by Felix, Lila
I proceeded taking all the ingredients out of the fridge and pantry, plotting how to tell her. No, it wasn’t easy choosing her over my mom. But when I married her, I vowed to leave my mother and father and cleave to her.
“I need to be here with my family.”
She huffed out a breath, “Your mom is your family.”
“Yes, she is. But this, here, you and those babies—this is my first priority. I have brothers and sisters who can take care of mom just as competently as me. And in reality, I never should’ve taken on the responsibility in the first place. Don’t you know by now that I’d do anything in my power to make sure you’re happy?”
“I do. It doesn’t stop me from feeling awful about it though.”
“Will pasta help?”
“What kind?”
“Pasta Primavera.”
“That’s the first thing you ever cooked for me.”
I kissed her nose, “I know.”
“I’m gonna go shower while you cook. And Falcon?”
“Yep.”
“I couldn’t have asked for a better man to be the father of my children.”
And she walked away, leaving me feeling more blessed than I had in my entire life.
Rex
Ground flew up and the briers bit
Panther hollered and the tiger shit.
I brought her to the diner, that legendary diner. All the couples in our family said the diner had miraculous powers. Nellie and Owen swore it was something in the pancakes. Falcon and Reed testified to the power of their grits. The stories went on and on. So I decided if there was a place to bring her, the diner was it. We sat in the circular booth in the corner. She ordered a waffle with all the sides and I did the same. I had scarcely let go of her hand since we left my apartment. We talked about the bout while we waited for our food. Our waffles, eggs, bacon and hash browns arrived a few minutes later and I watched in awe as she turned a beautiful breakfast into a pile of mush. She spread the butter out into all the crannies of the waffle. Then she dumped the hash browns and eggs on top. Then she smashed her bacon to bits and shook them out over the rest of the mess. And then she committed the worst offense of them all. She poured maple syrup over the whole thing.
I watched her the whole time. She bit her bottom lip with the top row of her teeth while she concentrated. Every time she completed another step she did a little back and forth dance in the booth. While she poured the syrup, she pooched her lips out and let out a little ‘huh’ when she was satisfied. But the best part was when she picked up her knife and fork and shredded the whole mess, turning the plate ninety degrees after she’d once-overed the whole thing.
Even her chaos was perfect.
And since she’d made it apparent that she wasn’t going to let me cut rope and run. I’d just have to try harder to live up to it.
She’d shocked the hell out of me when she facetiously asked if I was afflicted with the same mentality as my father. That’s when she broke me. Everyone had always tiptoed around that question but never struck me with it like she had.
“You’re not eating,” she snapped me out of my thought process.
“I can’t. You fascinate me with your waffle rituals.”
“My mom hates when I do this to my food. But it all gets mixed up anyway right? Might as well just do it beforehand. Annnddd…I can’t believe I’m talking about digestion.”
I laughed at her, the decibels of it surprising me. I didn’t know I had a laugh that loud.
“Talk about anything you want as long as I get to hear that voice.”
She nodded while chewing a bite of her breakfast scrabble.
We finished eating and got back into my truck. I wasn’t ready to let her go yet. She buckled her seatbelt, again unaware I was studying her. She fiddled with those bracelets on her wrists, she must’ve had thirty on each arm.
“Stay with me,” bubbled from my mouth, more of a plea than a question.
She looked at me, her blue sapphire eyes twinkled under the yellowish street light above us, “I can’t.”
“Okay,” I replied, defeated and beaten by her reply.
She grabbed my free hand, “I haven’t had a shower or anything and I don’t have extra clothes. That’s the only reason. But you could spend the night with me—if you want.”
“Do you want me to?” I sounded so pitiful, like an orphan begging a family to take them in.
“I’ve never had a guy over with me, but yes, I do.”
“Let’s go then,” I started the truck and made my way to her house. I didn’t have a toothbrush or anything but I didn’t care. I was afraid that if I took too long to decide or too long to get to her house, she’d change her mind. We got to her townhouse just before midnight. All the lights were off and it occurred to me that she had to come home by herself to a dark house all alone every night. It sounded dangerous to me and I didn’t like it one bit. But she also was tough and I didn’t think anyone who dared mess with her would leave with all their teeth—or their nuts.
I grabbed her bag from the back as she unlocked the door. I tried to look out and around behind her back. I was sure Hayes would be offended if she caught me trying to be territorial.
“Is it boogie man free,” she said, flipping on the lights.
“Yes, so far. How did you know?”
“Those,” she pointed to framed hanging mirrors in the living room across from me.
“Uh-huh. You like to look at a lot of things in mirrors.” I referred to her previous checking me out in my apartment. She thought I didn’t see her, but I did.
She gasped, “You saw that?”
“Indeed. I—I liked your eyes on me.” I bowed my head, confessing to her.
“Just like I’ve always liked yours on me. I’m going upstairs to take a shower. Make yourself at home.”
“Thanks,” I nodded.
Perusing through her books, I noticed several, a whole shelf in fact, were self-help books about depression and one in particular about improving self-esteem. I laughed at them sandwiched between books on survival, zombies and paranormal creatures. I sat in her chair and picked one out about the different theories on the zombie apocalypse and looked out of her window. I could see Jax Brewery and the lights coming from Jackson Square in the distance.
“That’s my favorite spot,” she said coming down the last few stairs. Her hair was wet and pulled up in some kind of knot on top of her head. She had pink pajama pants on and a white tank top. She probably should’ve rethought wearing that in front of me. Either that, or I should’ve rethought spending the night. I quickly diverted my eyes.
“Do you want me to get up?”
“Nope,” she walked over to me and plopped down next to me, thankfully pulling a stray blanket over her torso. “What are you reading?”
“Zombies.” I showed her. It was a chapter on voodoo zombies, which is what prompted me to look out the window. If there were voodoo zombies, the French Quarter would be the first place they showed up.
“It’s not too morbid for you? Too gross?”
“Nah, I like this stuff. I used to read the Walking Dead comics all the time.”
“Huh,” she noted.
“Are you sleepy,” I asked.
“No, let’s read more about the voodoo zombies. I’ve always avoided that chapter because I was alone. I’m gonna take advantage of you.” Her breath was cinnamon and mingled with her natural vanilla cake-like smell, it was like inhaling cinnamon rolls.
She scooted in closer and I couldn’t help myself, I kissed the top of her head, which also smelled like cake.
“I didn’t know there was cake shampoo,” I chuckled making us both jostle.
“It’s vanilla with brown sugar or something. I’m actually running out.”
I pushed the book her way, “Here, you hold one side and I’ll hold the other.”
My arm was draped around her shoulders and my hand was drifting back and forth over her waist.
“Ready?”
She asked me, fingers already on the page.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Well, I’m not. I can’t concentrate with you hand doing that,” she pointed to her waist.
I snorted, if it was possible, she was cuter when she was frustrated.
“I’m sorry. But it’s almost one. Aren’t you exhausted?”
“I am. but I’m procrastinating.”
“Why?”
“Something about a super-hot guy in my bed, that’s all.”
I lowered my mouth so it was parallel with her ear, “It’s just me, Angel.”
“Do you remember what I said about you and your suspenders and the corner?”
I chuckled, “Yes. That was the best phone call ever.”
“It was all true. Be glad you have none on today.”
“I will tomorrow, in your house, with your parents around.”
She blushed furiously, “Let’s go.”
She threw her blanket on the chair and I placed the book back in its place. I hadn’t read a single word. I followed Hayes up the stairs. I wasn’t nervous at all. I thought I would be. But after the strength she’d shown me earlier that night, I knew there was nothing I could do to make her run. It comforted me. A se through piece of material started at the ceiling and descended onto the left and right of her bed. She went ahead of me into the bathroom and came out with a toothbrush in the packaging.
“I keep a stash for when Vera used to stay over.”
“Thanks.” I took it from her and went into her bathroom, painted the same grey, but with yellow substituting the white. I brushed my teeth with her cinnamon toothpaste, taking in the extreme femininity of the place. Her stuff was everywhere, make-up, hair products, at least six different hair brushes, and her nail polish was on shelves—there must’ve been hundreds of bottles. I finished up my teeth and even her towels smelled like her.
Stepping back into the bedroom, she was sitting up, trying like the devil to change the TV station or something.
“What are you doing, you’re gonna pull something.”
“Ugh,” she flung herself back on the pillows, “I was trying like hell to hide my Godfather addiction from you, but look!”
And on the TV was the Godfather in all his glory in the garden, about to die.
“He’s about to have a heart attack or something, right?”
“Yes. But I don’t really ever watch it.”
The girl was an enigma, a beautiful, chaotic ball of confusion to me—and I loved it.
“What?”
I shucked my pants and tried very hard to ignore her stealing glances. I debated taking off the shirt. But decided if I was gonna be in—I would have to commit all the way. Tugging it over my head, I tried to focus on the screen, “Um, I don’t watch it. It’s so boring, because I’ve watched it so many times that I use it to help drone me to sleep.” Her eyes were trained on the TV.
“I can’t stand for you not to look at me. Come on,” I said it all in a rush, climbing into the bed, “Just go ahead, get your eye full. I know you want to see the tats.”
She looked at me, her blush still in full force. “Give me the tour. Start with the first one.”
I sat in front of her for another hour, time lining my ink. It started with my name tattooed on my right hand. I got it when I was sixteen. My mom was about a foot shorter than me and hadn’t spanked me since I was five, so she took everything out of my room including my mattress and made me sleep on the floor for a month. I waited until she went to sleep and then went to sleep on the couch.
“I still hear him—a lot.”
She looked at me, kneeling before me, her fingers still stroking the last tattoo I’d explained.
“All the time?”
“No, just at night. If he wanted something he’d bang a cane or a book or whatever on the wall and scream at me or my mom. Sometimes it wakes me in my sleep, other times I can’t get to sleep.”
Her eyes dropped and her smile faded. It was that look again.
“Hayes, don’t give me that pity look, please. I can take it from anyone but you.”
Placing both of her hands on the side of my face, she rubbed my growing beard, “It’s not pity. I just wish I could soothe you—close up the wound just a little.”
“I think you are.”
She yawned and tried to cover it. “Come on, let’s try to get some sleep. Maybe you can muffle the screams that haunt me.”
“I’ll try my damndest.”
“I know you will.”
We lay down and curled into each other’s bodies like we’d done it thousands of times. I decided since I was on a roll, relatively speaking I hadn’t completely fouled up in four hours, I’d press my luck.
“Hayes,” I prompted.
“Rex,” she deepened her voice, trying to match mine—or mock it, either way it was sexy.
“I think I’ll probably sleep better if you let me kiss you.”
She slapped my waist, “That was so low.” She laughed, “Anyway, no one said you had to ask permission to kiss me after the first time. In fact, I might be a girl who likes the surprise of it all.”
“Well now I can’t kiss you. It’s not a surprise.”
“Ugh,” she groaned before grabbing my face and kissing me. A ‘mmmm’ sound came from somewhere. Her hand was on my stomach and I froze. I didn’t want to go too far, or not far enough, so I clenched my fingers into fists.
She broke free and laughed, “Rex, you’ve got to relax. It’s like making out with an ice man. It’s just me. Nothing you can do is gonna hurt me. And if I don’t like it, I’ll tell you.”
I blew out a breath and mentally called myself an idiot. “You asked for it,” I growled against her mouth, her searing, sweet as cake mouth, and she melted me instantly. I grabbed her hips and brought then flush with mine. Her hands were desperate in my hair and her tongue matched its intensity. Before I knew it, we’d switched places and was hovered above her and my knee was between her thighs.
“Rex, okay, slow down.”
I backed off immediately, I knew I’d go too far.
“Sorry, Angel.”
“No, don’t be sorry. I just thought we should stop before we get too far.”
I laid back and scrubbed my face, “Just for the record, how far is too far? You have to spell that shit out for me.”
She threw her head back on the pillow and laughed the loudest and most joyous laugh I’d ever heard from another person. Then she rolled forward, doubling over in laughter, tears rolling down her face.
“What’s so funny?”
“You! What do you think I’m gonna do, make rules? Boobs, yes. Thighs, no.”
The laughter at my expense came back. I let her get it all out and then I grew falsely serious. She laid back down and looked at me. I traced a line on her neck, “So, boobs, yes?”
That earned me a slap to the chest.
“Goodnight, Rex. Let’s try to actually sleep.”
“No promises.”
She turned away from me, and reached back for my arm. We were awkward at first, but soon found where we fit together.
Why is a motorcycle revving in my bedroom? I’m gonna pummel whoever is riding a motorcycle this early in the damned morning.
“Shit, that’s my alarm,” Hayes gurgled.
“Your alarm should be shot for making motorcycle noises.”
“But it makes me wake up.”
It was then I realized that other than her moving to turn off her alarm, we were in the same position we’d gone to sleep in.
“We slept,” she awed at me, having the same realization.
“What time is it,” I asked.
“It’s eight in the morning.”
“I haven’t slept that long in…ever.”
I held her tight while we both allowed the weight of our situation to wash over us. We slept well together. We slept while together. It reinforced the need I had for her stirring in my guts.
“I have to go home,” I whispered
in her ear, after a half an hour of just loving the feel of her in my arms.
“Why,” she whispered back, giggling from my breath in her ear.
“I have to get showered and ready to meet your family. Or am I uninvited?”
“Of course you’re still invited. I just didn’t know if you still wanted to come.”
“I do. Vera told me if I wanted to keep dating you not to go, but I think that was just a best friend test.”
She whooshed out an anxiety filled sigh, “She’s so off lately. But you have to ignore Hazel. She hates me.”
I hugged her tighter, “Maybe we’ll luck out. Maybe she’ll hate me and start loving you.”
“Ha ha. So funny.”
“I hate to leave, I’m so damned comfortable. But I have to go get my suspenders on. I wanna see you blush at dinner.”
She turned abruptly, “There’s always my tree house. I’ve always wanted to pull a boy in there and have my way with him.”
“Tree house, huh? I need a cold shower now,” I said jokingly. I pecked her once on the cheek before reluctantly sliding out of the bed and to my apartment.
“I’ll text you the address,” she called out as I was halfway down the stairs.
Going home, I felt better than I had in a long time. I felt rested and revived, somehow.
Then I remembered I’d be meeting Hayes’ father in less than three hours.
Hayes
Maybe the Brazilian blowout isn’t such a bad idea.
I pretended to butter the bread while really, I was bobbing my head in and out of the kitchen door and listening for the doorbell. My Dad came behind me and kissed the top of my head, “What’s the matter with you? You look like one of those birds that have neck issues.”
“What birds? Peacocks?” Baxter busted in our conversation from the other side of the kitchen.
“I swear I can’t look at him in the face. Say something to him. I just can’t.”
I snorted at my Dad’s more than obvious aversion to Baxter, “I think he means pigeons, Bax.”
Thank goodness Hazel chimed in for me.
“He’s late, Dad.” I pouted, nodding my head towards the clock above the stovetop.
“No he’s not. He’s just been staring at your mother’s daisies for almost twenty minutes.”