The Fight Within (30 page)

“Sean,” she interrupted. “Shut up! My father was a damn janitor, what we politically correct folks call a custodian or maintenance technician. He busted his ass working
two
full time jobs to support his family, and worked himself right into a heart attack, which led his behind to the grave! He was my whole damn world! You want to tell me about homelessness? I had
several
bouts of homelessness as a child so fuck you and that high horse you’re sittin’ on! Have you ever not been without a roof over your head, Sean? I doubt it!

“My mother dragged me and my two brothers around after my father died. There wasn’t any money coming in anymore. The rent was no longer being paid, we got evicted and the married guy she’d been chasing around, who was chock full of money and just using her, left her ass. She thought I was too young to remember, but I remember!” Tears welled in her eyes. “She couldn’t afford much on her meager salary, so we stayed in shelters more than we stayed in the damn projects. There you sit, all comfy and cozy, judging me from your mountaintop of
bullshit
!”

Her voice suddenly grew louder, almost shaking the damn car. He didn’t blink, didn’t budge…simply let himself be drawn into her pain, and though he hated himself a bit for placing her in that spot, he needed this…
wanted
it…

“That man you just cussed out ’cause he has a nice car? His wife just died, you low life piece of shit!” Her mouth pursed as if she were in dire pain, and in a way, she may have been.

He smirked a bit, not because he enjoyed what she shared, and not because he was gleeful that he’d disturbed her inner peace. No, he smiled a bit for no one had told him off quite like this in a mighty long time. In some strange way, he enjoyed her teaching him a lesson or two. He tended to be a reluctant student unless it happened on his own terms. But she no longer cared. Class was in session, with or without his permission…

“His son died two years before that, in a car accident. Two houses down from me live the Murphy’s.” She pointed down the way but didn’t turn from him. “They have an even nicer, bigger house and a bunch of expensive cars that are parked bumper to bumper. The damn things could take up half the fucking street. The wife, Frances Murphy, a wonderful lady who came here at the age of seven from Birmingham, has been ruined and barely speaks now. Do you know why? I’ll tell you why.

“Her mother’s home went up in flames and she died in an electrical fire caused from faulty wiring. That’s where
their
money came from…a settlement, but it doesn’t matter, because Frances went a bit crazy after that. She was very close to her mother, and would have nightmares about that woman being burnt alive. So how do you think all those
fancy
things, all that damn money and the jewelry and furs, are holdin’ up against this woman’s sanity?! Would you take her place, Sean? Would you slide your condemnatory ass into her shoes and walk around a bit, feel the pain? You don’t know
anything
about these people! I find your judgments disgusting, incredulous and disrespectful!
Everything
I have, I went through hell to get and I am
still
getting lambasted.” She pointed into her chest so hard, her silver bangles clashed against one another, sounding much like a church service tambourine. “The man who professes to care about me is sitting here with a silly smile on his face after what I’ve told him tonight. You know what? I’mma need you to lose my number.”

“I’m not laugh—”

“You are a sick son of a bitch, you know that?!” She turned away to leave, but he pulled her back, felt her struggle against his body. They made a huge ruckus in the car, knocking about like balls in a pinball machine. Pinning her down just so, he folded her arms over her chest, kept her steady and still as he glared down into her eyes.

She’s going to listen to me, goddamn it…

“Get the hell off me, Sean.
Now
!” she screamed out so loudly, her voice cracked the air like a whip.

“Nuh uh…I can’t do that.” And then he pressed his lips harshly into hers, grinding against her zone as his cock swelled and pushed into her groin. She squirmed beneath him, bucking and attempting to kick, but it was no use. “Stop, Treasure…stop struggling and just listen for a second. Baby, listen to me. I wasn’t laughing about that stuff you told me. That wasn’t it at all. That shit wasn’t funny, it was terrible.” She continued her attempt to wiggle free to no avail as he pressed more of his weight onto her, trying to subdue her without hurting her.

“Treasure…stop moving, stop fighting me. I’ve got you like this so you’ll be still and hear me out. After I say what I need to say, I’ll let you go. But first, give me a kiss.” Like a feather being tossed in the air, he removed his latest costume, flung the mask on the floor, and he no longer gave a shit that she’d seen him, the true Sean. It had to stop. No jokes. No goading. No witty comebacks. No more ShowTime curtains or performances, selling a person to the woman that didn’t really exist. After a second or two, she’d tired herself out and succumbed.

He took advantage of the moment to snake his tongue between her sweet, soft lips…

“I…”

Then kissed her again…

“…was…”

…and yet another kiss.

“…wrong…”

He looked down at her, surveying his prey, captive beneath him. It never felt so right to be wrong.

“I wasn’t smiling tryna be disrespectful,” he explained. “I was smiling because I had no idea. It never even entered my mind that not every damn person over here was born into money, living it up. Hearing this from you, well, it makes things different.”

“But it shouldn’t be like that,” she stated between gritted teeth.

“You’re still mad, huh?” He lowered his lips to her neck, causing her to jerk and half-fight him off once again.

…kiss…

“Don’t stay mad at me, baby…”

…kiss…

“I’m so fucking sorry…”

“You don’t sound like it…” she mumbled. Deciding to finally release his prisoner, he lifted himself up from her body, let her free to resituate herself.

“I still want to fuck you.”

“I don’t give a shit.” She tugged at her shirt, straightening her clothing in a prim and proper sort of way.

Bursting out laughing, he shook his head, hand on forehead.

“You’re so damn mean.”

He looked at her pitifully, but she refused to turn in his direction. She continued to pull at her blouse and pants, straightening herself out as if she’d been ambushed right before a very important meeting.

“I’m serious, Treasure,” he said, filling his words with pure honesty and humility. “I was wrong for what I said to you tonight. I see that now. You aren’t the problem, I am. I apologize…I mean that shit.”

She threw him a glare like some peon with a speck of shit along the bridge of his nose, her back straight as a wall.

“Sean, I don’t know what hang-ups you have concerning wealthy or upper middle class people because I’m not rich, and surely you know this by now, but I have no time for your issues. For weeks, I’ve ignored your occasional snide remarks, but I’ve simply had it. I have too much going for me to put up with this sort of shit. I told myself after Jackson and I were over that I would never—”

“Honey, I know that you—”

“Be quiet. I’m still talking. I told myself that after Jackson and I were over, that I would never, as long as I live, deal with a man who was disrespectful to me again. In the process of trying to get to know you, I let some things go because I know at times I may be hyper-sensitive, but this right here?” She shook her finger in his direction. “I
refuse
to put up with it one second longer.”

“Do I get another chance to make it up to you?”

Treasure, I won’t let you go this easily but we can play this game if you want to…

“I don’t know. I love you, Sean but…”

“You
do
know.”

“You’ve been officially warned now. No more, Sean. One more thing, do you hear me? If you do
one
more thing like this, it’s over. There will be no discussion, no talking it out, no heehawing to save your ass.”

He swallowed, leaned back in his seat, and closed his lids. Pinching the skin between his eyes, he felt a damn migraine coming on. Some self-induced shit, for he’d painted himself in a black and white corner, refusing to see the shades of gray. Gray—like sadness, like rain clouds, no jokes to share; this was no laughing matter. He’d been exposed as the coal-hearted person that he was, that he now dared to admit existed. She’d jammed her hand into his damn heart and pulled out nothing but cough-inducing smog and now, she couldn’t breathe in his presence.

No, this wasn’t funny. Not amusing in the least. He could see the pain he’d caused her all over her damn face.

I did that…

You proud of yourself, Sean? You goddamn fuckup…

She truly wanted to leave him where he sat, deny him another kiss, another date, and all of the work he’d invested into their relationship would go down the damn drain. It wasn’t just what he said, but the underlying hatred from which the words were born. This was
deeper
than his resentments regarding wealth and how it turned men into monsters. No…it was tied into that old bullshit, the mess that had turned him inside out, made him feel worthless, less than a penniless soul that even God himself saw no value in. How odd the way in which that situation had bled all over his life, leaving its horrid fingerprint on everything he touched.

“…I’ve been fucking up,” he mumbled.

Treasure crossed her arms and legs, taking a defiant stance. She offered no words, only her stoic profile, a royal profile, an honest profile…a ‘touch me again and you’ll die’ profile.

“I want this to work, Treasure.” He took a deep breath. “We just got off the ground. I haven’t opened up this much to a woman in so long. I love you…shit, those aren’t just words. I see that I’m a mess. I see that now.”

“I don’t want to deal with a
mess
, Sean…got my own messes,” she said coldly, glaring out the window.

“I am not asking you to clean me up. I can clean up my own shit. I just needed you to bring it to my attention is all and stand by my side, supervise while I get the mop and bucket.”

“I doubt I’m the only one who has told you about yourself.” She frowned, but still refused to turn and face him.

“You’re not, but when it’s coming from someone I care about, as
much
as I care about
you
, it means something totally different. Sometimes people aren’t ready to see things in a contrary sort of way. I’m ready now, though.”

“You just know all the right things to say, now don’t you?” She stared at him, the coldness still frozen hard into her tone, drawn on her face, but hopefully, not within her heart. As he regarded her long and hard, he sensed hot hatred rising from her flesh, but he had no problem admitting his truth and swallowing the pills he’d tried to force down her own throat. But something in her eyes let him know what he saw in her right then wasn’t
just
about him. No. This was historic pain… Treasure had many internal battles going on. This was no longer just about him and her.

This was about a fight within.

“Don’t punish me for what another man did, Treasure. I’m not Jackson.”

She opened her mouth to speak, her jaw dropping ever so slightly, and then she appeared to calm down, regroup just as quickly.

“I’m not. This is based on what happened
right
here,
right
now.”

“Not all of it. All you know is that you saw something in me you didn’t like, and some of those old emotions your ex made you feel came bubbling up. Look, baby.” He reached for her arm; this time, she didn’t shake him off. “I’m not trying to dodge my responsibility. I accept it. I own it, okay? But you’ve been hurt; you’ve got some shit too that’s making you see me and others around you in a way that may not always be fair or accurate. You said yourself, you got your own mess, and I believe that. I’m not perfect though, so when I mess up, just charge it to me, and
only
me. I can’t pay off the debts of all the guys before me, including your ex-husband. He was him, and I’m me. Let me pay my own tab. As it is, it’s big enough.” He sprawled his fingers across his chest as he spoke in earnest.

They sat quietly for a few moments.

“You’re right,” she finally uttered, looking down into her lap. “You’re right, Sean. Though I meant what I said to you, my ex-husband destroyed my trust in others to some degree. I’ve been allowing the memory of his bullshit to vacuum over my present situation and my perception of others… You are the first man I’ve ever loved since that man.” She paused, took a deep breath. “I hate that it’s true, you know, me lacking the ability to just let that shit go.” She shrugged. “But it’s true, all of it.”

This was one of the many things he adored about this woman. Treasure thought and acted with logic. Passionate and emotional? Hell yeah, but she could step out of herself and be solution driven, too. He hated that his cock was getting hard all over again from the revelation…

“Strong women aren’t supposed to have baggage, cry and complain. I can’t fall apart in front of my kids, Sean.” She looked at him as her chest rose and fell rapidly, as if she’d just finished racing up and down the street in ten seconds flat.

“Who says? Where’d you get these rules from? Are they the same motherfuckers that wrote the ones we talked about at the pawn shop?” He grinned at her, taking her hand.

She offered a weak, slanted smile. “I honestly don’t know who the authors of these rules are, Sean. I just know that when I don’t abide, I judge myself because others are judging me, too. Someone is always watching, seeing what you’re doing and not doing and then, making assessments. It’s crazy because these people aren’t you, they aren’t us. They know nothing about our lives.”

“Kinda like what I did tonight.” He turned away from her, disgusted with himself all over again.

That’s the shell I wear… I deflect, focus on other people’s crap so I don’t have to look at my own. I’m tired of being this way. It’s exhausting and it’s messing up my hopes and dreams. And all I dream about is her. I’m done. I can’t do this anymore. It’s time to grow up…