Crazy Kind Of Love
Crazy Kind Of Love
Curled up on the sofa with the kitten in her hand, Presley knew today was probably the hardest day shed ever spent in her life. Giving her parents ultimatums hurt almost as much as realizing she actually needed to do
- it.
Cruz set a cup of tea on the side table next to her and sat down beside her. “Are you okay?” Pushing a strand of hair off her cheek to tuck behind her ear, he stared sadly at her. “I know today was hard.”
“It really sucked, Cruz.”
“I know.” He watched her stroking the kitten on her lap who was purring loudly. “She loves you.”
“She is such a cuddle bug.”
“She is.” He agreed.
“Why couldn’t I have been born in a normal family where people actually cared for me? What was wrong with me they couldn’t simply do what parents do, or brothers do and just love me?”
The words fell from her lips before she could stop them, and they were quickly followed by a choking sob as she stuffed her fist against her lips and squeezed her eyes shut.
“Hey,” he pulled her and the kitten straight up and settled them in his lap, holding her close to his chest. They love you, Presley. Nobody is saying they don’t love you.”
“They let him hurt me. They let everyone hurt me for so long. A child should never have to go to their parents and beg to be loved and it feels like it’s what I did today.”
“No.” Cruz whispered against her hair. “You didn’t beg, honey. You set clear boundaries about what your needs and expectations are, and it was brave, commendable, and strong. You’re so strong. We all did this to
you as a little girl. All of us. We put Odin’s maniacal needs ahead of yours and it caused you harm which, if
you weren’t the resilient woman you are, God only knows what would have become of you.”
“I don’t feel strong.”
“Presley, when the counsellor we’re seeing gave me the reading material on bullying, on how bullying victims can be up to nine times more likely to commit suicide than people who haven’t been bullied and that the statistics say up to fourteen percent of all high school students have at least considered harming themselves in this way and half of this number actually try it, scared the f**k out of me. You didn’t just have me, Odin, Anderson or all three of us at once bullying you. You had parents who knew it was happening and. didn’t stop it. You had the mother of your biggest bully denying there was anything wrong with him. You had a trained professional in your home who thought it was better to teach you tips and tricks to survive instead of removing you from the situation. I don’t think they realize the risk to your life this could have taken on you. I think of my mother who suffered depression and was denied help, and she was a grown–up, and she couldn’t take it, Presley. She was a grown–up who couldn’t take it, and you were a child, and you got through. You’re strong.”
His words, accompanied by his own tears on his cheeks as he pressed his lips to her temple and holding her close felt honest and raw and she leaned into his warmth.
“My mom wasn’t a weak woman, Presley. She was strong too but for her, there was no way out of her misery.
O
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Crazy Kind Of Love
She couldn’t find a way out. The barriers put in front of her to stop her from getting the help she n
made her feel like she couldn’t do it anymore.” He took a breath, but, and I’m not judging her de please con think I am, but I selfishly wish she could have held on for me. From the time I was a kid who discovered the truth behind her death, there is a part of me who has been angry she left me. Now, presented with all this new information, all these details of how my behavior could have driven you to the same outcome as hers well, Ladybird, I’m in awe of how strong you are. I don’t deserve you to be sitting here with me right now. Im giving my mother a lot of grace since we started treatment together because knowing she was likely dealing from my father’s abuse and bullying of his own, was definitely a significant contribution to her inability to cope.”
“What do you remember of her?”
“Not a lot,” Cruz said quietly. “She loved to sing. She would always be singing, usually in French, while she puttered around. Dad would get annoyed about her wanting to be in the kitchen because he kept staff för such things, but she would do it anyway. I remember once she was dancing in the living room, and he came in with a colleague and it embarrassed Dad. When his guest left, he smashed her record player.”
“She was like Liborio’s sister,” she said suddenly, incredibly quiet.
“What?”
“I think of her a lot, Liborio’s sister. How she was oppressed and subdued and not allowed to spread her wings, it eats at me. Your mother was under the weight of the same gilded cage. She wasn’t free to be who she was. Can you imagine how she’d have thrived if she’d been allowed to get the help she needed and wasn’t under the tyrannical rule of a man who only knows how to control and not to love?”
“It’s true.”
“Can you promise me something?”
“Anything, Ladybird.”
“I want us to have open dialogue with our kids all the time on these things. We’re not going to shy away from the hard conversations. We’re going to allow them to set boundaries and limits. We’re going to teach them it’s okay to ask for help and to deal with the emotions. While I want to give them every tool in the box to deal with tricky situations, and I don’t want to remove the things which teach them to be strong and resilient, promise we won’t let them be bullied or harmed physically, emotionally, or psychologically, not even from each other?” She took a breath, “I mean, I don’t want to be the parent who helicòpters at the playground and fights their battles but the real stuff, the real concerning stuff, we won’t let them suffer.”
“I promise. You have my word. We will do everything in our power to ensure our children know how to defend themselves and be critical thinkers, but we won’t let anyone hurt them. I promise.”
“There is one other thing which has been on my mind.”
“And that is?”
“I have too much money.”
He laughed at her words. “Yeah,/no person on the planet has ever uttered those words. I still get ‘eeful each time my account goes up by a zero.”
She shoved him playfully. “Liborio’s wine label, Farfalla, makes exceptional wine and it turns a damn good profit. He named it after his sister’s love but, what would it entail to make it a non–profit with all the proceeds
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< Crazy Kind Of Love
to go
”
to mental health initiatives around the world? Could we find a way, in honor of his sister, your mom, me, ‘she gave an embarrassed shrug, “as the living survivor of nearly being in the same situations as those women, to find a way to help people who need it?”
Cruz closed his eyes and held her against his chest, his inability to stop the tears as they rolled down his cheeks. “How the hell did I get so lucky as to have someone like you as my partner?”
“You do realize you have to give up a lifetime of a quiet life? I’m not exactly easy to live with.”
“I relish every single opportunity for us to be loud, bold, and excitable. Who wants a dull quiet life?”
She giggled, her first real laugh all day. “Good thing you know what is coming.”
“I do.” He whispered in her ear, “I can’t wait for the day you say those words in front of a cleric.”
“Me too,” she wrapped her arm around his neck and kissed his lips softly.
When he started to deepen the kiss, she pulled back reluctantly.
“I feel like hell. There is part of me which wants to go to bed and let you love the day away from me but there is a part of me which just wants a hot shower, food, and bed and maybe not in that order.”
“How about,” he smiled at her words, “you go take your hot shower. I’ll order in from your favorite Chinese place. You crawl into bed, and we’ll have dinner in bed and if you can’t sleep, we can watch a movie.”
“Not a sad one.”
He snickered at her words. “Definitely not a sad one.” He rubbed her back, “we’ll watch a comedy, and we’ll snuggle kitty and eat noodles and fried pork.”
“That sounds amazing.”
“Good. Do you need help getting into the shower?”
“No. I can do it. I’m afraid if you help me, we’ll be having s*x and I’ll be crying through it.”
He made wide eyes, “that’s horrible. You can’t cry when we have s*x, Ladybird.”
“I would if we did it right now.”
He put the kitten on the sofa and then stood up and carried her down the hall, chuckling under his breath.” Ladybird, I swear you say things which would make most men question themselves and their abilities. My fiancée is telling me if we have s*x it’ll make her sad. Most women feel good having s*x. Not mine. My woman is telling me she’ll cry.”
She twisted her lips up into a smile, “I don’t mean having s*x with you won’t feel good. I just mean I’m so emotionally exhausted I won’t be able to hold it together.”
“Uh–huh,” he was still snickering as he set her on her feet in the bathroom. “Good thing I have an ego and pride as big as my body or I’d be insulted.”
The smile on his face and the light in his eyes told her he was only teasing her, and she was responding to his teasing with a smile of her own.
“Get out of here before I start messing with your bodywash when I’m in the shower.”
“What are you going to do it? It’s not like you’re hiding ghost pepper sauce in here.” He paused and looked around, “Are you?”
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Crazy Kind Of Love
“Nope but I could pee in it.”
“That wouldn’t bother me,” he shrugged and wiggled his eyebrows. “Go for it. Can I watch?”
She shoved him to the door and slammed it on his laughing face. She giggled and covered her mouth with her hands. Their relationship was crazy and silly and after all the hurt of her day, it was exactly what she needed.
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