Properly chastised, I wipe the smile from my face while she continues. “My point is, there’s nothing you can do to fix her right now. You aren’t responsible for the things that have happened any more than she is. All you can do is be there for her when she’s ready. Give her time and if she needs space, give it to her. If she loves you as much as you love her, she’ll come back when she’s ready. She’ll talk to you when she’s ready and she’ll lean on you when she needs it. Your Phina is a very strong woman. When someone like her falls, they fall hard and they need a soft place to land.”
She leans up and kisses my cheek one last time before turning to head into the kitchen, where I hear the clanging of bowls and laughter.
Wise woman, that mother of mine. I just hope I have the ability to be soft enough for Phina when she comes crashing down.
The house is finally quiet and the heavenly smell of fresh baked cookies still fills the air. My family stayed just long enough to bake and eat a couple dozen cookies and tell Phina embarrassing stories about my childhood that made her laugh so hard she cried before they helped clean up the mess and went home.
I’ve been lying on my back in the dark, the covers pulled up to my waist with my hands tucked under the back of my head, listening to the sound of the shower in the bathroom connected to my bedroom. My dick hardens at the thought of Phina standing in there with water sluicing down her body, but I force myself to stay right where I’m at. My dick hates me and calls me all sorts of trashy names, but thankfully, I hear the shower shut off and I give my dick the middle finger.
A few minutes later, the bathroom door opens, bringing steam and the smell of Phina’s shampoo billowing out into the room. I hold perfectly still, staring at her silhouette from the glow of the bathroom light before she flips the switch and throws the room into total darkness. I hear her walk around to the other side of the bed, lift the covers and slide in with her back to me. She’s taken to wearing just her panties and one of my old FD t-shirts to bed every night, and even though it’s pitch black in here, I can picture how the worn cotton molds to her body and how soft it would feel if I wrapped my arms around her right now and pulled her back against me.
I stay where I’m at, taking my mother’s advice, even though it goes against everything I believe. She needs to come to me; I can’t force her.
After a few minutes, my eyes grow heavy with sleep. I let them close and right when I start to nod off, I hear Phina speak so softly that I almost think I imagined it. I wait a few seconds when she speaks again, a little louder this time, but still in a soft, barely there whisper.
“The first time he did it, I was eight years old. I spilled a glass of milk on the kitchen table. He held me down and pushed his cigarette into me, laughing the entire time.”
My throat gets thick with emotion, but I don’t say a word. I turn gently onto my side and stare at the back of her head while she continues to speak in a low, monotone voice like a robot.
“I never did anything right. I ruined his life and I paid for it over and over. The first time he called me a whore I was nine. I didn’t even know what that word meant, but I knew it was horrible by the way he practically spit it at me.”
I close my eyes and want more than anything to beg her to stop. Stop speaking, stop the world from spinning so I can go back in time and make sure no one ever hurt her, but I keep my mouth shut. She needs to tell me this and I need to hear it. I need to know how to take it all away.
“Day after day, year after year, it never stopped. He kept holding me down to punish me for being just like my mother and I let him do it. I let him turn me into this person who can’t even be happy for two weeks. I push people away because I can’t stand the thought of them finding out that I’m not worth their love. I hate who I’ve become. I hate that just the sound of his voice turns me into that weak little girl who couldn’t fight back.”
I feel a tear run down my cheek and I don’t even care that it’s the most un-fucking-manly thing in the world. I would cry a thousand tears for this woman just to prove to her that she’s worth EVERYTHING.
After a few minutes of silence, she whispers again. “Turn on the light.”
Even though I’m confused by her words, I lean back and flip the switch to the small bedside lamp, quickly turning back to face her. The tiny bulb barely lights up the bed area, but it’s bright enough for me to see her reach down to her waist and pull the t-shirt up her body and over her head. She tosses it to the foot of the bed and I hold my breath as she slowly pushes the covers down to her waist.