Page 13 of Impacted by Love

"Now, why are you acting prideful when your stomach sounds like a hibernating bear? My goodness. Here, take a bite." Scooting closer to me until our knees touched, Onesti leaned in, holding the untouched sandwich in front of my mouth.

"I'm n?—"

"Yes, you are. Take a bite, Asaiah."

Opening my mouth, my heart rate increases when Onesti feeds me the sandwich while nodding with a pleasant smile upturning her lips.

"Good, ain't it?" she asks when I chew the bite I've taken.

"We missed you at the meeting today, Asaiah," one of the attendees of the NA meeting says, returning me to the present.

"Blame the janky elevator. I'll be there next week, though," I respond, heading toward my SUV.

I have been attending NA meetings for the last several months as a way to understand my mom and dad's addiction better. Or at least glean some information from the attendees on ways to help Mom and Dad kick their drug habit. At this point, I'm desperate to do whatever I can to change the trajectory of their lives despite knowing the ball isn't in my court. I honestly should wash my hands of them after my tumultuous life at their hands. Yet, in the deep recesses of my mind is the little boy crying out for the love of his parents.

It doesn't matter that my innocence was taken away from me because Mom or Dad didn't shield me from adult situations. I simply want to see them clean and thriving in this world. It's the one prayer I continue to pray even though God has yet to answer. I feel like, though my mom and dad have forsaken me, it's still my responsibility to hang in here until I no longer have the option. The journey is difficult, painstaking, and exhausting because everyone but me has given up on them. However, I believe that if I don't give up, God will honor my request for their sobriety in His timing.

If God didn't give up on me when I cursed Him for allowing my mom and dad to give birth to me, then surely I shouldn't give up despite the struggle in awaiting their deliverance. Many people call me crazy, including Annalise, yet I'm doing my best to keep the faith and do what neither of my parents have done for me. Honor me. Love me. Shield and shelter me. Believe in me.

Maybe God will allow me to find someone who can hold up my hands while I journey through this unpleasant journey.

He already has.

"Wait, what?"

"Go on and admit it.The sandwich was good." The twinkling merriment in Onesti's eyes causes a sly grin to slide into place.

The fact that Onesti not only shared her food with me but did so by feeding me is a testament to the type of woman she is. Her proximity while doing something selfless makes me want to taste more than the simple sandwich she made.

"It was. Although there really isn't anything special about turkey and chicken breast on wheat bread," I respond, downplaying how good the sandwich was.

"Oh wow. You do a kind gesture… you know what, give it back," Onesti demands with a bite in her tone that accompanies the tightness around her eyes.

"I don't think that's possible or sanitary," I say, smirking.

"I'm just saying, if it wasn't the best stomach filler in a pinch, give it back. I'll take it in chunks or installments."

Silence stretches between us for seconds before a smirk upturns Onesti's lips, and we start laughing.

"You're crazy, woman. On a serious note, I appreciate you. Your kindness isn't without merit or gratitude. You didn't have to share your lunch with me."

"You're welcome, Asaiah. Sharing is caring."

The lightness returns to her eyes, and warmth spreads across my chest, which prevents me from speaking while I take in the beauty within her warm brown skin. Onesti's beauty shines brighter than a diamond, causing me to ponder things I shouldn't consider.

“I appreciate the kind gesture and maybe one day I can repay your generosity,” I suggest.

“Maybe.”

* * *

"Lord, still thinking about Onesti after days and nearly two weeks is crazy work. Why am I still having flashbacks of that encounter? I have dated many women, and none of them have given me?—"

Brrnngg. Brrnngg.

The ringing of my phone ends my assessment of being unable to stop thinking about Onesti. Seeing Mom's name on the caller ID has my chest tightening because it's rare that she calls me unless she or Dad need something from me. Taking a couple of cleansing breaths, I answer the call while mentally preparing for the mess. "Hello."

"Asaiah! Asaiah! Your dad… your dad." Mom's frantic voice instantly puts me on high alert, causing me to sit up straight.

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