Devil on Your Back by Max Henry Read Free Book Online Page B

ounce of her being, and the sheer thought of not being around if he needed help nags at her like a worn blister. I see it in Julia’s eyes when he comes to her with a scrape before finding me—that gentle understanding that sometimes only Mom can make it better. And in all honesty, I don’t think it will ever go away, no matter how old he gets.
    Sometimes a boy, or a man, just needs this mother.
    But I make her go. Julia needs this—everybody needs release from time to time. That break from everyday routine is what keeps us sane, and feeling alive.
    “What do you even need your keys for, sugar?” I ask as she zips by towards the bedroom again.
    “What if you two go out?” she calls over her shoulder.
    “Honey, where would I take a six-year-old at this time of night?”
    “You have a point there.” She stops halfway down the hall, heads back to me, and presses a chaste kiss to my lips. “I love you.”
    My hands find their way to her hips. “I love you, too. Now go and have some fun.” I smack her ass, and she squeals like a schoolgirl.
    “We’re going to hit a bar after,” Julia shouts on her way out the door. “I’ll be back by two at the latest.”
    A chorus of giggles erupts on our front porch as she joins her friends. I draw the curtain aside and watch as they clatter down our path in a mess of too-high heels before piling into a waiting taxi-van. The familiar unease sets in, watching her go. What if something happens? What if some drunken guy harasses her when they hit the clubs after? What if she trips on her heels and hurts herself? How can I help and protect her when I’m on the other side of town?
    Still, that’s the very problem, isn’t it? If I’m there, I crowd her freedom to let loose. Julia will have the time of her life without me—without restriction. I can’t be there to watch over her every second of the day, and as much I hate to admit it, she doesn’t need me to. She needs space to be herself—Julia, not ‘Mommy’, or ‘Vince’s wife’.
    Still, I can’t help the fact that I love her so strongly. That I need to know she’ll always be with me, even if that means treating her with kid gloves.
    The woman makes me smile even on the toughest of days. She’s a breath of fresh air when I’m choking on anxiety. The very reason I start each day on a high, no matter how low the night before ended.
    I can’t imagine a life without her.

CLUTCHING MY favorite photograph of Mike, I sit on the edge of my bed and let the tears fall. Five years of staying true to him, to his memory, and to the man he was for me, and I’ve done it—I’ve betrayed his love by allowing myself to be swept under the spell of another man.
    I know Mike would want me to move on. He’d be up there sharing a beer with whomever in the great beyond, telling me to pull my head out of my ass and give the world ‘your little rays of sunshine’. He used to tell me most every day how much my smiles lit up his life, and how my sunshine brightened his dull days working for the club.
    That’s mostly why I stopped smiling—they were his.
    And now I gave them to someone else. I showed Vince my true smile. Not the one I paint on for the world, but the one that used to make Mike’s eyes shine when he saw me at the end of the day.
    I gave Vince something that belonged to Mike, and I feel as though I’m about to pass out from disgust.
    Placing the picture on the bed beside me, I trace our outlines. It’s a photo snapped by another tourist, which we had taken while on holiday in Hawaii. One of the few times he got me in a two-piece bikini.
    I snort a laugh, and look down at myself. This body is not fit for a bikini anymore. Five years of neglect, and hiding away in my room here at the clubhouse will do that. Once upon a time, I’d go to the gym five times a week; lift some weights and box with Mike. But when he died, that habit died too. It was our thing, something we did together.
    Now, my body holds a few more curves