So you've all seen the "If I were a Boy" video by Beyonce, right? Wrong? Well go watch it! : ) Well, if you have, then these words are what she and the guy say at the very beginning. Just popped into my head on a rainy day…
Intimacy
It was about two weeks after our first kiss, one of those curl-up-on-the-couch-with-dim-lights-and-a-good-book days. And that was almost exactly what we both were doing as rain pelted against the windows of my home. The warm, homey aroma of vanilla filled the cozy living room, a blanket and his arms surrounding me as we watched Some Like it Hot, the only lighting that of the tall lamp and the TV screen. I couldn't remember being this relaxed, this safe, comforted. The small blossoms of our early relationship had officially bloomed into the bright, colorful flower that was now our love.
Yes, love.
Before him, I would never have thought that such an emotion was possible. Not for family, not for friends, not for partners. Yet here I stand now, uttering the words every morning and night and whenever I can in between, and it is surreal.
It was on this day, however, that the declaration had been spoken for the first time, not surprisingly by him. And in a very un-me reply, I muttered the words back. I could feel him smile into my hair, and I realized that I had just treated him to the best moment possible. It was honestly a shock to myself, too, as I never would have dreamed I would confidently say "I love you" after a mere couple of weeks. It made my heart clench at the recognition that he had that effect on me.
The intimacy of the day would forever be embedded in my soul.
~
Trust
Nearly a month into this relationship is when we committed the definitive act of trust. He had since moved in with me, as I absolutely refused to let him sleep at that fleabag motel when I had a perfectly comfy, clean queen-sized bed. I adapted surprisingly quickly to the new situation; it was always a comforting sight to see him next to me, somehow sleeping over the blaring alarm clock, or in the kitchen in nothing but cotton pajama pants making coffee. It was natural.
It was around eleven at night as we were both getting into bed, and I, once settled against the pillows, began to clean both of our service pistols. He, on the other hand, was making that rather difficult. Normally he got comfy, waiting for me to finish (as he had found out long ago that I wasn't satisfied with his gun-cleaning abilities) and lay back with him. Not tonight, though. Tonight, he had other plans.
He gently pried the guns out of my hands, placing it along with the cleaning supplies on the nightstand and pulled me by the waist to lie atop him. He ran his large hands along my silk-covered curves, each time getting higher and higher until I couldn't resist any longer and leaned down to plant my lips on his. Skillful tongues explored each other's mouths for the countless time, my hands cupping his cheeks and his own covering my rear, gently grinding my hips against his. A soft moan passed my lips as I pulled back to look at him once more. The chocolate eyes were full of emotions, from desire to love to adoration.
It wasn't until much later, when clothes were discarded and he surrounded me with his strong body, eyes locked to one another's, that I realized that this was real. I was here with Eric, and he was tan and muscled and gorgeous; caring and gentle. I never wanted this to end.
Commitment
It was a true testimony of his commitment and love to me when he agreed to be dragged to Louisiana to be present at the wedding of my second-cousin-twice-removed, who I had hardly spoken to growing up. I knew Suzette well enough to recognize that she was the kind of person who would invite people she only relatively knew just to say that she had this big, extravagant party that cost a lot of money. Truth be told, I was only going because I hadn't seen my brothers' families in a year and they had never met Eric, either.
It was going to be interesting, to say the least. My brothers weren't the super overprotective type, but the natural brotherly concern was there, and they had always insisted on meeting all of my boyfriends. I wasn't too sure how they would take to Eric, as he was the complete opposite of what I normally brought home; Cuban, for one. He wanted the dream family with kids and a dog and a white picket fence. I was almost positive, however, that they would take to his warm personality, good sense of humor, and his ability to withstand numerous glasses of whisky. I was sure that he was going to need it by the end of the weekend, anyway.
The plane touched down in Shreveport a mere two hours after the departure. I straightened my jacket and smoothed my hair before shaking Eric off my shoulder, effectively waking him up. I wanted to give him a few warnings before we arrived in Darnell.
He was not fully awake yet, as it was around six in the morning, until we were both in the rental car and driving south on the highway. I put the car on cruise control and relaxed in my seat a bit.
"I just want to remind you one more time what you're getting yourself into," I began, glancing at his reclining figure.
He took a sip of his coffee and smiled. "I think it's a little too late for me to change my mind, Cal. I wouldn't want to anyway. You spend half your time around my family, and I think it's time I met yours."
I sighed. "Eric, we've already been over this. Your family is kind and functional and…normal. Mine's hectic and all over the place and obnoxious. I think that you're in for a culture shock to say the least."
Eric took my hand, raising his seat up a little. "And that's another reason why I'm here; to keep you sane."
I chuckled and continued driving for a couple of hours until we passed a worn out sign that read "Welcome to Darnell". My ass, I thought grimly, but I could tell Eric wasn't really sure what to think of my hometown. It was tiny, yet seemed to be fairly busy and kept to its original southern standards. I drove on a few blocks until a gravel-paved road appeared on the right and then turned there.
I pulled into the long drive of a large, traditional plantation-style home. The huge yard was filled with massive oak trees and the wrap-around porch sported a swing and rocking chair. "Cal, this house is beautiful," he commented truly. He seemed to love it, yet it was so different from the Latin-inspired homes in Miami.
"Thanks. It'll be mine when my mom passes," I replied uneasily. "She got the house during the divorce. That's one reason why my dad lives in Miami right now."
Eric nodded and dragged our suitcases to the front door and I knocked sharply before entering the house. "Mama?" I called, stepping over the threshold and motioning Eric to follow.
There were several women sitting in the formal parlor, all with drinks of either tea or lemonade in hand. One of them in particular, however, stood out for the reason that she looked much like me.
"Calleigh, darlin', there you are!" exclaimed my mother, and pulled me into a hug. As she looked over my shoulder and saw Eric, she smiled. "And is this the fine young man we were expecting too?"
Eric chuckled but I flushed deep with embarrassment. "Mama, this Eric Delko, my boyfriend."
My mother walked up to him and took one hand in his and patted his cheek with the other. "Well, Eric, I think that introductions are in order. I'm Cher, Calleigh's mother." She turned to face the other three women who had come to greet me. "That there is Miss Suzie, the bride, and these are my sisters Carolyn and Charlene." She pointed to my two aunts in their mid-sixties, obviously older than Cher herself.
During his stay at the Duquesne-Cagle home, Eric learned a thing or two about and from my family. The first was that it was not proper to ask for unsweetened tea ("Mr. Eric, you are in the south and in the south we drink sweet tea!" my mother had scolded more or less). I was mortified, and Eric had learned his lesson. He also soon figured out that everything went on a tight schedule, and I informed him it wasn't just because the wedding was that afternoon, that it was always like that. He learned this the hard way when we showed up for breakfast at eight o'clock only to find Aunt Carolyn washing the dishes. I had sincerely apologized; I had completely forgotten about the strict time segments, and we both had to settle for microwave-heated coffee and the few leftover grits Mama had made (probably the only thing I missed from home).
When the wedding started at three that afternoon, everyone was in a state of uneasiness because Suzie was apparently causing chaos behind the scenes regarding her bridesmaids' bouquets, and the ceremony was held back an hour. I took the time to introduce Eric to Chris and Michael, my younger brothers. They liked him very much, and I breathed a sigh of relief. They talked about things that would really only interest men, like the latest football scores and such, when the wedding march suddenly began.
The wedding itself was beautiful, but all the color sunk from my face when I saw my mother and father standing in a far corner talking once the reception began. My father's hand was clenched and my mother's eye was starting to twitch like it did when she was on the brink of a breakdown. I decided to interfere immediately, figuring I had a good reason since I hadn't seen my father since we arrived in Louisiana. I got there, it seemed, in the nick of time, because as I pulled my father into a hug, my mother walked away furiously, yet without causing a scene. Crisis averted.
The rest of the trip didn't go that well for me. It was disappointing in itself to know that my parents were still fighting after all these years, but to top it off Suzie had gone completely post-bridezilla and stormed out of the reception furiously after her new husband had customarily pushed the cake into her face and "ruined her makeup." Everything else just went downhill from there, so I told my brothers and other family goodbye, making up some wild story about having to get back to Miami, and grabbed Eric by the hand to lead him to the car.
When we got outside I didn't go in the car but instead went to sit on the bumper. Eric gingerly sat next to me.
"I hate to say it, but you weren't kidding, were you?" he asked, brushing a piece of hair out of my face. I bit my bottom lip and looked away from him, feeling the tears and willing them away. As I was shaking my head, the first drop fell until I was crying for the first time in a long time.
"I guess you really want to be with me now, hm?" I said sadly. "Now that you've seen how messed up my family is."
Eric smiled and wiped the tears off my cheek. "Calleigh, nothing in this world could take me away from you. Not even your family."
I looked up at him with a kind of love I had never felt before. "How did I manage to get you?"
He chuckled. "Lucky, I guess," and then he sealed it with a kiss.
You
Tall, dark, and handsome. Standing twenty feet in front of me, looking more handsome than I could have ever imagined in your black tux and white shirt, your hair finally grown out, and a brilliant white smile on your amazingly full lips just at the sight of me. If I hadn't felt gorgeous already, the way you smiled at me made me feel like the most powerful, beautiful woman in the world.
It's all in the eyes for you, always has been and always will be, but I couldn't see the only slightly glassy look (crying wasn't really his thing either) in the chocolate brown orbs until my teary-eyed father had left me at the altar to become your wife. You mouth a heart-felt I love you, taking my hands in yours and giving them a gentle squeeze. I couldn't ask for anything better than you.
Me
Short, blond, and petite. The work-a-holic with an uneasy past. The one with emotional walls higher than those that once surrounded Jericho, yet once Eric became my lover, were about as sturdy once the Children started walking around them.
And now I wasn't sure that I could handle this; becoming a mother. I had accepted it early on, not disappointed in the least, but rather unprepared and surprised that it happened so soon into our marriage. Currently, though, I have been lying in a hospital bed for sixteen hours in unbelievable pain, and am thoroughly pissed off. Pissed off at Eric, who, in my opinion, should be fully attentive and awake despite it being two-thirty in the morning. Pissed off at my mother, who had given me the "now you know what it's like" speech, and, a tiny, tiny part of me was pissed that my daughter just would not come out. You'd think that two and a half days would be enough.
All of those previous feelings were forgotten, however, because seven hours later I was holding the most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes on. Although we would have to wait a few months to see the true eye color, Alexa Marisol seemed a perfect blend of the two of us. Eric's dominant Cuban genes had mixed with her own fair complexion to give her light caramel skin, but she had my almond shaped eyes and heart-shaped face, and Eric's thick lashes and full lips. She was absolutely gorgeous; half him, half me. I've never been more proud of myself than ever before.
Us
We're not perfect; not even close. We had fights over stupid things. We disagreed over what we were having for dinner that night. We even argued over what Lexa would wear that day on occasion. But we love each other all the same. We love our child. And we work together to give us both what we never had in any other relationship: Each other.
A/N: Well, what'd you think? Oh, and I know that they say honesty instead of trust, but if figure the two go hand-in-hand (that and I had already written it to fit trust!) Reviews make me happy.