Ethic II

monopolized his, but their nights were reserved for one another, a secret love affair. Morgan took another lock into her hand, sprayed it with rose water, slicked coconut oil in her palm, and twisted. He was comfortable, she could tell. He was more relaxed than she had ever seen him. Morgan wished she could be so tranquil. Her heart raced and her stomach somersaulted every time he came around. Before, she had blamed it on attraction, but now that she had experienced the essence of Messiah, she knew it was so much more than that. It was addiction. He filled her, keeping her heart full, causing it to pump furiously. He kept her soul full, making her feel purpose-driven, like she was created to show him what true connection to another human being felt like. He kept her body full, penetrating her, turning her into a woman, driving into the apex of treasure between her thighs. Messiah fucked up her world, and while she was his peace, he was her storm. She just couldn't think straight around him. She had so many questions. They had crossed a line that they had been dancing dangerously close to for months. What does this mean? Where do we go from here? Messiah would always greet her at the door, earnestly, as if he had waited to taste her lips all day. She would hop onto him, wrap her legs around his waist as he carried her to the kitchen counter, where he would fold her over and enter her from behind. After their lovemaking, they ate, and he helped himself to her body again. They went from the kitchen, to the bed, to the shower, and sometimes to the balcony. God, I can't forget the balcony. Messiah was insatiable, and the constant pulse she felt between her thighs told her that she couldn't get enough of him either. They were in a marathon of sexual bliss, and the finish line was nowhere in sight, but Morgan was still unsure about her role in his life. Were they together? Were they just fucking? She didn't want to assume that sex meant love, although for her they were one and the same. He had told her she was special and that he loved her, but he had only said it the very first time. Sometimes, she wondered if the hours he spent away from her in Flint were spent with other women, because she knew she couldn't be the only one. She had seen the magnetism firsthand, he attracted women wherever he went. He was a god in their hometown, and Morgan was out of sight, out of mind now that she was away at school. He could have a gang of women back home, and she wouldn't even know. Monday, a friend of mine. Tuesday, we played a game. Wednesday, you went away. Thursday, things weren't the same. On Friday, you came back. I wanted to kiss you on Saturday. Sunday, we make love. What are we gonna do? You've been into the music lately, Messiah noticed. Dancing and singing all over your crib. I used to love to dance off-beat. Now that I can finally hear it, I love it even more. I'm learning there's a song for every single emotion I've ever felt. It's like I've got years of pent-up emotion to get out of my system, Morgan answered. The song is how you feel it. Messiah's voice was clouded by smoke as he choked out the words. Morgan looked up, her singing suddenly stopped as if he had pressed mute on her voice. He looked up, craning his neck in discomfort to see her reaction. I don't know how I feel. Before this thing with you, I felt, she shrugged. Unable to fully put into words the type of loneliness being deaf had caused. Others simply couldn't relate to the struggle she had been through. Even with those who knew how to sign, she didn't feel like they ever truly knew how hard it was for her thoughts to not have a way out of her head. You felt what? He pushed. He rested his head in her lap, eyes to the ceiling, as she placed her fingertips on his temple. She began to rub clockwise, massaging every worry from his mind. Lonely, she said, forlorn. I just don't want whatever we're doing to end and I'm back to that, you know, the loneliness.