Free Ch. 02

Every morning, she had to wake up alone in her bed. Having her husband asleep in the next room over made that fact so much worse than when he was in prison. She had to endure him brushing past her, as if she didn't exist. His eyes looked through her, never catching her pleading gaze.

The real kicker was the fact that his relationship with everyone improved dramatically. She would see him interacting with Anya with such joy that it both warmed and broke her heart. Even her mother, who once loathed the very air he breathed, smiled when she spoke to him. Traci would catch the two of them in the evenings, huddled together at the kitchen table, filling out job applications and making resumes.

Pretty soon, she became the haunting spirit. She could only watch her surroundings through an invisible barrier but was forbidden to partake.

But yet and still, she followed the advice. It was the right thing do for Rick, the right thing to do for Anya, and the right thing to do for peace in the house.

Who cared if it was the wrong thing for her?

Nobody; that's who.

Her heart rebroke every day, and it was all her fault. Manny's dick wasn't worth all this. Even when it was inside of her, it was Rick's face underneath her closed eyelids. Rick was the one fucking her with sweat dripping onto her skin. It was his hands smacking her ass. It was his dick in her mouth.

She even called out Rick's name when she was cumming. She screamed it as she clawed Manny's broad back.

And now...

Everything was fucked up. Her life was a fucking mess. Nothing was going the way she'd been dreaming about for the last four years. This? This was a perverted nightmare; a twisted wish granted by an evil genie. It was like she got everything she wished for, only to be left on the outside looking in.

She wanted to bask in the happiness that Rick was finally home and becoming a part of her family. She wanted to laugh when he made Anya laugh, cry on his shoulder after a sad movie, and make love to him under the dim lights of her darkened bedroom.

Instead, she got her husband ignoring her, sleeping on the couch, and making plans to leave without her.

This was unbearable. Every day she went to work with a miserable cloud hanging over her head. Every night she went to bed and rained tears onto her pillow.

But yet and still, he heeded her mother's advice; no matter how much it killed her to do so.

As silent days turned into agonizing weeks. Rick kept busy, vigilantly looking for work. He faithfully attended his parole visits and kept his mind on his goals.

And off...other stuff.

But he knew he couldn't go on like this. Pretending Traci didn't exist took more energy than he had the capacity to maintain. He would find himself standing outside of her door at night, listening to her crying herself to sleep. He would walk by her in the morning, pretending not to notice her puffy eyes.

A part of him wanted to forgive her. He knew she was sorry. He would have loved to simply let bygones be bygones and forget the whole ugly, sordid mess. And to be honest, he probably would have been able to; eventually.

That is, if she had slept with ANYONE ELSE but fucking Manchester Childs.

Rick wasn't the only one who noticed how the silent treatment was affecting Traci. Martha looked at her daughter with worried eyes as she dragged herself around every morning before dropping Anya off at the babysitter's house so she could get to work. Every night was a solemn, quiet affair with everyone dancing around the elephant in the room. To make up for the awkwardness and fill the air with sound, they all just played with Anya to avoid talking about...IT.

One evening, a little over a month later, Martha found her son in law on the back porch, looking up at the sky. He had a notebook in his hands, which he would occasionally write in.

"Mind if I sit down?" she asked as she approached him from behind. Slightly startled, he whipped his head back, but then relaxed.

"Not at all, Miss James. You can sit wherever you want. It's your house."

She took a seat next to him and said, "I was hoping by now that you'd started thinking of it as your house too."

Rick shrugged his shoulders and looked off into the distance. With a sad expression, he said, "'With all due respect, it's hard to think of it like that with all that's going on."

She nodded understandingly. There were a lot of things about her son-in-law that was growing on her. His complete honesty was chief amongst them.

Rick looked peculiarly at Martha, as if a question were burning the tip of his tongue. Finally, he asked, "You mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"Um...I guess not. Don't be offended if I choose not to answer it."

He mulled it over for a few seconds, then just curiously asked, "Was there ever a Mr. James? In all the time I've known Traci, neither of you have ever mentioned her father."

Martha took in a deep breath, and a haunted look masked her face. She seriously thought about her exercising her option to not answer. In the end, she said, "Let's just say that Traci's dad was a very bad man."

"Did he hurt you?"

Martha had to look away before giving a nod.

For some reason, this angered Rick. He was feeling a strange need to protect this woman, even from the ghosts of her past.

Her eyes shimmied in the dim moonlight before a single tear made its way down her cheek. She quickly flicked it away with her thumb, refusing to shed another tear over that man. Her days of crying over him were done.

"I was 17 when I had Traci; still a baby myself. However, I was only 15 when I met her father. He was 26." Rick's surprised face made her nod. "Yeah. I know."

Before that could fully sink in, Martha looked up at the same stars Rick was just looking at. Speaking somewhat nostalgically, she continued. "I thought he was so fine! He drove a nice car, wore nice clothes, always had women clamoring to be with him. For some reason, he singled me out. He wanted me despite having women older, prettier, and faster trying to get his attention."

She scoffed ruefully and shook her head, as if she couldn't believe how stupid she was. "That made me feel so special. He would buy me things, take me out, show me off to all his friends and tell them that I was his number one lady. Number one lady! I was 15 years old, and he was calling me a lady!"

Her voice started to become more animated as the telling of her own story started to stir up old feelings. Come to think of it, she'd never really told her story to anyone. She kept it locked up inside of her, hidden from the rest of the world; hidden from Traci.

But those feelings of anger and resentment never went away. They just transferred onto someone else; someone who appeared to be another wolf in sheep's clothing. He was a drug dealer who'd swooned her daughter with syrupy promises and expensive gifts.

"I let him disrespect me in ways that makes me sick to even think about. I did things for him that no woman; let alone a little girl, should ever have to do for a man. But when I took that pregnancy test and saw that I was going to be a mother, I knew I had to leave him. I couldn't let Traci grow up with that monster. I had to make a choice between the man I loved, and my unborn baby. So, I chose her."

"I get that." Rick said with a nod.

The quiet settled between them for a minute before Martha said, "Now it's my turn. I want to ask you something."

"Shoot."

"What are your plans with my daughter?"

Rick shifted uncomfortably, but then jokingly asked, "Didn't you already ask me this question when I started dating her?"

She couldn't help but to chuckle. "And if memory serves, I didn't like THAT answer much either. But seriously..."

Rick sighed and gave a little shrug. "Honestly, I don't know."

"Do you still love her?"

A groan escaped through his nose, but he nodded.

"Look..." she said as she leaned forward. "My daughter doesn't always make the best decisions in the world. And I know that this thing with Manchester is all kinds of messed up. But I do know that she loves you, and this silent treatment thing you've got going on is killing her. Now, I'm not telling you to take her back, or even forgive her. But you can't keep punishing her like this. You must talk to her; let her know how you're feeling. Ignoring her is its own form of cruelty, and it's gonna begin to hurt Anya."

Righteous indignation swelled up inside of him, making him cut in. In a voice with high emotions, he said, "Miss James, no offense, but there is nothing that I can do to her that even comes close what she did to me. She fucked...I'm sorry..." He looked to her apologetically. She gave him a nod, and he continued. "She slept with Manny the entire time I was locked up. The entire time! And what's worse, I don't think it was a mistake on her part. It wasn't something they just fell into. I think she did it...with him...because she wanted to do it...WITH HIM. I know for a fact that he's always wanted to sleep with her."

Martha nodded understandably, but carefully disagreed. "I don't think she went to him with the intent on starting an affair; at least not the first time. If memory serves, she told me that she and Manchester got drunk."

Rick looked at her like he wasn't buying it.

"Miss James, I know your daughter. I know how she flirts; how she operates. She went to Manny's house to pick up some money to buy some things for Anya, but she went over there in a short skirt and fishnet stockings on. Why would she need to dress like that if she was going to be there all but 5 minutes?"

Martha hated the logic that what a girl wears is an indication of her motivation. To her, it was a form of slut-shaming; an excuse that absolves men of bad behavior. If she was wearing those clothes, it's obvious that she wanted sex; right?

But Rick wasn't done yet.

"Furthermore, she started crying about how much she missed me and NEEDED TO FEEL ME INSIDE OF HER. That's what she said to him. Does that sound like friendly conversation to be having when you show up at a guy's house at night wearing a short skirt, thigh-high boots, and fishnet tights; or does that sound like an invitation?"

He'd obviously been thinking about this for a while; probably the entire month. Dots had been connected, and he'd come to some logical conclusions. Even Martha had to sigh in resignation.

"So, you think she was planning to do this all along?"

Once again, Rick gave a shrug. "I don't know about all along, but I damn well know that she left the house THAT NIGHT with the intent of getting laid."

"And you think she did it because she doesn't love you?"

Shaking his head, he said, "Love had nothing to do with it, Miss James. I think she just didn't plan on me ever finding out."

Well, that's for damn sure. She thought to herself. Aloud, she said, "Let's switch places with here, Derrick. Let's say she is the one doing six years, and you're the one out here having to take care of Anya. You're a good-looking guy. You would probably have a few women ready to hit some sheets with you."

Chuckling, Rick said, "Why, Miss Robinson...I do believe you're trying to..."

"Shut up."

The two of them burst out laughing. It was good to see him doing that. But Martha wasn't done yet. She had a point to make.

"If you had to be separated from her for SIX YEARS, wouldn't you get tempted to find a little temporary play toy?"

If this question were posed to anyone else, it would have been a pointless one. The theoretical nature of it means that there was no wrong answer. Rick could have just as well gave a self-righteous, "Hell no" and there would have been no way to disprove it.

But Rick didn't answer right away. He thought about it for a moment before saying, "Honestly, I don't know. I would like to think I wouldn't, but I've never been put in that position. I've never cheated on Traci, but for me she was always just a car ride away."

Before Martha could bask in her victory, Rick added, "But I can't base my hurt on what probably coulda possibly happened in an alternate universe; maybe. In this one, your daughter betrayed me; badly. Does she still love me? Yes. Do I still love her? Unfortunately, yes. But none of that changes the fact that every time I look at her, I see him. I see him making the same faces that I've seen him make with other women. I see her moaning the same way that she moans with me. Worse than that, though, I see the fact that the two of them spent so much time together that Anya feels more comfortable having him around than me. I can see it all, and I can't turn the fucking picture off!"

This time, he didn't apologize for letting the swear word slip. Martha didn't even feel the need to make him. She just softly placed her hand on his knee, and said, "Then don't turn it off. You talk to her about it. You tell her how she made you feel. You tell her how much you're suffering because of her selfish actions. Stop trying to handle this alone, and stop being afraid of your own voice. Being angry with her doesn't make you a bad guy. Confronting her about her bullshit is not going to make you lose your daughter. She brought this pile of shit to your front door; you bring it back to her so BOTH of you can clean it up."

Rick didn't respond, but instead scowled and looked away. Martha read the new temperature on this conversation and saw the flash freezing.

Still, he was at least thinking about it. She could see those wheels turning up there. Not wanting to overstay her welcome, she hoisted herself up without another word and gently patted him on the shoulder on her way back into the house.

Traci watched her mother walk past. She was sitting on the couch in the living room. Martha shot her a supportive smile before disappearing into the back.

Moments later, Rick walked in. Traci looked up hopefully; expectedly. When they locked eyes for a moment, her heart started galloping. Please say something to me, baby. Please.

But he didn't. Instead, he cut his eyes away and sadly went into the bathroom.

At this point, her guilt was beginning to give way to anger. Every time he ignored her, or gave her the cold shoulder, that anger grew and mutated. Now, it was starting to become its evolved state: resentment.

He can sit out there on the porch laughing and joking with MY MOTHER who hated him not too long ago, but he has nothing for me? After a month; still, nothing?

She once again returned her attention to her phone; to the riveting online poker game she was currently winning at. If he wants to be that way, fine! Fuck him!

A tear tried to fall, but she squelched it. Why should she cry over him anymore if he were through with her?

Because she loved the shit out of him. That's why.

Despite her best efforts; that tear escaped the prison she put it in.