“Killing me. Motherfucking killing me,” he mutters before pulling his phone out of his pocket and calling the contractor.
I smile in victory, bouncing over to him to kiss his cheek while he tells the contractor that I’ve changed my mind. Again. He smacks my ass when I turn away and head out onto the front porch.
Flopping down on one of the Adirondack chairs, I kick my feet up on the railing and look out at the yard.
The last few months have been a whirlwind of emotions. I started seeing a new psychologist and I really like her. I still see her once a week and she’s helped me get to the root of my issues and learn how to transfer the anger and hatred I sometimes feel into something healthier. I go outside and scream, I take a walk or I beat the shit out of the heavy bag DJ hung in the garage. Most importantly, I talk to him about everything. Nothing is held back, and he always knows what’s going on in my mind and my heart. He even accompanies me to some of my appointments so he can learn about my problem and understand how to help.
I thought telling DJ everything was hard, but it was nothing compared to telling my best friend. Finnley cried silently when I told her about my burning addiction and how I’d used it to cope through the years. She had a hard time forgiving my father once she knew the extent of his abuse, but she knew I wouldn’t be alive today if it weren’t for him. It felt good to finally confide in her and I know our friendship is stronger because of it.
I’m still working at the hospital after a short medical leave and taking time to bury my father. DJ is still working full time as a paramedic, telling me he might go back to the fire department in time, but for right now he’s happy where he’s at. When he has to transport someone to my hospital, he always sends me a text on the way so I can meet him downstairs for a quick kiss. He tells me it’s because he can’t get enough of me, but I know a part of him still thinks about that day on his front porch when he couldn’t believe I was alive. Even six months later, he still needs the reassurance that I’m here, I’m okay and I’m real.
As I stare out at the trees around the property, I think about our future, once so uncertain, but now so perfectly clear. It might seem like the strangest decision to a lot of people, but it felt right to me. The land my childhood home was built on transferred over to me after my father died, and when the attorney called to ask me what I wanted to do with it, I knew the answer immediately. I would rebuild on this land, the one that housed all of my nightmares, and with DJ by my side, I would make new, better memories. I would erase all the sins of my past and I would start over with a clean slate.
“We might have to hire a new contractor,” DJ tells me as he joins me outside and sits down in the chair next to mine. “He made me promise him that this would be the last time you change your mind about the backsplash.”
I smile over at him. “This will definitely be the last time.”
“Oh, thank God,” he groans.
“I’m not so sure about the tile in the bathroom, though.”
He stares me down for a few seconds while I fight to hold back a laugh. He leans across the arms of our chairs and rests his hands on my huge stomach and puts his mouth right against it. “Your mother is killing me. Do you hear me, Shaleh? I hope you appreciate the shitty Italian marble in the kitchen when you get here.”
When we found out we were having a girl, we chose the name Shaleh because it means flame. She was conceived in the midst of fiery, all-consuming passion, so it seemed fitting. We’ll most likely never tell her that, though.
I smack the back of his head. “Language! We don’t want our daughter’s first word to be s-h-i-t-t-y.”
He grins at me, lifting away from my stomach to kiss me. “She’s your daughter, her first word will probably be f-u-c-k.”
“Speaking of f-u-c-k,” he continues. “They delivered the bed earlier, how about you and I go test it out.”
I run my fingers through his hair and smile. “I think that can be arranged. Go on upstairs and I’ll meet you there in a minute.”
He stands up, placing a kiss on my belly and then one on my lips. “I’ll meet you up there, Fireball. Do NOT look at that damn tile binder on your way.”
I laugh when he walks inside and take a few moments to relax, rubbing my hand over my belly and staring out into the yard. I can picture myself as a little girl, running out here to hide or to escape from the pain that awaited me inside the house that used to stand in this very same spot. My plan of building a home here wasn’t a way to keep me tied to the past, it was a way for me to look forward to the future and change things for our new generation. I can look at our home and our yard and I can also see our daughter running out there some day, happy and full of life and confident that she will never, ever be hurt by the ones who are supposed to love her.
I will brand her with words of love and encouragement instead of cigarettes and hatred. I will give her the kind of childhood that I always dreamed of having.
It will be perfect and it will be beautiful…
Because I deserve it.
The End