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  • Writer's pictureGina A. Jones

Saving Ash (book #2) Chapter Thirty-one


Ash…17 years old



Pippa has decided to go to work. Christopher is left with me and the nanny. I worry she has become bored with him, and maybe he is just a tool to keep Father around. He’s two now, and my heart has a special place for him. It’s like no other. Not even Pippa has a place this special.

            He can say many words now and loves to be read to. I read him my favorite story, Treasure Island. Father says my mother would read it to me. I have little memory of her and us spending time together. All I remember is my nanny reading the book to me.

            The book is old and tattered, a true testament of the years we’ve been together. Maybe that’s why I have such a love for this book. My mother read it to me.

            It’s summer break, and I have Christopher all to myself during the day. Father is impressed with how willingly I take care of my little brother. I can’t believe he doesn’t see it. The times I kiss Christopher’s cheek or take him with me on walks to the park. I must wonder if he were just my little brother, would I do the same?

            Probably not.

            Father doesn’t know that I taught him the word Dada. He laughs when he hears Christopher call me Dada. He says he calls all men that. But I know it’s not true. Christopher knows he’s special to me. And I know I’m special to him.

            Last week, he had an ear infection. I would listen to him cry all alone in his crib. It angered me that not my father, or Pippa would come to comfort him.

 

            “Hey little fellow,” I said, quietly walking into his nursery. The second he saw me; his little arms went up for me to hold him.

            “I’m here. Daddy will take care of you,” I said, taking him in my arms. His crying stopped, and he rubbed his little face on my bare chest. I took him to my room and laid him next to me. He rubbed his small ears, and I knew he was still in pain.

            “You poor thing. Let’s go get you some baby Tylenol.” I kept track of his medicine because neither Pippa, or Father would. It had been over eight hours, and no one thought to give him more for when the pain would return.

 

            Most times, I feel I’m the only one in this house who has paternal instinct when it comes to Christopher. And with that, I know I had done the right thing by creating him.

            Father is still busy with corporate America, and Pippa has little interest for her son—our son.

            When he was first born, she would breast feed him, and me when Father was gone. It was beautiful, so intimate. It turned Pippa on, and sometimes she would get off just from me nursing on her breasts. I loved the taste of her milk—sweet and warm. She would pet my head and tell me how much she loved me. It was the only time she would say those words. Love.

            Many times, I told her the same. But she never returned it unless she was breast feeding me. Once her milk dried up, so did her love for me.

            Her once beautiful breasts are not the same. They are bigger and firmer. She insisted Father buy her implants after breast feeding. I don’t like them. They’re just a fake memory of what used to be. I miss our intimate times together, suckling and nuzzling her old breasts.

            I want us to have another baby. To share more secrets and find our once happiness.

            Pippa has become bored with her life, and with us. I worry she might leave and take Christopher with her. What would I do if I never saw him again?

            I would die.

            Sometimes, I think she resents our son. When he’s in the room, she won’t let me touch her. She says he’s getting older now. But that’s not how I see it. I want him to see our love. To see how much we crave each other. How we created such a beautiful being. He’s a product of our love. Our taboo world where only the three of us exist.

            There is no other world for me. Not after Pippa. I could never fit into someone else’s idea of love and sex. I don’t even know what it looks like. How it would even feel.

            Pippa has taught me, and molded me into my desires. Christopher taught me the love between a father and son. Something I haven’t had with my own father. And with losing my mother at such a young age, I know no maternal love.

            Pippa and Christopher are my world. Before them, I was nothing. To live without them, my world would cease to exists. There would not be a place for me in this world.

            I’m at the park today with my son. It’s a beautiful, sunny day. I dressed him in shorts and a T-shirt that says, Daddy’s buddy. He is.

            “Hey, little buddy, want to go on the swings with Daddy?” I ask, pulling him out of the stroller.

            His smile is contagious. It melts my heart. He owns my heart.

            “Da Da,” he says, smiling up at me. I kiss his head and give him huggles. That’s what I call our hugs. He giggles and squeezes my cheeks.

            I set him to the ground, take his little hand in mine, and we walk over to the swings. The closer we get, the louder his giggles become. He’s excited and breaks free from my hand to get to the swings.

            “Wait for Daddy,” I say. A group of women look over at me with shock on their faces. I want to scream that I’m no weekend teenage, Baby Daddy. This is my son who was planned. I could give him more than they could ever give their children. He was no accident created in the backseat of a car. Or a little too much to drink at some teen infested drunk party when their parents were gone.

            No. Christopher is the product of my undying love to him and Pippa. I only hope Pippa comes around. Until then, I will still blame the postpartum depression for her lack of interest in us.

            I take a seat on the swing, and pull Christopher onto my lap facing me, “Are you ready?” He nods, and his face fills with a big smile. I hold onto him and kick us off. Giggles echo all around us as we swing higher into the sky. My heart abounds with glory and laughter. Christopher has given me so much. He has taught me to love unconditional. Laugh when I’m sad. Cry when I’m happy with tears of joy. A reason to live.

            “You like that?”

            His head bobbles up and down with excitement. His eyes, the same as mine feel with wonder. He’s a happy baby. A loved baby. I alone could give him all the love he needs.

            I begin to slow the swing down, and he bounces up and down, letting me know he wants more. But then I ask him, “Do you want to go get ice cream?”

            “Yeah,” he squeals out, and then wiggles his way to get down.

            I jump out of the swing with Christopher in my arms and carry him over to the ice cream truck. He’s already doing his best to break free and run to the truck.

            I set him down and take his hand, as we walk together to get our ice cream.

            I find us a shady spot under a tree where we eat our ice cream. Christopher has it all over his face, hands, and clothes. I will need to give him a bath when we get home.

            “Okay, buddy. You ready to go home and take a bath?”

            I do my best to wipe him clean, and then throw away our trash before placing him into the stroller and heading back home.

            Christopher is asleep by the time I get home, but he still needs a bath. “Come on, little guy. Bath time and then nap,” I say, pulling his sleepy body from the stroller.

            He lays his head on my shoulder as I take him into the bathroom and begin filling the tub. He rubs his eyes while I undress him, and then I place him down into the tub.

            “Here’s your ducky,” I say, handing it to him. He plays while I wash him. Soon, I have him all clean, and take him into the nursery to dress and lie down for a nap.

            The bath rejuvenated his sleepiness, so I rock him a little. In no time, he’s back to sleep, and I lie him down into his bed.

            I don’t want to leave his side, and gently massage his hair, trace his little face, and place a soft kiss on his forehead. There’s a smile on my face as I walk away and shut the door.

            Suddenly, I hear shouting from downstairs. Pippa and Father have just returned from the office. He’s yelling at her.

            “How dare you ruin the reputation of my firm.”

            “I did nothing of the sorts. If people want to invest their money, well then, they better know the consequences,” Pippa yells back.

            “What did you do with the money, Pippa? I have examiners knocking down my door. This is some serious shit. Everything has to be accounted for.”

            “I know that, Malcom! Maybe it got lost in the system, did you ever think of that? Accounts are hacked every day. You can’t blame me when money goes missing. Not every server is secure.”

            “Pippa, those were your accounts. Your clients. And only your client’s investments are missing.”

            “You know what, Malcom? I can’t take this anymore. No matter what I do, I can’t seem to please you. And trust me, you stopped pleasing me a long time ago…in bed. You’re nothing but a dried-up old man who should get down on your hands and knees and kiss the ground I walk on. Do you know how many men would love to have me? Young men?”

            Slap!

            My hands ball into fists as I race down the stairs and bust Father right in the face. He falls, knocking over the lamp. The loud crashing wakes Christopher. Pippa jumps behind me.

            “Protect me, Ash. Your father is crazy,” she says, crying and wiping her tears. “Look what he did to me.”

            I turn around and see the red mark on her face. “Don’t you ever lay a hand on her. I will kill you if you ever touch her again,” I seethe, glaring down at him.

            “Son, you have no idea what is going on. This is none of your concern.”

            “It’s all my concern. I’m the one who takes care of them when you’re gone all the time. I’m the one who spends time with Christopher. I’m the one who is helping Pippa to raise him.” It’s right there on the tip of my tongue. I want to say. “I think you have no idea what’s going on.”

            “I can’t take this anymore. I want a divorce,” Pippa screams from behind me.

            What will this mean? Will she leave me too? Or will she find us our own place where the three of us can live openly in our love?

            She races up the stairs where Christopher is crying. I run behind her and hope she has a plan for us.

            “Ash, pack his bag for me. I’m taking Christopher with me.”

            “But what about me?”

            She’s rushing around the room, opening and closing drawers. “I’ll find us a place, and then I’ll come for you. I can’t live like this anymore, Ash.”

            She runs out with our son, and I follow her to their bedroom. “Here, take the baby while I pack a bag.” She shoves him to me, and I take him in my arms. He’s crying, and all I want is to comfort him.

            “Shh, it’s okay. Mommy’s fine. We’re all going to be together, Christopher,” I say, kissing his head.

            Pippa throws a suitcase on the bed and begins filling it with clothes. I want confirmation that she will come for me.

            “You promise, Pippa?”

            “Ash, I can’t concentrate right now. Just do as I say,” she says, shutting the suitcase and zipping it shut.

            Father is at the door. Blood is dripping down his lip.

            “Where the hell are you going?”

            “Away from you. I should call the police and tell them you hit me.”

            “Oh that’s a good one, Pippa. And while you’re at it, tell them how you embezzled millions of dollars from our clients.”

            “Go fuck yourself,” she screams.

            Christopher is still crying in my arms. “You two, stop it. You’re scaring Christopher.”

            “You’re not taking our son,” Father says.

            “I am and you can’t stop me. You work all day, and I suddenly found myself unemployed. But I’ll do just fine, suing you for half of everything. Christopher needs his mother. Not another nanny.”

            Father looks taken aback. Not sure how to fight her at this point.

            “Pippa, I’m sorry I slapped you. Let’s talk this through. I’ll get you a lawyer. I’ll make sure you don’t go to jail. Just don’t leave,” he begins to beg.

            “Oh, I’m not going to jail. But I am leaving you,” she says, grabbing Christopher from me, and then her suitcase. She walks out the door, and I follow her.

            “Pippa, please. Wait, don’t go. I won’t let him near you. I promise. Just don’t leave. I love you. I love our son,” I plead.

            “Ash, it’s all part of my plan. Just go along with it. We can’t let him know. But we also can’t leave without his money. Now, you want us all to be together, right?”

            “Yes.”

            “Then…trust me. I’m going to find us a place.”

            I have no other option but to trust her. I nod and kiss Christopher on the cheek. “I love you, Christopher. We’ll be together soon,” I say, not knowing it was the last time I would ever see him again.


***

Saving Ash© 2024 Gina A. Jones rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.


This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.




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shannon Cheripka
Jun 16
Rated 5 out of 5 stars.

Ash has learned to grow up so fast

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