Release Me, so I Can Convince Myself That I'm Better off Without You

That Friday, Benji and I went over to Joel’s house to see if Nicole and him were going to Waldorf in the morning. Nicole opened the door with baby Sparrow on her hip, smiling at us as she let us in.

“Sparrow, my main man,” Benji grinned, grabbing the one-year-old from his mother’s arms. He started gabbing at the baby, talking complete nonsense to it, but in a way, I thought it was cute.

Nicole led me to the living room, where we found Joel watching a movie—Finding Nemo to be exact—with his adorable daughter, Harlow. It was a funny sight to see; a tattooed man watching a Disney movie. The two of them turned their heads when we walked in, and Harlow’s face lit up like crazy.

“Auntie Kimmy!” She exclaimed, running over to me excitedly. She wrapped her little arms around one of my jean-clad legs, peering up at me with light brown eyes. “I missed you!”

Leaning down, I ran my hand through her curly hair, messing it up a little. “Aw, Low, I could never stay away from you, baby girl. I miss you too much.”

“Promise . . .?”

“I pinky promise,” I held my pinky out to her, hooking it around her much smaller one.

“Okay, come watch Nemo with me,” She latched onto my hand and started pulling me over to the couch. Once I was sitting down next to Joel, Harlow plopped down between the two of us with a grin.

Joel was eyeing me as I looked down at his daughter with a grin on my face; it was like he knew something I didn’t, but when I gave him a questioning look, he just shook his head. The two of us continued to watch the movie with little Harlow while Benji sat in the recliner with Sparrow, and Nicole washed clothes or something like that.

When the movie was over, Nicole started making the kids lunch. The guys stayed in the living room with the kids, but I decided to help Nicole in the kitchen. Nicole was one of the only strangers of the female persuasion, that I didn’t grow up with, that still liked me. We got along swimmingly, almost as if she understood me in ways I didn’t understand myself.

“So, are you nervous about this weekend?” She asked me while I helped her make Harlow some Mac ‘N’ Cheese.

“Oh, God,” I groaned, turning to her as she made Sparrow a bottle. “I don’t know why I am, Nicole, but I’m more than just nervous. I’m worried, almost.” I bit my lip, embarrassed at my confession. “I mean, I really care about Benji, and I know it’ll mean a lot to him for his family members to accept me, but what if they don’t? I don’t get along well with others. I don’t want to cause a riff between him and his family; I’m not that kind of girl.”

“Kimber,” Nicole placed a cold hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze to calm me down. “Chill, honey,” She continued. “Mama Madden called me the other day. She asked about you, wondering if you were nice and if I thought you were good for Benji. She’s nervous to meet you too, Kimberlyn, so don’t worry yourself. She told me she’s excited to see—and I quote—‘the woman who has my little Benji so infatuated.’ Robin is a mess; you’ll love her.”

“What did you tell her about me?” I asked her, cautiously.

“Oh, you know the typical things I usually tell people. Like how you’re a slut and how you’re a complete snob who’s in it for sex . . . I also told her that you pull her oldest twin around by his dick.”

“You did not!” I objected, flinging a macaroni noodle at her.

“No,” She giggled, dodging the noodle. “I didn’t.” She shook her head, shaking Sparrow’s bottle to mix all the contents up. “But I should have,” She added quickly, moving away from me as I threw a cheesy spoon in her direction. It flew past her to hit the wall and clatter to the ground loudly, causing Joel and Benji to poke their heads in the doorway to see what was going on. “Benji, your girlfriend is attacking me with spoons!” Nicole accused, pointing a well-manicured finger at me.

“Hey!” I whined. “You were being mean! I am not a slut!” I exclaimed. “And I do not lead Benji around by his. . .” I stopped myself from saying the d-word as Harlow—a little picture with big ears—walked into the room. “. . . Middle leg!”

Benji and Joel started laughing at us, shaking their heads, as if to say we were ridiculous, as they left the kitchen.

“Stop laughing,” I groaned, causing Nicole to laugh too. “Seriously, Nick, what did you tell her?”

“Kimmy, chill. I told her that you could be brutally honest sometimes, but for the most part, you were amazingly nice, and I told her that you and Benji were great for each other.” She rolled her eyes. “Robin will form an opinion of you on her own, Kimberlyn.”

“I know,” I nodded. “I just don’t want our relationship to end on the basis that I’m not the girl his mother approved of. We’ve only been together for five months, but I really care about him.”

She put the bottle down, turning to face me with an unreadable expression. “You love him, don’t you?”

I was taken aback by her question for a moment. I didn’t know how to tell her that I didn’t know whether or not I loved Benji. To be able to love another, one must know what love feels like. The only love I knew was not given from my mother like most kids; instead, it was what I thought I felt for Baker. Those feelings turned out to be nothing more than lustful desires that I mistook for love.

It was different with Benji, everything felt so new. He made me smile, even when there was no reason to. He caused these feelings to erupt inside of me that I was not custom to. Not the sexual kind—though, they happened too—but more like these kinds of wild fires that made me feel sixteen, again. He knew all the right things to say to make me weak in the knees, and while I hated having no control over things, I loved that he had that sort of control over me. He was perfectly imperfect, and I loved that about him; his flaws were what made him the man he is today, which is why I loved them. He had a habit of calling me beautiful—even when I was bloated and dressed in unflattering sweats—and telling me how he was lucky to have me because I was perfect, which was a lie; I obviously have way too many flaws for that to be true.

When we were apart, I found myself wanting to be with him. He was always on my mind, and I knew that wouldn’t change, not that I ever wanted it to. He was amazing and oh so romantic; there wasn’t one thing that I hated about him, except for how he was always finding something wrong with his self. Did all of this mean that I loved him?

“You’re thinking about him.” When I looked at her with a raised eyebrow, she just smiled at me. “You had that goofy grin on your face, babe.” She told me, dividing the mac n cheese up onto plates. “Just admit it. You love him, and you know it.”

“You don’t understand, Nicole.” I murmured, wanting her to understand my predicament. “I can’t love him.”

“Why not?”