[2018] Confessions From the Heart

by TB Markinson

  She laughed heartily. “Now that you stayed the night, I may never let you out of my sight. Always have my way with you.”

  “A kidnapper who wants a sex slave all the while cooking yummy meals to keep said slave happy, healthy, and sated. That doesn’t make any sense.” I snapped my fingers. “You’re an alien, right? And you haven’t quite picked up on social customs?” I lay on the bed with my arms out. “I’m ready for the probe. Be gentle. Or not.” I winked.

  Kat rolled her eyes. “You’re starting to make me wonder about you.”

  “Good or bad things?”

  “Ah, that I haven’t quite figured out.” She motioned for me to get moving. “And I’m starving. We better shower.”

  “Oooh, baby. Talk dirty to me.”

  Kat tossed a pillow at me.

  The diner around the corner had a mouthwatering selection of good old-fashioned American breakfasts. Waffles. Pancakes. Omelets. Crispy hash browns.

  I opted for a mushroom and cheese omelet with a side of pancakes.

  Kat went for the egg white veggie omelet with a cup of fresh fruit.

  We devoured our meals in almost total silence, except for the occasional satisfactory moan.

  My gut stuffed, I leaned back in the booth, cradling my third cup of coffee, gazing at her across the table.

  “Still trying to figure out if I’m an alien?” she teased.

  “Yeah. Or if I’m dreaming.”

  She sipped her coffee. “When do I get to stay the night at your place?”

  “Can’t because then you’ll realize I’m an alien. See my sleeping pod and all that.” I mimed etcetera.

  “Uh-huh.” She set down her cup with too much force. “Is this the route you want to go after making significant progress last night?”

  “My place isn’t nice like yours.”

  She tilted her head. “You have a house. I live in a studio in a basement that I have to rearrange several times a day.” Kat leaned over the table. “I even have a Murphy bed.”

  “I know. It’s so cute. Perhaps, it’s one of the reasons I fell for you, and I don’t want to lose that feeling.”

  She waved her fingers. “Out with it.”

  I rested my head on my left shoulder. “Your place is immaculate. I’ve never seen such a clean bathroom.”

  “You’re a slob? Is that what you’re telling me?” From her expression, she wasn’t buying it.

  “Not a slob, but I’m not a home kind of person. It lacks character. Warmth.”

  She covered her mouth with a hand, appraising me. Speaking through her fingers, she said, “Try again. Your mom and aunt have style. There’s no way they’d let you live in a characterless place.”

  Damn, she had me there. “It’s not characterless, but it’s not me, either.”

  She bunched her eyebrows. “Do you think I’m an art snob or something?”

  I shifted in my seat.

  “You do?” Kat laughed. “That’s rich. The daughter of Nell Tisdale, who also happens to be Barbara Ginnetti’s niece, thinks I’m the snob.”

  I jabbed a finger in the air. “Hey, you grew up on Louisburg Square, not in a refrigerator box under some bridge.”

  “And now I live in a squalid apartment,” she countered.

  I reached for her hand. “It’s not squalid. I like being at your place. It’s your place. A part of you. I feel close to you there.”

  She raised an eyebrow, and I realized I’d said the wrong thing. “And I want to feel close to you in your space.”

  I let out a rush of air. “Okay, okay.” I put a palm up. “I get it, and I’ll have you over soon.” Looking at the remnants of food on my plate, I said, “Just don’t hold it against me. My lack of style.”

  “I haven’t yet.”

  I tossed a sugar packet at her. “You look good. So good I want to have my way with you right here. Do you think this place is one of those clothing optional establishments you mentioned last night?”

  Kat jerked her chin to the middle-aged waitress yucking it up with a man and woman at a table across the restaurant. “They might enjoy the show.”

  I reached into my wallet and pulled out a couple of twenties. “Let’s roll.”

  Back at Kat’s place, our naked bodies entwined on her bed, I threaded my fingers through hers. “Now that you know my family secret, how about some quid pro quo? How come you never talk about your parents?”

  She maintained eye contact, but her breathing quickened and then purposefully slowed, as if she was willing herself to remain calm at all costs.

  “What would you like to know?” Kat forced out.

  I cupped her cheek. “Why are you scared of them?”

  Kat scooted up on the bed, fluffing a pillow to support her, and yanked up the sheet to cover her breasts. “Scared isn’t the right word.” Her voice didn’t sound convincing. “My parents are hard to describe. Especially to you.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

  Kat sighed. “You’re a family person. I’m not. I have dinner one hour a month, twelve hours a year. Seven hundred and twenty minutes.”

  I lay on my back, staring at the spider web of cracks in the ceiling. “You’ve actually calculated the minutes. You really don’t enjoy spending time with them.” This reinforced my belief that her parents paid her rent, but I didn’t know how to ask, “Hey, how does a starving artist afford your shopping habit?”

  “Yeah, they’re special.”

  I rolled on my side, resting my arm over her stomach. “Is it really exactly sixty minutes each time?”

  She snorted. “You can practically set your watch to it. Phineas runs his life like Mussolini ran the trains—on time.”

  “Do they know you date women?”

  “Women?” She quirked her brows. “As far as I know, I’m only dating you.” Kat licked my earlobe.

  “You’re trying to distract me.” It was working, of course.

  She tossed my arm to the side and whipped the sheet off her body. “How’s this for a distraction?”

  I eyed her body hungrily, belting out an I can’t believe you’re with me whistle. “It’s the most beautiful distraction in human history.” I recovered her body. “But your body isn’t the only thing I love about you. I love all of you, including what’s going on inside your head and heart.”

  Kat blinked. “You said the L word again,” she whispered.

  I smiled confidently. “I did. And I’ll say it again. I love you, Kat Finn.”

  “Before last night, I thought I’d have to use a crowbar or something to get you to utter that word.”

  “Well, I am a writer. Words are kind of my thing.” I shrugged.

  A wisp of a smile appeared. “You won’t have me over to your house, but you can say I love you. I don’t get it.”

  “What’s to get?” I climbed on top of her, the sheet separating our skin. “I’ve never felt this way with anyone. I don’t know when or how, well, that’s not true. It all started that day in the store.”

  “Love at first sight?” Her voice was dubious.

  “I don’t think we should call it that, but it was the first building block. The spark.”

  She nodded as if she thought the same. “But—”

  I kissed her softly on the lips, pulling away before it became too passionate. “You’re doing it again.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Distracting me from talking about your parents.”

  Kat’s face showed that wasn’t her intention. “I didn’t mean to. You just took me by surprise.”

  “Truth be told, it surprised me and I didn’t even realize it until you pointed it out.”

  “You really do love me. You’re not just saying it. I mean, I sorta tricked it out of you.”

  “You did.” I kissed her cheek. “Doesn’t change how I feel, though.”

  “My parents make me sad. I can’t be myself when I’m around them—m
y father, actually. Mom… I don’t know what to think of her. It’s like she’s been around him so long she no longer exists. Just a ghost of whoever she used to be but I’ve only known her as my father’s wife, so who knows what she was like before. She never talks about her life pre-Phineas, like all memories have been exorcised. No photo albums. Nothing.” She flicked a tear away. “I used to worry… still worry, it’ll happen to me. Lose sense of myself completely. Snuffed out like a candle.” Kat rubbed her eyes, hard. “It’s hard to describe Phineas and how he makes me feel to people who don’t know him or didn’t experience growing up under his roof. I felt like a prisoner, and for those sixty minutes every month, I experience it all over.”

  “Did he… hurt you?”

  She shook her head. “No, nothing like that. He’s not a monster in that sense, but he is to me. Psychological abuse can be more destructive than physical abuse. And it’s so much harder to convince others that he’s a soul-sucking monster. God, I don’t want to turn into my mother. Coma patients have more life in them.” She started to laugh, but it wasn’t the happy variety. A second later, Kat burst into tears.

  I swept her into my arms. “Let it out, Kit Kat.”

  She nestled her face into my chest. “I don’t want to give Phineas more power than he already has over my happiness.”

  I stared at the ceiling, afraid to push her more at the moment. We had time to delve deeper. “Let’s do something that’ll perk you up. Just name it.”

  “I’ve been meaning to purchase a tiny Christmas tree. Thanksgiving is just around the corner.”

  I laughed. “We can dangle it from the ceiling so we don’t have to move it for every meal or bedtime.”

  “Like a Christmas tree angel?”

  “Something like that. Or…” I held her tighter. “We can buy a tree for my place. You can help me set it up.”

  Kat popped up. “I love that idea! But I still want to buy one for here.”

  “You can never have too much Christmas cheer.” I kissed her fingertips. “I’ll do anything for you. Don’t ever forget that.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  On Christmas Eve, Kat and I were having a quiet night at my place.

  She dipped a slice of eggplant into an egg mixture, allowing the extra to ooze off into the bowl below. “This may have to become a tradition.” She bumped my hip with hers.

  “Easy. I’m on my third beer. My coordination may be slightly impaired.” I hopped up onto the counter to get a better view of the process, and by that, I mean so I could peek down Kat’s apron.

  She noticed. “You’re such a help in the kitchen.”

  I gestured to the tiny fire extinguisher near the toaster. “Someone has to stand guard in case of an emergency. Back to your point, though, what kind of tradition?” I swigged more beer, stifling a burp with my palm.

  Kat shook her head. “Eggplant parm on Christmas Eve. I feel slightly rebellious having this and not a traditional turkey dinner or something. Or Tofurky in your case.”

  I leaned back on the heels of my hands. “I’m glad I can help you get in touch with your rebellious side.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, you’re the wild one out of the two of us.” Kat leaned over to place the tray in the oven.

  I whistled. “The heating bill this month is going to be worth it.”

  Kat scouted over her shoulder. “Getting a good view?”

  “Naked cooking has to be part of our Christmas tradition. How long does that have to bake?”

  “Roughly twenty minutes.” She sashayed over to me, tossing her arms around my neck. “Got any ideas for how we should pass the time?”

  “Eggnog in front of the tree.” I jumped to the floor. “Allow me.”

  On the hutch along the dining room wall was a festive bowl and cups that Kat had ordered from Etsy. I ladled a cup for Kat, giving her a peck on the cheek as I handed it to her, and prepped one for myself.

  Kat flipped all the lights off, except for the colored lights on the tree. A pine-scented candle flickered on the mantel, where two stockings hung.

  We settled on the carpet in front of the tree, with Kat leaning against me.

  “This is the perfect way to spend the evening.” She pressed into me.

  I reached around her to raise my glass. “To starting a new tradition.”

  She tapped hers against mine. After taking a sip, she swiveled her head to see my face. “Is it weird, having me here?”

  “Not at all now that you’re here.”

  Her laughter tickled my senses. “Although it took ages, I’m impressed you moved in the right direction. It’ll still take getting used to. Your Cori speed.”

  “So funny.” I kissed her cheek. Pretending to notice something for the first time, I motioned to the tree. “What’s that? Hanging from the branch in the middle?”

  Kat scooted over. “Keys?” she said in a baffled tone.

  “Maybe Santa dipped into the eggnog early this year and got the days confused.”

  Kat whipped around. “What are you talking about?”

  “Try the larger key.” I flicked my hands to the front door. “Be a good girl.”

  Kat didn’t budge, blinking.

  I grinned.

  “You said no gifts,” she said, still without much emotion.

  “Luckily, I’m super responsible and didn’t have to pay to get an extra key made. Although, I may have broken my rule a tad,”—I held my forefinger and thumb slightly apart—“which you’ll see once you discover what the other key is for.”

  Kat’s shallow breathing was an indication she didn’t believe a word I’d said. She tried the larger key in the lock. It worked. Still not entirely convinced, she stepped outside, with only the apron on, and shut the door. She locked it. Then unlocked it.

  Laughing, I said, “I hope Mr. Henderson was watching. Seeing your backside may be the best gift that old coot has had in years.”

  Ignoring me, she shut the front door and barked, “What’s the other key for?”

  I stood and motioned for her to follow me. Outside one of the spare bedrooms, I said, “Try it here.”

  Kat, beyond puzzled, opened it. Much to my relief, she squealed.

  I took her hand and moved us into the room. “I know it’s pretty much an empty room at the moment, but it’s not finished. Barb thinks Roger and I should add another window to allow more natural light. Barb helped me pick out the easel.” I pointed to it in the corner. “I didn’t want to purchase too much without you. But we’ll get it into shipshape form. You should know this is your space, hence the key.”

  She crossed her arms. “Does this mean what I think it means?”

  I mirrored her stance. “What do you think it means?”

  “I can come and go whenever I want.”

  I yanked her into my arms. “You can come, not sure I plan to ever let you go, though.”

  “What about my apartment?”

  I planted a kiss on her forehead. “We can spend time there as well, if that’s what you want.”

  “I want to be where you are.”

  “Shall we install a Murphy bed in the master bedroom?”

  Kat tossed her head back, laughing.

  “Seriously, Roger and I can do that. We love home improvement projects. This place turns into a construction zone every summer.”

  “Not sure we need to take that step. Your bed is pretty cozy.”

  “Is that so?” I cupped her butt cheeks, pulling her against my exposed crotch. “I can’t remember since we left it a couple of hours ago. Might need a refresher.”

  “After dessert.” She threaded her fingers through mine. “Come on. Let’s check on the eggplant.”

  “That’s a brush-off I never thought I’d hear.”

  The following afternoon, Kat and I forced ourselves to make an appearance at Barb’s Christmas get-together.

  Outside the front door, I brushed snow off my peacoat. “Last c
hance to feign illness.”

  Kat turned the doorknob. “Don’t be a Grinch. If you behave, I’ll make it worth your while.”

  “Don’t be a tease.”

  Before taking a step inside, she said, “I’m many things but never a tease.”

  In the entryway, I inhaled deeply, tapping the tip of my nose. “I’m picking up cranberries, oranges, cinnamon, cloves, vanilla… What am I missing?”

  Kat twirled around, all the while slipping her arms out of her jacket. “Anise, ginger, pomegranate, and, you were close, it’s tangerines, not oranges. Of course, if you’d helped your aunt and me make the potpourri, you’d know all the ingredients.”

  “And interfere with your Barb time? Never. Ever since your first family dinner, you two have been thick as thieves, and I’m slightly fearful for my life.”

  She patted my cheek. “You think you’re so clever.”

  “Cori, come here and settle a bet,” Mom hollered from the reception room.

  “Saved once again.” Kat rolled her eyes.

  I kissed my mother’s cheek. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Do you remember the time your dad got me a blender for Christmas?”

  I turned to my father, whose face was red. “I have zero recollection of that. In your third novel, though, there was a scene like that, but I think it was a mixer because the wife was a superb cook.”

  Dad wagged a finger in her face. “You owe me a buck.”

  “Wait, you two waged one whole dollar?” I laughed. “I don’t know what’s more pathetic? The tiny amount or the silly argument in the first place.”

  “Says the woman who’s never been married. After a few more years with Kat, you’ll understand.” Mom left us to chat with non-family members.

  “Sh-she can be infuriating.” Dad, in a reindeer sweater, slurred.

  “Are you drunk?”

  “She’s been harping about that blender since last night!” he said in defense before disappearing into the kitchen, probably to refill his cup.

  Roger sidled next to me, chuckling. “Nell can’t even behave on Christmas.” He pulled me into a hug. “Merry Christmas.”

  “You too.”

  “Hey, you two, come here,” Roger called out to two females in front of the roaring fire, with their backs turned.