The Guy on the Left

by Stewart, Kate

  Clarissa

  I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours in a daze. After an emergency call to Parker, I used the rest of my time doing things I never get a chance to do. I found myself relieved Brett was out of town. I’m not the type of woman to put her eggs in different baskets. Every time I start to feel guilty, I remember my conversation with Parker, not that it really helps.

  “Hell yes! May the best man win!”

  “I’m not like that. You know I hate that. I’m not my father.”

  “Then pick one.”

  “I can’t. Troy is…I don’t fully trust him, but Jesus, I’ve never felt anything like that. And Brett is a great guy. I mean that.”

  “It’s called dating. Make both aware of the other, and there is no issue.”

  “This is wrong.”

  “It’s dating. You can choose to be a monogamous dater, but that puts you in a relationship. Are you ready to start a relationship with either?”

  “I’m not juggling two men. That’s beyond my comfort zone.”

  “Then make it clear to Troy that he can no longer kiss you and feel you up after you apply lip balm.”

  “It was the best kiss of my life.”

  “Yeah? Then, bye-bye Brett.”

  “Stop it.”

  “Brett said you’re not exclusive, right?”

  “Something to that effect.”

  “So, you’re not asking about his other girls.”

  “Who says he’s seeing other women?”

  “I do. Ask him. And if that’s the case, you have nothing to feel guilty about. You can make out with baby daddy all you want.”

  “I don’t do this.”

  “Times have changed my friend. This is the new norm. Eventually, marriage will be obsolete.”

  “No way. I’m traditional.”

  “Then stick to kissing.”

  “I’m not thirteen.”

  “Babe, you have a decision to make. Decide on one or see what happens with either.”

  “This is bullshit,” I say, picking up the rest of Dante’s toys.

  “Yeah, I feel really sorry for you.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m being insensitive. I know you’re going through a hard time.”

  “I’m fine. This isn’t about me. This is about you finding someone suitable for our boy and for once, making yourself priority too.”

  “I can’t risk it with Troy.”

  “Then you’ve made your decision.”

  “Right.”

  “Except you haven’t.”

  “What?”

  Parker sighs. “Look, when you find yourself unable to keep from moving forward with one, you have your answer. Keep an open mind and heart and see where it goes. Or run a train with them both.”

  “I hate you.”

  “Make me proud. Now I have to go. I have a nooner.”

  “Really?”

  “A meeting. Get your mind out the gutter.”

  “Parker, wait, what did we decide again?”

  “We decided Mommy is going to have a little fun.”

  “I’m not sleeping with them both!”

  “Konnichiwa!”

  “Parker, wait!”

  Troy

  “I can’t believe we didn’t catched any fish.”

  “That’s catch any fish. It’s getting too cold, bud. We’ll try again some other time.”

  “Will you put the worms on the hook again?”

  “Sure, but don’t you want to learn to do it yourself?”

  Dante’s eyes bulge in my rearview. “I’m not prepared for that, Troy.”

  I crack up as I park in my driveway and open the back door as he unbuckles from his booster.

  “Okay, remember what we talked about?”

  “Yep,” he squeaks as I lift him from the backseat. We’re halfway across the yard when a song I don’t recognize begins to drift out of the house. Eyes wide, Dante immediately starts wiggling out of my hold.

  “It’s me & Mommy’s favorite song! Let me down!” Dante takes off like a shot as gentle drums, bass, and guitar filter through the air. “I’m coming, Mommy!” He declares, bounding up the steps.

  Hot on his heels with our bags in both arms, I step inside the door behind him, seeing Clarissa standing in the middle of the living room. She looks over to me with a shy smile mouthing “hi,” just as Dante leaps into her arms. Dante grabs her face with his hands stealing her attention as they begin to sing.

  “Cupid, draw back your bow, and let your arrow gooo, straight to my lover’s heart for meeee,” Dante belts offkey as a smile lights up Clarissa’s face and she sings along, dancing with him wrapped firmly around her as if they’ve been doing it for years. And it’s so obvious they have. The light in his mother’s eyes is unforgettable as she sings with him, swaying while he giggles with every exaggerated bounce of her hips.

  And me? I’m so fucking gone, lost in the sight of them both.

  It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and my throat goes dry while I memorize every second of it. They’re completely in sync, as they lift hands in the air at the same time, imploring Cupid while singing their hearts out. My own heart expands unbearably in my chest when they rub noses as the song drifts to a close. Clarissa’s eyes catch mine over her son’s shoulder, and we just…stare. I have no idea what she sees, but I’m pretty sure if it’s anything like what I’m feeling, it’s heavy. She beams at me before she breaks the connection, gazing down at Dante.

  “Did you have fun?”

  “It was the best time I’ve ever had!”

  “Really? That’s great. What did you two do?”

  “I can’t tell you anything, sorry, man stuff.” Dante turns to me and winks both eyes.

  I can’t help my chuckle. “That’s right, man stuff.”

  Clarissa looks between us. “Man stuff, huh? Well, all right, go unload your pack and put all your dirty clothes in the hamper.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I’m thankful for the music playing in the background because the minute Dante disappears, I’m at a loss for words. All I can do is think about the way she kissed me back. It was more than a kiss, it was a declaration on my part, and I made damn sure she knew it.

  I let impulse win yesterday, unable to handle another second without touching her, tasting her, showing her just how much I want her. And I can’t for one fucking second bring myself to regret it. Duffle still on my shoulder, I stuff my hands into my jeans. “So that’s your favorite song, huh?”

  “Yeah,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. Her hair is curled, and she’s in a sweater dress, nails freshly painted, and the house is immaculate.

  “You look beautiful.”

  “Yeah, thanks, I gave myself a little TLC.”

  “It shows. Smells good in here.”

  “I’ve been baking.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I think Theo has company. You might want to wait a bit before returning home.”

  “Oh yeah?” I chuckle. “Good for him.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Sure.”

  “Stay for dinner?”

  “That’d be great.”

  She seems just as lost for the moment as I am, I decide to cut the bullshit. “Clarissa—”

  She takes a tentative step toward me, keeping her voice low. “You know orgasms may be ninety-nine percent mental, but studies show that parts of a woman’s brain deactivate during an orgasm, especially those involved with emotion. This explains the ‘oh shit’ mentality women feel after.”

  “You think I’m an ‘oh shit?’”

  “I know you were before. I’m not sure what you are now.”

  “Can I be a ‘hot damn!’ or a ‘hell yes!’ instead?”

  We both laugh, and it dies just as quickly.

  I close the space between us, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Take your time, Clarissa. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Favorite movie?” I ask, folding a pair of Dante’s jeans.
/>   “When Harry Met Sally.”

  Though I let impulse win yesterday, I’ve decided to embrace her ‘adult’ way of dating, using her dinner invite to my advantage to get to know her. She was nervous when we got home and dressed for me. I’m positive she’s thought plenty about it and I’m not about to fumble this chance. At this point, I know everything from the age she was when she got her first kiss to her favorite color—purple. Which I could have easily guessed because the bulk of the clothes I’m folding are a varying shade of it. She tugs the thong I’m fondling from my hands, just as I hold it up.

  “Behave. And it’s a classic. Also, Sweet Home Alabama. It’s about a woman who’s torn between two different…” Her blush is unmistakable.

  I lift a brow. “Go on.”

  She hides behind the shirt she holds up. “I don’t think I will.”

  “Then let’s watch it. After dinner.”

  “I’ll pass. What about you, movies?”

  “I’m more of an action movie guy. Mission Impossible, that kind of shit. And superhero movies.”

  “I see. And music?”

  “Rap, rock, whatever.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “Just not old soul.”

  “I like your favorite song.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” I say, lifting a purple bra which she snatches from my hand.

  “Stop handling my delicates, Jenner.”

  I exhale through my teeth, shaking my head.

  “Yeah,” she smirks, “I know that was loaded. Look at you, growing up.”

  “Don’t accuse me of that, you have no idea what was running through my head, Ms. A. There’s a ruler involved.”

  She rolls her eyes, grabbing another shirt seeming lost in her thoughts before she speaks. “There’s this one song. I listen for it all the time. My mother used to sing it to me while we did the dishes. I can’t, for the life of me, figure out which one it is. It’s haunted me for years.”

  “Man or woman singing?”

  “Man. Like James Brown, but not James Brown. I remember in the middle of it, Mom always made me laugh. It’s funny how memory works. Maybe I’ve heard it already, and I just don’t recognize it anymore.”

  “I’m sure you’ll know when you hear it.”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  “And your dad?”

  “He was…” she twists her lips, “well, he existed in a universe of his own where the party never ended, and champagne and women flowed like water. He was a producer out in Hollywood, where he met my mother. She was going to be his next big star before she died. And when she did, he took a job in Austin as a promotor. I think his intention was to settle down and give us a more stable life. I guess you can take the guy out of Hollywood…” she sighs. “Anyway, I moved here to attend Grand and never left.”

  “Did you have plans to leave after you graduated?”

  She shrugs, and I can see in her eyes, our discussion is over.

  Guilty, I lift a pile of Dante’s laundry in question.

  “Second drawer from the top of his dresser.”

  Walking down the hall toward his bedroom, I freeze when I hear his voice sound on the other side.

  “Yo, what’s up, guys. Today for the first time on Legit Life, I’m going to answer all my comments. That’s right, haters, get ready.”

  Freezing, I stand outside his door with a handful of his clothes as Clarissa runs into my back.

  “Did you hear that?” I whisper.

  I glance back to see her hand over her mouth to muffle her laugh, her eyes wide. Dante speaks up again.

  “Let’s do this, so the first comment is from DeanBohanon700 of Rip audio. ‘I’m confused on what happened to the mailman.’ I know, buddy, I know. It was ridiculous. He got struck for nothing.”

  I turn to Clarissa. “Do you have any idea what he’s saying?”

  She shakes her head with a smile. “No clue. Techie stuff?”

  I shrug.

  Dante’s voice interrupts our confusion. “Okay, there’s another comment on the same video. LawrenceOppen243 says ‘ye.’ Uh, okay, dude. Ye, to you too.”

  Clarissa grips the back of my shirt, leaning in.

  “This one is on my video about my new merch. Comment says, ‘I ordered.’ Liar, I never got email confirmation. The next comment is, ‘I love Legit Life videos.’ Thanks for the support, bud.”

  Clarissa is in hysterics at my back, her laundry dropped at my feet while I shush her.

  “This next comment is for the kid who says I should use iMovie. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, kids, I’m never going to use iMovie, not in my lifetime.”

  Clarissa’s still muffling her laugh in my back as I try to hold in my own.

  “Okay, some kid said my sniffing during my video was disgusting. Hey bro, that shirt you were wearing on your video was disgusting. Burrrrn. So, guys, if you don’t like my videos get off my channel.”

  Clarissa hums along with her music at the stove while I chop vegetables at the table, watching Dante while he plays in the yard with his drone. It’s been the perfect Sunday and more than I could have hoped for. Dante and I watched all three Spiderman movies back to back while Clarissa stretched out in her recliner grading papers. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt, being such a present part of their lives, and I hate the fact that I’m about to have to leave. And when I do, I’ll once again be watching from afar in my bedroom when she tucks him in tonight.

  But I’ll take what I can get. I’ll toe the line. I’ll do whatever it takes.

  The holidays are coming up, Thanksgiving mere days away, and it’s time to talk about how that’s going to go down. I lift the cutting board full of vegetables, hauling them into the kitchen ready to finally broach the subject when I hear Dante call from the porch.

  “Who are you?”

  “Dante,” Clarissa groans, turning the heat down on the stove. “This kid is the neighborhood watch.” We share a grin as she crosses the living room to get to where Dante stands at the door.

  My whole body tenses when I hear the reply.

  “Are you talking to me?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well, I’m here to see Troy.”

  “Troy? He’s over here.”

  “Clarissa, wait,” I say just as she steps out onto the porch.

  By the time I join them, I’m too late, Pamela Jenner is eye level with her grandson.

  Sally’s Chicken & Dumplings

  RN, North Dakota

  Makes 8 servings

  45 minutes

  4 Boneless, Skinless Chicken Breasts

  2 Tbsps Butter

  2 Cans Cream of Chicken Soup

  1 Box Chicken Stock or 2 Cans Chicken Broth

  1 Onion – finely chopped

  2 10 oz. Cans Flaky Biscuits – each cut into sixths

  In a crockpot, mix together the chicken, butter, soup and onion. Cook covered for 5 to 6 hours on low.

  Once cooked, remove and shred the chicken. Return the chicken to the crockpot and stir well.

  Add the biscuit pieces to the chicken and cook for an additional 30 to 45 minutes until the dough is cooked through.

  This is a simple and easy dish and is great with a salad or fresh vegetables.

  Clarissa

  Two things are evident within seconds of laying eyes on this woman. One is that genes run strong in the Jenner family. Two is that she knows without a doubt she’s looking at her grandchild. Dish in her hands, she kneels down in front of Dante.

  “I’m Pamela. Troy’s mama. What’s your name?”

  “Dante.”

  Pamela swallows. “What’s your last name?” There’s a rattle in her voice, and I can feel the swell of emotions rolling off her.

  “Arden. Dante Arden.”

  Pamela’s eyes lift to meet Troy’s, and I can clearly see the panic on his face.

  “Mom, what are you doing here?”

  “What am I doing…” she’s completely baffled by his quest
ion as the casserole dish shakes in her hands, “I brought you butterscotch pudding, but you live next door. You’re parked next door.”

  “I do,” he says. “Let’s head over, okay?”

  She’s beautiful, the years have served her well, and I make a mental note to get the name of her moisturizer at a later date, that’s if she doesn’t murder me on my front lawn.

  Troy steps up to her in an attempt to usher her away as she looks back to Dante. She shoves the casserole into Troy’s stomach as Troy whimpers out a “Mom, don’t.”

  “How old are you?”

  “You’re funny,” Dante says, staring at her gaping mouth. “I’m six.”

  “Six,” she says breathlessly before she looks directly at me. “And you’re his mother?” I nod, fear racing through me. I knew this day would come. I just didn’t think it would be today. “I’m Clarissa. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Jenner.”

  “To meet me?” She looks over at her son. “I’m not sure we were supposed to meet.”

  “Mom,” Troy pleads. “I need you to go next door, and I’ll meet you there.”

  She lifts her chin, reading the guilt on both our faces. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Dante, go play,” I order as my stomach starts to churn.

  “What’s wrong?” Dante looks between the three of us. “Troy, you in trouble with your Mommy?”

  “It’s okay, bud. Just go inside.”

  “Nothing’s wrong, Peanut,” I push gently at his shoulder. “Just go in, and we’ll be in in a minute.”

  “I’m always sent to my room,” he grumbles. “Will you be here when I come back?” Dante askes Pamela.

  “I don’t know.” She’s utterly devastated, and the guilt I feel at that moment is crippling.

  I close the front door as Pamela faces off with her son.

  “I would know that face anywhere,” she says as tears finally surface. “He’s the spitting image of you,” she whispers hoarsely. “He’s yours.”

  Troy nods slowly, the look in his eyes a mix of fear and devastation.

  “Tell me, son, tell me you didn’t keep this from me for six years.”