I didn’t feel anything when I replied, “I’ll be ready.”
If someone asked me what I did on the day before I went to visit my father, I wouldn’t be able to recall. I assume I ate three meals, went to class, and drank whatever concoction Jax went to buy from Jackie.
I assume I studied or tried to lose track of time with Jax. I wouldn’t be able to bet my life on it though.
I didn’t remember that day. It paled in comparison to the days surrounding it. I wish I could have told myself that those days, the ones with nothing happening, were the ones to remember.
I should have listened to every whisper of a moment I had with the man I’d fought not to love for so long but who sat with me to stare out a window and appreciate the way the wind danced through the trees. I should have snuggled closer to him on the couch as we sipped the chai tea he’d made us and enjoyed the calm silence of steam off our warm drinks. I should have tried to bottle the feeling of being kissed by his lips, wrapped in his arms, and enveloped in his scent.
Instead, the day came and went like lightning, so fast, I barely saw it.
Like a flash, I was standing in front of my mirror trying to figure out what I would wear to go visit my father in prison.
White.
A color my father insisted upon.
White, so clean and pristine.
Like walking into a room with fresh, clean sheets free of any stains. No one would ever guess how quickly you had to wash blood off that white color to make sure it didn’t set into the fabric. Or how many times we’d had to clean that fabric to make sure it was white enough for the next event.
White. It was our show color. And there I stood, donning it again just like he would have wanted.
I wondered if my mother would have approved of me bending to his will. Would she have told me to keep the peace one last time, even knowing he couldn’t hurt anyone behind bars?
I sighed. She couldn’t answer the question and neither could I.
Jax had left my bed early that morning with the excuse of needing to work, but I knew he’d gone to the living room to give me space. Now though, he pushed open the door without a knock as if he owned the place. “Jax, you could knock.”
“For what reason?”
“Well, for one it’s polite,” I sighed.
His smile was slow. “You think I want to be polite with you?”
I rolled my eyes. “I could have needed some privacy.”
He shook his head. “You don’t get privacy with me, Peaches. I’ve seen every part of you.”
I stared at him, wondering if he could see how my insecurity over the day melted away when I looked at him.
When he stood in front of me, all I could see was him. His broad shoulders, how they took up almost the whole width of my doorway, how he dominated every place he was in and didn’t have to try. I found myself wanting to swim in oceans of Caribbean blue as I looked into his eyes.
He crossed his arms over his chest.
Without thinking, I blurted, “You’re back in a suit.”
The small smile that crept over his face held sadness when he replied, “You’re back in white.”
I didn’t know if he was referencing how my mother and I dressed for my father or my lack of colors in general. I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to know.
Nodding, I tried my best not to stumble when I walked toward the doorway.
I’d go see him to end these years of no contact and to figure out if he’d be sorry or remorseful or anything at all.
I’d do this for me and for my mother.
Jax grabbed my arm as I brushed past him in the hall. He leaned in close. “You don’t have to do this, Whitfield.”