“Well, a reiteration will suffice. I enjoy hearing about you two immensely. Tell me about the girl, Parker. You’re beginning to bore me,” he chuckled.
“Well, her mother is dependent upon painkillers, an addiction that stemmed from an accident at work. One thing led to another, and she is now, in Victoria’s own words, a slave to narcotics. Sad, when you think about it. Victoria seems to find at least some satisfaction in caring for her. She really doesn’t complain about it. I think most would,” I said.
“I agree. It speaks volumes of her devotion to family and loved ones,” Kenton nodded his head as he leaned into the back of his chair and crossed his legs.
“There’s not much I can tell you about her you don’t already know. She loves to cook, but never does. She’s a little bit of a wild one, and definately not afraid to toss an expletive into a conversation to prove a point or get your attention,” I grinned and slowly shook my head.
“Sit down, you big fucking brute, when she said that I damn near pissed myself. You know, after you left that night, Downes and I talked at length. He told me he stood in the kitchen with her as she prepared the entire meal. It was at her insistence. She told him he intimidated her and she didn’t like it. But, as intimidated as she was, she chose to face her fear. In a matter of thirty minutes, she learned Downes is nothing short of a true gentleman. He can be rather stern, but a gentlemen nonetheless. I’m truly pleased she made friends with him.”
“She told me the same thing. She compared him to a well-trained German Shepherd – very protective over the people he loves, in a constant state of preparedness, and loyal until death. I had to admit I agreed with her,” I looked through the French doors hoping to catch a glimpse of him, yet saw nothing but my own reflection.
“I meant what I said wholeheartedly,” Kenton said as he leaned forward in his chair.
“Regarding?” I asked.
“Having dinner together made me feel like we were a family. It really did, and must say I enjoyed it immensely. I now yearn for it. I want you two to come here as much as possible. I’ve grown to love you, Parker. I truly have. And seeing you with Victoria,” he paused, raised his hands to his face, and turned in the seat of his chair to face the ocean.
After a very long moment of silence, still facing the ocean, he began to speak.
“You know, we fear what we don’t understand and find serenity in what we’re incapable of understanding. I find tremendous satisfaction in this; staring out into the ocean, that is. It’s endless. From what I can see from here, there is a well-defined beginning and no ending whatsoever. It just goes on forever. I find it…well, there’s nothing else that compares, Parker. The tranquility from this viewpoint is immeasurable,” as his voice began to falter, he inhaled an audible breath.
After an extended pause, he continued speaking.
“You and Victoria – how the two of you react and respond to each other is nothing short of magic. When I began this venture, I hoped to obtain a false sense of satisfaction that I had played a part in the forming of what could or would be a perfect relationship for someone. I had little hope, if any, that it would truly come to fruition. I expected to provide advice on gentlemanly behavior to someone who needed my guidance. You, son, need nothing. You’re the last of a dying breed of men, you truly are. Short of you choosing to part ways with me, I can make this statement without reservation,” he stood from his chair, gripped his putter, and looked down at the surface of the deck.
“I’ll be here for you, wholeheartedly,” he looked up from the deck, “until the bitter end.”
As Kenton faced me, I immediately noticed his eyes were puffy and red. In staring out toward the ocean, he had probably become emotional over the thought of Victoria and me being part of his adopted family. Studying his face, it appeared as if he had been crying. The thought of him obtaining this level of satisfaction from the two of us caused me to realize not only was Kenton Ward human, he was also invested emotionally. He felt just as I did. He found value in having me be a part of his life no differently than I found value in having him be a part of mine. The entire idea of him employing me had seemed ludicrous at first. Now, sitting here, it made perfect sense. Kenton Ward was living a vicarious life through Victoria and me – one that he had been incapable of living himself.
“The bitter end being?” I asked, not necessarily wanting to know the answer.
“Life itself,” he responded, extending his hand toward me.
As I stood and gripped his hand, it dawned on me. At this very moment, Kenton Ward and I were making a pact. He, at least in my mind, had adopted me as a member of his extended family, for a lifetime. Holding his hand firmly in mine, for the first time in my life, it was as if I was shaking the hand of my father.
Hand in hand, we stood silently and stared; both incapable of speaking.
And I began to weep.
VICTORIA. Parker caused me to feel.
Simply stated, I stand afraid I’ll never be the same. I am forever ruined by his simple, caring, thoughtful, and often silent ways. Although I have never been in a position like this with a boy, and have little if anything to compare it to, I know Parker is special. It isn’t merely my lack of experience in being exposed to the male species; it’s the fact this particular male, of the entire species of males, stands out as being beyond exceptional.
For me, that is. I am not so foolish that I don’t realize Parker may not be for everyone. To be quite candid, I reserve hope all other women he may expose himself to despise him and view his humility as pretentious, and consider him a prick. If this were the case, it would eliminate any potential female competition, and solidify my relationship with him.
I desperately want him to be in my life forever. Our relationship is perfect for me, but something most women, or men for that matter, would not understand. We don’t have sex. We rarely kiss, and aren’t overly affectionate, especially in the presence of others. What we have is nothing short of spectacular, but it isn’t what most would perceive as normal.
There’s a part of me, and it is growing like a lump of cancer, that wants to pull Parker’s clothes off and fuck him into a coma. With each passing day, the desire grows. Some days it is far worse than others, but I fight it with every ounce of what I believe is my moral being. For me, sex will only come after marriage.
No exception.
I find one thing about Parker is more satisfying than anything else. He is truly satisfied with what he receives from me, or to state more accurately, doesn’t receive from me, sexually. Not only does he not desire more, he wouldn’t accept it if I were to attempt to force it upon him.
In the parking lot of the restaurant, we had been sitting and talking for almost an hour. Although I really needed to get home and check on my mother, I felt it impossible to leave him. Sometimes, when I have to do something I really despise, I count to five and just do it when five comes.
“I could sit and listen to you talk about absolutely nothing and find tremendous satisfaction in doing so,” he said softly as he raised my hair over my ear with his finger.
One.
“Thank you. I think. I like listening to you, too. It’s like you’re a mentally challenged mini Shakespeare. Not as eloquent, but far more fucking satisfying,” I grinned.
Two.
“Mini Shakespeare. Why thank you. And I have no idea why, but I find it attractive when you curse,” he smiled.
The street lights illuminated the interior of his car with blue-ish warmth. His facial features on the right were shadowed by the rear of the car, making him appear even handsome. As I studied his face and smiled, his index finger followed softly along my jawline. I closed my eyes softly and became hypnotized by his touch. As his finger reached the tip of my chin, I crossed my legs.
You better stop that shit, Parker Bale.
“Good fucking deal,” I whispered, my eyes still closed.
Three.
“You need to stop touching me, you’re driving me crazy,
” I whispered.
Four.
“And you, my dear, have driven me crazy since the day we first met. To imagine spending my life without you in it makes me feel ill. Whatever it is you’re doing to me, it’s working,” he said softly.
Five.
Fuck.
“I have to go, I’m sorry. My mother…” I opened my eyes and felt along the door for the door handle.
“I understand,” he responded.
As he opened his door and walked toward my side of the car, I grinned. When he was a few feet from my door, I pulled the handle, opened it, and stepped onto the surface of the parking lot.
“Why can’t you wait for me to open the door for you?” he asked.
“I can. I like screwing with you,” I smiled.
Cautiously, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me into his chest. Softly, I lowered my head to his shoulder and closed my eyes. This was the time I so looked forward to. The touching. Although I yearned for it always, it came when I needed it the most; immediately prior to our departures. Having it continue in this manner allowed me to practice and exercise resistance to further sexual advancements. As I inhaled a shallow breath of his cologne I felt as if I was growing.
“What did you mean? The whatever you’re doing to me, it’s working comment?” I asked as I opened my eyes.
With his hands clasped behind me, continuing to hold my waist to his, he leaned away from me and looked into my eyes.
“You make me weak, that’s what I meant. By merely being, Victoria. You make me weak,” he whispered.
I smiled.
“And you, Parker Bale, make me feel strong – more and more with each passing day. When you hold me in your arms, I feel as if I’m growing. Odd but true.”
He leaned forward and encompassed my lower lip between his and kissed me deeply. My entire body tingling, I pressed against his shoulders, slowly pulling free of his kiss.
“See? Strength,” I said as I gripped my clutch in my right hand.
I shook my head and smiled, “I damned sure need it to leave a kiss like that. Goodnight, love.”
I continued to shake my head as I walked toward my car. I unlocked my car and tossed my clutch into the passenger seat. As I looked over the top of the car toward him, he acted as if he fainted against the side of his car. I rolled my eyes and waited anxiously to see what he had to say.
As he stood up straight, he grinned, “See? Weak.”
My elbows resting on the top of my car, I smiled, “We’re perfect for each other.”
And in my heart of hearts I knew that to be true.
VICTORIA. “You should turn the television down, mother. It’s so loud,” I suggested as I walked past her.
She looked up from her position in the chair as I walked by, but offered nothing in response to my statement. In recent weeks, her dependency of narcotics and reliance on my provision of them was becoming rather stressful. I’m sure my having lost my job and the amount of time I was now spending with Parker wasn’t helping matters. Stress always brings on a change in attitude with me, which in turn manufactures more stress. Frustrated with my mother’s condition, I shook my head and stepped into the hallway.
“I’m going to shower and go try to find a job,” I screamed into the living room.
She reached for the bottle of OxyContin on the table beside her. As she fumbled with the lid of the bottle, I shouted again. It seemed as if the extent of our communication had become small bursts of shouting and never an actual discussion of any nature. What Parker and I had developed provided me with a sense of peacefulness I have never felt here. My interactions with my mother had become much more torturous since meeting Parker.
“I said I’m going to shower,” I hollered.
“I heard you,” she yelled as the lid snapped from the top of the bottle, dumping the contents into her lap.
I rolled my eyes as I turned to walk into the living room and pick up the mess of pills. Something as simple as opening a bottle had become difficult for her in recent months, it was as if her need for the narcotics had become greater, or her pain had worsened. Either way, she was now in a more medicated state and her motor skills were deteriorating.
“I’m fine. I’m a grown woman, Victoria. I don’t need you to do everything for me. Take your shower and go get a job,” she bellowed as soon as she realized I was walking in her direction.
“Mother,” I sighed.
“Don’t mother me, Victoria Lillian,” she hissed.
“Fine,” I huffed.
For me, nothing has ever compared to taking a shower. From a relaxation standpoint, life couldn’t possibly offer anything greater than warm beads of water beating against my naked body. The sense of security I felt in the shower was second to none. Or me, it was a reminder that this was my time alone, and as long as I stood in the water, I was alone and would remain alone. The warmth of the water softened me mentally and allowed me to find a tranquil state I was incapable of finding elsewhere. Since childhood, I have always looked forward to my time in the bath or shower, and I often showered twice a day. Generally, I would stand in the stream of water and sing until there was no hot water remaining.
Today was no exception.
As I patted my hair dry, I considered what I may wear to meet Parker and Kenton for lunch. Something about being in Kenton’s home caused me to feel as if I needed to dress up, and not wear my typical casual attire. I’ve never looked at myself as ugly, and I haven’t felt I lack self-esteem, but dressing up always made me feel a little more beautiful. As I pressed the towel into my skin, I mentally dressed myself.
The little dress I bought for my job interview would look cute. It was a few years old now, but I had only worn it once. I could wear it with my little flats I got at the mall last year. It would at least look to my mother like I was going to look for a job, and not going to lunch.
Draped in a damp towel, I walked through the living room toward my bedroom. Jerry Springer blared from the television. I didn’t need to see or hear what was on the television to know exactly what was happening. Someone was screwing someone else’s girlfriend, and there would definitely be a baby involved. One of the two male hillbillies, the one emotionally committed to the trashy female, would succumb to a DNA test. After a commercial break, he would find out he was not the father of the child. A fight would ensue, and be broken up by the staff just prior to the knockout punch. The crowd would cheer through the entire debacle for more. Angry, I shut my bedroom door and provided what little barrier I could to filter the noise as I got dressed.
Ridiculous.
To think my mother’s life had become this – permanently positioned deep in her recliner, high on narcotics, fumbling for her next pill as she watched yet another episode of Jerry Springer. I yearned for something normal with her, but was well aware life with her would more than likely bring nothing more than this.
Unless something changed.
I often visualized that one day I would come home and find her in the kitchen cooking dinner. In the dream, she would announce to me although the pain was still noticeable, she felt it could be managed. Later, after a few days of living in a lesser medicated state, she would realize she was nothing more than an addict, and accept my suggestion to receive some type of treatment for her addiction. After a thirty day treatment program, she would emerge a different person.
I wanted to introduce Parker to her, and have her accept him as being who he was to me. To do so now would be an exercise in futility and an embarrassing situation for me. Frustrated, I got dressed and looked in the mirror on the back of my bedroom door.
Beautiful, simply beautiful.
Eager to meet Parker and see Kenton and Downes again, I opened my door and walked toward the bathroom. Fifteen minutes and I’ll be out of here. It’s strange how things change in life. Before Parker, I had no reason to do anything but read, work, and take care of my mother. Although I was never satisfied with my mother’s state of being, I was not as fr
ustrated as I am now. I was at that point in time, however, satisfied with my life as a whole. Now, my annoyance with her condition was at an all-time high, and I wanted her to change. I hoped for a normal life with Parker, and to have any resemblance of that with her in this state was nothing short of impossible.
“Will you at least turn it down enough that I can’t hear it over the hair dryer?” I asked as I walked past.
Nothing.
I turned to face her and in doing so realized she was asleep. It wasn’t uncommon for her to fall asleep immediately after taking a pill. It was as if the initial jolt of whatever the narcotics provided was just too much, and it would cause her to pass out. After an hour long nap, she would awaken in a more medicated state, sometimes angry she had missed a portion or all of whatever was blaring away on the television. Quietly, I stepped into the room, turned down the television, and placed the remote control in her lap beside her hand.
Silence.
Pleased at the sound of nothing, I walked in the bathroom and shut the door. After fifteen minutes, my hair was dry, curled, and my make-up done. I’ve never used a tremendous amount of make-up, and always felt the less I used the better I looked. We all, however, need something.
Satisfied my only improvement could be to have Parker by my side, I opened the bathroom door.
Silence.
Feeling frustrated with her in general but fractionally guilty for not telling her the absolute truth about my whereabouts for the afternoon, I walked into the living room to tell her goodbye. I lowered my lips to her forehead and kissed her gently, being careful not to wake her. Her skin felt cool against my warm lips.
Probably her lowered heart rate.
I kissed her again.
This isn’t normal.
I brushed her hair aside and kissed her again.
“Mother, I’m leaving,” I pressed my hands against her upper arms and softly shook her.
“Mom,” I pressed harder.
“No. No. No. Don’t do this,” I reached behind her shoulders and tried to help her sit up in the chair.
Finding Parker Page 12