by KD Robichaux
THERE IS NOTHING more fulfilling than toying with Vi’s innocence. Growing up where and the way I did, and then being in the military, around a bunch of testosterone-filled, dirty-minded soldiers 24/7, the sexual innuendos never end. But then there’s Vi, so sheltered, so focused on her sport, and her almost anti-social teenaged years, which would normally have been spent with friends and dealing with hormones. She takes everything anyone says at face value. It reminds me of Drax the Destroyer in Guardians of the Galaxy, the way he only understands things literally, unable to grasp the concept of metaphors.
But she finally caught on to my gutter-minded references to her yum-yum sauce, and thank God her mom has a great sense of humor, as she damn near fell off her bench, laughing on the other side of the picnic table. And the look on Vi’s face—priceless.
We finish eating, and I grab the plastic bag all the food came in and collect our trash, tossing it in the giant trashcan in the very center of the gym. As Eva takes a seat in her usual spot on the couch, Vi gets into starting position on a route she told me she needed to practice, so I plop next to her mom, sending up a huge cloud of chalk and making her laugh.
When it settles, I take a deep breath, calming my nerves so I can do what I told myself I’d do all day at work. No way I’m pussing-out now. Win the mom, win the girl. “I have a question for you,” I begin, leaning forward and resting my forearms on my knees, clasping my hands together.
“Shoot, honey,” she tells me, and gives me her undivided attention.
“Maybe it’s old fashioned of me, but as I get to know Vi… she’s not like anyone I’ve ever met before. And I wanted to ask your permission to take her out on a date. I mean, I don’t know if her—would you call it sheltered?—personality was your parenting style, or if it’s just who she is. And I don’t mean that in a disrespectful way at all,” I add, holding my hand up to assure her. “In fact, I applaud you if it was your doing, because come on. She’s eighteen, smart, beautiful, and talented, and somehow hasn’t dated in four years.”
We both glance over to the wall as we hear Vi hiss, “Shit!” and watch as she stands up from where she fell, brushes off her ass, and then starts at the beginning of the route once again.
“At first, it was a blessing,” Eva says quietly. “And Lord knows her father still thinks it is. And in many ways, yes, I still believe it is too. She never stuck with anything when she was younger. Always so self-conscious. She gave up dancing, because she was too embarrassed to wear the costumes. She gave up piano, because she’d get frustrated when she couldn’t follow along with the sheet music the very first time she tried. This is the first and only thing she’s put effort into. I think it was because she was naturally gifted in the very beginning, and then she worked at getting even better at it. It wasn’t something she initially sucked at, and then had to work hard to become talented at it. Call it a character flaw.”
She shrugs, and I nod, beginning to understand where she’s going with this. “But then she became almost obsessed. Not in a bad way necessarily. I suppose anyone who is really good at something they love could be described as obsessed, when they eat, sleep, and breathe that hobby. Yet this isn’t a very social sport. Football, basketball, cheerleading… all of those kinds of sports, you’re on a team. You have to work together in order to win. This… this, it’s just you and the rocks. You shut everything and everyone else out, and you put all of your focus into yourself and keeping your body on the wall, not falling.” She looks at me with an almost sad smile.
“I mean, she’s on the ‘climbing team,’” she continues, gesturing with air quotes. “But really, all they do is warm up and condition together, and then the coach will either teach her a new technique or fix the way a climber is doing something, but there’s really nothing social about it.”
She sighs. “I guess what I’m trying to say is no, it wasn’t me. Yeah, I wanted her in an extracurricular activity to take up some of her time after school to keep her out of trouble, but the way it’s taken over her life”—she shakes her head—“that was all her. But to answer your request, yes, please, by all means take her on a date. I’ve never seen her act the way she does around you. She’s never really been excited to spend time with another person before. And most importantly, I’ve never seen her smile so much. You are the only person who’s ever made her eyes light up the way they do when she beats a hard route.” She grins, and it’s contagious.
“Wow. That was a lot easier than I thought it would be,” I chuckled. “Confession time? I was seriously psyching myself up to asking you all day. I didn’t think you’d want your daughter going out with a guy like me.” My forearms still resting on my knees, I ungrasp my hands, palms up, and use my eyes to indicate all my tattoos before looking back at her.
“One, you’re a Specialist in the army at just twenty years old. That means you don’t joke around when it comes to your job. You probably haven’t done anything stupid to make you lose rank.” She lifts her brows to confirm, and I nod. “Two, the way you were with your lower-ranking soldier. You took great care in making sure he knew y’all were here to have fun. You had him call you by your name, made him your equal for a little while.”
One corner of my lips pulls up as that observation reminds me of something. “I had a Master Sergeant once who told me, ‘Lowe, when you take off your dog tags at the end of the day, you should take off the soldier mentality along with them.’ It kinda just stuck with me, so I try to pass down that bit of advice when I can,” I tell her.
“That’s very good advice. My husband—Vi’s dad—and I have been married since I was 19, many, many moons ago. He’s retired Navy. You can still see the military in him, in his neatness and the way he can’t stand clutter. The way he eats fast, little things like that. But he was also very good at ‘taking off the mentality’ as you put it, and I think that’s why we’ve lasted this long,” she confides, and it makes me smile.
I really enjoy talking with Eva. She’s not like most moms I’ve met in the past of girls I was interested in. She’s never once looked at me disapprovingly, which is a nice change, and she talks to me like the grown man I am, instead of down at me.
“So why is it that you always stay? I see other parents just drop off their kids, much younger than Vi. But you’ve been here with her all three times I’ve come. Just curious,” I ask.
“Vi’s big brother is much older than her. And we tried for a really long time to have another baby, but they just never came. We finally threw in the towel and stopped hoping it was going to work, and since I had some health issues, we didn’t feel it was safe for me to do any type of fertility treatments. But then, about three months before Marshall’s retirement date from the Navy, lo and behold, I was pregnant. At almost forty years old, with Henry—Vi’s brother—about to go to boot camp for the Navy himself, I finally conceived. Not only that, it was a baby girl. I grew up with all brothers, and then I had Henry, so all I wanted in the whole world was a little girl. And there she is,” Eva says, holding out her hand toward her gorgeous daughter and smiling, as we hear Vi growl, “Mother of Gooooooood,” as she tries desperately to stretch and reach a foothold with her right foot, the tip of her toe barely missing it, with her body turned almost completely sideways on the wall.
“So, one, I just love spending as much time with her as I can get. She was a dream come true for me, and I treat her as the gift she is. There’s no way I could just drop her off anywhere and leave her by herself. And two, she’s always been so tiny. I mean, look at me.” She lifts her arms, indicating how rail-thin she is too. “She takes after me. She can eat a meal the size of a horse—and let me tell you, ever since she started climbing, the girl puts away some damn food with all the energy she burns, so fair warning for your wallet when you take her out. But there isn’t anything wrong with her, just a crazy high metabolism. Yet being that little and practically defenseless, I’ve never been able to let her go off on her own. Because it would be on her own. She doesn’t really
have any girlfriends. The little assholes at school picked on her so bad she never opened up to anyone to make an ally.”
“Who the fu—”
“Corbin!” Vi calls, cutting off the fury filling me that someone, anyone, would be giving her shit. “Will you come spot me for a second?” Her voice is strained as she keeps her body flush with the wall.
I jump up and rush to her, shaking off my anger. “What do you want me to do?”
“Just put your hand flat on my back. I’ve got to see if I’m even tall enough to reach this bitch,” she breathes, and I do as she requests, taking some of the strain off her arms as they struggle to keep her close to the rocks.
My hand still pressed there, I take a step back, enough to see if her toe is within reach of the foothold. “You’re still about an inch off, baby girl.”
“Son of a bitch,” she gripes, relaxing into my palm and placing her feet on the ground before standing upright. Her hands shoot to her hips, and I hear her frustrated growl.
I can’t help but smile at the pensive look on her face as she tries to figure out how she’s going to conquer this route. I have no idea how she’ll be able to fix something like not being long enough to reach a rock, but knowing her abilities, I don’t doubt she will. She bites her lip as her eyes dart between the holds, and it makes my dick twitch in my shorts.
Not wanting to get a hard-on in basketball shorts in the bright gym, her mom right there watching us, I place my hand on her cheek and turn her to look at me for a moment. “You’ve got this, baby girl,” I tell her, kissing her forehead, and then make my way back to the couch. I sit down gently so I don’t send up a chalk cloud, and when I look up at Vi, her wide eyes are on me, mouth slightly open. The look on her face is hard to read, but then she smiles shyly when our eyes meet, and she turns back to the wall.
“Yep,” Eva says from beside me, and I look at her. “I’m calling it right now. You’re my future son-in-law.” She nods once, picks up her book, and flips to her bookmarked page, not saying another word.
As surprising as her words are, what shocks me more is the fact I don’t hate the idea. I always told myself I didn’t want to be in a relationship, being in the military. Much less married. All you hear are horror stories, soldiers going off to war and receiving Dear John letters, or significant others cheating and rumors getting back through the grapevine.
Nothing good ever comes from being in a serious relationship when you get deployed. Not only all the infidelity bullshit, but also the state of mind it puts you in. When you have someone back home, it can make you depressed and unfocused, so that’s why I decided a long time ago that I would be married to my job instead. I haven’t had an actual girlfriend since I dropped out of high school and got my GED to go ahead and join the Army.
But after spending the last three days with Vi, and our immediate and unwavering connection….
I sit back, prop my elbow on the arm of the couch, and toy with my bottom lip with the tips of my thumb and pointer finger as I watch Vi work out the route in her head. Then she gets back into starting position once again. This time, when she arrives at the place that’s been giving her problems, she doesn’t try to reach so far with her foot first. She pulls herself up, both hands on one tiny rock before extending to the next handhold with her right arm. As she grasps it, she’s able to swing her entire body to the foothold she had previously been unable to get to, and then completes the route.
Hopping down off the last rock, instead of her customary twirl, she collapses to the ground and sprawls out. I jump up, my heart sinking to my stomach, and run to her, but as I look down, I see her face is covered in a wide grin as her chest pumps with exertion, her arms stretching out above her head. I step over her, putting one foot on the ground on either side of her chest, and cross my arms over mine, glaring down at her. “You just scared the piss out of me,” I grumble.
“Sorry,” she giggles, her eyes twinkling from the fluorescent light shining down on her from the ceiling.
“I think you should make up for it by going out with me,” I state, smirking when her heaving breaths stutter for a moment.
Her eyes widen, her grin relaxes, and she turns her head to glance at her mom, who I see nods her head in approval, before Vi looks back up at me. “O-okay,” she replies, and I hold my hand out for her to grasp.
She places her delicate hand in mine, and I pull her up effortlessly to stand, then jerk her forward, wrapping my arm around her lower back to hold her to me. “A kiss to seal the deal?” I prompt jokingly, and she gulps. But to my surprise, she leans up and places a soft, quick kiss to my cheek, and it does more to my heart than the heaviest make-out session I’ve ever had in my life.
I look over at Eva, with the biggest smile I’ve had on my face in a long-ass time. “Tomorrow night good, Mom?” I ask her, and lay my cheek against the top of Vi’s head as I feel her rest her forehead on my collarbone. The act is so small, but knowing it’s Vi—my guarded, innocent, sweet girl, who I now understand doesn’t open up to anyone—it makes me feel like the king of the world that she’s allowing herself this tiny bit of intimacy.
Voice choked up, Eva replies, “Sounds good to me. Vivian?”
I feel Vi nod against me, and I rub her back gently, hearing her almost purr before she stands to her full height, smiles, and then asks, “So. You ready to climb?”
I chuckle, but allow her to change the subject, knowing I got more out of her than I had expected. “Definitely. How about another game of takeaway? I got to try to win, since you beat me.”
And just like that, self-assured Vi returns. “Bring it, soldier boy.”
NERVOUS DOESN’T EVEN begin to describe what’s going on inside me as I wait for Corbin to pick me up. We decided last night on the phone that we’d go see a movie and out to eat. There’s not much else to do in our small town next to the base, so we’re sticking to the classic first date.
Mom took me shopping this morning, when I started freaking out that all I had were school uniforms and athletic clothes. I think she was more excited than I was for our girly excursion, and ended up buying me way more than just an outfit for tonight. I am now the proud owner of three pairs of skinny jeans, two pairs of denim bellbottoms, about ten new cute tops, and five dresses. Also, a ton of new shoes for every possible occasion, and one thing I’ve never had a reason to own in my life, but saw and actually drooled over it when we were passing by it in the window, a purse. But not just any purse. It’s a lavender solid leather Coach bag that has silver details.
I stroke the leather in my lap as I sit at the small desk in my room before tossing in my lip-gloss, smiling as I remember what Mom said. “You never ask for anything. You didn’t go to prom. I have an envelope tucked away full of money I stashed for things you never ended up wanting to do. If you want the bag, it’s yours, doll.” I had squealed and hugged her ferociously before we both danced into the store.
I hear the doorbell ring and glance at the time on my cell—5:42 p.m. He’s eighteen minutes early. I’m kind of grateful though. I’ve been ready for half an hour, and my anxiety has been growing ever since. I toss my bag onto my shoulder, and check myself in the mirror. My white V-cut super-soft T-shirt looks crisp and clean paired with my dark-wash skinny jeans and brown sandals. My long, dark hair is down my back and straightened—something I never take the time to do normally—and it surprises me how long it’s gotten, since it usually stays in a bun or ponytail on top of my head. I put on a little blush, some mascara, and lip-gloss, but I don’t know how to do much else, so I left it at that instead of attempting and failing anything fancier. With a deep breath in and out, I square my shoulders, feeling more confident in the way I look than I think I have my whole life, and head downstairs.
When I get to the bottom, I see my dad has the door open and is shaking a hand attached to a tattooed wrist, and my heart flips.
“Nice to meet you too, Corbin. My wife speaks very highly of you,” Dad says, and opens the door wider, al
lowing Corbin to step all the way in. When the door shuts, there he is, in all his heart-stopping, drool-inducing glory.
I’ve never seen him in anything but workout clothes before. Tonight, he’s wearing thick-soled brown boots, dark jeans, and a black T-shirt that looks like the seams may burst open it’s stretched so tight across his massive biceps. When I look up into his face, he’s placing a black ball cap on his head with one hand, and then lifts the other to the bill to squish it, making it frame his forehead. It’s a habit I’ve noticed him do the couple times he’s put it on as he leaves the gym.
I smile at him, feeling my face heat as he licks his lips, taking me in much the same way I did him. And we just stand there staring at each other silently until my dad comes back into the foyer, snapping us out of it, when I hadn’t even noticed he’d gone outside in the first place.
“All right, Specialist Corbin Lowe, ma man. I took a picture of your license plate, and I now know your full name. If you don’t bring my daughter home by a decent hour, I will hunt you down,” Dad tells him, clapping Corbin on the shoulder. “Have fun, princess,” he directs at me, before heading into the kitchen just as Mom is coming out, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.
“Ignore him, honey,” she says, giving Corbin a brief one-armed hug before turning to me. “Oh, Vi, my baby girl. You look beautiful!” She walks over to me, slides open the zipper of my new purse, and I see her tuck a couple of folded bills inside. As she hugs me, she whispers, “A girl should always have cash to get herself home, just in case, baby,” before kissing my cheek. “Now y’all have a good time.”
I walk over to the open door and feel Corbin’s hand come up to rest on my lower back. “Movie starts at 6:30, and we’re going to dinner right after. I’ll have her back no later than midnight,” he tells her, before mouthing to me, Princess, and I use the back of my hand to slap him in the gut. Yet I discover there is no gut at all, just rock-hard abs, and he doesn’t even flinch, giving me a smirk instead.