Futures and Frosting

by Tara Sivec

  I smack a hand down on the counter next to her to hold myself steady as I plunge in and out of her faster and harder, trying to banish all thoughts of talking to my grandmother about slippery penises.

  It helps that every time with Claire is like the first time. Just without all the booze, virginity robbing, and not knowing each other’s names. I know more than ever that this is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. I slide my other hand off of her ass and glide my fingers down to where we are connected. Claire lets out a gasp as I touched her with the tips of my fingers and draw her orgasm out of her. She comes quickly and moans my name, her breath hot against my ear. It's the sexiest thing in the world and my own release shoots its way up through my body and explodes out of me. I bury my face into the side of her neck and shout the words I’ve been worrying about for weeks. Well, I don’t shout them so much as muffle them really loudly since my mouth is pushed against her skin.

  We clutch onto each other for several minutes, breathing heavy and not uttering a word.

  Shit! She’s probably mortified I asked her to marry me while I came and thinks it’s just post orgasmic bliss or something equally as fucked up. That’s why she isn’t saying anything.

  I pull my head out of the crook of her neck and chance a look at her. She's looking at me funny, almost like she felt a little sick to her stomach just from the sight of me.

  Oh that’s just super. The thought of marrying me makes her want to hurl.

  “Um, Carter?”

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything,” I tell her quickly.

  I think it’s safe to say my humiliation level at this moment is at an all time high. My penis is still inside of her. Does she WANT to make it shrivel up and die by discussing this?

  “No, I really think we need to talk about this,” she pleads with a worried look on her face.

  I laugh uncomfortably. “Nope, no we don’t. Let’s just pretend it never happened. I’ve already forgotten.”

  She pushes on my shoulders and holds me at arm’s length.

  “Carter!” she scolds.

  “I’m sorry, were you saying something?”

  She huffs and rolled her eyes, clearly irritated with me that I don’t want to have a nice, friendly conversation about how she’d rather yak up a fur ball than become my wife.

  “Cut it out! This is serious.”

  As a heart attack. Or a penis dying in a vagina from a broken heart.

  “I’m pretty sure we need to talk about the fact that you screamed 'MOMMY!' when you came,” she hisses angrily.

  “Whoa that’s kinky, Carter! Who knew you had it in ya?”

  Claire yelps in surprise and my head jerks around at the sound of Rachel’s voice in our kitchen.

  “MOM!” Claire yells as she tightens her thighs around me in an effort to get us closer and shield the fact that we are still intimately connected.

  “Tsk, tsk. Shouldn’t Carter be the one shouting that?” Rachel asks with a laugh. “Sorry to interrupt kitchen sex. Great idea by the way. Did I ever tell you about the time I had sex in the kitchen of a McDonald’s?”

  Claire growls and narrows her eyes at her mother.

  “Another time maybe! Just stopped back to get my purse that I left here,” she says as she takes a few steps over to the kitchen table and picks it up off of one of the chairs. “You kids have a nice night. And may I just say you have a very nice ass, Carter. Claire, don’t forget to do your kegels.”

  With that, she turns and breezes out of the kitchen, and we hear the front door open and close.

  “What was that you said earlier about neither one of our families being able to ruin anything?” Claire asks sarcastically.

  12. Stinky Wiener Ticks and Twice Baked Potatoes

  “Dude, she thought you called out ‘Mommy’? Oh sweet Jesus, that is the best thing I’ve ever heard! Seriously. You just made my week.” Drew laughs as he pats my back.

  “It’s always a pleasure when my humiliation amuses you.”

  Drew continues laughing and shaking his head as he works on the car panel in front of him. We have three minutes to do our job on the car in progress before the conveyor belt starts moving the car down the line again for the next pair of workers.

  “How in the hell did you diffuse the situation? That’s what I want to know!” Jim walks up behind me to grab a clipboard off of the table and makes some notes, waiting patiently for my answer.

  “Well, having her mother walk in on us helped. Claire was completely focused on her making comments about my ass rather than on the fact that I may or may not have called out something completely inappropriate during sex. Is it wrong that I’d rather she thought I did call her ‘Mommy’ instead of just admitting I really said ‘marry me’?” I ask.

  “I dated a girl once who liked to call me ‘Daddy’ in the sack. It was kind of hot until I actually met her dad. He looked like Danny Devito, but shorter and with less hair. He always smelled like farts and swiss cheese and liked to bark at hot chicks when they’d walk by him in public,” Drew tells us.

  “I take that back. It would have been less painful for her to think I proposed than to hear that story,” I say disgustedly.

  “So what’s the plan now? So far a baseball game and post-coital hasn’t worked for ya. Got any other tricks up your sleeve?” Jim jokes.

  “I was thinking about doing it over dinner maybe. Someplace really romantic. Isn’t that what you said I should do that night after we tried on tuxes?”

  Jim looks at me in confusion. “I did? I don’t recall. Although I woke up at three in the morning in your bathtub with no pants on that night, so it’s possible I had some really good ideas.”

  “Ooooooh! You should totally propose at our rehearsal dinner next weekend,” Jim says excitedly as he slams the clipboard down on the table.

  “Really? I don’t know. It seems like kind of an intrusion on you and Liz. That's your special day.”

  “Slow down there, Miss Manners. I’m not asking you to have a double-wedding with us. Just pop the question over dinner. Please, God, give me something else to think about right now other than aisle runners, boutonnières, and swatches,” Jim complains.

  “Are you wearing a Swatch Watch for your wedding?” Drew asks, forming the letter “X” with his arms in front of him and pronouncing the words with flair.

  “Funny. Just wait until Jenny gets her hooks in you and you have to deal with her psycho mother. Every time Mary Gates walks in the room and shows me a ribbon sample I want to say, ‘Did you see that? The fuck I give. It went that way.’ I’m about one tablecloth color away from just telling everyone to bring a side dish and a lawn chair to our backyard and have Drew get ordained on the internet to do the ceremony,” Jim complains. “Liz asked me the other day what I thought about twice baked potatoes. How the fuck should I know? Was I supposed to be thinking about twice baked potatoes all this time? Is this where I went wrong? Are grown men supposed to have an opinion about twice baked potatoes?”

  Jim looks like his head is about ready to explode. He stands there with his arms outstretched like he's pleading for understanding or some sort of man hug. Since Drew and I aren’t the man-hugging type, Jim finally drops his arms and continues with his rant.

  “And my parents, being the good Christian people they are, think one bottle of wine on every table is enough liquor. My mother’s exact words were, ‘If we run out, we run out. People will just have to make do with water.’”

  Drew’s mouth drops open as the car we finished moves down the line and a new one follows in its wake.

  “Water? At a wedding? I don’t understand,” he asks in confusion. “Did you invite Jesus? That’s the only way that will be acceptable.”

  “Please, for the love of God, propose to Claire at the rehearsal dinner so my future mother-in-law will squeal in someone else’s ear for one night. I beg of you,” Jim pleads.

  I think about Jim’s suggestion while I get to work on the next vehic
le. The restaurant where the rehearsal dinner will be held is a really beautiful place. And our friends will all be there to witness the event, something I’m sure Claire will love. The more I go over the idea in my head, the more excited I become. The rest of the night at work flies by as Drew and Jim help me come up with the perfect plan to ask Claire to be my wife.

  ~

  The following Friday evening, Claire, Gavin, and I pull into the parking lot of Pier W, a beautiful landmark restaurant in Cleveland that is designed to resemble the hull of a luxury liner. Its location, perched high on a cliff overlooking Lake Erie, gives it a breathtaking view and makes me one hundred percent certain I have chosen the best location for a marriage proposal.

  After a short run-through of the ceremony at the church where the wedding will be held the following afternoon, everyone is looking forward to a relaxing evening with good food and drinks. Jim and Drew keep eying me with furtive glances the entire time we are at the church, winking at me and nudging my arm whenever they can. I come close to punching Drew in the stomach directly under a statue of Mary at one point.

  “Hey, Carter, can I pop you a question?”

  It's the fourth time Drew has made a reference to asking a question, and I’ve had enough. The groomsmen are standing in a straight line at the side of the altar while the priest speaks quietly to Liz and Jim in the center of the aisle.

  “Will you shut the fuck up already? Claire’s going to get suspicious you dick-fuck!” I whisper angrily at him.

  “Whoa, dude, slow your roll. You just said f-u-c-k in front of the Virgin Mary. Show some respect,” Drew scolds.

  “What’s a virgin?” Gavin asks from his position standing next to me as he swings the ring bearer pillow around his head like a lasso.

  “Uh, it’s a kind of chicken,” I stammer. “Very rare. No one talks about it.”

  It's impossible not to be nervous as I take Claire’s hand and help her out of the car. My palms are sweating, and I hope she doesn’t notice as I stand there for a minute staring at her while she helps Gavin out of his car seat.

  She’s so fucking beautiful I want to cry like a baby.

  She closes Gavin’s car door and catches me staring at her.

  “Are you okay? You seem a little out of it,” she says as she looked me over.

  Shit, is my forehead sweating? Is she looking at me right now wondering why I look like a chubby man with a heart condition who just ate his weight in chicken wings and Jell-O salad at a buffet? That’s not a good look to have when you want the woman you love to look into your eyes and pledge her undying love by saying ‘yes’ to marrying you.

  “Mom, my stinky wiener ticks,” Gavin states, interrupting the sweat fest and giving me time to wipe my forehead.

  “Um, what does that mean?” Claire asks him.

  “It means GET A MOVE ON! I wanna eat some beef turkey!”

  The three of us turn and make our way up the sidewalk to the set of stairs that will lead us to the rock face where the restaurant sits.

  Once inside the doors, the maître d' escorts us across the room to a long table set up in front of panoramic windows that overlook the lake. We are the last to arrive, as per the plan devised by Drew and Jim. The last three empty seats are strategically placed at the end of the table, the perfect spot for everyone to see what is going to happen.

  Our friends are all in the midst of quiet conversations amongst themselves when we walk up but stop long enough to greet us and for Jim to make sure we know not to order any drinks since they are getting champagne. The mention of champagne is over exaggerated with a wink when Claire turns to help Gavin into his seat.

  As the conversation moves to talk of the wedding the following day, I try to listen while going over my lines in my head. It doesn’t seem appropriate to use the same speech I had prepared for the Indian’s game proposal since there were words like “grand slam” and “switch hitter”.

  Hey, I never had said it was the best speech.

  Since that plan had tanked, I needed to start from scratch. On our lunch hours at work every night this week, Drew and Jim helped me write the perfect words to say to Claire. Okay, Jim helped me write the perfect words. Drew wanted me to just throw a ping pong ball at her face, reminiscent of her bartending days at Fosters' Bar and Grill where she made up the game P.O.R.N. According to him, I should whip it at her chin and say, “That won’t be the only ball bouncing off your chin if you say yes!”

  After three rough drafts of the proposal and several uses of thesaurus.com, Jim and I had written the most perfect proposal ever. This night needs to be flawless. Claire will spend countless hours retelling the story of how I proposed to everyone she knows, and even a few strangers, for the rest of her life. She deserves the most romantic story to tell.

  The waitress comes around a few minutes later to take everyone’s order.

  “So, little man, what can I get you?” she asks as she bends down to Gavin’s level.

  “I want a virgin,” he states.

  Claire starts choking on her water and Liz reaches over to pat her on the back.

  “I’m sorry, what do want to order?” the waitress asks him in confusion.

  “A virgin. I want to order a virgin,” he repeats, looking at her like she was a moron.

  “Don’t we all, son. Don’t we all,” Jim’s father mumbles from a few spots down, receiving a smack on the arm from his wife.

  “I think he means chicken,” I clarify sheepishly.

  “Yes, because that makes perfect sense,” Claire says under her breath as she picks up her water glass and attempts to take another sip.

  With our orders taken, the waitress disappears and conversation resumes.

  “Jim, I’ve been meaning to ask if you were able to finish hot gluing those crystals to all the ribbons for the church programs,” Mrs. Gates asks. “And also, don’t forget to put Preparation H under your eyes tomorrow morning.”

  Drew starts laughing and Jenny kicks him under the table.

  “I’m totally calling him Hemorrhoid Head all day tomorrow.” Drew leans over and whispers to me. “I know he’s been stressed about the wedding, but I didn’t realize it would cause ass itching under his eyes.”

  Jim’s mom hears Drew and gives him a stern look that instantly wipes the smile off of his face.

  “Andrew, it is well documented that this type of cream can reduce puffiness under one’s eyes. Very effective when one needs to have their pictures taken,” she states primly.

  “Also very funny when one’s eyes now have anal leakage,” Drew says under his breath.

  “Jim, before you leave tonight remind me to give you the magazine photos of the two different floral arches for you to look at. You’ll just need to tell the florist which one you want her to use at the reception tomorrow when she delivers the boutonnières,” Liz’s mom adds.

  Jim is right. This woman is a walking, talking wedding robot.

  “Jesus Christ, do it already before she starts talking about wedding favors and I grow a vagina,” Jim begs in a low whisper.

  I give him a nod to let him know I'm ready. A big grin breaks across his face as he completely ignores Weddingbot 2000 and signals our waitress while Claire is busy discussing the difference between good words and bad words with Gavin.

  Jim and I had met with the manager of the restaurant and our waitress the day before to go over the plan for the evening. The waitress will bring over a tray of champagne for everyone at the table as soon as she is given the signal. At the bottom of Claire’s glass will be the engagement ring I had dropped off this afternoon when I ran out to pick up Gavin’s and my tux.

  I couldn’t believe it was finally time to do this. I am going to propose to the woman of my dreams who I thought I’d never see again after our one night in college.

  The waitress is back and has served almost half the table their glasses of champagne. I figure it's now or never.

  I reach down and clasp Claire’s hand that rests on my thigh,
bringing it up to my lips, trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart.

  When she feels my lips on her hand, she turns to look at me.

  “I love you so much, Claire,” I say softly as I see the waitress move closer and closer to us out of the corner of my eye.

  “I love you too, Carter,” she replies with a smile.

  The waitress only has two more people to serve before she gets to us. I know I need to speed things up a bit if I want to time everything just right.

  “Oh my gosh, wait until you hear what Jenny said to me earlier. I can’t believe I forgot to tell you,” Claire says as she leans in closer to me and glances over my shoulder to make sure Jenny isn’t listening.

  I look behind me as well and see the waitress rounding the table, heading right for us. I need to be down on my knee when she places Claire’s glass in front of her.

  Shit!

  “Claire, hold that thought. I have something I need to say.”

  She completely ignores me and turns sideways in her chair so she can face me and get closer.

  “Wait, this is really good! You’re going to love this,” she says excitedly as my foot starts bouncing frantically on the floor when I see the waitress stop right behind Claire to say something to Gavin. “Okay, so Jenny said Drew’s been acting funny lately. Talking about weddings and marriage proposals and asking her hypothetical questions like, ‘If I were to propose to you, what would you want me to say?’ Drew is so damn obvious.”

  I look back at Claire, barely registering what she is saying and wondering if it's bad manners to tell her to shut the hell up right before I ask her to marry me.

  “Huh? What did you say?” I ask her as she continues to talk and I miss the last few sentences.

  “I said Jenny thinks Drew is going to propose to her tonight. Can you believe that shit?”

  My head slowly turns to face her, my mouth falling open in shock, the waitress with the champagne long forgotten.

  “Drew? Propose? Tonight?”