A Fresh Start 4
T // WC 2.k // slight angst, grief, mental health // masterlist // series masterlist //
You turned over in bed. Huddling the sheets closer to your person before jutting out a leg on top of the covers. You raised your body half way before tumbling back down without a sound, letting your hair fall behind you and out of your face as you laid down.
This was good.
The house was quiet, Marvin picked up Momo to spend the day with him and Janine hours ago.
The silence was good. The distance was good.
But you also hated it.
Monique and you were amicable with one another. You’d like to think of her as a friend, but a boundary was set. You could only go so far and she would only come so near. Calls between you and her no longer happened. Just texting, mostly telling you to call Marvin, ask Marvin.
Marvin, Marvin Marvin.
But you don’t want to.
You needed distance.
Marvin was nice to look at. It wasn’t a secret, but no one ever said anything about it, so you refused to bring it up, not to anyone, no matter the reason.
Maybe he looked so good no one would bare to bring it up. Who dwells on solidified, unobstructable, irrefutable facts?
Apparently you.
You sighed, pressing yourself further into the sheets, an attempt to move yourself away from your own thoughts, but it was working. You scrunch the sheets by your head with a fist.
You should call your therapist. She was available this weekend.
Call me if you need me, she said.
You're not. . . You can’t.
You already told her you wouldn’t. That there’s no need, so you can’t possibly call her now.
Especially, because deep down you’d know what the conversation would be about, and you weren’t ready for it. She hinted at it in your last session, but you ignored all the uncertainty she was bringing up.
You talked about the usual things. Your brother, death and the hold it’s had on you. The constant and near miss, incessant per suit of you. It clings to those around you and keeps threatening the entirety of your wellbeing.
You know it’s natural that it happens to everyone, but it shouldn’t be happening like this. Not to you, and it just keeps happening.
You can’t do anything about it.
Because the reality of what makes man mortal and human are being blurred day by day, and yet, the world keeps moving like it’s okay.
You turned, tossing to face the other direction towards the window, seeking salvation in the rolling thunder and hard pattering rain.
Your phone vibrated.
It shook you, pulling you into reality.
You answered it, Momo’s chubby little face surrounded by pastel purple and electric green beads filled the screen.
Her giggles filled the room, filling you with warmth.
“Are you going to keep laughing or are you actually going to say something?” You hummed at her.
The life and vibrancy of your tone felt foreign to you. Your ability to be and feel the warmth of such a precious moment almost felt foreign, but you cling on to it, knowing just how real it is, pushing your dark thoughts away for another day.
“Why are you still in bed? Are you sick?” Janine’s little face pushed Momo’s out of the way. Her adorable features hold a pout of concern. Her eyes wide and shiny as she looked at you, a hint of a watery glossy glimmer in her eye as she carefully studied every part of your face
No matter how hard you try to escape Marvin, he seems to find you. Whether he chases you down himself, or he haunts you through Janine. The sparkling glow that never leaves her eyes and the way she holds onto her compassion for others carries his spirit with her. His need to watch and study others carried over into her, but not as obsessive or intense. He’s embedded in every part of her as much as her mother is.
“No, I’m not sick. I’m fine.” You said softly in an effort to reassure her. Believing you, she gave you a smile.
Momo knew a little more of the truth, but it was just as censored.
“She’s not sick.” She began to explain, “she’s just having a lazy day.”
Janine nodded seriously.
This was a reason of perfect and complete sense.
Satisfied that you were okay and with the reason why, they began squealing and laughing to you about their day together.
You wished you still found it annoying and unbearable as the first few times they started to do this, but you’d be lying if you didn’t say you got used to it.
You speak fluent squeal.
“Give me my phone.” A rich dulcet tone called out. “Go play.”
An ambush.
You laid down, shielding yourself with the covers as the screen went black before Marvin’s face came into view and the children went away.
He’s not slick.
“Why are you still in bed? I picked Momo up at 7?” He looked at his watch, “it’s 12:00.”
He held the phone at an audaciously low angle. His wide shoulders going from screen to screen. His eyes glimmered with a strong and silent concern as he looked down at you.
“It’s 11:30.” You softly defend yourself.
You turn the brightness of the screen down to hide your face.
Curse him and the way he holds his phone! You prayed to God for divine intervention. To make him pick up his phone and talk to you properly, not looking down at you, not while he looked like that.
His gray shirt is tight on his chest. The fabric pulled taught, revealing the indents of his chest, every bump and groove of his muscles as they rippled under his shirt. He put one arm behind his head, slouching deeper into his seat on the couch. His arm subtly flexed with the movement.
His eyes were focused in front of him, and you could hear mumbled commentary of a game. Football? Does that come on Saturdays?
You pressed your legs closer together and discretely bit your lip, you hadn’t really thought of doing it. It just happens. You force yourself to stop once you realize, quickly looking away from the screen. Just with your eyes. The overcast clouds hid the sun away, and you didn’t have any lights on. Your face was hidden and you were thankful.
“You watching something?” His voice startled you, pulling your attention back towards him.
Fuck him.. fuck him for real.
“Yeah,” you replied without missing a beat, not thinking much of it.
“What are you watching?” He said it apathetically. His tone revealed his dread to even ask.
“What do you think I’m watching?” You playfully rolled your eyes.
“How many times are you going to watch that thing?”
“Until I die, Marvin! As long as I am alive I will be watching this show!”
“What year did that show come off tv?” .
‘98, I don't know what your point is. Living Single is a classic and it deserves everything Friends got.”
“Well of course you don’t.” He started matter of factly, “because you’re lying.”
Your shoulders slumped and you had to forcefully stop the smacking of your teeth.
“How do you keep doing that?”
“I have my ways.” He held a smile, but it was only polite, tinged with pity or perhaps an empathy of sorts for your situation. A look that usually upsets you when you see it, but this time it feels real, genuine.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Usually, when someone asked, you would have said no. You wanted to say no. . . but it spilled out of you.
“It was a regular drive.” you licked your lips, pausing for a moment, “They had gone on a family trip for Winter Break, Samiya and my Brother Derik had been planning for it since the beginning of the year. Momo was so excited. . .They talked about it all the time. Every holiday, every event, any Sunday dinner, they’d go on and on about all the things they’d do and how an amazing time Momo would have. “ You laughed, blinking away a few tears with it.
“But the funny thing is, I can't remember anything about that trip they took.”
You looked away from your phone.
Marvin’s gaze too much. His expansive brown eyes and how they regarded you with such humble reverence for your pain and grief as they reflected the light around him overwhelmed you, stirring the emotions building within you.
“It started with a call. I was at work, and my mom called. She was crying so hard I could barely understand her, but somehow I did. Derik and his family were in a hospital. Samiya’s gone, he was in a coma, and Momo was beat up, a little bruised but she was okay.”
Your eyes darted over the room, glossing over the shapeless blobs of dark and gray, that become harder to define and distinguish as the sunless sky sets and the rain clouds grow thicker and darker. Everything you had been slowly pushing away, shoving deep inside of you to not think about just so you could have an ounce of strength to get through the week, to keep moving everyday, so you can take care of Momo and whatever was left of yourself, was coming out. It was slowly suffocating you, surrounding you like the dimness in the room, the clouds in the sky.
“But then you see it play on the news.” you purse your lips. “ over and over and over again. He-Man threw that 18 wheeler at the Highway.”
You look back at your phone.
Marvin’s still looking at you, studying you.
Something about the way his eyes reflect the light and shine back at you, makes you smile. It always does.
When you smile this time, that's when you notice the tears falling down your face. You whip them away silently laughing as you do.
“I’d say I’m sorry,” he started lowly, his low timber was as soft as it could be, “But I'm sure you're tired of hearing that.”
“Not when you say it.” you interjected without thinking.
His somber gaze shifted a little, his white teeth honored you with a hint of a smile.
“Do you ever think of doing something about it?” He shifted in his seat, eyes looking away from you for the first time, searching for the right words above him.
“Doing something about what?” You squinted in confusion, thoroughly puzzled.
“Confronting him, making him pay. . .”
“There’s no way.” Your answer was automatic, “There’s nothing to do now but move forward. Pick up the pieces of what’s left and hold on to each other.”
Marvin softened, nodding his head.
“You're doing a great job.”
His words held a warmth that filled you, stunning you. Something about it gave you pause, washing you with a momentary lightheadedness. You curbed it away with a curl of your toes and attempted to bite back the smile that threatened to reveal itself on your face any further. A smile too big and bashful did not belong on your face. You refused it.
As if on cue, Momo and Janine could be heard giggling from one side of the room to another, followed by a squealing laughter.
“Hey!” All laughter at alarmingly high frequencies that only little girls could make ceased, “Don’t run up and down my house! Go sit down somewhere!”
“I’m sure they were just getting some water or something.” you explained for them.
“I don't care what they're doing. They’re not going to run around in here.”
He shook his head, narrowing his eyes at you.
“What’s for dinner?”
You looked at the time.
Huffing, you flung the sheets off of you and stretched.
“Probably tacos.”
“Sounds good.” he smiled at you appraisingly, it was provocatively contagious. “Don’t burn the house down this time.”
“Ugh,” you groaned, “Did Momo tell you about that?” It was rhetorical. “I didn’t burn the house down and it was one little stove- top-grease-fire.”
“You're not making tacos around my babygirl.”
“It was one time!”