“Son, you know we love you,” he said. “But please, don’t bring that Barbie-doll here. I’ll have to hear about it from you mom for months. I’m begging you-”
“No, Pop.” I laughed. “I ended it with Tawn. This is a new girl. You’ll like her, I promise.”
“You sure about that? Not sure if I can trust your judgment anymore, Nicolas.”
“Pop.” I was at work at the time, so I walked outside as cars rushed past in afternoon traffic. “She knocked the wind right outta me.”
There was a long pause before he said, “I’ll tell your mom to make a pie.”
***
Now, it was Friday night, and I was wearing dress boots, black jeans, a collared black shirt, and a black wool coat. I knocked on the door and heard, “Just a minute!”
She flipped the lock and disappeared back into her bedroom. “I can’t find my other boot!” she yelled out.
“You want some help?” I asked, amused that she was nervous.
“Got it!” she said, walked into the living room, and tugged it on.
“Damn, Lark!” She wore a pencil skirt, grey suede boots with a high thin heel, and a thick black and grey knitted sweater with a large collar.
“Do I look okay? Should I change?” she said as she brushed her hands over her skirt… and her perfect round ass.
“Get in the fuckin’ truck.” I grinned.
“What?” she asked in that small voice.
“Babe, that outfit? I gotta be honest. Not only do you look beautiful—because you do—it’s gonna be difficult to keep my dick down all night.”
She gave me a huge smile, and it was almost as beautiful as she was. “Get your bag, babe.” I chuckled as she handed me a large square box.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Pie,” she answered.
“What kind of pie?” I grinned.
“Cherry pie. I make the filling when it’s in season and freeze it. Made the crust, too. I’m ready,” she said, her bag thrown over her shoulder with such force, I felt a rush of air hit me.
The entire drive over, I contemplated telling her that my mom had probably made cherry pie, as well. It was one of her specialties. Not only that, she also made the crust from scratch and her own filling. Instead, I decided I’d have some fun with that little piece of information when the time was right.
We pulled into their long drive, only the ten or so feet in front of the truck were visible. In the winter and spring, the fog would settle out here, which made it spooky, horror-film dark, but I didn’t mind it. After all the time I’d spent up at the cabin now, I felt comfortable in even the darkest, most dense, deep woods. I thought I’d share the story with Lark to break the ice.
“I have a cabin. Did I tell you that?” I pulled the truck up slowly to the house.
“No, you didn’t tell me that,” she said nervously.
“The darkness out here reminds me of the forest around it. One day, early afternoon in summer, I followed a small path. I thought it was a path, but now I know better. It was a dry stream made by run-off from the melting snow. Well, I followed it and followed it then thought I better start making my way back. I had a backpack with food and water, so I sat and ate. I’d been out there hours already, just listening. Then the sun was starting to set below the trees. Lucky I had summer daylight on my side, but still, it had to be close to eight. So I followed this ‘trail’ back, and everything became denser and denser, until I knew I was lost. But I just relaxed and kind of felt my way through, and, before I knew it, I was on the other side of the property, at the back of the cabin.”
“And you’re telling me this because you want to go hiking? I better buy a compass,” she teased.
“I was trying to distract you. You’ve met my mom and pop before.” I put the truck in park and left the engine running.
“Only your mom, and not like this, Nico. This is a test.” She opened her bag and dug around until she found her compact and lipstick.
“Lark?” I asked and waited for her to finish dolling herself up unnecessarily.
“Yep,” she answered and smacked her lips together as she threw the compact and lipstick back into her bag.
I cut the engine, turned my body toward hers, and unclicked her seatbelt.
“What are you doing?” she asked, a little bit of mischievousness in her voice.
“Well, I’m gonna mess up your lipstick, get you hot and bothered, then I’m taking you to meet my parents… kinda.” I grinned and leaned down taking her chin in my hand and giving her a slow, deep kiss until I heard her moan.
“Hey, you kids!” My pop pounded on the hood of the truck and began to laugh his ass off when we both jumped.
Lark screamed into my face and almost bit my tongue. I couldn’t stop laughing while Lark tried to gain her composure, but she still couldn’t resist the laughter all around.
“You’ll get used to it.” I grinned, grabbed the cherry pie, and let my pop escort her from the truck.
“You didn’t say she was beautiful. You should’ve said she was beautiful.” Pop smiled and walked with Lark’s hand on his arm.
“Yeah, I did.” I stated proudly.
“No, you said she took your breath away. You didn’t say she was beautiful,” he corrected.
Dick.
She stopped in her tracks and looked over at me, “You told your dad I took your breath away?”
I stopped, as well, and looked at her. “Yeah.”
“You told your dad I took you breath away?” she asked again, I assumed for clarification.
“Actually, I said you took the breath right outta me,” I replied and closed the small space between us.
“Don’t be long, you two.” My pop let out a hearty laugh and continued to do so all the way into the house.
I reached up to move her hair behind her ear. “Babe? You all right?”
“I think so. I mean, are you for real? Seriously?” Her brow furrowed with worry.
I wasn’t really sure what was going on. “Lark—”
“No, I mean… hang on a minute. I know about you, your reputation with women, and I don’t care about that, but you’re not playing me, are you, Nico? I need to know.”
I was still holding the box which I now put down on the gravel drive beside my feet and pulled her close. “I wanna take you to my cabin, Lark. I’ve never taken another soul there. I’ve had it over three years, and it’s only ever been me. When I take you there, you’ll understand the significance, and you’ll know, without a doubt, I am not playing you.”
I held my arms around her waist and waited while she mulled over what I’d just told her.
“I’m not sure what you just said. All I got from that is you have a Unabomber cabin in the woods.” She smiled.
“Well, so we’re clear, I don’t contemplate blowing shit up when I’m there.” I let her go, picked up the box, and led her toward the house.
“What do you do when you go there?” she asked.
“I listen,” I answered.
“To what?”
I stopped us, out there in the canyon, darkness and fog, a light breeze, and, believe it or not, thunder in the distance. “Listen…”
She did. She stood with me, our breathing calm while the symphony around us came alive.
“You hear it?” I whispered.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered back.
“Hey!” Pop yelled only ten feet in front us. “I’m hungry.” He laughed.
“Does he do that a lot?” she asked.
“I’m telling you, you get used to it.”
“It’ll keep me on my toes, that’s for sure.”
***
Lark got a phone call from her cousin, Dee, and apologized all around. Mom told her to go into the family room for some privacy while I led Mom into the kitchen to help her… and to get her on my side to trick Pop with the pie. I knew she would be a good sport and she seemed genuinely impressed.
The table was set, the food was
ready to serve, and all we were missing was Lark when she came in, eyes watery with emotion, but I didn’t want to embarrass her in front of my folks. She had no idea how easygoing they were, but she’d learn.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, jutting her hand out to my pop. “My cousin and I are close. We grew up together, and she lives in England now. Anyway, I’m Lark Andrews. Your wife has been so good to me, and I think you know my aunt and uncle?”
I watched my pop’s smile fall then go right back into place as he took her offered hand. “The last time I saw you, you were just a little girl. How are Hank and Ramona?” He pulled out her chair, stealing my job as Mom passed dishes around the table.
“They’re really good. Hank is retiring this year. He didn’t have to, but he and Ro want to do this road trip with a group of friends. They bought this huge motorhome. I guess they’re going to be a kind of support vehicle for other friends that are taking only motorcycles. Someone else has a car with a trailer for the bikes. Anyway, they have maps everywhere. By the time they go, I think Dee will be back stateside, so she’s going to look after their house. Wow this looks delicious!” She put a huge scoop of mashed potatoes on her plate. “I’m sorry. I could probably live on mashed potatoes… and cake. It’s kind of a miracle I’m not four-hundred pounds.”
“You never eat crap,” I stated, engaging her in a mashed potato/gravy boat exchange.
“I try to be really good for three-and-a-half weeks. Then for two days, I eat whatever the hell I want.”
“Why three and a half weeks?” I naïvely asked.
“Nicolas!” My mother scolded.
“What?” I asked liked an idiot.
Pop laughed.
Lark leaned over the table, and, of course, everyone could hear her, but she meant for that to happen. “Nico… let me tell you something about women,” she started.
“Here we go.” Pop chuckled.
She grinned at him, “A woman is like a car, and every so many miles, she needs her oil changed, a little tune-up, and while that’s happening, she… and the car… are out of commission for a few days while they get themselves ready for the next three-and-a-half weeks. This car,” she said, waving her hand around her face, “prepares for her tune-up with mashed potatoes and gravy, sometimes cake and sometimes pie.”
Pop was laughing so hard, he had tears coming out of his eyes.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I said flatly.
“Oh, son, you have no idea how much.” He laughed and slapped my back. “Lark, you are welcome at this table any time. In fact, don’t bring him. He’s no fun anymore. You just bring yourself.”
“Thanks,” she said, taking a bite of potatoes. She turned to him and said, “Oh, I’ll be seeing you in approximately three-and-a-half weeks, my friend,” and winked.
The conversation moved easily between my folks, Lark, and me. It was something I had never experienced… another first… and it was perfect.
Lark and Mom went into the kitchen to make coffee and dessert. Pop scooted his chair next to me and said, “Listen, Nicolas. I need to tell you something—”
“Tom,” Mom said abruptly. “Not now. Not yet.”
The two identical slices of cherry pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on the side were set down in front of my pop. Lark put down the tray with the coffee pot and mugs and poured everyone a cup except for Mom. She said chemo changed her taste buds and now she drank tea.
“I thought I was supposed to be watching what I eat, Rach? You told me I was getting a little tubby, and yet, I see two slices of cherry pie before me, and, I think… no, I know, I might love you even more for your generosity this fine evening spent with my son and this pretty girl, and of course, you, my beautiful wife, the love of my life, the apple of my—“
“Tom!” ahe interrupted and laughed. “I want you to have a bite of each one of those pieces and tell me which one is my pie and which one is Lark’s?”
The women stood side-by-side, and I swear, my pop almost broke out into a sweat. I leaned back in my chair, folded my hands behind my neck, and started to laugh.
“Yeah, I see what you did there, son. Well played. Right.” I knew they had marked the plates on the bottom. The two of them giggling together, enjoying every minute of my pop’s tension. He took a bite from one, then the other, and repeated the process until he finished both pieces.
“Well, Tom?” Mom asked with a smile. “Which is which?”
“Honey… you know how much I love you?”
“Answer the damn question, Tom!” She laughed and sipped her tea.
“Honestly? They taste exactly the same. I had to finish both to be sure, but they’re the same pie… aren’t they?”
“Nope,” Lark and Mom said in unison. Mom gave an explanation. “We compared notes in the kitchen and our recipes are exactly the same.”
“Well, I approve, especially since I got two pieces of pie, pot roast, mashed potatoes and gravy, peas, pearl onions, and spinach casserole. Like I said, Lark, forget about my boy. You come over whenever you like.”
***
“That seemed to go well,” she said, sitting right next to me, my arm around her shoulders on the drive home.
“You could say that,” I said with a chuckle.
“Jealous?” she teased.
“Let’s just say, I think they’d prefer to adopt you than keep me.” I laughed and felt her body go rigid. She never moved from me, but I knew I’d said something wrong. We’d never spoken about her parents. I had no idea how she came to live with Hank and Ramona, but whatever it was, I’d opened up an old wound, and boy, did I regret it.
About ten minutes later, I was pulling off the highway to make our way home. “Lark? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything.”
“No, please, Nico. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m missing Dee, and I just get a little sad this time of year, that’s all. This was about the time I went to live with Hank and Ramona.”
“You can use your white flag for this, babe. You don’t have to tell me.” I had just pulled up alongside the garage and turned off the truck.
“Let me just say that Hank and Ramona are not my blood. They adopted me. Dee was only a baby at the time, but I was older, and I don’t know if you noticed, but we look nothing alike.”
She had shown me a photo of her and Dee taken a few years ago, and they were like night and day. Where she had naturally tan skin, blonde hair, brown eyes, and curves, Dee was fair with bright blue eyes and dark hair.
“It didn’t matter; they always treated me like I was theirs, always, and they asked me what I was more comfortable calling them, Mom and Dad or Hank and Ramona? I chose their names. I was young, but, even then, I thought people would be more likely to believe I was their niece rather than their daughter.”
“You didn’t want people to know you were adopted?” I asked, rubbing the palm of her hand with my thumb.
“I didn’t want people to ask questions.”
That seemed like my cue to stop asking them. I kissed her on the forehead and squeezed her hand. “Thanks for telling me that, babe.”
***
We got ready for bed, too tired to do anything else. I brushed my teeth standing next to her in this routine we just kinda fell into. She had her side of the bed, and I had mine.
I pulled her back into my stomach when she asked, “Nico?”
“Yeah,” I answered, breathing in the scent of her shampoo.
“Who’s Dish?”
“A memory.”
For now, that was my white flag, and she knew it, too. Just like she knew I’d tell her everything, and she’d tell me everything. But this was the beginning. The foundation. It wasn’t that we were keeping secrets, we were keeping a balance for ourselves, and ultimately, for us.
Chapter 11
The next morning, we woke in each other’s arms. And the morning after that, and the morning after that. Aside from the fact we hadn’t had sex yet, there wasn’t much I had to complain abo
ut concerning Lark. She never asked me about my birds, and I let her lead any conversation that touched on family or her personal history.
February came and everything was covered in red; fucking hearts and flowers were everywhere, and it was making me crazy trying to guess if I should do something traditional for Lark. I hated that shit. But for her, I’d do it. I was learning I would do pretty much anything for her.
February thirteenth, I had a day filled with names across arms and even a fat cupid on this chick’s ass aiming her arrow at her other ass-cheek. I say her, because the cupid she handed me a picture of was a chubby baby with big tits and blonde curly hair; just like the chick I was giving the tattoo. The other cheek now had a Raggedy Andy doll. I concentrated on the fact I hadn’t seen one of those since I was a kid. Andy was holding his chest like he’d been hit.
Poor guy.
I sure hoped “Andy” liked it.
After her, I saw Angelica, who came in and got more hearts, but she wasn’t alone. Rich, who had since become her husband, stood proudly, if not possessively by and held her hand while I added three more hearts. When I was done he shook my hand and thanked me for taking care of his girl when he couldn’t. I left them alone in the back booth area for some privacy while she wept in his arms. When she went to the bathroom, Rich told me she’d had another miscarriage only a few months before, but the doctor assured them, there was nothing wrong with either one of them. I probably shouldn’t have done it in hindsight, but when she returned, holding the hand of her husband, I kissed her cheek and told her to take care. Thankfully, Rich looked at me with what appeared to be respect.
It was unusual for my birds to have the support of a partner. A friend or relative, yes, a husband or boyfriend, no.
I left work and climbed the stairs, thinking tomorrow would be much of the same; marriage proposals at fancy local restaurants would give all those lovers of love the balls to do something radical… like get matching tattoos. I chuckled at some of the Valentine’s Day Massacres I had to cover up over the years, sometimes only days, sometimes months, but they both seemed to come back to me. Never together, of course.
Nico (The Leaves) Page 11