“I cook and you wake me up with him–” she said, lowering her hand to my dick. “Before you go for your run. I go back to sleep and then we shower together once you return from your hundred hour run, yeah?”
“We’ll talk about it later.”
“Okay.”
She perked up. Her smile reached her eyes and then my lips. She pressed them into me before taking her purse. She bolted toward her door and began to lower her bottom into the seat.
“Your food–”
“I’ve decided against eating solids today. I have water.”
“That’s not healthy, Aliza. You didn’t eat yesterday either.”
“It’ll all be worth it. I’ll feast with you once this is all over.”
“It won’t be over for another three and a half months. Five, actually.”
“I know, baby, and I promise I’ll eat at least four times a week. A solid, hearty meal.”
“I’m going to start feeding you myself if you don’t.”
“You won’t have to. When my body tells me I’m hungry, I will eat. Pinky swear.”
She held up her pinky as she closed her door. Behind the glass of her whip, I watched her smile fade and her head turn to make sure the backup camera wasn’t deceiving her. When she confirmed no one was behind her, she blew me a kiss and continued out of the parking spot.
Sighing, I crumbled the top of the paper bag, making a mental note to toss it with the rest of the trash in my car from this morning. I also put a new mark in my mental calendar.
Day two.
If I didn’t keep track of Aliza’s eating habits, they would become an issue. The childhood images her parents had hanging on the walls of their home was a weekly reminder of her struggles with food as a child. She was born a whopping thirteen pounds.
By the time she was one, she weighed forty-three pounds. It wasn’t until she experienced a Black ballerina on stage during a trip to Channing City that she realized where she wanted to be. And, it wasn’t in her bedroom consuming food at least four times a day to satisfy her neverending appetite. It was on stage.
At age four, she began skipping meals. By five, she had lost more weight than her young mind could comprehend. It was halfway through her fifth year of life that she took her first ballet lesson. Aliza had been a beast ever since.
She was naturally gifted. Her rhythm was unmatched. Her body was made for the contortion ballet required. To make sure it was never a hindrance, she kept it lean and light. Her fat percentage was envious for some, but it was concerning for her family more often than not.
Though I wasanxious to feel the hot beads of water on my back in the shower, a detour felt necessary. I took a look in my passenger seat, hoping I didn’t crumble the wrap that had been meant for Aliza. As I pulled up to the security booth, the yellow lift gate began to rise.
I tossed my hand in the air, thankful Ronny had noticed me before I made it to the booth. My parents weren’t expecting me,but were never opposed to my presence. They preferred it. I cut corner after corner until I reached the street where they reside.
Halting, I whipped my head in both directions. The stop sign at the end of the road had gained my respect long ago. I’d seen far too many cars folded or nearly tossed over the railing due to their disregard for it.
We were far from the plains of Clarke. We were on Mt. Clarke. One wrong move could land you in the hospital or the cemetery. I wasn’t in a rush for either, so I brought my car to a complete stop before proceeding.
A quarter of a mile down the road, the homes began to appear, each consuming acres. It was a full thirty seconds between each home, sometimes more. Just a minute before reaching my parent’s home, I slowed the wheels of my whip.
Without haste, the red and white moving truck turned into the driveway of the new construction home. For the past three months, crews worked tirelessly as if they were on a strict, unchanging deadline.
“They finished,” I whispered, stealing a peek at the beauty behind the fence.
Though it was tucked away and surrounded by a privacy fence and plenty of greenery, I managed to get a glimpse.
French. I noted.
“French Provincial Architect.”
A family of great wealth and exquisite taste had tasked the crew with the build. Even in the modern housing market where homes were built to break at a mere encounter with a gush of wind, the home was built to last.
