Malcom squeezes my shoulder. “Everyone ready for dinner?”
We all sit at the table that has been extended by an insert. Malcom’s father sits at one end with his wife on his left and Elsie beside her. I sit in the seat opposite Elsie so Malcom will be able to hold a better conversation with his parents.
“I hope you don’t mind a nontraditional dinner, Adaline. My mother requested I make pasta with my secret sauce.”
“Oh, I don’t mind. I actually hate turkey, and I love your pasta,” I say.
Peter leans forward on his elbows and says, “Does he bother you with all those boring history facts?”
“What? No, he doesn’t. Malcom, how come I never hear your boring history facts?” I ask as Malcom places the pasta sauce in the middle of the table.
“Because everyone says they're boring, and I didn’t want to scare you away.”
“Did you really think history facts would scare me away?”
He shrugs as he sits next to me.
Peter chuckles and says, “Tell her the one about the tomatoes. The one you were dying to tell as soon as we walked in the door.”
“It was ketchup, not tomatoes. Ketchup was once actually sold as a medicine,” Malcom says, and scoops pasta noodles onto a plate and hands it to Elsie. “Elsie here does not like her dad’s sauce. She likes her noodles plain. Maybe one day she’ll come over to the dark side of sauce,” he says with an evil laugh at the end.
“You use tomatoes in your sauce dad, and I don’t need to be medicated,” Elsie says as she slurps a noodle.
Peter and Martha left at nine, and Malcom is putting Elsie to bed now. She whines a little, but he tells her Santa will not come if she’s awake.
I text the boys Merry Christmas and that I can’t wait to see them tomorrow. They both reply with a thumbs up. I guess that’s better than no response at all.
I go out to the car and bring in Malcom’s gift, placing it beside the bed. I change into one of his shirts that was lying on the bed, slide under the blanket and wait for him. While I wait, I think about how lingerie would have made a better gift than what I bought him. He would have liked it better, I’m sure.
I watch him as he walks into the room and strips out of his clothes. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of gazing at his body. He’s long and lean, and his backside is my favorite part to look at. He removes one pair of underwear and pulls on another. The bed dips when he slips in beside me.
“Did Santa drop off Elsie’s gifts yet?” I don’t know if he remembered to put them out.
“He just stopped by actually. He said you were on the naughty list this year.”
“I bet he did.”
“He did, but I told him I’d make sure you were punished and that you would be on the nice list next year,” he says as he slides his hand up my leg landing on my hip.
I stop his pursuit because I’ve had a question in my mind since before his parents left, but I didn’t want to ask in front of them. “Shut up. How come you haven’t been telling me history facts like you do with your family?”
“I will start now, if you really want me to.”
“What other history facts have you been holding out on me?”
He’s on his left side and leans up on his elbow. “I know a lot of facts, but the ones I find most interesting are the ones about food.”
The way he’s so passionate about food, I’m surprised he didn’t go to school to be a chef. “Tell me one.”
“In 1905, Frank Epperson, who was eleven at the time, left his cup of soda on his back porch overnight — with a stir stick in it. It froze and people loved it. Epperson called his invention the ‘Epsicle’ and began selling it all over the beach in San Francisco that summer. When he got older, Epperson's children began calling his creation ‘Pop's 'Sicle’. He eventually patented it.”
“That’s kind of cool.” I wonder what all that mind of his holds.
“I’ve got more where that came from. But first, I’ve been dying to give you your gift all night.”
“I brought yours in from the car while you were putting Elsie down. Open yours first, and then you can give me what you got me.” I lean over and grab the present; then I place it between us.
He tears at the paper like a child on Christmas. I guess it is almost Christmas now. He holds the rectangular wood shape in his hands and says, “This is so cool, I’ve always liked novelty gifts like this.” Etched in the wood is the saying, What’s Life Without Goals. The O in goals is in the shape of a soccer ball, and it has eight metal hooks to hang medals from. He flips it around a couple times and then leans it against the wall on the top of his dresser. “I’ll hang it up tomorrow. I love it.”
He digs in his top dresser drawer and turns so fast I can’t see what he’s holding behind his back. When he’s back in the bed, he kisses me on the cheek and then places a small box wrapped in sage green wrapping paper with a gold bow in front of me. It’s about the size of a ring or earring box. My heart sinks and out of instinct I grab my bare left ring finger. I told him Stephen had signed the divorce papers, but it hasn’t actually gone through yet.
I open it a lot slower than he opened his present. Partially because I’m scared it’s an engagement ring and partially because this damn bow is on tight.
“Here,” he says as he glides his fingers around the box and slips the bow off the side. “You don’t have to untie it.”
I slowly open the velvet box to an oval shaped peridot stone on a solid rose gold band. It’s beautiful. It’s my birthstone. “It’s gorgeous, Malcom, but I can’t…I’m not.”
“Oh no, I’m not asking you to marry me. I had noticed you play with your ring finger a lot and thought maybe you’d like something to have there. It’s just a ring.”
“It’s a very nice ring, Malcom. I hadn’t noticed I did that.”
“If you don’t like it, I can take it back.”
I don’t want him to feel bad. “It’s not that. I love it, really.”
“Well, then wear it. You don’t have to wear it on your ring finger if you don’t want.”
I try it on my ring finger, but it’s a little big causing the stone to spin around to the underside. I try it on my left middle finger, and it fits perfect. I hold it up to show him. “It fits perfect.”
“You know what else fits perfect around here?” Malcom asks.
“What?”
In a sexy slur he says, “Me inside of you,” as he pins me to the mattress.
Elsie woke up before the sun. She was so excited to see what Santa had brought her. In my opinion, Santa went a little overboard, but he said he’d do just about anything for that little girl.
Over breakfast Malcom informed me that bacon was included in the first meal that was eaten on the moon. The facts are a bit uninteresting to me, but I want him to be himself around me and not hide anything.
I waited until after we ate breakfast before I left. I wanted to be at my parents’ when the boys arrived back.
Sawyer and Atticus are sitting in the middle of the living room floor now opening their gifts from me. I hand them each their final ones.
Atticus opens his first, and it's a glow in the dark soccer ball. “Ah thanks, Mom, this is so cool. I can’t wait to try it out.”
Sawyer’s box is bigger. He opens a gaming chair. “Mom, thank you. My back has been hurting me when I sit up against the bed frame in the room.”
They each give me a hug. I know my gifts pale in comparison to whatever their father got them. They haven’t told me what it is yet. When they got back, they carried three giant bags full of stuff up to their room before making it back down.
I get up from the couch. “Okay, boys, it’s time to go to Malcom’s.”
The boys meeting Malcom went better than expected. They all seemed to get along. It wasn’t that cold out this evening, so all three of them went outside and kicked around Atticus’ soccer ball while I cleaned up all of Elsie’s new toys. She had left to see her mom again before we got to Malcom’s. I�
��m sure the boys will meet her another day.
On the way home, Sawyer says, “He seems okay.”
And Atticus chimes in, “Yeah, he’s a lot nicer when he isn’t being a coach.”
“Well, I’m glad you guys like him.”
Sawyer glares at me through the rearview mirror. “I didn’t say I liked him. I said he was okay.”
I say, “Okay then.” I don’t want to argue on Christmas. They don’t have to love him. I’m just glad they don’t hate him.
TWENTY-NINE
It’s New Year’s Eve, and my job interview is the day after tomorrow at GrindHouse. After I turned in my latest book for Writer’s Talent, I told them I couldn’t take on a new book until after the new year. I only told them that because I’m hoping my interview goes well at the publishing house, and I can quit freelance writing for now.
I’m spending New Year’s Eve with my parents. The boys are with their dad again, and Malcom is busy with Elsie. He said when she came back from visiting with Angie and her mom, she started holding her pee and acting strange. I told him to take her to the doctor’s office and have her checked for a UTI.
They went to the doctor’s earlier today, and I’ve been waiting to hear back on what happened. They have to be finished by now.
Me: How did the doctor go? Did they give her some medicine?
Malcom: No because she doesn’t have a UTI. She was holding her pee because her mom had been having her hold it and pee in cups for her. Can you believe it?
Me: Wow.
Malcom: I guess Angie had been doing home drug tests on her, and Roxanne had been using Elsie’s pee to pass the entire time. I feel like a shit parent. When the doctor asked her why she was holding her pee, she told him it was because her mom had told her to, but she never mentioned it to me.
Me: I’m sorry.
Malcom: Every time I asked her why she wasn’t going to the bathroom, she wouldn’t tell me.
Me: I know that’s why I suggested having her checked for a UTI. Whenever I’ve had one, I didn’t want to go to the bathroom. Hurt something horrible.
Malcom: Turns out, her mom told her to never ever tell me about it. Guess she forgot to tell her to not tell doctors the truth either. The reason I hadn’t gotten back to you sooner was because I had to go talk to Roxanne. It wasn’t pretty, so she left for Malibu again.
Me: Maybe it’s a good thing she left.
Malcom: I think so. You want to come over? Diego’s coming over.
Me: What about Elsie?
Malcom: She likes Diego and she’ll fall asleep before midnight anyway.
Me: Sure. I’ll be there in a little bit.
I had planned to go to bed before midnight. I don’t much care to be awake going into the new year. I am tired, but I know he had a rough day, and he asked me to come over. He doesn’t ask for much. I can wake myself up enough to go to him.
I turn on a pot of coffee and get ready to head to his place.
I pull on a pair of black leggings and a green sweater of Malcom’s I wore home a few weekends ago. I don’t know why, but I like wearing his sweaters more than I like wearing my own. If Elsie and Diego weren’t going to be at his place, I would have dressed up and tried to look sexy, but the outfit I chose is much more comfortable than that would have been. Not that I would have been in it very long.
On the way over to them, I can’t get the mental image of Elsie holding her pee for her mother. You would think at eight she would know that you don’t do that. I’m sure she had no clue why she was doing it. I’m not going to ask her anything about it. I’m sure she had to answer a lot of questions today already.
When I walk in the door, Diego and Elsie are on the floor in the living room. Elsie is using her makeup kit on him. His entire face is pink, and he has blue eyeshadow on his eyes. I laugh at the sight of them.
I go in search of Malcom, who I find in his bathroom. “What are you doing?” I ask. He’s leaned over the sink getting a washcloth wet. He turns to show me his face.
“This stuff itches like hell. How do you women wear this shit all day?”
His face is covered from hairline to chin in blue. He looks like a smurf. I laugh. I laugh so hard I have to bend over because there’s a pain in my side. He looks ridiculous. A smurf.
“Haha. Very funny. You’re up next. She’s been going on for the last half hour about how Diego and I wouldn’t sit still good enough, so she couldn’t wait until you got here so that she could make you pretty,” he says and throws a towel at me.
When I stand up straight and look at him, his face is no longer powder blue.
Diego and Malcom have been talking about some male competitive league they’re in that starts back up in March. I’ve never seen him play, so I’m very excited for when they have a game. They’re trying to choose a new team name. Their old name was Amigos, but they want a better one for this time around.
Elsie went to bed an hour ago, and Malcom just opened up some champagne. It’s not midnight yet, but he pours two glasses and hands Diego and I each one.
“Are you not going to drink?” I ask as we walk back into the living room. Diego takes a seat in the chair. Malcom grabs my butt as I attempt to sit on the couch.
He says, “I don’t like to drink when Elsie’s around. I’d hate for there to be an emergency, and I couldn’t drive her to the hospital.”
And if I hadn’t already fallen in love with the man behind the voice, I would have just now.
I snuggle up with him on the couch and let my champagne get warm.
“Adaline wake up, it's almost midnight,” Malcom whispers in my ear. I lift my head from his chest and focus on the television screen. Thirty seconds to midnight the countdown says in the bottom left on the screen.
“You know you could have let me sleep, I don’t really care about the new year,” I say, as I snuggle back into his chest bringing my hands up under my chin.
“I know it’s corny, but I wanted to kiss you when the clock struck midnight; it’s my birthday.”
“It’s your birthday?”
“Yeah.”
“How come you never told me?”
“It never came up… You can’t be mad at me. It’s my birthday, Sugar Tits.”
“I’m sure Diego doesn’t want to watch us make out on your couch,” I say into his chest. I’m starting to come around to the nickname he’s given me. Sometimes I want to ask if he gave nicknames to other women before me, but I don’t think I really want to know.
“Diego left twenty minutes ago. Said he wanted to get home before the popo was out heavy.”
I sit up and look around the room. Diego is nowhere to be found. I can’t deprive the birthday boy of what he wants. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me it was his birthday.
Malcom touches my chin and turns me so he can gently touch his lips to mine while the television erupts with lots of screams and cheers. It’s a soft and sensual kiss.
Today is the first time Atticus asked to stay with his father longer than agreed upon. Both the boys were supposed to come home today and spend the last two days of their winter break with me, but Atticus asked if he could stay at his dad’s a little longer. I couldn’t tell him no, but it breaks my heart that when the divorce is final one or both of them may choose to live with their dad full-time.
Sawyer came back home, which I find odd because between the two, I would have bet on him being the one to stay at his dad’s. He’s up in his room now, and I’m on my way up the stairs to talk to him.
He has a headset on, and he’s kicked back in his gaming chair. His fingers are going ninety miles a minute on the controller, and when I look at the television, there’s blood all over the screen and zombie looking people walking around.
I gently knock on the doorframe and say, “Did you just want to come back here so you could play video games? Don’t you have this at your dad’s too?” He ignores me. I raise my voice, “Sawyer!”
He jumps in his seat and flings his headset from his ea
rs like he’s seen a ghost. “What?”
“I’m glad you chose to come back, but how come you didn’t want to stay at your dad’s too?”
He looks all around the room except at me. “No reason.”
“Sawyer…”
“Okay, I guess I’m going to have to ask you to give us a ride anyway. I wanted to take Amy to a movie. She said she’s never been to one.”
“Amy from your grandparents’ store, Amy?”
“Yeah, after you talked to us about her. I started talking to her at school when I would see her in the hall, and she’s really cool. We got to talking about our favorite things. She said she loves watching movies, but she’s never been to one. I want to take her to one.”
“You better not be doing this to be mean. I will ground you until you're thirty.”
He looks in my eyes when he says, “I’m not, Mom.” And I believe him.
“How has she never gone to the movies? The elementary school took you boys for good attendance. I remember. I know this is a different school, but I’m pretty sure all schools do the same thing.”
“I don’t know, Mom, but I know she misses school a lot. I haven’t asked her why.”
“When were you wanting to take her?”
“Tonight.”
“And when were you going to ask me to give you a ride?”
“I was gonna come down when I found a good spot to save, but then you came in, and I died.”
“Alright, let her know you guys have a ride now,” I say before leaving him and heading down to the den. He doesn’t know it yet, but I’ll be chaperoning his first movie date.
I text Malcom.
Me: Sawyer is going on his first date.
Malcom: That’s cool.
Me: Cool?! It’s not cool. I don’t want him to date.
Malcom: I hate to break it to you, but your sons are going to date.
Me: I know. I just didn’t think it’d be yet. I thought they weren’t into girls.
Malcom: Trust me, they have enough testosterone running through their systems. They’re definitely into girls.
Me: I don’t like it.
Malcom: No one said you had to.
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