I sat on the edge of the seat
It was 8pm.
He comes home at 8pm.
I clutch on the baby and with every movement I hear around the gate, secretly hope it's him.
First disturbance, not him.
Second, still not him.
I give up, telling myself he'll come when he'll come.
Knock, knock, knock.
Three times, like he always does.
I have this anxiety I cannot explain.
And to fix it, he promised he would always knock three times, so I know it's him.
I can't jump to the door, he'll know I was holding my breath.
But what's wrong with him knowing that?
There I go again, fighting my anxiety with more anxiety.
He's home.
I keep clutching on the baby, really fighting this anxiety.
He puts his load down, and looks at me.
I am avoiding eye contact.
I can't hide this excitement
Unless I look away.
I am looking away.
I can smell the fresh bread he brought.
I love freshly baked bread.
He notices I ignored him, and instead takes the baby away.
My arms are empty.
What will hide my anxiety now?
The glasses.
Thank God for my tinted glasses.
I adjust them, and my hand remains on my face.
I can hide my face with my hands.
Why did I not think of that before.
Sbho takes away the bread, and God knows what else he brought.
My attention is taken away by the overly-loud TV.
I'm not really watching, I just need something to take my attention away from the fact that I feel naked.
Sitting here like this, my arms empty, my glasses adjusted. I feel - exposed.
He is grabbing my arm.
Pulling me to him.
Signals me to follow him to the cave.
The baby.
Where's the baby?
He's not here.
I don't see him.
Maybe with Sbho.
It's just me and him.
No TV to distract everything.
He's looking at me, I am not looking at him, but I can feel his eyes on me.
He removes the glasses.
His, not mine.
He comes closer.
Places his hands on my shoulder.
Darling.
Is that me?
Is he calling me?
He calls me that all the time.
The doctor says focus on one thing at a time.
He says that will help.
Right now,
There's his naked eyes with no glasses
There's Darling
I think that's my name
Or maybe not.
I don't know
I'm not sure anymore
And my heart,
Why is it thudding?
The doctor had a name for it
Anxiety?
That's the answer he seems to have for all of my problems.
Take deep breaths, he says.
I am taking those now.
More than the tabs he prescribed.
Did I take them today?
I am focusing on one thing finally
The taste of his lips.
Oh it tastes good.
Don't stop.
Why's he stopping?
The smell of his neck
The silky soft touch of his fingers
His soft Afro
His lashes batting on my skin
The tremor on his when I run my fingers on him
The calm in me, when I finally get to say
Welcome home.
