Page 17

We start to save. Every paycheck, we put aside what we can and we spend weekends scrolling through listings, imagining what life could look like in a home that is truly ours. And then, finally, we find it — the perfect place.

In March, we move in.

The house is beautiful. It’s a classic craftsman-style home with wood accents and intricate details that give it so much character. There is a yard for the kids to play in, something we’ve dreamed about for a while. And, it even has the white picket fence.

The kids each have their own rooms upstairs. For the first time, we have a home that feels like it could grow with us. And for the first time in a long time, Jake and I have privacy. Our bedroom is down the hallway between the kitchen and the living room, a quiet space. Just for us. No more sharing rooms.

We throw a housewarming party a few weeks later. It is the perfect way to celebrate. Watching everyone mingle, laughing, and enjoying the food we’ve put together makes me so happy that my face hurts from smiling.

Bianca ends up coming around again, swearing she's clean. We have my parents take Damian for the night on a weekday and invite her over, not wanting to risk her showing up high around him. The evening is filled with apologies. She spends most of the night explaining herself to Jake and me, her words heavy with guilt, telling me that she knew I was good for him, and she was just jealous he had found a reason not to need her or the drugs anymore.

She lands a job at the casino requiring random drug tests, so I believe her. She starts coming over more often, spending time with the kids and playing video games with Jake long into the night.

About a month after her first visit, she asks if we need a roommate. Her lease is expiring and she spends her days off work here anyway, so Jake agrees before we can even talk about it privately.

“It’ll be fine,”

he says that night in bed, “you gave me a second chance, why can't we give her one?”

I’ve given you more than one second chance.

“I have given her a second chance. That's not what I'm trying to say.”

I sigh, irritated that he’s missing the point, like always, “I would have just liked it if you had talked to me about it first before saying yes.”

“Would you have agreed?”

he asks, giving me a knowing look.

“Probably, but you didn't even give me a chance.”

I roll my eyes and turn away from him.

“Okay, Elle, can Bianca move in?”

he asks while cuddling up behind me.

I ignore him, so he starts tickling me. I try to squirm away, but he's quick, his fingers finding the spots that make me laugh the hardest.

"Jake! Stop!" I gasp between giggles, but he only tickles me harder.

"Come on, answer the question," he laughs.

He finally stops, his hands resting on my waist as I catch my breath, both of us laughing softly now.

“You’re impossible,”

I mutter, smiling.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then,”

he says, his voice low and teasing.

Bianca moves in, and for a while, everything feels good, peaceful, even. She picks up after herself, buys her own food, and pretty much keeps to her room all day. It’s quiet, but I can tell Jake is happier with someone around to hang out with that isn't me and the kids.

But then, one evening, she invites her sometimes boyfriend over for drinks. Jake and Aaron know each other from high school, so the three of them end up in Bianca’s room, catching up and drinking well into the night. At first, it feels fine, but as the hours stretch on, and Jake doesn't come to bed, I can’t help but feel the familiar unease.

It’s just after one in the morning when Jake stumbles into the room, drunk.

“Shit,”

he grumbles as he trips over his own shoes on the ground before flopping into bed.

“Elle,”

he whisper-shouts into my ear while reaching around me to squeeze my boob. I’m not in the mood to deal with his drunken mood swings tonight, so I pretend to be asleep.

“Baby,”

he whines while sliding his hand down my body and cupping my pussy. It takes everything in me to keep my breathing even. I bite my lip to stop myself from moaning as he rubs my pussy over my pajamas.

Drunk Jake sex is always great, but the angry Jake that usually follows isn't worth it tonight, so I just lie there.

My eyes snap open to the darkness of our room, and he looks down at his hand and pushes my panties to the side. I feel him moving, so I close my eyes again as the bed wiggles and he gets comfortable on his back. He settles back down and shoves a finger into my pussy without warning. I gasp, but he’s too busy fingering me and jacking off to hear it.

“Fuck, I wanna be in your tight pussy so bad,”

he whines, adding a second finger, “I love the way you stretch to take all of me, like your pussy was made for me.”

I widen my legs a little before remembering I'm supposed to be asleep, so I try to cover it up with a snore and roll my head away from him, holding back a laugh at how loud I just snorted. If he weren't plastered, he’d know I’m awake.

“Shhh,”

he whispers as he slows down, his fingers slowly easing out of my pussy until he’s sure I'm not waking up. “Such a good,”

grunt, “fucking girl.”

He picks up the pace, and I moan softly, whimpering his name when I feel my orgasm building, my hips moving on their own.

“Fuck, you're gonna cum in your sleep, aren't you?”

The bed shakes as he jerks off, “Jesus, that's so fucking hot.”

He grinds the palm of his hand against my clit as he curls his fingers and taps my g-spot one last time. I cum all over his hand.

The bed stops shaking as he gets up and straddles me. I open my eyes into slivers to see him switch between watching my face and looking down. He moves my panties to the side and starts rubbing his cock along my clit, using his hand to wipe up my cum and rubbing on his dick.

“God damn, it’s like you have a magic vagina,”

he laughs to himself, looking at my face again before staring at the ceiling and groaning my name. He finishes all over me, hot cum landing on my panties, my pussy, and my stomach.

“Shit,”

he laughs louder this time as he looks down and sees the mess he made. He checks on me again before ripping his shirt over his head and gently wiping me clean. He flops onto the bed next to me and promptly falls asleep.

I fall asleep wondering who was wrong for letting that happen. Him, for taking what is always freely given even though I didn't say yes, or me, for letting him.

The house is silent when I wake up, everyone sleeping through their hangovers, so I quietly make breakfast for Damian. I get him situated in the living room with his favorite morning cartoons while I clean the kitchen. Staring at the countertop near the garbage, it is stacked full of empty beer bottles from last night.

Jake starts drinking more frequently again, although he doesn't always get as drunk as the night he thought I was sleeping. Sometimes it's just a beer after work, sometimes it's a six-pack and he falls asleep on the couch, but after a month of constant drinking, I finally speak up.

“Maybe you've had enough?”

I ask Jake when he stumbles, getting up to grab another beer.

“It’s Friday, and I’ve had a long week,”

he snaps at me before continuing to the kitchen.

“Caylee is bored with Damian at his dad’s, and you’re just on your phone and getting drunk,”

I say, following him into the kitchen.

“She’s fine. She was an only child until you came around. She knows how to entertain herself.”

He grabs a new Coors Light and twists it open, taking a long drink before shutting the fridge door and turning around.

“I just wish you could go a day without drinking, but that's all you ever do lately.”

I regret it as soon as it comes out. His shoulders stiffen, and he gets a hard look in his eyes as he pushes off the fridge.

“You do, huh?”

he sneers, “Well, I wish I could come home after a long day and not get bitched out for no reason.”

He takes a step toward me, “I wish I could go a day without you nagging about the garbage needing to be taken out,” another step and he’s in my face, “I wish I could fuck my girlfriend, but she always has a headache these days.”

“Maybe I wouldn't have a headache if you didn't crawl into bed smelling like a damn bar every night.”

I turn to leave, so tired of fighting.

I want to grab him by his shoulders and shake him, ask him what's so wrong with our life that it drives him to drink, but Caylee is sitting in the living room watching us.

“Hey, Bug, you wanna go play in your room?”

I reach for her, but Jake stomps into the room and grabs her first.

“Fuck you, Elle. I’m done. Let's go see Grandma, Caylee.”

Jake grabs for his keys, but trips and nearly falls on top of Caylee.

There’s no way he's driving with her right now. I reach his keys first and shove them into my pocket.

“Give. Me. My. Keys.”

his voice is hard, and Caylee looks at me with wide eyes, trying to wiggle out of his hold.

“I can't stop you from leaving, Jake, but you're not taking her with you.”

I scoop her up and walk backward, tossing him the keys. I bolt to our bedroom, slamming and locking the door.

“It’s gonna be like a sleepover, Caylee. You wanna build a fort?”

I ask and pull her to the other side of the bed. I yank the blanket to the floor while Jake pounds on the door, shouting.

My laughs don’t drown out Jake’s anger. I know that. I plaster a smile on my face, ignoring the fear bubbling in my stomach. Caylee must know it, too, because she offers me a small smile before getting to work on our fort. He eventually leaves, his tires spinning out on the gravel in the driveway, but it does nothing to ease the tension in my body, not even when Caylee falls asleep. I don’t close my eyes until Jake’s mom texts me to let me know he’s there.

He’s all smiles when he walks through the front door the next morning, Caylee’s favorite doughnuts in hand. She runs to him, laughing, the events from last night already forgotten.

How I wish it were that simple for me. He pulls a bouquet of roses from behind his back and hands them to me with a sad look on his face.

“You did the right thing,”

he says, walking into the living room after settling Caylee at the table with her treats.

“I know.”

I don't need him telling me that.

“I was out of line last night,”

he continues as he sits across from me on the couch, “I can't believe I tried to drive that drunk with my daughter.”

“I know.”

I’m tired. I don't have the fight in me anymore. I don’t want to hear him say it again. I don’t want the endless apologies that always come, each one wearing me down a little more. Nothing changes for long.

“I’m sorry.”

He says softly.

“You always are,”

my voice cracks as my heart breaks. He’s always sorry, always going to stop, always going to do better.

“What can I do?”

he asks, his shoulders dropping because, for once, I'm not just sweeping it under the rug with his apology.

“I don't know, Jake. I... I’m tired.”

I didn't realize how tired I was until right now. I hadn't realized how little I do for myself, how lonely I’ve been, even at his side. My life revolves around Jake and what he wants, what he needs.

I’m tired of not standing up for what I want, what I need. I’ve been a pushover because I put him on a pedestal and saw him as the hero who saved my life when I hit rock bottom.

“I’ll stop drinking at home,”

he offers, and it's a good start.

“We have to take Caylee home and pick up Damian, so let's talk about this later.”

I ignore his miserable look and head to the bathroom to shower, hoping to wash off the last 24 hours.

Yeah, I don't like drunk Jake anymore. I think it's time I start figuring out what I really want for my future because this isn't it.

-elle