are always eager to wake me from the sweet slumber.
"Autumn Jazmine? Chatt's cousin is out here. He wants to talk to you. Should I let him in?" Good ol’ Dad, awake early enough to greet the morning birds. No sense in staying mad.
"Sure," I grumble.
"Go on in, Jenkins." My dad pushes the door open wider. Jenks pushes past my father, saying a silent thank you for shutting the door.
"Autumn?" he whispered. "Are you mad, angry, upset? You have every right to be; what I did was messed up." Jenks acted grown up with his apology. I stayed mute under my sheets.
"I'm not mad," I said, but he was on a roll too loud to hear me say it.
"Are you listening, AJ? Because I am sorry. I had every intention of being monogamous with you." He trailed off, explaining the whole situation.
Her.
"She just wanted to hang out, then it just got carried away. I swear I had no intention of being disloyal or anything towards you."
She.
"I just got caught up in the moment...I didn't know what I was thinking. Thirsty, I was thirsty. Hasn’t that ever happened to you?” he confessed. Now I'm upset. When I get thirsty, I take a drink of water, not shove my tongue down somebody’s hole.
"I was gone for a weekend."
"What? Did you say something?" He stopped pacing to look at me, I could feel his stare through the quilt.
"Not even a week; it was only three days. Good heck, you go away two or three weeks at a time with your parents all the time. I go away for seventy-two hours and you act as if I'm gone for a year. Two states over is going too far. It is fine for you to go abroad chase whatever foreign skirts you got your hands up."
“I’ve never had you when I’ve gone away." He sat on the edge of the bed. "I can only say I’m sorry so many times!" Sighs expressed. Is he pleading? I sense some guilt rising to the surface, along with some deep aspiration.
"Can we can talk about it some other time? I'm tired." I pat the pillow next to me, still not facing his direction. He slid off his shoes and got under the covers next to me. I let sleep take me, drifting from dream to dream, waiting to be saved once more. I finally turn over, where he lays wide-eyed and aware. He places a gentle kiss on my forehead. I burrow my head into his strong chest.
"Jenks?"
"Yeah?"
"You are a dirtbag." Had to be said by someone.
"I know." His voice lowered.
"You are; there is no pretending it isn't true. We should get it out there in the open. You are a really big jerk."
"I get it, I know. I am already beating myself up about it. I don't know what I was doing with her. I know better." Know better? Did his momma punish him?
"Okay."
"Yeah, I get it, Autumn. I am a dirt bag."
I smile, not knowing what to say next, so I kept silent. He pulled me closer and held me tighter.
I think he loves me...I think he cares about me. I exterminate the thought out of my head before I can make out the last word.
"You know how I feel about you, right? I have strong feelings for you, Autumn. Strong, passionate feelings." He looked into my eyes with a serious tone. Passionate feelings, whatever, Jenks, I think.
"Yeah, sure." Rolling my eyes sarcastically.
"I'm serious. The moment you drove away, I wanted nothing more than to be sitting next to you holding your hand." He picked up my hand. "To have your purple fingertips touching mine. It made me realize you won't always stick around when I screw up. I'm sorry, AJ. I really meant it; I only want you. There is just something about you. I don't want to force you away from me; it won’t happen again, I promise." He lifted my chin up to connect with his, making a kiss between our lips.
"I know you are sorry, but I am still confused about why you did that." I turned over, not saying another word.
"I love you, Autumn Jazmine," he whispered in my ear.
"I know, Jenkins." Closing my smiling eyes.
When I get up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, I encounter my father sitting at the end of his bed. Eyes far from my face, which he stares at and I wonder if it’s truly my image he sees.
“Why forgive him, Autumn Jazmine?” The mind worries about my response, one I hope he will be satisfied with hearing.
“Why not allow him to change? We are teenagers, living in the moment of maybe. It isn’t a forever kind of thing, nothing ever is, but time with him hurts less than time without him.” My father’s head dips in a nod, in an understanding I know nothing about.
“You were always too understanding, too good.” It’s a whisper as I leave, and a statement I choose to ignore.