Secondhand Sinners

by Genevieve Lynne

  Miller couldn’t help feel something for the boy. Compassion. Pity. Bewilderment. Jack did have a little fit earlier while Emily was asleep because they didn’t have one of the channels he wanted to watch. Abby wanted to wake Emily up. Miller suggested they ride the horses back to the stable to distract him so Emily could get some asleep. He loved the idea that her head was resting on his pillow, and he wanted her to stay like that long enough to leave a trace of the smell of her shampoo. He was really looking forward to falling asleep to the fragrance of spearmint.

  “It’s late, Jack. Does your mom let you watch TV in the middle of the night?”

  Jack shrugged. “When she’s crying.”

  “Does your mom cry a lot?”

  “I watched Bugs Bunny four times last week.”

  “Well I don’t think I should let you watch TV now. You should be sleeping.”

  “My mom’s crying, so I get to watch Looney Tunes.”

  “Your mom’s crying right now?”

  “Yeah.”

  He was an ass. She was up there crying while he was imagining having sex with her. “Think we should go check on her?”

  “No. She’s asleep.”

  Was this some kind of Who’s On First skit? “Is she crying or is she asleep?”

  “She was crying. Now she’s asleep. But I still get to watch Looney Tunes.”

  “Does your mom know you watch cartoons when she’s crying?”

  Jack threw his head back like Miller was the reason for the miscommunication between them. “I don’t watch cartoons. I watch Looney Tunes.”

  Miller held his hands up in surrender. “All right. Let’s go see what’s on.”

  They walked into the living room, and Miller flipped on the TV. “What channel does it come on?”

  “Boomerang. ‘Eh, what’s up doc?’ That’s Bugs Bunny’s catch phrase.”

  Miller picked up the remote. “I don’t know what Boomerang is.”

  “Boomerang. 298.”

  “298?”

  “Yep. Boomerang. 298.”

  He pulled up the guide, scrolled down until he found channel 298 and punched the enter button. After some flickering on the screen, he found himself staring at Bugs Bunny dressed in drag. “Well I’ll be damned.”

  “‘Well I’ll be damned,’” Jack repeated. “Is that your catch phrase?”

  “No, and you shouldn’t repeat it.”

  Jack lay on the sofa where Miller had been and repeated, “Well I’ll be damned. Well I’ll be damned. Well I’ll be damned,” emphasizing a different word each time he said it.

  “You’re going to get me into trouble.”

  “‘Well I’ll be damned.’” Then he focused on the TV screen.

  Miller noticed that the last time he said it was almost in the exact intonation that he had used. Now that Jack was on the sofa, he had nowhere to sleep. He wanted to be in his own bed, next to Emily. He went back into the kitchen and paced the distance from the refrigerator to the sink a few times. Then he went back to check on Jack, who was already asleep. He glanced at the stairs, took a deep breath, and went up to check on Emily.

  He stood in the doorway and knocked softly. It was his room. He had every right to walk in, didn’t he? It’s not like he was there to stalk her. He simply wanted to check on her. He walked in, shutting the door quietly behind him. She was asleep on her side. The covers were pulled up to her chest, and the moonlight that streamed in from the open shutters revealed she had chosen his old gray t-shirt. That was even better than the blue one.

  He knelt down and pushed a few strands of hair off her face. That was when he saw the spot of wetness on her pillow. She’d probably cried herself to sleep.

  He combed his fingers through her hair and impulsively kissed her cheek. He needed to stand up, walk away from the bed, and out the door. If he didn’t do it immediately, he would have to fight the growing urge to climb into bed with her. She probably wouldn’t appreciate that. He’d count to three…no…five…and then get up. He was on eight when she opened her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

  “Nothing,” Miller whispered back. “I was checking on you. Jack said—”

  “Jack? Where’s Jack?”

  “He’s asleep downstairs. Said he needed to watch Looney Tunes.”

  “I’m sorry he woke you.”

  “He didn’t. Jack said you were crying. Are you okay?”

  “No.” She reached for him, wrapping her hand around his neck and pulling him closer.

  She kissed him. No…that wasn’t kissing. She was begging him. With their mouths still locked in a kiss, she reached down with one hand and unbuttoned his jeans with a twist of her fingers, a move he found sexy and intimidating all at once. He unzipped and stepped out of his jeans while she pulled the covers back for him.

  He climbed on top of her, and they started kissing again. This was really happening. Shouldn’t they talk about it first? Lay out their expectations so that no one got hurt? He had spent hours imagining all the ways he would make love to Emily, including one very creative, highly implausible situation involving the front porch swing. Faced with the reality of it, though, he wasn’t so sure. It would have to be good, which meant he’d have to go longer than he was physically capable, given his celibate lifestyle of raising a teenage daughter. He should have taken Heather Rees up on her offer the last time Abby stayed over at Jessica’s house.

  He pulled away. “I think we should talk about this. I don’t…I mean…” Shit. He was a coward. “What do you want to happen here?”

  She hooked her legs around his thighs. “I want you to make love to me.”

  He was a man in the desert who had just discovered the oasis he was staring at was real. Men in the desert didn’t find relief by sipping water from their hands; they took a deep breath and plunged their faces into the water. Which was exactly what he did. He kissed her, looking for relief from his parched state. The more he kissed her, the more he craved. This had to happen. Had to. If it didn’t, he’d become delirious from dehydration.

  She pushed on his chest. “You’re too heavy. Would you be okay with me on top?”

  Her on top? Yes, he could handle that much better. He rolled off her, and she pulled his boxers down and off his legs then her own underwear. Then she got on top of him, straddling his hips.

  Emily looked down at him with her hair falling to one side of her face. He’d forgotten how beautiful she looked over him. He remembered a time when he thought he’d be the only person who’d ever get to see her like that. She took his hands, slid them under the old gray t-shirt and up to her breasts. They were so soft, he was afraid to handle them. How long had it been since he touched a breast? When he had sex eighteen…no…nineteen months ago, it was so quick his date didn’t even take her shirt off. Which was a good thing because Abby called five minutes later to say she wasn’t feeling well and wanted him to pick her up early from the sleepover.

  “You can touch me, Miller. I’m not going to break.” Then she gasped when he squeezed.

  “What?” he asked, afraid that his hands were too rough for her soft skin.

  “I forgot how good it felt to have your hands on me.” She pulled the shirt over her head and threw it to the floor.

  He hoped she wouldn’t notice that his hands were trembling. He wanted to touch every single inch of her, but he was afraid to do anything that would send him to a point of no return too early. He put both hands on her hips and squeezed, trying to keep himself from thrusting against her. It was impossible. He squeezed harder.

  She leaned down and kissed his chest. Then she took a little bite. He couldn’t believe she remembered how much he liked that. He held her hair back so he could see her lips brush across his chest and her teeth take playful bites at his skin. He had to let go of her hair after a few of those amazing bites and find her hips again as he fought to stay in control of his own body.

  “Ouch!” She sat up and clutched his wrists.

  “
Shit. Sorry.” He let go. “I’m about to lose control here.”

  “Already?”

  “It’s been a long time.”

  “Oh.”

  He couldn’t see her face well enough in the shadows to read it, but she sounded disappointed. He wanted to make it better. “I’ll be okay,” he lied. “But…whenever you’re ready is fine.”

  “Are you sure? I really want you inside me.”

  He swallowed hard. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

  Emily felt amazing, better than he remembered. He tried not to move, hoping that could help him go longer, but she was moving in a slow, rocking motion that was so arousing, he didn’t think he’d last thirty seconds. He tried to think of anything but the fact that he was inside her while she moved on top of him. Baseball, football, mosquitos, the barbed-wire that needed to be replaced on the west fence, the Pythagorean Theorem.

  She moaned. “This feels so good.” She started to move faster.

  He put his hands back on her hips to try to slow her down. She slapped them away. He grabbed her thighs, closed his eyes tight, and pressed his head against his pillow. “I can’t…”

  “No,” she begged. “Wait…wait…” She braced herself, palms to his chest and moved deeper. “Oh…oh…oh…okay.”

  She dug her nails into his chest and trembled, and he could tell she had come. He squeezed her thighs, gave one strong thrust, and let his body have what it had been thirsting for. Every joint in his body locked while his groin throbbed in contractions so intense flashes of light exploded across his vision and then he went blind. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t think, and could barely breathe, like all his organs had shut down from lack of blood that had rushed to the one area of his body that had been so neglected.

  After a few waves of the most intense contractions he’d ever felt, his blood started to flow again. His heart started to beat again. Then his lungs filled with air, allowing shallow breaths. When his fingers started to tingle, he released his grasp on her. “Thank. You.”

  She collapsed on top of him with her face in his neck. “Oh my God, that was—”

  “Amaz—” He only got two syllables out when the door opened.

  “Looney Tunes are over. Time for bed. Eh, what’s up, doc? Well I’ll be damned.”

  “Oh shit. Don’t move,” Emily whispered, yanking the sheet over to their side of the bed and tucking it around them, creating a barrier between their naked bodies and the five-year-old boy who had no idea he was climbing into bed with his mom and the man whose chest was now stinging from her nail marks.

  The other side of the bed jostled, and Jack said again, “Looney Tunes are over. Time for bed. Eh, what’s up, doc? Well I’ll be damned.”

  All he knew to do was lie as still as possible and wait. He started to think about everything he should have thought of yet couldn’t because of the fog of lust. They hadn’t used a condom. What was going to happen now? Were they a couple, or was this a one-time thing?

  Emily was still on top of him, her breathing as shallow as his. If only Jack hadn’t walked in, he’d be lying in bed with her in his arms…feeling guilty anyway. Emily had been crying. She was vulnerable. No matter who had made the first move, he had gone up there with sex on his mind. Every muscle in his body was relaxing. Even his chaotic mind was beginning to give way to the calm. He had to sleep.

  When he woke up again he was shaking. No, his shoulder was shaking.

  Emily whispered, “You have to get up. Miller, you have to get up.”

  He whispered back, “Hey.”

  “Hey. You have to get up.”

  What he wanted to do was have sex again, but not with a five year old in the bed. “Come downstairs with me,” he whispered.

  “Why? So Abby can walk in on us? You have to go. Slowly.”

  He moved one leg off the bed and rolled slowly, an inch at a time, while Emily shifted her body to compensate. A few minutes later, he pulled on his boxers and jeans, which took some skill to find and separate from Emily’s clothes in the dark. When he was zipped and buttoned, he leaned over to her, careful not to jostle the bed as he bore his weight on the headboard.

  “Are you okay?” he asked her.

  “Very,” she whispered in the dark. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  He snuck out of the room, went back to the sofa, turned the TV off, and then promptly fell back to sleep.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Emily

  Emily climbed back into Miller’s bed after finally getting back into her shorts and his shirt. She was still missing some clothing, her underwear to be specific. At least she had clothes on. She lay on her back, staring into the black above her and replaying the memory of having sex with Miller. In some ways it was different from when they were young. No surprise there. The surprise was in how familiar it felt, like they’d been doing it for the last fourteen years. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling at the realization that they weren’t much better at it than when they were in high school. If she was going through a bit of a dry spell, Miller must’ve been in a full-on drought.

  Now that she was lying still, savoring the comfort that came from being with Miller again, she fought the sleep that was creeping in. She wanted to revisit the memory, wanted to fall asleep to it. Also, she hoped that if she fell asleep to that memory, maybe Daniel wouldn’t haunt her dreams again. It wasn’t only the dream about Daniel that was haunting her. There were other memories catching up to her too. Darker ones. The longer she was in town, the more visits she got from the ghosts of her past. Lying there with Miller’s covers pulled up over her chest, she felt the dark cloud moving in, casting its pitch black shadow over her, stripping her of the comfort and ease she’d experienced since Miller high-fived Jack in front of the pot of frying fish.

  Instincts kicked in and screamed at her to leave, to run away from what was about to happen. She couldn’t run. There was nowhere to run to. Besides, the last time she ran she lost everyone she loved. Emily closed her eyes and visualized the scene, remembering that September night when she was a junior in high school.

  She walked through the quiet house to her bedroom and opened the door. Her mother and grandmother were inside, rifling through her stuff. Ma'am was on the floor, on her hands and knees looking under her bed.

  “What are y’all doing?” she’d asked.

  Ma'am stood up slowly, locking eyes briefly with Gail and then fixed her hard gaze at Emily.

  “Tell me,” Emily said, stepping through the door. “What are you doing?”

  Gail put her hands on her hips. “Where have you been?”

  She looked from Gail to Violet and back to Gail. “Studying with Daniel. Why are you in my room?”

  “Studying what?”

  “English III.”

  “Was anyone else there?”

  “Miller and Sara were there for a little while.”

  “Was that other boy there? That stepchild?”

  “Alan? No.”

  “What about Daniel's parents?” Ma'am spat. “Were his parents there?”

  “Yes. I ate dinner with them. Why?”

  Ma'am jabbed her finger at her. “You’re telling us that you sat down at a table and ate dinner with Hoyt and Verna Thornton? With that old man and his young wife.”

  “Verna is my age, Mother,” Gail said. “I’d hardly call that ‘young.’”

  Emily could feel her lower lip began to quiver as she fought to hold back her tears. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “We’re trying to understand why you’re spending so much time with Daniel,” Gail said.

  Not this again. “Oh my God. I—”

  “How many times have we told you?” Gail threw her arms up in the air. “Do not to take the Lord’s name in vain!”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

  “Tell us,” Gail persisted, “why are you spending so much time with Daniel?”

  “He’s my best friend.”

  “Well, we’ve been hearing some things,” G
ail said slowly. “About you and him.”

  “I told you those were rumors. Daniel and I aren’t having sex.”

  “Yes. That’s what you told us. You have to understand that rumors are easier to believe when evidence starts to pile up.”

  “Evidence? What evidence?”

  Ma'am scoffed. “I saw a car that looked like Daniel's diving off our property late last night with its lights off.”

  “Seth and James sneak out of the house all the time without Uncle Walter knowing.” Emily bit her lower lip and then backtracked. “Not that they do. I mean…they could.”

  “The car was on our side of the fence,” Gail said.

  Emily shook her head and fixed her eyes on the ground. “It was probably a stranger.”

  “Then this afternoon,” Gail continued, “your grandmother found a used condom out by the barn.”

  Ma'am folded her arms in front of her chest. “Looks like someone tried to throw it in the burn pile but missed. How dare you fool around with that Thornton boy? And on my land.”

  “Why does everyone assume it was me? No matter what it is, you always think I’m to blame. What do I have to do to prove myself?”

  Gail held her hand out. “Let me read your diary.”

  “What diary?”

  “The one your grandmother gave you for Christmas last year.”

  “I don’t know where that is.”

  “Well that’s convenient,” Ma'am said, taking a step closer.

  Emily felt closed in, trapped. “Honest. I don’t keep a diary. Even if I did, it wouldn’t say anything about having sex with anyone because I’m not.”

  “All right then.” Gail nodded briefly. “We’re calling Sister Serenity.”

  “No.” An immediate surge of panic made her cheeks feel like they were on fire. She always thought those stories about the old lady who stood outside the school handing out handwritten pamphlets about cleansing the body and soul were tall tales, exaggerations at the very worst. She even felt sorry for her. Then Becky Massey missed three days of school after her grandmother called Sister Serenity to come to her house. The crazy lady had her own granddaughter douched with hot water and bleach when she found out she was having sex. Becky’s recounting of the whole ordeal was terrifying. “You can’t. That old woman is a crazy whack-job. Everyone knows that.”