Page 18 of Aperture

His affirmative words and the heat of his mouth on my lips make me quiver. I grab the beanie and drag it off his head, tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck to draw him closer as he kisses me again, more aggressively. He lays his upper body across mine as his tongue slips into my mouth, and I meet it with my own. I can hear the soft lapping of the waves in the background as we kiss, our mouths working together in synchronicity with the tide, dipping in and then pulling back slowly. The intimacy of our conversation continues to fuel my desire to be close to him. We kiss for several minutes, savoring each other. As incredible as it feels, I need to slow this down a little.

As if he senses my hesitation, he slows down and gently kisses my lips one last time as I smile against them.

“I should probably get you home,” he rasps breathlessly.

“I think that’s a good idea,” I reply. “This, tonight, has been amazing.”

“Hopefully, it’s the first of many,” he says with a genuine smile.

Chapter 10

“Mommy? Mommy, where are you?” My stomach grumbled as I made my way through the apartment. I had only eaten some cereal today while I was watching cartoons. We didn’t have any milk, so I just ate it out of the box. Mommy said she would go and get milk if I watched TV quietly.

I watched all of my favorites, but she was not back yet. I set my blanket down and slid the rickety kitchen chair over to the cupboard to look for more food. I saw a box of crackers, so I quickly grabbed them and put two into my mouth. They tasted kind of weird. They were soft but did not taste bad, so I ate some more. The door opened, and I heard Mommy’s laugh.

Jumping down from the chair, I started running over to her, yelling, “Mommy!”

“Look at you,” she said. “What have you gotten into?“ She wiped the crumbs from the side of my face and the front of my pajamas, not sounding mad that I got into the crackers. She was giggly. I was happy she was not mad at me for eating without permission. She set the small bag on the table. I opened it and looked inside and found milk and a small package of cookies.

“Are these for me?” I asked hopefully.

“Yes, Sweet Boy,” she says. “Those are for you.”

She poured me a glass of milk and told me to take my cookies and milk and watch more TV. I must have fallen asleep because when I woke up, it was dark, except for the light from the television. It was really cold as well. I was not allowed to touch the heat switch thingy, so I rubbed my eyes and grabbed my blanket as I stood.

“Mommy? Mama? I’m cold. Where are you?”

I looked in the bathroom but she was not there, so I went to the bedroom we share. I hoped she was asleep so I could get in bed and cuddle up to her for warmth. That was my favorite. When I turned on the light, I did not notice her at first, but then I saw her sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall by the side of the bed. She was wearing a big jacket and the left sleeve was pushed up her arm. Her favorite red scarf was tied around her arm where the jacket was pushed up. There was a needle stuck in her arm, dangling to the side.

“Mommy!” I screamed, running over to her. She did not look like Mommy, though. Her skin was blue and she stared ahead, not moving, not blinking. I could see dried tears on her cheeks and some vomit on the side of her mouth.

‘She must be really sick,’ I reassured myself trying not to panic. I did not know what else to do so I grabbed the scarf and took it off her arm. The needle fell to the stained, battered carpet, landing in dejected silence.

“Mommy! Mama! Wake up!” I touched her cold cheek, but she did not move.

Laying her scarf carefully across her legs, I climbed into her lap and curled up, placing my head against the soft, worn fabric. I don’t know how long I laid there, crying and rocking back and forth, waiting to hear her sweet voice, and hoping to wake up from this nightmare.

I shoot up in bed in a cold sweat. I can feel my heartbeat in my temples and I’m hyperventilating. I throw the covers off of my body and pull my t-shirt over my head as I stand. I’m hot and cold at the same time. It has been a long time since I felt panic. My body feels like a live wire, and I cannot stop my mind from racing as I pace back and forth. I try to breathe, to use some of the visualization shit I learned when I was little. I was on edge before, but that dream always makes me feel like a stick of fucking dynamite.

My therapist would say it’s my subconscious “working out my trauma.” I think that’s bullshit. It’s a memory of how my junkie mother left me. I idolized her. It didn’t matter to me that she couldn’t keep a job or cried for days at a time. It didn’t matter that I was hungry sometimes or alone for hours. I fucking loved her so much, and the only thing she loved was drugs. I hardly ever think about her anymore. I have more control than this. These memories are because ofMillie.She is making me feel again.

Chapter 11

I woke up feeling good about my date last night. Theo is just so unexpected. It’s rare to meet a man who is kind, thoughtful, funny, AND sexy. And those kisses. I felt them everywhere. He’s honestly everything I want in a man, yet I can’t stop thinking about Wyatt. He’s a mystery I want to unravel.

I could feel him holding himself back the last time we were together. It could be because of his job like he said, or I’ve misread the signs, and he’s not interested in me romantically. I’m not exactly sure how to proceed here.

My dating history isn’t all that spectacular. My longest relationship has been ten months, over two years ago. I can’t even be sure I was in love. I honestly don’t think I was. I’ve always been focused on myself. Dating has come second to everything else. I’m really feeling ready to have someone in my life and suddenly without trying I’ve met two interesting guys in the same week. They always say it happens when you least expect it. I definitely wasn’t expecting this.

I’m busy thinking about Theo’s hazel eyes, sweet smile, and Wyatt’s intense blue eyes and mysterious demeanor when I realize I need to start getting ready for my two-hour volunteer shift at the local animal shelter. I have a love/hate relationship with my volunteer work. I’m happy to help, and I love being around the dogs and cats, but it’s heartbreaking every time I have to leave. I’d love to take all the animals home with me, but with my small space and yard, it wouldn’t be fair. Still, even though it can be difficult, it’s important to me, and I wouldn’t give it up for anything.

When I arrive at the shelter and head for the office, I’m greeted by beautiful brown eyes that make me stop in my tracks. Sitting on the floor next to Barb, the office manager, is a dog I’ve never seen. He looks like a shepherd mix, with short tan hair, a long, black muzzle, and big, sharp ears. He gets up tentatively and mosies over to me. He’s bigger than I expected, coming up to my mid-thigh. I reach out my hand for him to sniff. He deems me worthy and puts his head down for scratches.

“Well, who are you?” I say in a voice two octaves higher than usual.

“Aren’t you just the best boy?” I croon. Barb, the office manager, has been watching our meet cute and laughs softly.

“Hi, Millie. How are you?” she asks.