He wants me to meet his family. I was charmed, excited, nervous, and freaked out. We had news to share, we were expecting. He always would talk about his family so I really wanted to meet them, but this was literally a brand new relationship, and yup boom I was pregnant. This isn't what this story is all about so sorry. That story will have to wait.
So we take this trip and drive up to D.C., it was a 9 hour drive. I told him that I was a road trip kinda gal, but my playlist was Tupac, Janet Jackson and Mariah Carey and I can get loud... he was cool with that, as long as long as I added Biggie to the mix. It was a nice smooth ride.
Driving into D.C. was amazing, I was just excited to see a new city as an adult, young kid we traveled a lot in the car. This was very different. We get there around 7am right around when people leave to head to work so parking was great, I am super nervous. Just really hoping and praying they are nothing like my ex's mother. He told me I had nothing to worry about again, I promise and takes my hand. I love you and they are going to love you. He introduces me and I felt the love, I met his Grandma, I remember her lovely smile, his brother, mother and father. We ate breakfast which was so good (home-cooked) and drank coffee. We shared the news and they were actually excited.
I started to feel relaxed, my nerves went away and I wasn't tense. Now normally when I feel like I have to go, I have time to make it somewhere comfortable, but I don't know what came over me because all of a sudden my stomach said "it is time," (in my Rafiki voice).
Unfortunately I didn't have time to think on this one. I had to go to the bathroom. He has one bathroom and it was very close to the living room, where everyone was at. I tried to go silently. Thank God the TV was on. Run the water, thank God again because that didn't take long. Wipes self... look in the mirror, smiles and washes hands...flush. Water starts to rise, God please no no no no, moves the rug and water is about to hit the floor. My log was still floating around, I grab the plunger and it goes down. I flush again and this time it got real angry and water came up faster and all over the place. I grab towels... I hear a knock on the door. You ok in there? I open the door and he is standing there concerned. He sees the mess and I whisper to him, I promise I did not blow it up in here, I just flushed! In my mind, I'm thinking my log couldn't have caused this. He yells for assistance and all I felt was shame! He says don't worry about it, it was probably my fault because I went before you and I blew it up!
I was so embarrassed, I couldn't believe my body failed me like that. The nervousness that I felt and the coffee did not help. Now I can sit back and laugh at this. Iv'e been to his house a couple more times after that and there is always a moment that I have when I enter that bathroom. I imagine the toilet with this "got that azz" kinda smile. The He in this story is now my husband. I mean the way he came in there and dealt with my crappy water I knew that I was loved.
About the Creator
Tamika C
Where I come to ease my mind. Finally just making time to write and read, which is what I use to enjoy doing.
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More stories from Tamika C and writers in Confessions and other communities.
Road Trip
Summer time and so far...lets just say it sucks. 17 years old and the last 3 months I've done nothing but plan my summer out, me and my boyfriend we were going to spend almost the whole summer together, and its all gone downhill. My parents are on a cruise, they really wanted me to go and who wouldn't want to go on a Caribbean cruise? This fool! He gives me butterflies and him whispering in my ear let's spend the summer together kept playing in my head over and over. I even turned down a trip to go to Florida with my bestie and friends. My parents gave me money and of course went over the rules of no parties.
By Tamika C 2 years ago in Confessions
No Plus One
It's nearly one AM and I just got back from my third wedding of the four in this last month alone, and I have always been alone. I hide behind my camera to pretend to be useful, hide behind a safety net of skill set. So I do not have to confront the loneliness that is sleeping alone when everyone else seems to have a partner to crawl into bed with. I love the time spent with those who decided I was worth the 30-plus dollars per plate they decided to spend on me, and I do not need to have a partner on these occasions, but it would be nice to have someone notice, me. See when I am in the corner because they know I need time to recharge and to kiss me on the head until the time has come to leave. Maybe that's the problem about being a professional storyteller, I dream of something that isn't meant for me.
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In the quiet hours of the night, long after the echoes of laughter and celebration have faded, I find myself alone once again. It's nearly one AM, and I've just returned from my third wedding in the past month—a whirlwind of love and joy that I can't help but feel a twinge of envy for. As a professional storyteller behind the lens, I hide my solitude behind the facade of my camera, weaving narratives of love and happiness for others while longing for someone to see me, to notice the empty space beside me.
By Sherif Saad5 days ago in Confessions
At the Sheltering Doors
The doors, they always scrambled for the doors first. When they arrive and always by night it was a race to desperately bar the creatures entry to the house in the slow crawl of numb feet that the dream would impose upon him. He never seemed fast enough and the creatures uninhibited by the same constraints always made the doors first. The houses in his dream-scapes vary night to night - Some are mansions, others shacks and some are distorted contortions of his childhood home which burned down when he was ten. But the doors are always the same – frail, loose hinged and never could be fully shut. The creatures too vary – twisted and corrupted forms of animals and people familiar to him: family dogs preternaturally swollen to twice their size with rotting coats of mange and slicked damp with dark liquids of decay. The people too were bloated vestiges of ones vaguely familiar to him but whose names escape him. Their eyes gorged wide with dark blood which streaked their mottled faces in crusted trails like lost rivers which hung from their chins swinging in ropy columns beneath paling yellowed teeth. To let them break through would mean death. This he knew with grave certainty. At the door was desperation and panic as their stench emanated forth, sickly and pungent like vomit and mold and ending in a gruesome exhalation like cancer, the stench sticky and clinging invading his nostrils and lungs never to be expunged. Then in the sudden waking he never knew if he repelled them or not.
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