Page 150 of Dark Surrender

“I figured.”

“So, how’s Dee?” she asks to change the subject, and I love her for it. I don’t wanna think about what’s going on at Abby’s or talk any more about technically losing my virginity, even if we know it’s a silly social construct. It still happened.

Dark

Sitting on the edge of Abby’s blue couch, which used to be our couch, I clasp my hands together and try my fuckin’ hardest to keep my anger in check, given I’m Abby’s emotional punching bag. I deserve it. I’ve always deserved it.

“You left me again! Then you introduce her to our daughter without talking to me about it? What the hell?” Abby rages, pacing the living room.

“None of this was planned. I didn’t wanna be gone that long. I almost died.”

“Then you should have died,” she screeches.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Sure, I do. I hate this! I hate you!”

“I deserve that.”

“You need church. You need forgiveness.”

“If church makes you happy, Abby, I’m happy for you. But I don’t believe in all that shit.” She knows how I feel about religion.

“It’s not shit! It will help us. As a family.”

“We aren’t a family like that,” I explain calmly. “We never have been.”

“You used to love me!”

“I still love you. But it’s not like that.”

“Because you met a fat, ugly, bald bitch.”

Oh. Lovely. This is sure as shit not what I wanna deal with. “Abby, I get you’re angry, and that’s fair,” I reason, tone firm but friendly. “But don’t you dare say that heinous shit about my wife.”

“Your wife?!” she shrieks. “Your wife!? You married her?”

“I will be.”

Spiraling out of control, Abby marches over to a book on the end table, picks it up, and throws it at my head. I bat it away, and she screams. Tears stream down her cheeks as she continues to lose it, and I don’t stop her. She’s been through a lot. Between her screwed-up childhood, meeting me, and dealing with all my shit, she needs a release. I’d tell her Jesus ain’t the person to give her that. Neither is that man she’s been dating. But that’s not my place. We’re not together. Not that we ever really were. My heart was never in it, and she’s had to bear that.

Once she’s petered out, Abby collapses onto the couch beside me, and I wrap my arm around her shoulder to comfort her. Abby leans into me and cries. It breaks my heart that I broke hers. I wish I could change some of the stupid shit I did. But I wouldn’t be here, changed and all that, had I not traveled this path. We wouldn’t have Lily, either. I don’t regret meeting Abby or having my daughter. I could never regret that. My only regret is not letting her go sooner.

“I’m sorry I threw a book at your head,” she blubbers, rubbing her nose against my pec.

I chuckle. “You’ve thrown worse.”

“Only a knife.”

“Twice.”

“Oh. That’s right… I am… I am glad you’re home.”

“Me, too.” I pat her shoulder.

“Iris seems nice.”

“How do you know?”