He Took Me

2.

Boris J looks back at me. "It's ok," I assure him, rubbing his back. I try to smile and it works but I know it's because I'm looking at my son. "Imma be right back." I kiss his cheek then rise from the couch.

Slow-motion. I didn't know life can slow down, I thought that was only in movies, but it does, or at least I do.

Even with the slow-motion, I reached the door too quickly. There's another knock. I gasp. A lump grows in my throat as I reach for the doorknob.

Boris. He looks...good. I don't know what I expected but he looks almost the same. He grew out his hair but his beard is trimmed nicely. His lips are dry and his eyes...I swallow hard. His eyes are like cracked glass, pain everywhere.

"Wow," he huffs. "You look...stunning, I can't even..." he sighs in frustration, running his hand through his hair. I almost whimper at the well-known habit of his.

He sounds different like he's been smoking or screaming his lungs out.

I can't speak. I need my Boris-Boris J-here.

"You-um...you needed to speak to me?" He arches his brow. I can't move. He begins to roll on the heels of his feet. "Franky?"

I whimper and it shatters my silence. I clear my throat. "I don't..." I don't sound like me. "I don't know where to begin."

His eyes tighten on me. "We...we-" he gestures to our bodies with his hand "-we can't-"

"Boris!" I yell before he could finish. I know what he was about to say. He looks at me confused. "I'm sorry," I whisper, hearing the running footsteps of my son.

Boris' eyes leave mine.

I want to shut my eyes but I refuse to. If Boris takes the news of his new son as bad news, I need to see his expression change and get Boris J out before he gets hurt.

His face whitens and his lips slightly part.

Boris J tugs at my arm. "Boris, baby," I whisper looking down at him. "This is Boris."

He looks at his father and cocks his head to the side. He furrowed his brows then looks up at me.

"It's ok, go play," I say then he runs off. I look at Boris just in time. He steps forward, going after my son but I stand in front of him.

Our eyes lock but I can't read his, they're too...too bright?

"You..." he whispers, "you took my child from me?"

"You sent me away," my voice betrays me when it breaks.

"To protect you."

"Now look where we are now." My voice is strong now. "If you don't want him, let me know now, he doesn't have to know who you are."

"Don't want him?" He steps around me.

"Boris!" I follow him. But he's quicker. Boris J is now playing with his jets-not a good sign. Boris slowly kneels next to his son, eyeing him like he's the pathway out of hell and into heaven.

I'm tearing up.

Boris J pays no attention to the large man next to him.

"Boris?" Boris whispers, reaching for his son. He turns and faces his father. "Do you know who I am?"

"Boris, don't," I snap. I walk around the couch and pick Boris J up.

Boris stands up also. "He's my son, Franky."

"Don't talk to him like that," I try to control the volume of my voice. Boris J buries his head into my neck. I want to move away from Boris but I can't.