Page 37 of Lost In London

She gasped softly, blinking and shifting in her chair. “You don’t know me.”

“I know enough.” Unsure if I wanted to expose my craving, I gave in to the pull anyway. “April 15th of last year.” She tilted her head confused. “That was the first time I saw you. At Cooper’s Hawk. You were with a group of women. I noticed you immediately. You had on this gold corset top with these white wide-leg pants. Hair was in waves hanging down your back with a white and gold flower hair clip by your ear. You were so happy. Eyes bright with love and happiness. You called out to me in ways I never experienced before. I sat there at the bar wanting to do nothing but speak to you but I couldn’t. Back then you weren’t ready for me. You would’ve given me pieces of you while I gave you all of me. So I waited.”

At this moment I never felt so unsure in my life. I became overwhelmingly nervous with this heavy weight of fear sitting in the middle of my chest making it hard to breathe. The more I sat there questioning why I was feeling this way it was evident that these emotions weren’t mine but hers. That’s when I studied her and noticed the trembling in her hands and shallow breaths. Her eyes were closed so I couldn’t fully read her.

“When you walked into that board meeting months ago I knew it was time but I was surprised by one thing.” I paused, waiting for her eyes to open. It took a while but she gave me her red eyes. “You stopped smiling. Your eyes didn’t have light in them and that angered but relaxed me at the same time. I know it sounds weird but I found solace in knowing that I could be the person to relight your fire again. Then you keep trying to run me off with Olena. Ask yourself, do you look at her the way you look at me? Do you feel the same way you feel for me as you do her?”

I never battled with myself to keep my mouth closed more than I have at this moment. The more I tried to be quiet the more my lips moved. “And then you always wear long shirts, sweaters, or a wrist full of bangles on your left arm. Your pain is skin deep and all I want to do is take away whatever pain they caused you.”

She and I sat there listening to the emotions swimming around the room. I kept my hands in my lap. This wasn’t the time to touch her, I got that from her shaky breath and glazed eyes.

“I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to be seen. Truly seen.” Unblinking, she kept her eyes on me. “That scares me so much, Quincey. You scare me yet in the same breath you make me feel things that I don’t want to. I’m afraid.” Her eyes closed.

I watched the transformation happen. The transformation of her putting up that hard exterior of protection. “I’ve endured too many scars from the false hope and sweet words of a man to open myself up again. As much as I want to answer you calling out to me, I can’t.”

“You’re auntie’s favorite, chunky man. I can’t wait until you get older so we can get in trouble together.” Two beady brown eyes peered up at me with wonder. LJ was such the cutest baby. The cutest and the busiest. He was about to turn one and was already crawling and getting into things.

Last week I told Aziza about all these flashback memories and dreams I was having. Of course, I went on and on saying God was having one of His days when He liked to torture me and to see me cry. She checked me in a not-so-subtle or sweet way. Telling me this was God helping me by showing me I have a lot of unresolved anger and pain that I need to get rid of. Then she asked me a hard question – What is the one thing in my life that is missing that I wish I had?

It took me a second to ponder on that question which turned into a two-part answer. I had the career, check. Had the home and was financially stable, check. Family was healthy and friends thriving, check. Love, blank. Peace of mind, blank. Free, blank.

Then she proceeds to say that for me to be open to those things, for God to bless me with those blessings, I first had to endure the uprooting happening so I can move on. A release of letting go.

It was painful to have to relieve trauma and pain caused by those I loved. My parents have been in town for almost a week and I didn’t stop by until the day before they were set to leave to see them. A year prior, I would’ve been here and probably wouldn’t have left Landon’s house until they did but that wasn’t the case anymore. There’s so much hate, anger, and strife in my heart for my parents and family. Being reminded of the hurt caused by my mom not believing me but blaming me for someone else’s actions hurt me in ways I’m still unable to fathom.

Being reminded that I couldn’t depend on my dad and Landon unless I jeopardized the integrity of our family’s name made it so hard to breathe. Wanting to take one of Cassian’s guns and shooting them all in the kneecaps so they’d never walk again.

I wanted them to hurt how I hurt, how I’ve been hurting for all these years.

Did they not understand that it’s because of them that depression and suicidal thoughts were introduced into my life because they refused to listen to me?

My mistakes prevented me from being able to call upon them in my times of need. My imperfections are plaques hanging on walls showing how much of a failure I am in everyone’s eyes.

To continue to throw salt on my wounds. They liked to downplay my success and change of behavior, saying I’m only doing this for attention or waiting for Landon to give me some money. Their verbal abuse stung just as painful as what Elgin inflicted on me, maybe worse since they were my family.

Yes, abuse.

It took me a long time to come to terms with that word and to label all the brutal words spewed my way as such. Call a spade a spade, right?

The only thing they could take credit for was my therapist's bill and the scars on my wrist. A bunch of fucking clowns. They were the first tribe of people to ever love me but also the first to open the doors to neglect and abuse. I’m never going back to New York.

Years and years later I haven’t forgotten, didn’t forgive, and was still triggered and affected by what these people have said and done to me. I get sick to my stomach when I think about my life up until I left for college. They taunted me about being this fast behind young girl when they should’ve been checking their grown sons trying to sneak and use my body as their anatomy project when they weren’t looking.

Fuck them.

My firm say in not having kids is because of them. I’m so afraid my kids will somehow suffer the same things I went through. I refuse to let my children be around predators and manipulators. Or, me being so paranoid, I’d smother them so much by trying to keep them safe they’d grow up to resent me.

A lose, lose situation.

But then I moved down to Florida and entered this world known as the Kalmin’s and they showed me it’s okay to have kids because you can set the rules for your house. You can set boundaries. You’re in control of who you allow around your kids. But still, that meant I had to marry a man that had the same views as me.

“London, come here.”

Sighing, I tickled LJ before handing him to my dad. The whole time I laid out on his playing mat with him I was silently praying over him. Praying that he wouldn’t ever taste the bitterness of abuse in the name of family and love.

I enjoyed playing with him so much.

Babies were my favorite but I loved them most when they got to be Tai and Melly’s age so I could dress them up and do fun things with them.

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