Sunday, March 20, 2016

The Fire In His Eyes: Questions | Part 2

I didn’t see Daymon again until the next morning. While making coffee and frying bacon he walked in the door. Maybe it was the hypnotic smell of hickory-smoked bacon and premium roasted coffee that brought him through my door. Just as quietly as he left, Daymon returned the same way. I was having awkward feelings and thoughts on how to approach the situation. Should I ask? Should I just forget about it and push it to the side?

From past experiences with my physically abusive husband I knew to ignore a problem only makes a bigger problem.

Daymon had disappeared into the shower. I missed his strong body holding me last night. I didn’t sleep well. I knew I needed to know what was going on. But my body just wanted him to hold me and tell me everything was going to be all right. That what I saw last night was just a ‘thing.’ To be honest, I didn’t want to know what was going on. I just wanted my Daymon back. I needed his strength to complement my lack of. I was so deep into my own thoughts I almost let the bacon burn. Removing it from the frying pan, I went into the bathroom with Daymon. Needing his warm eyes, those strong hands to hold me and not even say everything was back to normal, but just give me a confirming look. I needed reassurance.

Like a chess player contemplating moves, I went back and forth between creating a subtle segue into the events of last night or just leaving it alone. My flesh won out, as I eased into the shower with Daymon holding onto him ever so tightly in silence.

Glad I turned the stove off before heading into the shower with Daymon. We started in the shower and ended up in bed basking in the warmth of satisfying togetherness. His strength overtook me, rendering me incapable of speaking let alone questioning him about last night. A part of me tugged at my common sense, demanding an answer, or an explanation. I gave in to the tug as it was seeking freedom only obtained by the truth about last night.

“Daymon about last night…” was all I could get out before his once loving warm eyes turned cold. “Baby leave that alone. It’s taken care of. So don’t concern yourself with it anymore, alright?” “But you were gone all night. Where were you?”

That was when I felt Daymon create an imaginary wall between us. He was standing his ground, and I was made to feel like I was out of place for asking such a thing. Without another word, he got up, put his clothes on and left. Daymon walked out my door the same way he came in, silently. All I could do was cry.