Butterfly Dreams

by A. Meredith Walters

  So hearing her talk about popping cherries, in whatever context, had me wanting to take a cold shower.

  “Oh, well, I’m glad I could be your first,” I said smoothly, turning into a tree-lined driveway and parking behind a dark green Toyota Corolla. Zoe was already there. I hoped like hell she’d be nice. And that Corin wouldn’t say something that would inadvertently set off my sister’s bitch attack.

  Corin reached across the seat and ran her fingers down my cheek. “You’re my first in everything that matters,” she said softly, and I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward me.

  I ran my nose along hers and kissed her lips. Her cheeks. Her chin. Her eyelids. I could never get enough of touching her.

  “Maybe we should head back to my place instead. Do the whole family dinner another night,” I suggested, my voice cracking. I kissed her again. Harder this time.

  Corin chuckled and pulled away, pressing a hand to my chest. Always over my heart. “I think it might be too late for that.” She nodded her head in the direction of the front of the house. I could see the curtains in the living room pulled back and my mother peeking outside.

  I groaned. “Why did I drag us here again?”

  Corin rolled her eyes. “Don’t start that now. You’ve got me here. Let’s go.”

  I got out of the car and hurried to the passenger side to open the door before Corin could do it herself.

  “You’re really never going to let me do that myself, are you?” she asked, and I shook my head.

  “Nope.”

  She cupped my cheek in her hand, her brown eyes soft. “What am I going to do with you?”

  I leaned down to kiss her again.

  “Beck! You’re here! Come inside, it’s starting to rain!”

  I dropped my forehead to Corin’s and sighed. “This doesn’t seem like such a good idea in retrospect.”

  Corin poked me in the ribs and I straightened up, taking her hand before walking toward my mother, who stood in the open doorway.

  She watched the two of us approach and I felt Corin tense with every step. And I understood why. My mother was smiling, but it was brittle. She seemed unsure. Apprehensive.

  She wasn’t sold on this brand-new relationship that came on the heels of my last, less successful one. My mother was protective. Overly so after the almost-dying thing. Sierra had never passed the mama bear sniff test and it had created a wedge in my family.

  But Corin wasn’t Sierra.

  “Breathe, Cor. Before you pass out,” I whispered as we walked up the porch steps.

  “Shut up,” Corin responded through clenched teeth that then stretched her mouth into her version of a smile. Not the smile she gave me. The one reserved for uncomfortable situations.

  “Hi, Mom,” I said.

  “I was beginning to think we’d have to call for reinforcements to get you out of the car,” she joked, looking at Corin, not at me.

  I hugged my mother before turning to a very stiff Corin. “Mom, this is Corin. Corin, this is my mother, Meryl.”

  Corin held out her hand and Mom shook it, both of the women regarding each other evenly.

  “Thank you for inviting me to your home,” Corin said, her smile turning into a manic grin. She handed my mother the pie she had insisted on buying on our way over.

  “It’s lovely to have you, Corin. Now come inside. We’re not trying to heat the outside.”

  I wrapped my arm around Corin’s waist and we walked inside. “You may want to tone down the psycho-killer smile. It’s making me nervous,” I said softly.

  “Maybe I should start quoting Hannibal Lecter. I could ask your mother for a nice bottle of Chianti,” Corin whispered, raising her eyebrows.

  I chuckled, relieved that she hadn’t run for the door yet.

  I could hear the television blaring in the living room and figured my father was camped in his recliner watching the football game.

  “Why don’t you two go in and say hi to your father. Zoe’s around here somewhere. Probably on her phone.” My mom kept glancing between Corin and me, clearly trying to get a read on our relationship.

  I pressed Corin up against my side but she was resisting me.

  “Cool the PDA in front of your parents,” Corin had warned me before we left my apartment.

  “I promise not to stick my tongue down your throat until we leave. Does that work?” I had asked her. You know, before sticking my tongue down her throat.

  “Do you want anything to drink?” Mom asked.

  “I’ll have a glass of water. Corin?” I squeezed her middle and she jumped.

  “Yes, a glass of water would be lovely,” she said, glaring at me.

  “Two glasses of water coming up,” my mom said, sending me some sort of silent message with her eyes that I couldn’t read.

  “I was going to answer. Chill out, Beck,” Corin hissed, shooting me daggers with her eyes.

  Maybe I was more nervous about this dinner than Corin.

  “Come on, let’s go meet my dad. He’s usually good for a laugh or two.” I tugged on Corin, but she hung back for a minute.

  “Beck, I know I’m going to say something stupid and they’re going to hate me. You’ll be embarrassed. I’ll ruin everything. Do not let me mention my cat coughing up fur balls or the pulled muscle in my groin. Promise me!” She squeezed my hand and widened her eyes dramatically.

  I twisted her so that she was facing me. I framed her face with my hands and looked down into worried brown eyes. I kissed her gently on the mouth. Taking my time.

  “I promise to kick you if there are any mentions of fur balls or groin muscles. Relax. There is nothing you can do to ruin anything. They will love you. I promise. You just need to take a deep breath, rein in the freak-out, and show them the woman I get to see.”

  Corin nodded. “And don’t let me tell your mother about how much I love it when you squeeze my boobs. That would definitely not be appropriate.”

  I groaned low in the back of my throat and kissed her again, a little harder this time. “Can we not talk about how much I love squeezing your boobs in my parents’ house please? It makes things a little…uncomfortable, if you know what I mean.” Both of our eyes trailed down to my crotch.

  “Oh. Okay,” Corin smirked.

  I led her into the living room where my dad was drinking an iced tea and watching the football game at full volume. I had suspicions he was becoming hard of hearing, though he’d never admit that.

  There was a touchdown, which led to my father yelling and pumping his fist in the air.

  Corin and I exchanged a look and I grabbed the remote control, turning down the volume.

  “Hey, don’t touch a man’s TV remote,” he warned.

  “Yeah, well, we’d like to keep our eardrums intact, Dad.”

  Dad grumbled but got to his feet. He hugged me hard and tight. He had never insisted on absurd male stereotypes that involved handshakes and no physical affection. There was lots of hugging all the time. In front of friends, dropping me off for school, after track meets. Growing up, it had been an ongoing source of mortification.

  “Dad, this is Corin.” I looked at Corin and saw a sad, wistful smile on her face. “Corin, this is my dad, Stanley Kingsley.”

  Corin held her hand out as she had done with my mother, but my dad wasn’t having it.

  I probably should have warned her.

  “Don’t come in here expecting a handshake. We’re a hugging bunch.” He engulfed my girlfriend in a bear hug that all but smothered her. She patted him on the back and looked a little pained but didn’t pull away.

  She widened her eyes over his shoulder, and I had to cover my mouth so I wouldn’t laugh.

  “Beck’s been talking about you for a while now. It’s nice to put the very pretty face with the name.” My father’s gregarious nature didn’t leave much room for discomfort and Corin relaxed instantly.

  “Have a seat.” My dad pointed to the loveseat and I sat down, pulling Corin down beside me.


  My dad resumed his place on the recliner. “Beck tells me you own and operate the pottery studio in town. I must say that’s a mighty impressive achievement for a woman so young. You can’t be older than twenty-three, twenty-four.”

  “I’m twenty-five, actually. I opened Razzle Dazzle just after I turned nineteen. My friend Adam helps me run it, so I don’t do everything on my own.”

  My dad nodded. “I always like to hear about local businesses. I think it’s important to support our own.”

  My mom came in just then and handed Corin and me our glasses of water. “Dinner should be ready in twenty minutes. Beck told me that you’re a meat and potatoes eater, so I made a pot roast. I hope that’s okay.”

  Corin’s smile was a little pained but sincere. “That sounds great,” she said softly. “I haven’t had a pot roast in a long time.”

  There was something there. Something I should ask about. But before I could say anything to Corin, my very loud, very energetic sister entered the room.

  “No one told me Beck was here with the new meat!”

  “Zoe!” my mother admonished.

  “What? It’s true. He’s ditched the bitch and got himself a shiny new piece of tail.” Zoe grinned, enjoying the effect her words had on our mother.

  “Corin, I’m so sorry about my daughter. Her mouth seems to have gotten worse since she’s gone to college,” Mom apologized.

  Zoe sat down on the chair beside Corin. “I’m sure she’s heard worse if she’s dating Beck.”

  “Be cool, Zoe,” I growled under my breath, worried about her saying something that would either piss off Corin or humiliate me.

  I was glad to see Corin grinning at my sister. “I’m Corin,” she said, holding out her hand.

  Zoe rolled her eyes. “What are we? Fifty? I’m not going to shake your hand. But it is nice to meet you. I’m Zoe. I’m sure Beck has told you all about how obnoxious I am.” She leaned in close to Corin. “But his judge of character is questionable given the chick he just spent the last couple of years shacking up with.”

  Fucking hell. Was she going to make snotty comments about Sierra all evening? I didn’t want to talk about my ex with my new girlfriend right there. It was a little too talk show for me.

  Mom had gone back to the kitchen and Dad was once again watching the game, leaving me to handle Zoe on my own.

  “Was she that bad?” Corin asked, looking amused.

  “Do we have to talk about her? Seriously? It’s not really appropriate—”

  “God, she was the worst. No taste at all. She used to show up in these tiny shorts and you could totally see her butt. Can you believe that? Wearing that sort of thing to your boyfriend’s parents’ house! So trashy! But her lack of taste wasn’t surprising. She did date my brother. No offense.”

  “None taken,” Corin laughed. “I don’t own any booty shorts. But I do have a pair of jeans with a picture of a cat on the ass.”

  I chuckled. “She really does. She even wore them on our first date. It was pretty hot,” I added.

  Zoe gave us both a look. “Isn’t that cute? I love listening to inside jokes.” She made a face.

  Corin leaned down to ogle Zoe’s feet. “Those are seriously the most awesome shoes I have ever seen.” She pointed to the knee-high purple and black Doc Martens my sister was wearing.

  My sister literally glowed. “These are my favorites!” she shrieked. Zoe turned to me, beaming. “You finally chose a good one, bro. Took you long enough.”

  And just like that, my prickly, churlish sister was won over by my equally snappish girlfriend. Who knew an ugly pair of shoes could be such a bridge builder?

  Zoe talked Corin’s head off for the next ten minutes. She was excited to hear about the pottery studio and promised to bring her sorority in to make Little Sis gifts in the spring.

  “Dinner’s ready,” my mom called from the kitchen. Dad turned off the TV and we all filed into the dining room. Mom had gone all out, laying out the best china and even using the cloth napkins.

  “Wow, Mom. Is Corin royalty and I didn’t know it?” Zoe asked, taking her spot at the table.

  “I just wanted it to be nice. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?” Mom asked with a smile.

  “It looks lovely, Mrs. Kingsley,” Corin said, sitting down in a chair beside me.

  Corin’s compliment immediately thawed my mother’s icy exterior. She gave Corin a full-lipped smile. “Thank you, Corin. But please, call me Meryl.”

  Corin nodded and unfolded her napkin onto her lap.

  Dad didn’t stand on ceremony. He immediately started loading his plate with beef and vegetables.

  “Stan, our guest should be served first,” my mom scolded.

  “That’s okay. I don’t mind waiting,” Corin insisted.

  “Nonsense. Stan should know better. I do hope Beck has better manners than his father,” Mom muttered, rolling her eyes heavenward.

  Corin chuckled. “I have to remind him to eat with his mouth closed and to not eat food from the floor. But other than that, he’s fine.”

  My mother looked horrified. I poked Corin in the side.

  “She’s teasing, Mom. I don’t do any of that stuff. I promise,” I placated.

  Corin tried to hide her smile. “I’m sorry, I was just joking, Meryl. I didn’t mean it.”

  Mom relaxed. “Oh good. You scared me there for a minute, Corin.”

  “At least I didn’t mention the boob grabbing,” Corin said under her breath.

  I reached over and squeezed her thigh, letting my hand linger. “I warned you about mentioning that,” I said in a low growl.

  Corin’s eyes sparkled and my chest felt tight. My heart was ready to burst with relief. Things were going…well.

  After my dad was finished the rest of us served ourselves, and I noticed that Corin piled food on her plate as though she hadn’t eaten in a year.

  “Wow, Mom’s going to think you never eat,” I joked.

  “I love pot roast. I haven’t had one in a long time,” she commented wistfully with faraway eyes.

  “How do you like it, Corin?” Mom asked, noticing the way Corin shoveled food into her mouth.

  “It’s delicious. Unbelievable, really,” she responded, holding up her full fork before putting the food in her mouth.

  Mom beamed and just like that Corin won over the last member of my family.

  “How did you meet Beck?” Zoe asked after filling her plate up with more potatoes.

  Corin and I glanced at each other. “We, uh, we met at church.”

  Zoe laughed. “Church? You don’t go to church!”

  “I go there twice a week for group,” I admitted.

  “That heart-attack-survivors support group?” Mom asked.

  I nodded. “That’s the one.”

  “And you met there?” Dad asked.

  “Yeah. That’s what I said.” I didn’t want Corin to feel put on the spot. Feeling like she had to explain her condition, which I realized she had yet to really explain to me.

  I could tell my mother wanted to ask what was wrong with Corin but politeness wouldn’t let her. “So, you go to support group with Beck?” she asked, tiptoeing in that way of hers that had driven me crazy since my heart attack. Why was it so hard to come out and ask the questions that you wanted to ask?

  Corin nodded. “Yes. That’s where we met. He always makes sure I have plenty of tea and cookies.” She smirked at me and I grinned back, enjoying our private joke.

  “So, you met in a group for people who have almost died. That’s pretty weird, guys,” Zoe piped up.

  If my sister were closer, I would have kicked her.

  “Don’t be so rude, Zoe,” my mom chided.

  “I don’t go to the group anymore,” Corin said finally with a shrug. As if it were no big deal. But it was. It was the first I had heard that.

  “You don’t? Since when?” I demanded, dropping my fork on my plate.

  “Since my doctor told me that I don�
��t have a heart problem,” she said quietly, her mood changing instantly. She seemed worried. Serious. Not happy like she should have been.

  I grabbed her hand and kissed it. “That’s wonderful, Corin! Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Corin pulled her hand out of my grasp and continued eating. “This is the best pot roast I’ve ever had. Maybe even better than my mom’s,” she said, ignoring my question completely.

  What was going on with her?

  My mother smiled brightly. For all of Corin’s social awkwardness, she was effectively winning over my family.

  “Thank you so much, Corin. How is your mom’s pot roast different?”

  I hadn’t had a chance to tell my mother that Corin’s parents were deceased. It hadn’t come up. I opened my mouth to politely explain but Corin beat me to the punch.

  “She’s dead. So I can’t really ask her.”

  Corin closed her eyes in mortification.

  “I didn’t mean to say it like that. I’m sorry,” she said softly, looking as though she wanted to crawl under the table.

  My mother’s smile faded. The room went completely silent.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” my mother blustered.

  “My dad’s dead too. So I haven’t had a family dinner in years. It’s nice. Really.” Corin’s cheeks were turning red and I knew she was embarrassed. I hadn’t warned my parents about Corin’s blunt-to-the-point-of-awkward honesty.

  “Crap. I told you I’d say something stupid,” Corin muttered quietly, twisting her hands in her lap.

  No one said a thing. Not even Zoe, who could always be counted on to say something smart-assy.

  “Well, that’s too bad,” my dad stated, coughing.

  “Yeah, it is. Thanks,” Corin said, trying to smile but failing completely.

  “Well, we’re glad to have you here,” my mom said, salvaging what was left of the dinner conversation.

  “I’m really glad to be here. Honestly. It’s a wonderful meal,” Corin said a little desperately, and I knew she was trying to claw her way out of the hole she had dug.

  “It’s okay, Corin,” I whispered, squeezing her hands.

  My mom was looking at my girlfriend in sympathy and my dad seemed uncomfortable. But they didn’t appear completely put off by her outburst.