finding myself at the park and I sit on the bench. All I can see is the two of them sitting together. He took her to the clubhouse, where everyone knows he’s married. What a fucking asshole.
Was everyone keeping this from me? Maven had no idea she was there because I hope to God she wouldn’t let me walk in on that. But did she not know at all? Did Joseph know? Did Dornan know? And no one fucking told me. I close my eyes and I see them, and it’s then I recognize the woman. Unless I’m wrong, I swear she looked like Grant’s widow. Maybe they were just talking, maybe she’s the one he’s been talking to on the phone. I feel sick, but not surprised I guess.
On my walk home, I wonder if Joey’s going to have the balls to tell me what I saw, or ignore it as I feel he might. I have no idea what time it is, but need to pick the girls up in a few hours, I can’t let my thoughts get the better of me and forget them. But my feet are heavy as I head home, not wanting to face the reality of what’s happening.
Take On Me: Plantain Series Book Three Page 20
