by L. B. Dunbar
+ + +
Around ten, the paper maché needs to set. Hank has helped Liam practice the volcano over the sink as a test.
“All experiments need a run-through before the real explosion,” Liam tells me although I’m certain this is something Hank said. “Results can be inconclusive without thorough investigation.”
I snort at the scientific jargon before telling Liam he needs a shower and bed. Staring at the mess he made, I shake my head while Hank gathers up the supplies and forms a neat arrangement on my island counter.
“Thank you for this.” I nod at the organization and a hearty looking mound that might resemble a volcano once it’s painted.
“Glad to see you feel better.” He winks.
“Thank you for that as well.”
“Anything you need, little lady.” His hands work to clean up, but I sense he’s doing it to distract himself.
“How was Lawson?” He stills, pressing down on the island. His head hangs.
“I’m in over my head. I wanted this so badly.” His head shoots up. “No, I wanted the truth so badly. Yet now that I have it, it isn’t helping. I’m more angry with her than I was before. And I hate myself for all the things I did, thinking it’s my fault Lawson is the way he is.”
Stepping toward him, I grip his wrist.
“You know that’s not true. It’s genetics and mutations and all kinds of things I don’t understand, but it wasn’t something you or even Kit, for that matter, did. Lawson just is who he is.”
Hank nods, taking my hand in his and raising it to his lips.
“I can’t do this alone.” The implication lies underneath. He wants me to be there for him.
“I’m so sorry for the other night. I shouldn’t have walked out like I did.” His hand cups my jaw.
“Please forgive me for what I said.” He swallows, unable to repeat what he did. “It just slipped out, and it will never, ever happen again.” His head lowers to rest against mine. I prepare to tell him he can’t know such a thing when he explains. “I had this moment when she was in my head because you were speaking about her, and then you had the look like you were ready to bolt. And then I pushed you through the door by calling out her name. I’m so sorry.”
“It was a lot to take in at once. You hadn’t exactly told me the truth about Lawson.” We haven’t covered this omission yet, and I need to know. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“You had the interview, and I wanted you to focus on the job. I knew it was important to you, and I didn’t want to be any cause for distraction. You’re a worrier, little lady. You would have deviated.” He’s right in some ways. His revelation would have consumed me as it has the past few days. “You needed to do you.”
“I thought we could do us,” I whisper, and to my surprise, his mouth crooks.
“That’s why I’m here. For us.” He kisses me sweetly a moment before pulling back. “I want us together, Middy. Let’s experiment.”
I grin at his teasing pun, but his face sobers.
“I thought it would be like this.” He nods at the counter. “Father-son time, but I’ll never have it, not in the way I envisioned. No baseball games. No science homework. No band concerts. Nothing. I always wanted a family. The band was my family in a dysfunctional way, but I wanted it all, from the bottom up. Babies to marriage to manhood.” His hands slip to my shoulders. “I’ll never have what you have, Midge, with your boys. I didn’t get a child. I got a twenty-six-year-old. I missed out on everything.”
He tugs me to him, pressing me into his chest with one hand on my head and one on my back. “Don’t ever be jealous of me, baby. You’ve had so much more. A beautiful house. A marriage. Great kids. You’ve had it all while I had the fame and nothing to show for it but a bedroom at my brother’s, a kid I didn’t know about, and a job as a mechanic instead of a musician.”
I don’t like how he makes it sound—degrading himself. He kisses my head and presses me back. “I know I said I want to make all your dreams come true, but I don’t know how. I have nothing to offer you. I’m being selfish because I want you to make all mine come true instead.”
I leap for him. Forgiveness and sorrow mix with kisses against the island. If it weren’t for the damn volcano, I’d ask him to spread me on the counter and take those words to a new level. I also have Liam upstairs, and the click of the back door lets me know Ronin is home from a study session at a friend’s. Hank and I break away like guilty teenagers.
“Hey, honey. Get all your homework done?” Ronin scoffs as he passes Hank and me. We each hold a counter opposite one other as if we need the anchor so we don’t attack.
“Yeah. I’m headed to bed.” He looks at Hank. “Ever consider shaving a bit? Might not leave all the evidence on her neck.” He continues to the living room as my mouth falls open. Hank chuckles, and our eyes meet. His twinkle with playful mischief, and he reaches for me. We come together again, making out like kids desperate to remove clothing and knowing we can’t. Slowing eventually, I walk Hank to the front door.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he assures me. “I’m so glad you feel better.” I feel so much better, and it’s all because of him. Three little words linger in my head, but I won’t use them again. I’ll make it experimental instead of emotional. Can I keep my feelings in check? I’ll let this first round fizzle a bit. Results inconclusive. More data needed.
32
Sleepovers…with children
[Hank]
Friday evening, I have another intake meeting with the counselor and Lawson. Things do not go well. Lawson is agitated and acting out, and I worry I’m the problem. He has no idea who I am. I have no idea if he remembers his mother, and I’ll never know if she mentioned me to him. It’s nearly ten o’clock when I find myself outside Midge’s door. She hasn’t been answering her phone, and it makes me nervous. Her boys are with their dad for the weekend, and she told me she didn’t have any plans, so when I knock I’m a bit surprised.
“Elston?” I question. “Is your mom home?”
“She’s already in bed.” He lingers at the door, holding his arm up high on the wood, showing off his thin muscular frame. He’s built for seventeen but not like my forty-three.
“It’s early. She okay?” He’s not inviting me in, but I’m not leaving until I have an answer. Not to mention, I really want to see her. I need to talk.
“I think so.” He twists to glance at the staircase.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at your dad’s?” It’s none of my business, but Midge mentioned the trouble continues with his father.
“Yeah, but Mom said I could stay home this weekend.” He looks down at his feet and shrugs. “I got a date tomorrow night anyway.”
My brow rises, and silence grows between us. My leg twitches. I suddenly find I’m a little itchy to see his mom.
“Elston, may I speak to you like a man?” His head pops up, bright eyes looking right at me. “Ever love a girl, kid?”
Elston tilts his head. “If you want to speak to me like a man, how about you not call me kid?”
“Fair enough.” My lips twist, holding back a chuckle. Kid has balls, I’ll give him that. “Ever lay with a girl? I don’t mean sex. I mean sleep next to one. Just hold her.”
He tips up his chin, hesitating a second before answering. “Yes.” Rubbing a hand over his head, he looks away. “It seems even more intimate than sex.”
My eyes widen. There’s that word again. “But you cared about the girl, right?”
He swings his eyes back to mine. “Of course.”
“Then I hope you’ll understand. I’d like to step upstairs and check on your mom.”
His eyes narrow. “You do realize she’s my mom.” He shudders. “Just…ew…”
“Kid, don’t ever ew over your mom. She’s still a woman even if you don’t want to think about her like that. Believe it or not, she can be more than a mother. She’s a person. And one I care about.”
He nods, and I’m hoping we
understand each other, though having no practice with teenagers, boys, and their mothers, or anything else related to kids, I have no idea. He surprises me by stepping back.
I take the steps two at a time, slowing my pace as I near the top. Slipping into her room, I find the space dark with moonlight streaming through the large window. I kick off my boots.
“Midge,” I say softly, not wanting to scare her yet feeling guilty for waking her. She faces away from me, so she rolls, looking over her shoulder.
“Hank? What are you doing here?”
“I tried to call, but you didn’t answer. Wanted to make sure you were okay.” I sit on the edge of the bed. She’s tucked in, and I don’t want to take more advantage than I have, especially if Elston decides he wants to check on us. Suddenly, I feel like the teenager, but I don’t care. I need to be close to her. Shifting to my side, I curl up behind her. I force her to roll back to the position she held so her back is to my chest. Wrapping an arm over her waist, I tug her closer to me although the blankets are in the way.
“Where’s Elston?” she asks.
“He let me in.” I pause. “I want to be intimate with you.”
She giggles as she shifts to look at me over her shoulder.
“Is that code for sex because I can’t with Elston in the house, and besides, I have my period.”
What? Shit. I release her and press up on my elbow. “Are you okay? Do you need something?” I’m harping like she’s sick instead of something natural.
“No.” She chuckles at my overconcern.
“Then can I be intimate with you. Close like you said the other day.” I’m holding my breath, because I really want this with her
“Of course, honey.” She rolls back to face the window, and I wrap over her again. Breathing into her hair, I nuzzle my head into the back of her neck.
“Rough night?” she prompts, knowing I saw Lawson.
“I’m worried I won’t connect with him. There’s so much to learn, and I’m so behind. So much time has passed.”
“You’ll be fine,” she says softly. “Parenting doesn’t come with a manual even if you knew him as a baby. Every day is one day at a time.”
“I’ve heard that saying before. Every day in rehab.” I don’t really want to talk about that experience right now, though. “Why does life have so many steps?”
“Sometimes, I think life is just one step at a time. Addiction or not. Can’t change yesterday. Can’t do anything about tomorrow. Just gotta deal with today.”
“Lady, I love you,” I blurt into her neck. We both freeze a moment, and I need her to look at me. I perch up on my elbow again and gently press her shoulder to twist her to face me. “I mean it, Midge. I didn’t just say it to say it. I love you, intimately.”
“I love you, too, honey.” Her lips curve slowly, and I lean forward to kiss her. Her mouth is sweet on mine, icing on my cupcake of happiness at the moment. I pull back too soon for both our liking but with her monthly predicament and Elston in the house somewhere, I don’t want to push anything. I just want to hold her, something I can’t say I’ve done often in my life. I cuddle up behind her again, tugging her as close as the blanket barrier will allow. Wrapping my arm over her, I hold tight, almost afraid she’ll slip away. Her arm loosens from the covers, and she slips it over mine. Holding my wrist, she leans forward and kisses my knuckles. It’s intimate, and for the first time in my life, I feel like I’m in a good place.
33
Offerings
[Hank]
On Monday, I find Midge staring at the computer screen. She was on her cell phone only moments ago, taking a call outside and pacing back and forth. Seeing her appear and then disappear through the view of the front glass door made me nervous. When she stepped back inside, she covered her face for a moment and then straightened, walking stiffly back to her desk. Her desk, I repeat because I like seeing her here, finding her close, and catching her smiling at me. As I near her, I hear an exaggerated sigh.
“What’s wrong, little lady?” I’ve startled her, and she spins, the chair creaking with the speed. She blinks up at me as if she’s trying to focus.
“Ever want something so much, only to discover later it isn’t what you thought it would be?”
Strangely, I do know the sensation. Kit had been that for me, but then another thought strikes. Does she mean me? I rub at my chest, pain radiating inside the cavity. Am I disappointing her? I’m not who I used to be, and although I’m confident in myself, I know being a musician seems more glamorous than a mechanic. Midge is all polished chrome while I’m chipped varnish. I’m scratched, dented, and rusty. Did she change her mind? With hesitation, I ask, “What happened?”
“Pendelton offered me the job.” Her shoulders hunch before she shrugs. My eyes widen with excitement. I’m so proud of her, and I’m ready to tell her as much when I note her body language suggests she doesn’t feel the same way.
“That’s terrific?” I hesitate, uncertain why she appears so blasé about the offer. This is what she wanted.
“It is great. I presented a darn good campaign and the possibility of growth in his dinosaur company. But now, I’m not so certain I want to work there. Not if this is how he treats me, or any other employee for that matter. He only saw me so he could drive his car. I don’t want to turn tricks every time I have an idea for the man. Not to mention, his son gives me the heebie-jeebies. I can’t start a job where I already feel I might be harassed as a means to get my way.”
I have to agree with her on this matter. I’d be on daily alert, prepping to punch Pendelton’s dickwad son if he neared her.
“But you deserve the job. You might have had to jump through a hoop to get his attention, but once you had it, you must have wowed him.”
“That’s the thing. I already played these games at Bigle, and it sucked.” Her shoulder shrugs again. “I’ll just have to find something else.”
“So what? You’re going to keep working here?” The question snaps sharper than I intend, but Midge is too smart to order parts and take calls from some of our asshole customers. She can do the job, no question, but should she? No. No way. “What about going out on your own? Starting your own company?”
She shrugs again, her expression one of defeat. “It takes a lot of money, and I’m not in a place for that right now.”
She told me about her ex-husband and how he wasn’t pleased to pick up the tab on his own kids’ tuition for their fancy high school. There’s nothing wrong with public schools, but I understand where her kids go offers more opportunity; besides, they are used to where they attend. No need to change things. Be a man, I say. Pay for your kids.
“Brut says I can stay here.” Her soulful eyes look up at me. “Is that not okay with you?”
My chest tightens at the thought she’s gone to Brut already. She must have talked to him before she declined Pendelton’s offer. It’s Brut’s business, and I don’t have a say one way or another. If he offered for her to stay, it’s fine. I can’t say no. I mean no—because I want more for her—but seeing her every day brings me selfish pleasure.
“Of course, it’s okay. I just want you to be happy, and this place isn’t it.”
“What’s wrong with this place?” She looks around, and I follow her gaze, taking note of the improvements she’s made to the outer space. It’s free of oil and grease, smells like vanilla, and looks relatively clean. Still, it’s a place that means I settled. I caved because I had nothing else once the band collapsed.
“Even I don’t want to be here, so how can I suggest you stay?”
Her head tilts. “Why don’t you want to be here? This is your father’s legacy to you and Brut. Besides, your brother is here, and you get along well enough. You can do your thing here.”
“Do my thing?” I scoff, my fingers twitching with the old feeling of holding drumsticks. “I’m far from doing my thing.”
“What else is there?” She pauses a beat. “Are you referring to your band?” She gi
ves me a look, narrow-eyed and unreadable. “If a band is your thing, why didn’t you start a new one?”
Kit died, rests on the tip of my tongue, but that really isn’t the truth of it. We could have carried on, I suppose. Could have gotten a new female lead singer, but it would never have been the same. Kit was Kit Carrigan and Chrome Teardrops. We were just background noise, and I have not a ratty-tat-tat to show for that time in my life. I couldn’t move on because no one wanted me. I was a risk in my condition, a has-been in my prime because of my reputation.
“It’s not so simple.” She stares at me, waiting for additional explanation, but I don’t wish to share. I’m tired of rehashing Kit and calling up my failures. I look around the cleaned-up waiting room and rap my knuckles on the counter. “I need to get to work.”
+ + +
It’s late when I collapse on the couch opposite Brut’s desk. I’ve been staying after hours to work on my own baby. The Mustang has been neglected too much these past weeks.
Brut’s working on something with reader glasses on his nose.
“Getting old, man?” I tease.
“You wait. Your time is coming.” He continues looking between some report and the computer screen. I fiddle with the torn leather on the back of the couch, staring at my thick finger tugging at the loose piece.
“What’s on your mind?” I look over at my brother. He’s pulled his glasses down to the tip of his nose, and he peers at me over the frame.
“How do you know something’s on my mind?” Brut crosses his arms on the desk and stares at me.
“Because I know you, unfortunately.” He’s teasing. He’s also right. My big brother knows too much about me, and in some ways, I’ve taken advantage of him. I thought about what Midge said earlier. Brut took me in, welcomed me home after I fucked up, and he never blinked. He gave me a job, knowing I could do the work even if I was a bit rusty, and he never complained. He never griped although this wasn’t his dream any more than it was mine. This is your father’s legacy to you and Brut. We might not have wanted the place, but it’s offered financial stability, and if we wanted anything else, why didn’t we go for it?