Ivy's Twisted Vine Redux Latrivia Nelson (best selling autobiographies .txt) 📖

room with newspapers and unopened mail on the couch. Beer bottles lined the floor and the television was blaring. She turned off the television and walked through the house past the dreadfully dirty kitchen, the otherwise undisturbed living room up the back stairwell to his bedroom where he lay on the bed unconscious. It was odd to Ivy that he was in his uniform for work complete with black work boots and guns. He was after all still on leave.

Cautiously, Ivy walked over to Nicola and checked his pulse. Oh, thank God. He was still alive. She looked around his huge bedroom admiring how nice it looked the night she visited him and how awful it looked now. All of the electronics that were ruined during his fight with Caesar had been replaced, shelves had been repaired and replace, there was new darker carpet to replace the blood stained white plush carpet. But the room also was extremely chaotic. Clothes were everywhere. Bottles of beer covered the room. At least five guns were on the bed. A phonebook of numbers had been torn apart and left on the floor. She shook her head. His mess confirmed that he was still having a hard time.

Ivy opened the newly replaced windows of his bedroom to let fresh air in, looked at how inviting the pool looked beneath them and set her purse down on the floor. She could just leave him uninterrupted now that she knew that he was mortally okay. But she wanted to stay. She wanted to help him. She thought for a moment about just how to help him, and finally decided that she should start with cleaning up his mess. A clean house always made her feel better. Then maybe, she could fix him a sobering dinner and get him cleaned up. Yes, that was enough. The rest would be up to him.

Clasping her hands together, she surveyed the room again. It would probably take her the entire day to do what was needed. Looking back over at Nicola, still lying motionless, she rolled back her sleeves and began to pick his clothes up off the floor.

Hours later while the sun was preparing to set on the horizon, Ivy took out the last load of Nicola’s clothes from the dryer and folded them perfectly. Setting them in the basket, she picked them up and carried them to Nicola’s room where he still lay in the same place sleeping heavily under the ceiling fan. Going to the restroom, she turned off his bath water and ran back to the kitchen where she was preparing a meal for the two of them to retrieve his bath towels that she left on the counter. Satisfied, she turned off the oven, sprayed the air freshener and turned down the stereo playing soft jazz.

Now, it was time for the big show. Prepared to wake him, she stood over him with a cold pitcher of water staring at his limp body. She nudged him first and then slapped him on the cheek. He still did not move. In her last resort, she splashed the ice-cold water on his face. Jumping up, he looked confused and upset just out of reach of his gun.

“It’s just me,” Ivy said trying to relieve the fire she saw in his eyes. But Nicola did not speak. He pulled his large tired body up as much as he could, dazed and aggravated.

Assisting him, Ivy grabbed his arm and made him sit up on. She stood in between his long legs perched on the rail of the bed. Pulling his shirt off, she rubbed his face softly and wiped the water from his eyes. Moving into him, she unbuckled his pants. He looked at her peculiarly, surprised that she was there. He laid back in the bed and allowed her to pull off his pants. Then, she grabbed his arm and led him to the bathtub.

“Take your underwear off when you get in tub,” she said leading him to the large garden style, oversized marble black tub.

Nicola stepped in the warm water and instantly awoke from his long sleep. Sitting down, he let out a moan. His body ached almost as bad as his head did. Covered in bubbles, he laid back in the tub while Ivy sat beside him on the bank of tub with her feet inside the tub. Snuggling in between her legs, he laid his head back on her large stomach and rubbed her bubbled soaked legs.

He closed his eyes as he felt one of the babies kick at the back of his head. “Why are you here, Ivy?” His voice was low and scratchy.

“Why are you so damned drunk, Nicola?” She rubbed his arms with a soft scrub.

“I don’t’ want you to see me like this.” Pulling his arm away he pulled off his underwear and threw them across the bathroom.

“Well, if you don’t want me to see you like this, then don’t get like this.” She pulled his arm back forcefully and washed his chest.

He frowned. “You just don’t know what I’m going through right now.” He was more than prepared to invite her to his pity party, but it seemed that she did not want to attend.

Ivy let out a sigh. “I have to say I am disappointed at you. I thought you were more of a man than this… getting piss poor drunk like some college kid. You know better. Besides, what does this help? What?”

He turned around to look at her, but she never looked up from scrubbing his chest.

“Believe me. I already know…I’m sorry,” he said in his most sincere tone. Normally, he would have told any other woman to go to hell, but with Ivy he only felt embarrassment. The feeling was quite like a mother scolding her young.

Ivy tried to continue on with her stern contempt, but as she looked at him sitting vulnerable in her care her heart warmed. “I know you’re sorry.” Her voice softened as