All of Me

by ANDREA SMITH

  “I think you have the hots for Autumn.”

  I almost choked on my spit. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes, absolutely. For many, many, reasons.” I told him as I stacked the papers into one horribly uneven pile and not knowing if I was putting everything in the right order.

  “Name one.” He challenged and I wanted to punch him. Again.

  “She’s my employee. That counts for like…ten.” Was he purposefully being dense?

  “Fair point but the dick wants what the dick wants. It doesn’t hold up in fuck-court.” He said, his voice fading for a few seconds like he was putting me on speaker.

  “Where are you?” I asked, trying to picture him.

  “In my kitchen, getting a glass of water,” he said, then I heard the sound of his throat swallowing the liquid.

  “Well, this was fun and all but I need to get this shit done and go to bed. We good?” I asked, expecting a yes and a promise to get in touch the next day.

  “Sure, man. And by the way?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Autumn is pretty fucking awesome, and I fully intend to ask her out, but I’m not so sure there’s going to be a spark there. Just a gut feeling, mind you. But hey, I’m sure you’ll be working up some sparks with that sister of hers, and I can’t wait to hear all about it, bro. See ya,” he said and then promptly hung up, leaving me opening and closing my mouth like a water depraved carp.

  “Sparks are overrated,” I said to absolutely no one and then added for dramatic effect, “Asshole.”

  I turned off the computer and headed to bed where I absolutely did not dream of a lush bodied blonde with a filthy mouth and deep-digging red nails.

  Seventeen

  Autumn

  “I’m just saying you shouldn’t have called in and been so obvious on my show the other night,” I said to Summer from across the table as I dipped a french fry into the paper cup full of ketchup.

  My twin gave me a frown as she nibbled on a forkful of her salad. “It’s a call-in show, Autumn. You named the topic if I recall, and I didn’t out you on anything,” she argued, her mouth taking on a petulant pout. “I just thought it was a great weekend for the both of us.”

  I sighed. Sometimes my sister was clueless. Yes, we’d had fun. And Heath was a fantastic guy. But there were no sparks between us, at least that I felt. I finally said as much to her. “You know Summer, as much fun as we had, I wasn’t really feeling any sparks, you know, between Heath and me. I mean, I could envision a great friendship, but as far as romance? No, I just don’t see it.”

  “Oh pooh,” she said, waving a hand dismissively at me, “Sparks, farks. Hey isn’t that weird,” she said.

  “What’s weird?” I asked, not surprised because my sister had a touch of ADD and often changed topics for no apparent reason.

  “Heath’s last name is Sparks,” she reminded me. “So that means whenever you touch him, well you’re feeling Sparks!” She broke into a fit of giggles over that one.

  “Yeah, right,” I deadpanned. “I totally get it.”

  “Anyway,” she continued, “that shit is all so overrated. Sparks are made in the bedroom. Period.”

  I took a bite of my cheeseburger, chewing thoughtfully and swallowing before responding to her. “Do you actually believe what you just said?” I asked, taking a sip of my Diet Coke.

  “Well sure,” she said. “I mean, sparks are generated by sex, right? I never feel sparks prior to sex, and sometimes not even during sex.”

  I choked on the french fry I’d just bitten into which sent me into a coughing fit as I grabbed a napkin to cover my mouth. I grabbed my drink and slurped a mouthful of soda down hoping to quell my coughing. “Are you serious?” I asked, my voice still hoarse. “Summer, are you mistaking orgasms for... sparks?”

  My very beautiful, very fit, very educated sister looked sheepish. “I might be,” she whispered. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt you know... butterflies. Is that on the same level as sparks?” she asked innocently.

  Dear God.

  My sister had had lots and lots of boyfriends. Did she really not understand the difference between sparks and butterflies? I, on the other hand, have had multiple dates over the years and one long term boyfriend. Just one. I hadn’t experienced either really, but I knew what they were. I’d witnessed them plenty of times in my other friends and co-worker relationships. Or on the Lifetime Movie Channel, a cable station Summer never watched because it wasn’t real enough for her.

  So I tried to explain it to her from my perspective, which obviously was limited to a lot of pure speculation. “Okay, so sparks are like an instant attraction, a chemistry between two people initially,” I clarified. “And butterflies? Well, I think they come later, you know, once the relationship is established. Sparks can fizzle. They can be purely sexual and lead to nothing more than that. But if the relationship takes off, then the butterflies happen. It’s a clue that love might be around the corner, I think.”

  “Oh, okay. Well that makes sense. I think I understand. But the butterflies - do they come before or after the relationship reaches the sexual part?”

  I shrugged. “I guess it can be both,” I replied. “It depends upon the love or pre-love part. I think pheromones play a part. I read that in Cosmo one time. As for myself, I haven’t experienced the butterfly thing. Only the spark thing. And it wasn’t necessarily reciprocated,” I finished.

  “Oh?” she asked, now curious for more detail. “Did it lead to, you know, sex?” she hoarsely whispered the last word.

  “That’s all I’m gonna say,” I replied, glancing at my watch. “I gotta get home and get ready for the show tonight.”

  “But it’s only twelve-thirty,” she replied, “I really needed to get your opinion on what I should wear for my dinner date with Dirk tomorrow. He’s taking me for sushi.”

  I nearly choked for the second time. “Dirk likes sushi?” I asked incredulously.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I guess so. He let me pick the place. He’s so darn accommodating, isn’t he? I figure after dinner he might want to club a bit, so I’m at odds with what to wear.”

  I really needed to get back to my apartment being that Ramona was on call later this afternoon and I had a ton of laundry and prepping for tonight’s radio show. “Wear red,” I said. “I think he really likes red and you look fantastic in it.”

  “Then red it is,” she said with a smile. “It’s a spark-generating color too, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’m sure there will be sparks, Summer. I hope you have an awesome time. I think he could be perfect for you.”

  If only I had really meant those words.

  Eighteen

  Dirk

  Tonight was the night. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, my hands gripping the edge of the counter, I stared at my reflection and gave myself a little manly pep talk.

  “You can do this. You are Dirk Sexton. The word ‘sex’ is literally in your name. You can do sushi.” The shiver of disgust ran down my spine before I could control it. I hated sushi. In fact, the thought of anything eaten raw made my gut churn with nausea. It might have something to do with my traumatic tenth birthday experience in Japan.

  Dropping my head and shaking it free of the inevitable memory flashes, I tried to forget that godforsaken day but it was impossible.

  My birthday being in the middle of summer vacation, my parents had taken me to Japan. Back then, I was a fervent lover of all things Japanese. The movies, the cars, the mangas, the high-tech. The culture was fascinating, and the food was delicious.

  One night, we went to a local Kyoto restaurant that had been recommended by the hotel Concierge. Tomizushi was hailed as the best sushi in town and was located in some off-street alley that we probably would have never noticed had it not been for the precise directions from the hotel. Our goal was to introduce our mouths to the local specialty: Sushi
. The real kind, not the American version. I had never tried it but wasn’t afraid to dive in, after all, it was Japanese therefore it would be perfection.

  You know what they say about “assuming?”

  Right.

  When our plates arrived, I looked at the eel sushi and made the mistake of taking in a deep sniff. The aroma was strong and would stay in my nostrils longer than I had anticipated.

  But when I took my first, all-too-confident bite, was the exact moment my father’s face went white and his eyes became saucers the size of which would make any UFO jealous.

  I remember wanting to ask him if he was okay but unfortunately did not have the time to even take my first breath before I was showered with every item of food he had eaten since lunch.

  My face, my neck, my chest, all covered in regurgitated food and the smell of sushi still stuck in my nostrils. Inevitably, my gag reflex was triggered which prompted my own spray show for all to witness. My mother was horrified. My father was on the verge of passing out and I vowed I would never go anywhere near a sushi bar for the rest of my life.

  I learned two things since that night. My father was allergic to iodine and I was pretty fucking good at keeping promises.

  Coming back to the present, I put on my big boy boxers and finished buttoning up my dark grey shirt before tucking it into my light grey slacks. Dabbing a bit of aftershave on my cheeks, I gave my reflection my best grin and reminded myself that the memory had nothing to do with sushi and everything to do with my father’s allergies.

  No one was puking tonight. Not on my watch. Or anywhere else, for that matter.

  Twenty minutes later, I was picking up Summer at her place. She looked beautiful with a deep red dress that made her look both sexy and classy.

  “Evening, beautiful. You ready to go?” I asked, kissing her on the cheek but avoiding too much contact lest her make-up be smeared. We wouldn’t want that, right?

  “Yes, thank you. You look very handsome,” she complimented me.

  “Nowhere as stunning as you.” It was true. Summer was divine on paper. Extremely appealing to the eye. I just wished I could connect with her on another level.

  With a sincere smile, I was hoping tonight would bring about a deeper affinity between us.

  I had reserved a table at the best sushi restaurant in town and we were quickly seated upon arrival. Pulling out her chair, I helped Summer get settled before sitting across the table from her. The room had low lighting with a dark décor except for the restaurant’s logo which was written on stylized red letters on a white background with the rising sun behind the name: Empire Delice.

  Summer inspected the small rectangular appetizer plate, apparently to make sure it was up to par with her cleanliness standards. Satisfied, she twirled her wine glass and then brought her attention back up to me.

  “Have you ever been here before?” she asked, placing her chin on the palm of her hand and giving me her full attention.

  “Uh, no. I had my assistant reserve at the best sushi restaurant she knew. So, here we are,” I said with my signature grin and a sweep of my arm to show off Exhibit A.

  She was not amused.

  “You had your assistant make reservations?” she asked, and the trap was bigger than the Grand Canyon with no safety fences for beginners.

  “I…uh…yeah.” That’s her job right? I needed to check my contract to make sure I wasn’t giving Bridget work outside of her intended duties. I made a mental note to get it done in the morning.

  “Oh. I thought you’d made them yourself.” Her body language changed from the forward leaning posture to the sitting back in her chair clearly advertising her disappointment.

  “I was a little busy,” I started, my tone a bit harsher than intended. I was thankfully interrupted by the waiter. The restaurant was owned and run by a family from Japan who had immigrated to the US about fifteen years prior and had opened a dozen locations throughout the continent, including a couple in Canada. This being their headquarters, where the family members still worked. By the age of the waiter asking if we wanted drinks, I figured they were already working with the grandchildren who seemed to be about seventeen.

  I looked to Summer so she could order whatever drink she wanted.

  “We’ll have a bottle of Merlot and an Evian, please.”

  Once the waiter left, I absent-mindedly looked at my watch and got caught red-handed.

  The fleeting thought that I wasn’t getting laid tonight crossed my mind and strangely enough, I was resigned to this conclusion.

  “Am I boring you, already?” Summer asked, one brow raised and a smirk on her lips. She tried to pull it off as a joke but the tone in her voice said otherwise.

  “No, no. Of course not. I like to see how long it takes for the staff to serve.”

  First lie of the night. I gave exactly zero fucks about the timing between drinks and appetizers, especially when in good company. I had no idea why I’d looked at my watch. And then the logical reason came to me.

  “Also, I was checking if Midnight Caller was starting. My father is listening tonight so it’s important that Autumn nail it.” I gave myself a mental pat on the back for that great redirection and by the spark in Summer’s eyes, I had succeeded.

  “Oh yes! Of course. She’ll be amazing, as usual. Which reminds me…”

  The server came back and poured the wine in my glass for tasting before filling our glasses halfway after my approval.

  Once the server left with our orders, Summer continued.

  “I really think we need to make sure Autumn and Heath get together. They are perfect together. Heath loves books and Autumn loves food.”

  I blinked because… what the fuck did those two things have anything to do with each other?

  “Ah, books and food?” I asked, my face clearly signaling my loss for connection.

  “Cookbooks, silly!”

  For the record, I tried to laugh. I really did.

  “I’m sorry. Sometimes I’m too witty for my own good and others don’t get it. My mother used to tell me this all the time.”

  I didn’t think her mother meant what Summer thought she meant but I was not going to step on that Freudian minefield.

  “Right, right.” I said, taking a sip of wine for strength.

  “So, back to team ‘Heathumn’,” she started and stopped, waiting for me to follow her train of thought.

  “I’m sorry…Hea-what?”

  “Heathumn. You know, Heath and Autumn. Like, for us…Summirk for Summer and Dirk.” Her face had lit up and her smile was brighter than the stars across the Milky Way.

  Meanwhile, I wanted to recoil and possibly excuse myself to go to the bathroom to regain some control over myself.

  “Ha, yes. Um. Yeah, that’s…um…witty, all right. Would you excuse me for a second? I’ll be right back.” I barely waited for her response and as I made my way to the bathroom I passed our server with our order.

  Fuck it, it’s not like the sushi would be getting any colder.

  I took a piss and as I washed my hands, I again, gave myself a toughen-up-buttercup speech until I felt I could go back and put on the charm. I was losing my touch and it scared the fuck out of me. This whole relationship thing was hard as fuck. It was always easier just getting women in my bed and serving them coffee after their parting morning fucks.

  This? It was closer to torture.

  Back at the table, I took a deep breath and avoided eye contact with Summer as she ate her Shrimp and Avocado Nigiri. She used chopsticks so I wasn’t about to be one-upped. After all, how hard could it be?

  I picked up the delicate chopsticks and gave a quick look up to Summer to see exactly how she had placed her fingers to work the damn things.

  Discreetly, I laid one stick gently on my ring finger, secured by my middle finger and the other pinched between my thumb and forefinger just above middle finger. That was all fine but…how the fuck did one pick food u
p with them?

  Again, I watched Summer from the corner of my eye as she naturally ate as though she’d been born with chopsticks as extra limbs.

  “Is your food okay? You’re not allergic, are you?”

  Great. Now, I was thinking of my father.

  “All good. Just been awhile since I’ve handled chopsticks. No worries. It’s just like riding a bike.”

  Just as I said the words, I trapped a piece of shrimp between the two sticks and felt the victorious grin spread across my lips.

  That is, of course, until the shrimp decided to make a run for it.

  And by run, I do mean fly.

  Hitting Summer right smack on her forehead before bouncing off her nose and landing on her lap.

  Her scream could be heard across the border and straight into Ontario. A shriek would be more accurate, to be honest.

  Needless to say, we quickly ran out after paying the bill.

  We never spoke of the raw fish incident again.

  I was now oh for two in the sushi experience and still no sex.

  Nineteen

  Autumn

  My cell danced across the nightstand on vibrate, and I cursed for not leaving it in the other room. Fuck. I was trying to sleep! I should’ve fallen asleep the minute my head had hit the pillow hours earlier, but I hadn’t. I’d tossed and turned, my legs thrashing around beneath the sheets until I’d pulled them loose and my feet poked out from beneath them.

  I pulled my sleep mask up, my eyes squinting at the sunlight slicing through my cheap mini blinds. I grabbed my cell. It was Summer.

  “Hello,” my drowsy voice croaked.

  “Were you sleeping?” she asked.

  “Uh... yeah,” I replied checking the clock on the table. “It’s not even nine yet Summer. I didn’t get home until three-thirty for Chrissake. And it’s Friday, you know, one of my days off?”

  “Boy you are a grouch, aren’t you?”

  I raised myself up into a sitting position. Pulling my sleep mask all the way off and tossing it onto the bed. There was no way I was going back to sleep at this point. “Sorry,” I said with a yawn, “What’s up? Where are you?”