Ruin

11

What time is it?

I pull my phone from the night stand and check the time. It's only five-fifteen. "I couldn't sleep..."

"Really?" He looks surprised. "Thought you would've been tired after last night," he says with a knowing smirk.

I am. But I can't close my eyes in peace.

"Yea," I say. "Sorry if I woke you up though."

"That's fine," he assures me. He rolls onto his back and the sheet rolls below his waist; exposing the brim of his pubic hairs.

Unlike me, he hadn't bother to put his clothes back on, last night.

I swallow at the sight.

"I have to start getting ready anyway," he continues to say, oblivious to the effect he's having on my lower regions. "It's a long trip back to Negril. So, the earlier I get going, the better it is for me."

Shit. It's Monday. I forgot.

I can't help but feel disappointed at the fact that it being Monday means he has to be back to work...on the other freaking side of the island.

He'd told me last night that the only reason he'd come back to Kingston on Thursday was because the machines had mechanical problems and they had to wait until the imported parts had arrived so that they could be fixed.

Since there was no way for any work to continue, the men had decided to go home until further notice.

However, he'd gotten a call, as we reached his place last night, that the parts had been shipped earlier than expected and were due to be cleared from the wharf this Monday so work could resume.

I knew it wouldn't have been an indefinite stay for him here, as his work is heavily reliant on deadlines, but still...

"Oh..."

He turns to face me. "What's wrong?"

I shake my head but don't meet his eyes.

"Manda," he beckons to me and tilts my  chin up so I'm looking at him. "Why that long face?"

I don't want you to leave. You just got here.

"Nothing..."

"It's not nothing. Talk to me!" His tone is warm and his voice laced with concern.

"Babe?" he adds when I say nothing else.

I can't take this shit. I know he has to work, but it feels like I always come second!

"Hey," he says, hovering over me now. "It's okay. Tell me what's on your mind."

Sometimes it makes me feel like I'm single. It would be easier if I were.

"I don't want you to go..." I finally say.

His face drops. "B, don't be like this. You know I have to go. It's my work we're talking about here."

"You asked me how I felt, so I'm telling you how I feel."

"But you're being unreasonable!"

The hell!

"How am I being unreasonable?" I shout. I can feel myself getting angry.

He moves away and rolls off the bed. He picks his shirt up from the floor and throws it on the accent chair near the bed. Then picks up his underpants and pulls it on. "You're asking me to skip work, when you know I can't. I've never asked you to do anything like that for me."