Anxious Hearts

by Felicia Tatum

  I didn’t want it.

  “I’m out, Mother. Bye,” I called, slamming the door behind me. She may follow, knowing her nosy ass, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to help my uncle get away with this in any way.

  He deserved whatever punishment he was handed.

  Karaoke night was night of freedom. My favorite things, all in one place. Music, beer, and girls.

  I took my turn on the stage, my guitar light around my neck, my fingers itching to strum the cords. Music became my escape when mom left dad. I’d only been twelve, and it hit hard. The fights, the screaming, it all messed me up, but her packing our bags and taking us away from the only home we’d known while dad was at work one day? It left a scar that ran too deep to heal.

  I never wanted to do that to a child. Ever.

  I may never have them because of the lessons my parents taught. Love wasn’t enough, marriage meant nothing, and kids were a part of the package and it really didn’t matter if they were hurt in the process or not.

  The light gleamed in my eyes as I faced the crowd. “Evening,” I said with a one hand wave. “I’m going to sing an original song tonight, if y’all don’t mind.”

  They burst into applause, signaling I should begin. Closing my eyes, I felt the song come over me, the lyrics and notes flowing through me. Music sent me to another state of mind, the images, the feelings of the song moved through me as the words escaped my lips.

  I allowed my body to be the vessel for the music, losing myself to my surroundings. The claps, the yells, and everything else vanished, leaving only me and my guitar.

  The song ended and the crowd erupted in shouts. Playing was my passion, my joy. I only went to school for law because it was what was expected of me; it was what the family demanded, but now? I saw no reason to continue. I was a millionaire, though not by choice, and figured it was time to make my own choices.

  Plan my own destiny.

  Exiting the stage, I slapped hands with the people standing near, making my way to the bar. I took a seat beside an attractive blonde, ordering a tall cold one and rested my guitar between my feet.

  “You were pretty good,” she said, her blue eyes connecting with mine.

  I nodded. “Thanks.”

  “I’m Lucy,” she stated, holding her hand out for me to shake.

  “Nice to meet you, Lucy,” I replied. I don’t know why, but I didn’t tell her my name then.

  She sipped her drink. Her dainty mouth turned in a perfect pucker, causing my mind to wander and my jeans to stir. What the hell? I never allowed women in a bar to get to me, but something about this one was mesmerizing. She was gorgeous, amazingly so, with tanned skin that looked like cinnamon. And damned if she didn’t smell like cinnamon, too. Her blonde hair was dark, and her eyes glistened with an intensity that only a hurt heart could muster.

  I wanted to help her. No idea why, but I did.

  “Why are you here?” she asked, studying me intently. “You don’t look like the usual.”

  “Open mic night,” I said with a shrug. “Play when I can.”

  “Is that what you want to do?” she questioned. Her tone and expression were off.

  Why was she asking so many questions? I nodded. “Yeah, it is.” And why was I answering?

  “Do you want to get out of here?” she whispered. The uncertainty of her question oozed off her, her eyes mirroring my own shock.

  My mouth opened and closed, then I nodded. Wasn’t even drunk and I was leaving with a stranger. I was a man, a decent one, and I prided myself on respecting women, not taking advantage. Damned if she wasn’t hot as hell and turning me on more than any other woman had in a long time.

  She stood, revealing long, lean legs that shaped in all the right places. Signaling the bartender, I closed our tabs. Gently placing my hand on the small of her back, I led her out of the bar. Since I hadn’t been drinking, I directed her to my car, opening the door for her to slide in. Her scent enveloped me, and I longed to taste her sweet skin.

  No one could smell as good as she did and not taste as delicious.

  “Where do you want to go?” I asked once I was settled in the driver’s seat. Nervous was a light way to describe how I was feeling.

  “A hotel would work,” she whispered. She sounded so unsure and shy, I wondered if she truly wanted to do this.

  “Are you sure?” I questioned as I turned the key.

  She glanced my way, her blue eyes shimmering under the parking lot lights and nodded. “Positive.”

  We drove in mostly silence. The air was thick with sexual tension, and her wandering hands up and down my thigh didn’t help matters. I was more than ready to go by the time we pulled into the ritziest hotel I could find. Checking in took longer than I wanted, but the moment I got the card key, I grabbed her hand and led her to the elevator.

  The door closed and she was pressed against me, her soft lips puckered and begging me to capture them. I kissed her hard, showing her how desperately I needed her in the moment. Hands on her hips, I pushed her against the wall, gripping her waist as my tongue assaulted hers. She tasted as sweet as I imagined.

  She whimpered at my touch, her body going lax and melting into me. The ding of the door had us scattering, but I was certain the older couple that entered knew what we’d been doing.

  The ascent to the fifth floor took ages, but when we arrived, I once again took her hand and we dashed to room 538. The fire she started in me took hold, and I ripped her dress off, pausing a moment to admire her lacy lingerie. “God, you are beautiful, Lucy,” I growled.

  Jumping up, she locked her thighs around my waist and ran her hand through my hair as she kissed me with such intensity it caused me to take a step back. It’d been a while since I’d been intimate with a woman, but it appeared that Lucy would make up for that and then some.

  I tumbled to the bed with her still locked around me. She rocked against me, and I sucked in a breath before flipping her to her back. “You’re a naughty little thing,” I murmured.

  “You have no idea,” she grinned, trailing her hand up and down her soft body. She removed her bra, revealing the nicest set of breasts I remembered seeing, and proceeded to guide my hand to one, and head to another.

  I suckled and nibbled, eliciting cries and moans from her gorgeous mouth. Stripping down, I kissed my way from her ankles to her thighs. Looking up at her, I smiled deviously as I ripped her panties in half and flung them across the room.

  She hissed, arching her hips in my direction, and I obliged. Sharp nails found their way to my head, her delicate hands growing aggressive as she tugged on my hair. I brought her to the brink, then licked my way to her neck. Sucking and biting her sensitive flesh, I fumbled around for a condom in my pocket.

  Growing agitated, I stopped and directed my attention to my pants.

  “What is it?” she questioned, her nails lightly scratching my back.

  “I can’t find a condom,” I huffed. Of all times to not have one on me.

  “I’m on the pill…” she started. “Are you clean? Can I trust you to not lie?”

  “Of course I’m clean!” I shouted. “I don’t usually do this, you know. I’ve never had sex with a stranger.” Wasn’t sure why I was admitting it, but the way she questioned me made me feel dirty.

  Observing me, her blue eyes lazily roamed over my body. “Ok. I’ll believe you.” She was on me before I processed her words, guiding me between her legs. Her soft palm gripped me, pumping me as she led me to her opening.

  Reckless it was, but I didn’t care in that moment. Her beauty, her sexuality, her scent, everything about this woman made me dizzy with lust. I sank myself deep, allowing her lithe body to pleasure me in ways I couldn’t imagine. My head fogged with desire, each touch a new fire in my veins.

  She was unbelievable. Her soft skin tickled my senses while her small fingers held me tightly. As she finished, she gripped me and dug her nails in deeply, crying out as her eyes rolled back in her head.

 
It was a sight I’d never forget.

  I released shortly after, laying spent on her as I attempted to catch my breath.

  Tracing lines along my shoulder blades, she sighed. “Wow,” she chuckled.

  Lifting my head, I nodded. “Yeah.”

  I lay beside her, but didn’t reach for her, though I wanted to. She was aloof, her quietness and uncertainty from earlier returning. Considering this was my first one night stand, I had no clue what to do. “So, Lucy, what do you do?”

  Exhaling loudly, she turned to me, covering her chest with the comforter. “Yeah, we aren’t doing this.”

  Surprised, I furrowed my brows. “Doing what?”

  “Small talk. Chit chat. Get to know each other bullshit,” she explained. “We had sex. That’s it.”

  Well, hell. “Ok. Sorry I asked.”

  She shrugged. “It’s cool. You didn’t know.” Standing, she took off to the bathroom and I soon heard the shower.

  Thoughts of her naked body wet and soapy clouded my mind. I couldn’t resist, and I snuck in, tapping softly on the glass door.

  She peered out at me, her eyes wide. Her hair was piled on top of her head, still dry, and she gave me a questioning gaze.

  “Can we do it again? Or is that a no, too?” I asked.

  Shutting the water off, she opened the door and sprung into my arms. I took her right there in the bathroom, atop the counter. The rest of the night consisted of our bodies moving in multiple ways, in multiple locations. Lucy fed my need for sex, and awakened a need I hadn’t felt in a long time.

  By the time she rolled over, sound asleep, I realized it would soon be morning. It was Sunday, so I wouldn’t have to work, but I didn’t want to face any awkward situations with leaving and goodbyes, either.

  I snuck out, making sure the front desk knew she was still up there and to send her breakfast in a few hours. I also left enough money on the bedside table for her to call a cab, since I drove us. I was a gentleman if nothing else, the one thing my mother taught me before she went off on her money hungry ways.

  As I drove back home, I couldn’t get her out of my mind. I knew it was a one night stand, probably my only, and I would never see her again, but she’d left an impression. I was a sucker for a woman that needed help in some way. The damsel in distress syndrome, and the sadness in her eyes would haunt me for months to come. I didn’t even know her last name, but I knew I wanted her to be happy. Content. Whole.

  Daphne

  I rushed through the building, late for my therapist appointment once again. I hated going, but my doctor insisted it would help. Swore medication wasn’t enough.

  Whatever.

  I stumbled as I turned the knob, almost falling into the office as graceful as an elephant wearing high-heels. Dammit. Smiling awkwardly, I signed with the desk and took a seat. Something about being here made me feel crazier than usual. People stared, wondering what you were here for, giving looks that spoke volumes.

  “You look normal, why are you here? Are you crazy, too?” were only a few of the conversations I’d had in this waiting room. I refused to make eye contact with anyone now. Instead, I sat with my hands folded in my lap and eyes cast downward. I usually brought a book, but in my haste, left it in the car.

  “Ms. Waterman,” the therapist called from the door, giving me the gentle smile she so often wore.

  I stood, dreading this session. She’d given me homework, but I wasn’t sure what it was, so I didn’t bother with trying to find coping mechanisms. I had one already, but apparently she didn’t approve.

  “How are you?” she asked as she led me to her door on the right.

  “Fine, I guess,” I answered. “You?”

  “Wonderful. Please take a seat,” she instructed, waving her hand at the plush chairs in front of her desk.

  Lowering myself to the cushion, I settled back and crossed my legs. My fingers automatically interlocked and my lips pursed as I waited. I despised waiting. It was pure torture.

  “So, Daphne, how are you feeling today?”

  Shrugging, I said, “About the same as usual. It never really goes away.”

  “Have you been taking your medication?”

  I moved my head up and down, blowing my cheeks out in the process. “Yep.”

  “Do you think it helps you?”

  Uncrossing my legs, I leaned to the right and sprawled out. Might as well be comfortable while I’m here. “I don’t like it. I don’t feel better, but I’m not as destructive, so I guess it helps some.”

  “Why don’t you like it?” she asked as she scribbled in my file.

  I hated that. Having her ask a million questions and write it all down made me feel like she was judging my every response. Why did I even bother coming here? “I feel numb to most things.”

  “Like sex,” she responded.

  “It’s just sex. No emotions involved. There are other things I feel detached from, too, though.”

  She raised a brow, motioning with her hand for me to continue and explain.

  “My sister pretty much hates me and my mom pisses me off. I don’t really care if I talk to either one of them anymore.” It wasn’t entirely true, just the way I’d made things up in my mind. My sister and I had one fight, over me being a bitch, and I decided she hated me. Mom worried for me, and I despised pity.

  “Why do you think your sister hates you?”

  Shifting to the other side of the chair, I crossed my legs again. “I dunno. She’s a bitch every time I see her. It’s ridiculous, she thinks she’s better than me or something. She hated having me as an older sister growing up. She would tell teachers we weren’t related when they asked. I don’t know why either,” I explained, moving once again and resting my elbows on my knees. “I mean, we were so close when we were little. I don’t know what happened.” That’s a lie, Daphne. You happened. You ruined everything.

  “Have you asked her?” she quizzed. “A lot of younger siblings simply don’t want others to compare them to the older one.”

  Of course, the most logical question is the one I really don’t want to answer. “No.”

  “You may get your answers if you would speak up, Daphne,” she responded, raising a perfectly tweezed eyebrow. She wrote furiously on the paper again, then directed her attention back to me. “And what about your mother?”

  “She wasn’t around much when we were growing up. She has her own demons to battle, so she left us with our dad. She tries now, but it’s too late. She was my damn mother, she should have tried harder, been there for me when I needed her when I was younger.”

  “And now she’s around?” Becki asked. She was tall and slim, way prettier than I thought a therapist would be. Aren’t they typically old people with years of experience and advice or something?

  Nodding for the thousandth time during the session, I told her more. “She came around for the first time in three years a few months ago. I ignored her until my dad said something. I love my dad so much. He tried so hard, but a girl really needs her mom during the teen years. She wants a relationship now, wants to get to know me and shit, but I don’t care. She didn’t try then, I don’t want to try now.”

  “You said she had her own demons to battle….what do you mean by that?” Becki questioned.

  I shrugged for the billionth time. “I don’t really know. No one ever told me. I remember pill bottles and a few visits to the ER with my dad freaking out and not having anyone to leave us with.”

  She wrote, then stared at me. “That must have been difficult to deal with. How old were you?”

  “I dunno, maybe seven?” I guessed. Honestly, I couldn’t remember. I’d tried to block it.

  She made more notes, then clasped her hands together. “Our time will be up shortly. Did you find any new coping mechanisms?”

  “I didn’t try,” I admitted. Surely lying to my therapist was some sort of crime or something.

  “You like having sex with random men?”

  I puffed my cheeks out agai
n. “Gives me a few minutes to feel something other than my darkness.”

  “Then why not find someone to have a relationship with?”

  I laughed. “Relationships aren’t worth it. People are stupid, they lie, they cheat. Trying to find someone compatible with me would be a job in itself. I prefer to keep it easy.”

  She grimaced and finished her notes before closing my file. “I would like you to come back next week, if you don’t mind.”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  She nodded. “Of course you do. You don’t have to come here if you don’t want to or aren’t comfortable talking.”

  Mentally debating on what to do made me dizzy, so I agreed to set up another appointment. My doctor insisted I needed this, threatening to have me placed in the mental ward if I came into his office as detached and emotionless as I had a year ago.

  I couldn’t help it. The darkness festered in me, eating at my insides. It was a bad disease, a plague I couldn’t rid myself of. I’d agreed ‘cause anyone finding out my problems would be more embarrassing than me knowing I spoke to a therapist once a week. Hell, I didn’t even let Francesca know I came here.

  She’d started seeing someone to talk about the loss of her sister shortly after I started coming here. I knew she wouldn’t judge, wouldn’t mock, yet I couldn’t find myself able to admit the truth to her.

  I embarrassed myself.

  The parking lot at work was empty for lunch, thank goodness, so I got a close park and was able to dash inside before the pouring rain drenched me. “Hey, Rebecca,” I called to my coworker, giving her a wave on the way to my cubicle. After settling in and unpacking my things, I booted my computer and ran to the break area for bottled water.

  “Hey, Daph,” my superior, Marcus, said as I skidded to a halt.

  Generally, I was a fast walker. Wasting time was an annoyance and I didn’t want to feel I did it. So I hurried through most of my life and his voice surprised me. “Hey, how are you?” I greeted, smiling warmly. I was going on three years at my company and Marcus had been the head of the office for all of those. He was the one who gave me my internship my last semester of college and later, the job offer I so desperately wanted.