"I'm fine, this is nothing…" Adrian choked out, his eyes down and vision still blurry. "No I'm just…"
"Oh, God. Sweetie." Simone rubbed her thumbs under his eyes. She cooed his name, his pet name, and finally pressed his head to her chest. Adrian hated this—crying completely now—especially over something so small. He rarely cried. He kept it at bay, because it meant weakness. It meant he wasn't doing his job right. The last time he'd cried this openly in front of Simone was when Kayla was born. He had cried tears of joy then, because he realized he could have a future. He had been so happy with her in his arms because he had believed for such a long time that he should just be forgotten about.
Now, Simone seemed to know these weren't tears of joy. He was crying out of panic, out of fear, but more so because he wanted to have another kid, but felt as if he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve a future, with a wife like this, because he still thought about the life he had left behind.
"What's wrong?" Simone asked slowly. "Tell me. Please."
Adrian managed to compose himself enough to stop crying. When he looked up at her, Simone still narrowed her gaze. "Tell me. You would be surprised at what I'd understand."
"Do you... Do you ever miss dating women?"
Simone seemed struck. Her brows lifted in complete surprise. "I have to say, I didn't think that was what you were going to ask me. But no. I don't think so. Why?"
Adrian shrugged. He didn't want to talk anymore.
"I miss being twenty-four, though," she said, nudging him. "I miss going to art shows in Montreal and staying out all night. I miss my friends from that time period."
"Why not go find them again? Or hang out?"
"Because they're not twenty-four either. They're thirty-somethings. We talk on Facebook now instead of going on road trips to Hull and Ottawa. It's completely different."
"Why does it have to be different, though?"
Simone shrugged. "Time passes. Things change. Although I may miss being twenty-four, I don't miss the other things that come with it: the insecurity, not knowing what I'm doing, feeling as if I'm letting people down, the hangovers. My God, the hangovers. It's so easy to look back and think things were wonderful. But I love what I have now."
"I do too," Adrian said. He squeezed her hands, hoping he could convey his emotion. "I really, really do. Trust me."
"I do."
Adrian looked at her. Her gaze was open, and yes, completely trusting. Adrian suddenly felt tears come to his face again. She was so amazing, so into their life together, and yet Adrian couldn't stop thinking about other people, other men at the same time he thought about her.
"Adrian, what's going on?" she said after she had kissed his forehead and pushed his tears away. "Do you miss being in your twenties?"
"No." Adrian's voice was the strongest it had been. His twenties had been filled with alcohol and depression, interspersed with sometimes-okay shows. He had been relieved, in a way, when he turned twenty-nine because that meant all of it was almost over. Twenty-nine had also been when he met Simone, but he couldn't have known that at the time.
"Then what?" Simone's breath hitched. Adrian knew she didn't want to ask the final part of the question, but after a few moments, she bit her lip and moved on. She was always so much braver than him. "If you don't miss your twenties, then do you miss men?"
"I... I love you—"
"I love you too. But you also miss men?"
Adrian nodded. He didn't try to justify their marriage and how much they cared about one another. "I just... I sometimes find myself thinking about other guys. In the way I used to before we met. I would never cheat. Never. But I don't know what else to do. Sometimes my thoughts keep me up all night."
Simone was quiet for a long time. Adrian almost panicked when he thought he heard Kayla get out of bed, but it turned out to be just the creaking of their old house. Simone's hand moved back and forth against his skin, then under his T-shirt. Suddenly, she pressed her lips to his. He opened his mouth like a yawn, letting her inside. His skin felt tight from crying, and his throat still a little raw. He felt like an idiot. But he kissed Simone, because he did love her, more than he had ever loved anyone ever, and because that was what mattered.
"If given a choice..." Adrian said, pulling away. "If I had to stand at the crossroads and one pathway led to you and Kayla—and another baby—and the other lead towards other men, I'd always pick you and Kayla. You know that, right?"
She nodded, curling her finger through some of his hair, before combing it around his ear. "I do know that. But I'm not asking you to choose."
"What?"
"I never liked choices like that. They split you in two. I can see that more than ever now."
"But... I did all of this myself. None of it was your fault."
"I know that. I didn't say it was my fault. But I can fix it, can't I?" Simone asked, her gaze softening. She took his hand in hers again, squeezing it tightly. "Look. You and I should talk about this."
"We are talking about it. I feel better just admitting it."
"Okay." Her eyes beamed. "That's a start. But we should... you know, fix this too. Talk is cheap if we don't do anything. If you miss men, then why not see men?"
Adrian's mouth went dry. This couldn't be... this wasn't what she was offering. No. He didn't want to accept it if it was. Why would he want to fuck around outside of their marriage? He looked down at his ring and felt the sudden seizing in his throat again.
"I love you..." he trailed off, until Simone met his lips. They kissed more frantically this time around, before she pulled away. She pressed their foreheads together, and for a while, it was like it was only them in the world.
"It's late. We don't have to decide what we're doing tonight. What we want tonight. Same as goes for houses."
Adrian nodded. He liked the idea of not thinking of moving right away.
"But..." Simone cut in. "I want to talk. Just talk again."
"I thought talk was cheap?"
"It is if we don't do anything with it. But the first step is always just to open your mouth and speak. Does… does that sound okay?"
"Yes," Adrian finally said. He looked into her eyes and saw there was no lies there—only love. And for the first time in a few weeks, he knew he could breathe easier. "We'll talk."
Chapter Seven
Next Saturday, Curtis lingered in the front hallway, a song ceaselessly trapped in his head. Sierra squirmed on the stairs, trying to get her shoes on and tied, while Lacey was still fussing with Darcy upstairs. Curtis had tried to get her dressed, but she insisted that "daddy knew nothing" of her clothing. So, in spite of still having to rush around and figure out what she needed to get for her party, Darcy was dressing a four-year-old who suddenly thought she was a fashion diva.
And Camille, Curtis thought, bouncing on a beat in his mind, still wasn't here yet. His gaze jumped from the empty driveway to Sierra on the stairs, desperately worried that if these two kids kept fighting with their clothing that Curtis would not have a chance to pull Camille aside and ask his request.
"Dad." Sierra glanced up at him. "Dad. My feet hurt."
Curtis narrowed his eyes. "Sweetheart. Those are on the wrong feet."
"They are on my feet."
"Right. But you need a right and a left." Curtis crouched down by Sierra's toes, saw her mismatched socks—one with Star Wars and the other with ponies—and smiled. He slipped off her sneakers and ran his hands along the inside of her shoes. "See how this edge is straighter? These straight parts need to touch. That's how you know what's right and left."
"But your left is different from mine."
"I know. That's because I'm looking at you. If we had a mirror, the same thing would happen."
Sierra merely narrowed her eyes at Curtis as he fixed her shoes.
"Never mind," Curtis mumbled. "I'll explain it to you better later. Now I want you to get your coat."
Sierra grumbled, but she moved to the coat closet and found her
bright blue spring jacket. Curtis wanted to argue—there was still snow on the ground, so therefore, winter jackets should prevail—but he didn't bother. He just glanced outside, still saw no car, and heard another thump and a cry from upstairs.
"D?" he called up. "You need help?"
"Always."
With a sigh, Curtis turned to see Sierra. "You okay to find Lacey's coat for her while I'm upstairs?"
Given a new task, Sierra nodded proudly. She dug through the coat closet as Curtis mounted the stairs. Lacey was dressed now, but dead-weighting on her bed, refusing to get up. Darcy's eye makeup had run slightly and she was still in her PJ pants. Curtis clasped her hands and kissed her cheek.
"Go. I've got the girls. Just worry about your party, okay?"
"This," Darcy said, squeezing his arm. "This is why I married you."
"Because I take care of our kids? Nah, that just makes me a decent human."
Darcy leaned close to whisper in his ear. "No. Because you take care of our kids while I'm having a completely irresponsible sex party."
Curtis laughed. She always made everything she did sound so, so dirty. Even the most innocent things. When they moved in together, Darcy always turned every small domestic job into the summary of a porn movie. When she was getting ready in the morning, she'd state 'I'm going to take off all my clothes now'; when she was doing laundry, she's tell him she was going to 'handle all our delicate bits'; and especially when she'd read a book, and there was a sex scene, she'd joke about reading pornography and touching herself between scenes. Most of her teasing had been toned down when they had kids. Curtis was delighted—perhaps a bit too much—to hear it come back.
"I do my best," Curtis said and kissed her cheek. As she disappeared, he turned back to his daughter. She sat up on the bed now, but folded her arms over her chest.
"What's wrong?"
"I don't want to go outside. It's gross."
"Slush is gross, yes, but what if I said we could go someplace really fun if you behave?"
Lacey tilted her head. "Science Centre?"
"No... but ice cream?" Curtis waited with a tight smile, hoping Lacey would take his bribery—but also not broadcast it. She seemed to perk up right away and Curtis grabbed her hands to help her off the bed.
"I like ice cream," she stated.
"Good. But remember—this happens only if you're good. You and Sierra have to behave."
Lacey, in a surprising bit of action, mimicked the motion of zipping her lip. Curtis nodded and extended his hand for her to shake. She grabbed onto his thumb before shaking his hand with a grin.
"Pleasure doing business with you, Lacey Bear."
By the time Curtis got both girls downstairs, in coats, hats, and with proper shoes, a car had pulled into the driveway. He wouldn't have noticed it, except for the low baseline that blasted from the car's speakers and interrupted the song in his head. Darcy soon appeared in the front hallway, a smile on her face as she ran towards the door.
"Camille!"
Darcy walked outside to meet her sister—plus entourage from her women's studies classes—as Curtis bit his lip. Darcy had all the party stuff inappropriate for minor's eyes hidden away, but he still heard her hush a few people who were talking animatedly about something called 'an explorer plug' as they came towards the door.
"Sorry, we'll be out of the way," Curtis said. With both girls holding his hands, he pushed his way through the crowd. In the garage, he got them done up and in the van's seats before he glanced at both of them.
"Daddy forgot something inside. Will you be good, girls?"
Sierra nodded while Lacey mimicked the action of zipping her lips again. When he stepped inside, a mound of women's shoes and expensive leather boots were already piled up by the doorway. There was music on, food out, and it seemed like the party had been going all afternoon, rather than the fifteen minutes it took Curtis to strap the kids in. How on earth am I going to find Camille? He touched the wad of twenties he had in the front of his jacket, hoping it was enough for his item in question—he had found a listing of prices online last night. He debated giving up and ordering the item online, but that meant Darcy would most likely sign for any packages since she was home more than him, and Curtis wanted to be able to control the surprise factor of the present.
Curtis was about to approach a woman he had met a few times at Darcy's birthday parties—Trisha, he was pretty sure—when he spotted Camille's blonde curls. Her red sweater was cut low on her body, her bra visible if anyone got too close. She was taller than Darcy, getting all of her looks from their father, while Darcy resembled their shorter, darker haired mother.
"Curtis?" Camille said, lifting an eyebrow. "Forget something?"
"No... I uh. I need a favour."
Camille, always one for adventure, took a step closer. "Oh? What do you need?"
He grabbed the wad of bills, still in the bank envelope, and handed it to her. "I know this seems like a drug hand off—"
"Those are my favourite type of deals," she said, peeking into the envelope. She counted the twenties and gave Curtis a nudge. "So what am I buying you?"
Curtis let out a sigh. This was why he liked Camille. She understood these types of things without question. "A strap-on."
"With or without a dildo?" she asked. "And if with, vibrating or not?"
Curtis quirked his eyebrows, then shook his head. "With a dildo, but uhhh. No vibrations."
"Okay. Very utilitarian. Got it."
"Thanks," he said, squeezing her arm. "I really appreciate it. Just... don't tell, D, okay? It's supposed to be a surprise."
"Say no more." Camille pocketed the money and mimicked the motion of zipping her lips. That would be where Lacey got the action. Camille gave him another wink, then nudged him out the door.
"Now leave. We all have some place to be."
Curtis nodded, said a couple more thanks, and smiled the entire way to the car.
*~*~*
Another Family Channel pop star's latest song played outside the ice cream parlour. Lacey and Sierra's heads bounced along with the music, though Curtis wasn't quite sure how much of that was to do with the sugar high or if they actually knew the words. It didn't seem to matter much, though. His plan, so far, was working without a hitch. The girls had run around like maniacs at the park, dragging him up from his seat at a bench several times to push them on the swings. Sierra dug around in the snow and dirt for a while, too, getting her hands completely covered in mud when Curtis looked away for approximately two seconds. Even that, though, had worked as a good transition to get the girls back in the van to clean up, so they could come to the ice cream parlour. He made sure to tell Lacey how proud he was of her for staying quiet about this aspect of their trip and rewarded her with rainbow sprinkles.
After this stop, Curtis hoped they would be zonked enough to fall asleep in the van. He had been texting back and forth with Darcy about party updates, and needed to kill another two hours, maybe hour and a half. If they fell asleep in the van, he figured he could drive around Parkdale and listen to music over and over. An hour and a half in CD time was a Surfer Rose, Doolittle, and Come on, Pilgrim by Pixies. Which really, for Curtis at least, sounded like a fantastic afternoon.
"Daddy," Lacey asked. "Do you like your ice cream?"
"Yes!" he said. He licked his Tiger Tail cone with relish, making both of the girls giggle. "It's fantastic."
"Where's mommy?" Sierra asked. "Should we get anything for her?"
"Mommy's fine. Just with her friends. But trust me, I think she's getting her own treats."
"Like a birthday cake?"
"Yes, sure. Like a birthday cake." Curtis smiled and rubbed a hand through Sierra's hair. She giggled and continued to bounce to the next song that came on.
Even with his own sudden sugar high, Curtis couldn't help but feel as if something was missing. He pulled out his phone again, scrolled past the messages from Darcy, and saw the conversation thread with Adrian. The last messa
ge from him had been a Nirvana song lyric. They had been emailing more than texting lately, trying to find time for the Radiohead Cover band at the end of the month. But occasionally, usually when Curtis was bored at work, he started to text Adrian with aimless messages. Something from the Pixies, then Radiohead to remind him of their plans together. Adrian had taken this new form of contact as a game they could play. He'd often find the most obscure song lyric, post it, and wait for Curtis to guess what it was from. Some of the messages he'd sent we're so intimate that Curtis had had to stop, go into Google, and see if they belonged elsewhere. He had to make sure Adrian really was just quoting from AFI's "God Called In Sick Today" and not actually confessing something more to him.
I want to text you with something neat, Curtis wrote, but I'm afraid right now all I can hear is the latest Family Channel clone.
Curtis grinned as he sent the message, knowing that would cause Adrian to respond indignantly right away. When his phone buzzed right away, Curtis grabbed it—only to stare at a message from Camille. The last time they had talked had been the holidays, so Curtis took a while to recognize the conversation chain.
I have your toy, good sir. Should I leave it in your house or...?
Curtis typed quickly, shielding the screen from his girls though he knew it was unnecessary. I'm at Baskin Robbins. Can you come? Probably safer to do the drop here.
And tastier. Ice cream sounds good. Be right there.
The girls chattered to one another, their ice cream almost completely melted if they weren't quite done. Curtis finished up the rest of his Tiger Tale cone, just as Camille's red car pulled into the lot. He gathered the girls to go out to the van and wiped off their sticky hands inside the vehicle as Camille approached.
"Oh nice," she said. "Looks like you all got a treat today."
The girls smiled and cheered. Camille waved back, then motioned for Curtis to follow her to the back of the van, near the trunk.
"Will you girls be good while I talk to your aunt?"
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