CHAPTER FIVE
Serafina
God, I’m happy.
It feels so strange to be happy. I suppose it has a lot to do with realizing what unhappiness is. That’s something that characterizes life before Peter.
Damn.
Now I know.
There is something beautiful about being me and him knowing exactly what I do when I pull my high maintenance games. He gives me rope and if I take things to far, he takes control. I don’t believe I have ever dealt with a man so strong and powerful.
And, for the love of God, he’s exactly what I picture a Daddy to be. God, before him, all my fantasies had to do with a Daddy, someone who could handle me. I don’t mean the bullshit handle me at my worst stuff. I mean someone who won’t tolerate my tantrums, someone who won’t be weak and won’t let me manipulate.
But still lets me try.
I giggle as I think about that and the lady at the hair station next to me smiles at me. I smile back and from behind me, Sharon says, “Your hair is so beautiful. You know, if you ever wanted to sell it for hair extensions, it’s about the perfect color and length.”
“Not interested,” I say with a giggle. “That hair belongs to my boyfriend.” Boyfriend! Wow. It feels so good to say that word and mean Peter! It also feels good, somehow, to think about him having a say in my appearance. He’s never talked about that. It’s not like we have some agreement in place that he decides anything about how I dress, do my makeup or do my hair. I’ve just decided out of nowhere that he deserves to have a say.
Deserves!
Jesus! Before Peter, my hair and my clothes and everything else were things I decided and used almost like bribery for a guy. God help a guy who didn’t notice if I changed anything, even something as small as my lip color or…
I giggle and say, “No color.”
Sharon says, “Belongs to your boyfriend. Never thought I’d hear that from you.” She laughs. “But, then again you’ve already called him your Daddy and that’s probably even more something I never thought I’d hear.”
“Well, he belongs to me, too. Not his hair, maybe, but lots of other things about his body.” I giggled like crazy with that one and finally said, “Seriously. No color. My hair belongs to Peter.”
“Okay. Well, I’ll talk to him if you ever decide to let me meet him.”
I giggle again and say, “I want him all to myself for a few more months but after that.”
“I don’t know what the hell has gotten into you,” Sharon says, “but it’s clear this guy is special. You’re happy as hell and you’re not a bitch.”
“Sharon!”
“Come on. You know what I mean. It’s like every relationship you’ve ever had was a test to see how far you could push a guy.”
I giggle again.
Jesus, all I do anymore is giggle.
“Oh yeah,” she says. “You’ve caught it bigtime.”
“Maybe,” I say softly.
“So, what is it? You don’t have to be a bitch to control him? He’s so sweet without it?”
“He… he doesn’t put up with my shit,” I say and then I burst out laughing. Sharon laughs just as loudly as I do.
“It’s about time,” she says. “Long overdue, actually.”
“You know,” I say, “I had no idea I wanted someone who could take me on. I always thought I wanted someone who was no match.”
“Yeah, I know,” she says, “and then you grew tired of them and dropped them like hot potatoes.”