by Tara Sivec
Oh I’m sure Harold, Jr., Robby, and Benjamin, who are all in their late twenties, will be just delighted to talk about sex with their mother, all because of me. I’m going to have to do a lot of apologizing at our next family get-together.
“Are you three finished with all that blubbering? CSI Miami will be on in five minutes, and I want my living room back,” my dad announces from the doorway.
The three of us pull apart, and when my dad is confident we’re finished with all our blubbering, he walks into the room and flops back down on his recliner. Pushing up from the couch, I start to head toward the hallway.
“Aren’t you going to watch CSI with me?” he asks.
I pause in the doorway, looking back at him over my shoulder before glancing at my mom.
“Nope, not tonight. I’m going to take a shower and think about a way to fix my problems.”
My mom tilts her head to the side and gives me a loving smile, pressing her hand over her heart.
“Robby, it’s mom,” Aunt Margie speaks, holding her cell phone up to her ear. “We never talked about what you should do when your fern stands at attention and it won’t go down. It’s natural, and it happens to every man, and you shouldn’t be ashamed. Robby? Hello, Robby? Uff da, stop screaming so I can finish explaining this to you!”
Chapter 30
“And I think that just about covers everything,” I speak into my microphone, finishing up episode ten of my podcast and glancing down at the timer on my audio file. “Wow, that took me three hours. I hope you guys didn’t get too bored. I was going to edit out my mother lecturing me about not serving you guys a tater tot hotdish or a cheeseball, and assuming this was a live radio show where she could answer listener questions when they called in, but I think I’ll keep it. It is part of my life, after all. Anyway, this is Heidi’s Discount Erotica, signing off.”
Clicking my mouse to end the recording, I quickly switch over to my website and upload it without bothering to listen to it or edit it. It’s raw and it’s real and it’s messy and it’s me, and I’m not about to edit myself.
“Wow, that was exciting watching you do that!” my mom tells me, getting up from my couch where she made herself comfortable a little after hour one and coming over to kiss the top of my head. “I guess this means you haven’t spoken to Brent since you came back home.”
I shake my head at her as I close the lid to my laptop and remove my headphones to set them on the table.
When I left my parents’ house yesterday and came back home, I did it as late as possible, when I knew Brent would already be asleep. I had no idea what to say to him, and I just needed to be alone, in my own home, to give me time to think about what I wanted to say. I’m not going to lie; I was a little sad he didn’t notice I was home and immediately come over here, but I only have myself to blame for that. I ran away. I shut him out. I didn’t respond to any of his texts or phone calls. And if I want to continue being the strong, confident woman I’ve become, I need to go to him.
“I have to go back to work tomorrow. As soon as I get that out of the way and catch up on everything I’ve missed, I’m going to talk to him,” I tell her.
Thankfully, EdenMedia gave me two weeks’ vacation right from the start, and they were super nice when I called in last week and told them I needed to use one week immediately for a family emergency. I felt bad about lying to them, but I didn’t really feel like explaining to them I needed to take a week off because I was a heartbroken wuss who screwed up the best thing that’s ever happened to her.
“I didn’t want to tell you this when you were staying with us, but Brent called me almost every day checking up on you,” my mom admits.
My lip quivers when she says this, and once again, I feel like the biggest fool in the world. Every part of me wants to race over to his house right now, beg him to forgive me, and ask him if we can start over, but it’s not that easy. I just blasted all our business all over the internet once again without talking to him about it, because it’s what I needed to do for myself. This whole journey I’ve been on started with me wanting to do whatever it took to be confident and happy for me, not to please anyone else. Brent is a big part of that journey, so I couldn’t just not talk about him and everything between us. He didn’t get mad about what I’d already revealed about him, but I don’t really know how he’s going to take it that I just spent three hours pouring out every single teeny tiny detail between us. I hope he understands I needed this outlet to work through everything in my head. And my heart.
While my mother listened. Now my mother knows more about my sex life than any mother should ever know about her daughter. But hey, we can just consider it making up for lost time, since we never had the sex talk while I was growing up.
Maybe Brent won’t even listen to it. He hasn’t sent me a text or called my phone since I left my parents’ house. Maybe I waited too long. Maybe using my podcast as a way to reach him and apologize was immature, but I couldn’t come up with any other idea that was… me. I can be immature. And I can reveal too much information to complete strangers. I once spent fifteen minutes telling a woman in line at the ice cream shop that I was fidgeting so much because I had poison ivy on my vagina (although I said hoo-ha at the time), because I was camping with my family and had to use the woods as a bathroom.
My mom gives me a hug goodbye and tells me she’ll call me tomorrow. After she leaves, I spend entirely too long staring dejectedly out my front window over at Brent’s house before finally turning off all my lights, locking my door, and going to bed.
Wearing his sweatshirt that I washed three times as soon as I got home. It still doesn’t smell like him anymore, but at least it no longer smells like cheese.
“Oh, hey there, Heidi! It’s good to have you back! Hope everything’s okay with your family,” Dave tells me when I walk into EdenMedia the next morning, shoving my purse into my bottom drawer and firing up my computer.
“You betcha! Everything’s great; thanks for asking,” I tell him, trying not to feel too guilty for making him think something was wrong with my family while I was out.
“Before you get too comfortable there, could you go back to studio four and see if they need anything? Got someone important recording something in there, and I haven’t had a chance to check on them in a while,” Dave says. “I’ll watch the phones for ya.”
Trading places with Dave, I quickly head down the hallway and quietly push open the door to studio four, my eyes immediately going to the small table against the wall where Dave keeps his beverages and snacks. Without looking into the big window above the DAW, and trying to make myself as small and quiet as possible so I don’t disturb the recording on the other side of the window, I walk over to the table and start gathering all the used paper plates, napkins, and dirty Styrofoam coffee cups in my arms, wanting to get rid of this mess before I see if whoever’s recording needs anything.
“And I’m sitting there on my couch, with my dick in my hand, completely enjoying myself and all the dirty thoughts I was having about my adorable neighbor, when my mother just waltzed right into my house.”
The paper plates, napkins, and dirty Styrofoam cups fall out of my arms and flutter to my feet when I not only hear a voice I recognize coming from the speaker mounted on the wall, but a story I recognize as well. My head whips around, and sure enough, there’s Brent sitting on a stool, right next to Aubrey inside the booth.
“Oh, you poor thing. How did you ever recover?” Aubrey asks with a laugh.
“I don’t know that I ever have, Aubrey.” He laughs back, neither one of them looking up or noticing that I’m in the room.
Wondering what in the hell is going on, and with butterflies swarming around in my stomach as I get my first look at Brent in over a week, I quickly drop down to the ground on my hands and knees so I can calm my racing heart and figure out what in the world he’s doing here, talking to Aubrey in a studio.
“All right. On to your next most embarrassing moment. A
nd for everyone out there listening to this, I think we’re up to number three. Is that correct?” Aubrey asks Brent.
“Sadly, that’s correct. Lucky for you and your first ever podcast, your readers will be happy to know I have a ton more embarrassing moments to share,” Brent informs her.
Aubrey is recording a podcast? Brent is telling all of his embarrassing stories for her podcast? What in the hell is happening right now?
I stay perfectly still on the floor of the studio on my hands and knees, listening to Brent tell Aubrey, and I guess all her readers, his most embarrassing stories.
He tells her about a time at his bank job, when a really annoying co-worker came up to his cubicle, and he quickly put his cell phone to his ear so he wouldn’t have to talk to the guy, and the cell phone rang in his hand.
He tells her about the first time he kissed a girl in seventh grade, and how he chewed some minty gum before he kissed her so his breath would be fresh, but forgot to take the gum out. He managed to transfer the gum to her mouth and she started choking on it, and he had to call 9-1-1 and have them talk him through doing the Heimlich maneuver on her.
He tells her about the night he thought he lost his virginity, but that it turned out he didn’t really lose his virginity. He explains that he was going to town, thinking he was awesome and doing everything perfectly, and didn’t realize until he was finished that he never even put it in. He was just thrusting his penis into the bed between her legs.
Then, he tells her about the night he really lost his virginity, when he only lasted one pump, and then started crying and apologizing to the girl for being so bad at it.
On and on his stories go, each one more embarrassing than the last, until I realize I’ve been down here on the floor for almost an hour.
“Oh, Brent. I don’t know whether to give you a hug or thank you for giving me the best material ever for my first podcast,” Aubrey tells him with a laugh. “Really quick before we end this, why don’t you tell everyone why you decided to humiliate yourself in the best way possible today.”
There’s a pause from inside the booth, and I take that moment to slowly inch myself up from the ground until I’m just on my knees, craning my neck to try to see over the DAW and inside the booth. Using the office chair on wheels next to the desk to rest my hand on and push myself up even more, I’m finally able to see a little bit of Brent’s face.
God, I’ve missed him.
He looks like he hasn’t slept in a week. There’s stubble all over his face, his hair is a mess, and he just looks… sad.
“I messed up,” Brent says quietly. “I betrayed the woman I love’s trust. I made her think that everything between us was a lie, because I wasn’t honest with her from the beginning. I made her doubt everything she’s done and everything she’s accomplished recently. I made her think I was just doing what she wanted, instead of doing everything I needed, as an ass-backward way of trying to help her. I want her to know nothing I said or did with her was ever a lie. What we had was the most honest, real thing I’ve ever felt in my life. I just want her to be happy. And if that’s not with me, it will kill me, but it’ll be okay, as long as I know she’s happy. She’s an incredible, smart, beautiful, strong woman, and I hope she never forgets that. She may think she didn’t do it all on her own, but she did. I was just along for the ride. And goddammit, what an amazing fucking ride it was.”
Aubrey closes out the podcast, thanking Brent and thanking her readers for listening, and as my body shakes with quiet sobs, the force of them shoves the stupid office chair on wheels right out from under my hand. I go flying sideways as the chair crashes into the wall, and I land in a heap on my side with a loud “Son of a bitch!”
The door to the booth flies open, and I look up from the floor to find Aubrey and Brent standing in the doorway, staring down at me with equal looks of surprise on their faces.
“Jesus! Are you okay?” Brent asks, rushing over and dropping down on his knees next to me.
His hand runs over the top of my head before brushing some of the hair out of my eyes with the tips of his fingers. Then he touches my cheek, my shoulder, my arm, and does a quick inspection of the rest of my body, making sure I didn’t hurt myself.
Once he’s satisfied there’s nothing injured but my pride, he grabs my hands and helps me stand up.
“I’ll just give you two some privacy,” Aubrey says, winking at me over Brent’s shoulder as she walks behind him and leaves the studio, letting the door close with a soft click.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” I whisper once she’s gone.
Brent squeezes my hands that he still holds in his as we stand facing each other.
“Where else would I be?” He shrugs with a sheepish look on his face. “You wouldn’t talk to me. And I didn’t want to just show up on your doorstep as soon as you got back from your parents’ house, because then you would know I was watching out my front window and knew exactly when you got home, and that would just be kind of stalkerish. But now I realize showing up at your work unannounced might be a little bit creepy as well.”
I laugh through my tears and shake my head at him.
“I can’t believe you… told Aubrey all of those things,” I say in awe, nodding in the direction of the booth. “And all of her readers. You know she has like, hundreds of thousands of them, right?”
Brent lets go of one of my hands to press his palm against my cheek.
“I didn’t know what else to do. It almost broke me knowing I made you feel embarrassed or humiliated because of what I did. I never want you to feel that way, especially because of something I did. So I thought the best way to make up for that was to completely humiliate myself.”
He starts softly rubbing his thumb back and forth against my cheek, and I close my eyes for a minute and press my cheek harder into his hand. After not being this close to him and not feeling his hands on me in over a week, I just want to enjoy every second of this moment. But I know I can’t afford to do that. Not until I tell him what I need to.
Opening my eyes, I look up at him.
“I’m sorry I ran away from you. I’m sorry I didn’t believe all of those things you said to me. I should have stayed and fought. I promise, if you still want to be with me after all this, I’ll never leave again. I will stay, and I will listen, and I will fight, because you’re worth fighting for. And because I don’t want to make a mistake like my grandfather almost did with Dirty Neck Bertha, and because I don’t want to call our son up when he’s twenty-seven to talk to him about erections for the first time, and I don’t want our daughter to spend a week smelling like cheese.”
Brent doesn’t even look at me like I’m crazy.
“Noted,” he says. “We’ll discuss erections with our son at an age-appropriate time, and make sure our daughter showers regularly.”
How in the world did I get so lucky? And how could I be so stupid to almost throw all of this away?
“I’m also sorry that I may or may not have told our entire story in every single detail for my podcast,” I add with a wince.
“I know.” He laughs. “I listened. Wait, is it too soon for that? Is there a certain statute of limitations where I’m not supposed to remind you of stupid shit I did?”
I shake my head at him with a smile. “No. I’m glad you listened. Now you really know how crazy I am. Also, did you really lose your virginity to a Serta Plush twin size bed?” I ask, trying my hardest not to smile.
“It was a full size, thank you very much. And I’m still wounded by the fact that it never called me back. I gave that thing some of my best work. It cuts me deep, Heidi. It cuts me deep.”
I throw my head back and laugh.
“I just have one question,” I say when the laughter subsides. “If you liked me from the moment you met me, why didn’t you ever ask me out?”
“Not to sound like a complete middle school wuss, but I didn’t think you liked me back. And then when I heard your podcast and found out how you
felt, I almost yanked my earbuds out and came running over to your house. But then I kept listening. And you said you were lost. I couldn’t be the one who made you disappear completely because I took charge and made all the decisions. You needed to figure it out on your own. I couldn’t just hand you Brent Miller on a silver platter.” He gives me a wink.
“God, you’re ridiculous. And I love you so much,” I tell him, not at all shocked that I let it fly right out of my mouth without any hesitation or nerves.
He deserves to know. After what he just put himself through, and after what I’m sure Aubrey’s readers will put him through once she uploads that thing, he definitely deserves it.
A groan of relief comes out of Brent’s mouth before his arms are suddenly around me and he’s yanking me against his chest. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and bury my head into the side of his neck, breathing him in for the first time in far too long as he kisses the top of my head.
“I love you too, Heidi Larson,” he whispers as I lift my face from his neck, push up on my toes, and give him a real kiss.
A kiss I’ve been dreaming about for a week. A kiss better than any kiss we’ve ever shared before, because everything is finally out in the open—the good, the bad, and the embarrassing.
We break apart a few minutes later, and Brent laces his fingers through mine as we walk out of the studio.
“You know, you’re going to have to change the name of Heidi’s Discount Erotica now,” Brent tells me as we walk hand-in-hand down the hallway.
“Why’s that?” I ask.
“Babe, there’s nothing discount about you. You are top shelf, premium, expensive erotica.”