Loving Kinnick

No Butt Smacking In The Bathroom

Steam raised from the bathwater, fogging up the window we stared out. Golden specs shined in her caramel eyes as they looked at the city lights. Champagne flooded her system as she continued sipping from the glass in her hand. I watched the vanilla body soap bubbles pop one by one as they slid down her skin.

We snuck out of the dinner party not long after arriving. Neither of us had to say bye because we went out of the backdoor. Down the street is where we ran to buy cheap champagne and Sour Patch Kids because I learned Bo ate all of mine last night.

I looked at her with regret because I didn't know how to tell her about my eyes. She knew I was going blind, and hearing about it upset her. Her eyes caught me as she looked over her glass. Those narrowing eyes knew I had something on my mind.

"What?"

"I'm having surgery on my eyes," I looked at the bubbles. "John thinks the doctor he found can help me."

"Why do I think there is going to be a catch?"

"There is a possibility I can lose my eyesight sooner, but honestly, I don't know how much longer I would have it anyway."

"What do you want?"

"I think it's worth a shot."

"Then I support you," she shrugged. "I'll be by your side the whole time."

Tears welled in my eyes. "Bo, I am scared."

And I admitted it. I was scared of something. I was scared that one day I wouldn't be able to see. I worried that everyone I ever did wrong would be after me, and I would no longer be able to protect myself.

Then I thought about her. How could I live a life without seeing the woman in front of me? Because she could leave and I wouldn't know. She could leave, and I wouldn't be able to chase after her.

I saw a future with her, but I didn't know if I was going to see in the future. I know she didn't want kids. I don't know if that has changed. All I know is, I want to be able to see them. I want to see Bo walking around my house carrying them.

"I am going to be here."

I looked at her as the salty tears fell down my cheeks. "What if you want to leave me?"

"Kinnick," she said my name with so much sadness it sounded like an accent. "I love you, and whatever happens, I promise I am going to be here."

She sighed. "Come here."

I moved toward her, letting her engulf my body with her arms, and I fell apart. Since I was a kid, I found it hard to cry or show emotion. My parents raised me to believe it was weak as a man to cry, so I didn't. Not until Bo. For years, I have held back how I felt unless it angered me. It has taken nineteen years for me to understand crying doesn't make me any less of a man.

Flashbacks of all the times my dad would beat me for crying played in my mind like a movie. If I cried while he hit me, he would continue until I stopped. I blamed him for everything. The wall I built to refrain myself from hurting. How I treated people. He was the reason I swore I was never going to fall in love.

"When is your appointment?"

I wiped my face. "I need to call."

"Tomorrow," she ran her fingers through my hair. "We can call together."

"There is something else," I mumbled, sitting up.

She sucked in a deep breath. "Take your time."

"I'm taking that fight in Vegas in a few months."

Her brows moved with confusion. "You are not going to be healed by then."