Page 133 of Stroked Long
“Honestly, no.” I adjust my position on his couch. “I don’t want to think or talk about that today.”
“That’s fine. What do you want to talk about?”
I take a deep breath and close my eyes, leaning my head against the back of the couch. Dr. Auburn waits patiently.
“When I used to say goodnight to my dad, instead of asking for a hug, I would shake his foot. It was fucking weird, but it was our family’s thing. Give Mom a hug, shake Dad’s foot, and go to bed. For the longest time I thought Dad was more of an uncle than anything. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized he would sneak into our room at night and kiss us goodnight when we were asleep. I can feel his large warm hand stroke my forehead and whisper in my ear that he loves me before placing a kiss on my forehead. That night, he didn’t kiss me good night. He didn’t get a chance to.”
“He loved you, Bodi.”
“I know.” I keep my eyes closed, one vision flashing behind my eyelids. “I miss him. I miss family movie nights. I miss my mom’s laugh and the way she would tease my dad. I miss her smile, and his boisterous laugh.” I pause for a moment because I’m struggling to breathe. I don’t like this pain. “I miss the shaking of his foot, the warm embrace of my mom, the late-night kisses from my dad . . . but do you know what I fucking miss more?” I don’t give him a chance to answer. “I miss my Rubes, and that fucking terrifies me.”
“You don’t want to lose her like you lost your parents.” I nod. “That’s why you’ve associated your scare with her at the beach with the attack on your parents. At that moment, you realized she’s the most important thing in your life, and losing her will hurt more than when you lost your parents.”
Fucking dead on.
“Accepting your feelings threw you into a tailspin, am I right, Bodi?” I nod. “And no matter how many times you lock the doors, the windows, or clean your apartment, nothing will seem routine to you anymore because your routine has changed. Your routine adapted. Reshaped itself. Your routine now includes loving and caring for Ruby.”
“It was,” I correct him. “Itwasloving and caring for Ruby. Now, I have no clue what it is.”Now nothing makes sense, and I don’t have a reason to breathe.
Chapter Twenty-Five
RUBY
“You look stunning, Ruby,” Lauren compliments as she pulls me into a hug.
“You as well.” Both Lauren and Eva showed up in beautiful long, black dresses. Whereas Eva’s has a plunging neckline, Lauren’s cuts straight across her chest, giving little hint to any cleavage. They are such a beautiful couple; it’s hard not to stare at them.
“Where did you get your dress?”
I smooth down the red silk and say, “A vintage shop. I saw it in the window and knew it would be perfect.”
And it is. It has a high neckline but completely bare in the back. The mermaid style hugs my hips and flares out at my thighs, giving me just enough room to maneuver my legs in the tall velvet heels I chose to wear. Not wanting to be too fancy, I curled my hair in very loose waves, ran some styling wax through it, and let my bangs lay against my forehead. To top it off, I painted my eyelashes with a heavy coat of mascara and decorated my lips with bright red lipstick.
I wanted to feel pretty. After a week of utter devastation full of missed meals, tear-soaked pillowcases, andzerocommunication with the man who owns my heart, I wanted to do something for me. I FaceTimed with my friend Andrea while I got ready so I wasn’t alone, and the entire time she begged me to tell her what happened between Bodi and me. I kept it simple; it didn’t work out. I didn’t think it would be fair to air Bodi’s issues to someone he didn’t know. That’s his story, not mine.
Now I’m at the gala, surrounded by the paintings hanging on the walls in vivid colors, depicting the signature strokes of Olympic athletes and some of the swimmers from the Boys and Girls Club. I can’t help but feel an empty pride.
I’m proud of what I was able to help put together, but I also feel empty because half an hour into the event and the one person I wanted to see didn’t show up.
Ever since I arrived, I’ve been wandering aimlessly, an untouched glass of champagne in my hand and a heavy, splintered heart resting in my chest. Just one look, one exchange, that’s all I wanted. Something to keep me moving forward through these slow, monotonous days.
“You look gorgeous and this space . . . I can’t believe how well everything has come together,” Eva says in awe.
“I had a lot of help from Lola.” I look around for her but can’t find her. “She’s around here somewhere. She works at the club and was looking for some more experience. I couldn’t have done it without her.” Especially since Bodi cut me out and left me hanging to finish this project by myself. I’m not mad. I’m more concerned.Lonely. Bereft. Aching.
I hope he’s okay.
“Please be sure to introduce me later. I want to thank her.”
“I will.” I smile but know it doesn’t reach very far. Eva notices.
She places her hand on my forearm and asks, “How have you been?”
I take a deep breath and say, “Not well, but I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to celebrate the arts tonight.”
It’s true, I want to celebrate the foundation and what we’ve accomplished, but a huge part of me wants to see him. I want to ask Eva how he’s doing, if she’s talked to him, if she’s seen him, but I can’t open that floodgate. I will end up sobbing in a corner for the rest of the night. Gala attendees will think I’m some kind of pathetic attempt at live art, portraying a pathetic and desolate woman. Not the way I want to spend my evening.Not quite the look I was going for either.
“I can appreciate that.” Eva looks around and sighs. “I wish he would have shown up. I guess I have myself to blame.” What happened to not talking about it? “I decided not to enable his obsessions anymore, and I have a feeling my tactic backfired.” There is worry in her eyes. Poor, Eva.
