by Dylan Allen
September 15, 2014
After work, I go straight to Cara’s house and sure enough, she is there. And with Louis. I’m surprised, but pleased. Cara’s known for her fickle interests in men and that Louis has lasted more than two weeks means she likes him. It also means she might become a source of information on Simon for me.
When she answers the door, it is immediately clear I’m interrupting. She is dressed in a tank top with no bra and pajama bottoms. The air is heavy with the smell of weed and there are glasses of wine and open bottles on the coffee table in front of the couch where Louis is lounging. They are clearly having a Netflix and chill kind of night. Louis is dressed equally as casually and looks less than thrilled to see me.
“So, Simon adopted a baby?” I ask without any preamble.
This gets Louis’ attention and his posture straightens immediately. He looks surprised when he says, “He told you?”
I swing my eyes back to look at Cara “Did you know, Care?”
Her eyes dart to Louis then back to me. She looks me in the eye when she says, “Yes, but it wasn’t for me to say, Ad. Besides, I knew you weren’t seeing him anymore.” She winces at this and her eyes soften with sympathy. “And Louis told me it’s a really sensitive situation.”
I sigh. “It’s okay.” I turn to Louis. “And, no, to answer your question, he didn’t tell me. Someone in the office did. But I didn’t know if it was true. I wanted to ask Simon, but we’re not exactly friends, so I thought I would see what you might know.”
Louis regards me thoughtfully. “Look, Simon is my best friend, Addie. I won’t share anything I know he wouldn’t want me to. But since you already know, yes, he is raising his nephew. It’s a lot of work and his company gives him the flexibility he needs to make it happen.”
Cara steps to stand beside me. “So, what’s up with you two, anyway? Why did you rush over here after work to find out about a guy last week you said you, and I quote, ‘wouldn’t spit on if he was on fire’?”
I flush and glance at Louis who barks out a laugh at this. I scowl at Cara. “Nothing’s up. Nothing has changed. Something really weird happened at work today and it was like everyone knew something I didn’t. I was just curious. And do I need an excuse to come and visit my best friend?” I say trying to lighten the moment and change the subject.
“Anyway, I can’t stay, I’ve got to hit the gym before I go home. So I’ll leave you guys to your… movie.”
“Oh no, Addie, stay.” Cara says weakly.
I laugh as I walk back to the door.
“Oh, Cara, not the pity, please, anything but that. I’ve really got to go. Enjoy your night. Sorry I interrupted. Let’s get together soon. Work is kind of crazy right now, but I’ll call you.”
I lean in for a quick hug and linger a little. I am so glad to be living in the same city with my best friend again. It’s such a comfort to know if I need her, she is here.
I head home with my head full of new thoughts about Simon.
So, he has adopted his nephew. Why? He mentioned not having a relationship with his parents, but he hasn’t mentioned his siblings. The night I ran into him in Ladbroke Grove, he was out at midnight, who was watching the baby? Where is the baby’s mother and father?
The day he ran out on me was due to an emergency with his nephew, who was with the baby when he was with me?? What’s up with the neighbor? So many questions. But also a new perspective. This is a man who has taken on a child who is not his. What does that say about the kind of person he is?
I walk to the gym and go through the motions of my workout with thoughts of Simon swirling through my head. I also think back to my own childhood. My life after my sisters left for college. My experience of living with my mother and thinking fathers were obsolete and fickle.
I feel a ping of guilt as I think about my mother. I haven’t called her since our argument. I know she won’t call me. I am the one who owes her an apology, but I don’t know how to bridge the divide.
And instead of satisfying my curiosity about Simon, my conversation with Cara and Louis has only intensified my need to know more. Dear Lord. I am in so much trouble over this man.
September 17, 2014
When I am leaving the office, I hear Rohit, one of the finance guys, talking to his assistant about calling a courier to take a document over to Simon. He hasn’t been at work for two days. I am not sure what’s going on, but now I see a perfect opening for me to find out.
I walk over to his door. “Hey, I am headed up that way, I can drop the documents off for Simon for you if you’d like. I actually have some questions for him myself I didn’t get a chance to email this afternoon.” This is a lie.
Rohit doesn’t even blink as he says, “Oh, that would be great, Addie. These documents are sensitive. We trust the courier, but it would be great to know they are in our lawyer’s hands as they travel across the city.”
Oh, if he only knew.
He hands he a huge envelope and smiles his thanks.
“No problem, Rohit. I’m happy to help.”
I take the envelope and dump it in my bag. I try to sound casual as I ask for Simon’s address. His assistant opens a screen on her computer and shoots me a text message with the information. And just like that, I am on my way.
On the train ride over, I am sick with nerves. I can’t believe I am doing this. Simon is probably going to be pissed I am invading his privacy like this. He won’t buy my “it was on my way” bullshit I fed Rohit. He knows where I live and knows it’s actually very much out of my way. I am being stupid and impulsive, but I am filled with a feeling very close yearning to see Simon in his “father” role.
I knock on his door. While standing on the door step, I feel the urge to bolt. What the hell am I thinking? What he refuses to let me in?
Oh my God. I am an idiot.
Just as I start to turn and run for the stairs, the door opens and a middle aged, stout woman with a huge smile on her dark, unlined face answers the door. I step back to look at the number on the door. 5S. I definitely have the right flat.
“Uh, hello. Is Simon here?” I ask, hoping that I don’t sound like the stalker I am.
She ushers me in with a warm smile, and says, “Oh yes, dear, come in, come in. Simon’s here. He is in the shower, dear.” Her lilting West African accent reminds so much of my mother’s that for a second, I feel sad.
“Dear, are you a friend of Simon’s?” she says when I don’t say anything.
“Oh, no! I mean… I work with him. He isn’t expecting me. I just came to drop something off. I can just leave it for him.” I say, in a rush as I try to regain my composure.
“Oh, no dear, come in. Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Uh… no. I won’t stay. Really.”
She gently, but forcibly, guides me to one of the beautiful couches in Simon’s huge living room.
“No, dear. Sit. You can’t leave. I never meet Simon’s friends. So you work with him? You’re an architect, too?”
She looks so excited I don’t have the heart to keep protesting.
“No. I’m a lawyer.”She claps in delight. Her eyes lighting up as if I said I was the Virgin Mary. “Oh, wonderful! And you’re so pretty, too!”
Since I don’t know what to say, I smile at her dumbly.
If she notices my idiotic expression she doesn’t say anything. She grabs my hand and pulls me up to standing.
“Come meet Henry.” And she shoves me—literally—toward a crib in the middle of the room and inside is cutest little marshmallow of a baby. He’s wearing a blue and brown baby outfit covering his fat legs and chubby arms, and he’s waving both of those appendages vigorously as he lays there making these adorable gurgling sounds. His big brown eyes are full of mirth and mischief, making my heart melts instantly.
“This is Henry.” she says with pride lacing her voice.
“Oh, he is beautiful.” My voice is full of wonder. I am mesmerized and stand there staring at h
im.
Her next words break my reverie.
“I’m glad you’re here, actually. I have to leave and he is still in the shower. That boy uses enough water to drown a whale!”
At this, I turn to look at her, my earlier anxiety at being thrown out turning into full blown alarm at being left alone with his nephew by this woman who is clearly off her rocker. I mean she would have to be to leave a baby alone with me.
Before I can even start to protest, she is pulling me deeper into the living room, which I briefly note is HUGE. “Tell Simon, Henry ate thirty minutes ago, he’s had his bath, and will probably sleep in about an hour and a half.” She bends down to pick up her scarf and starts winding it around her neck.
“Wait,” I say, “you can’t leave me here alone. Where is Simon?” I look around, feeling a true sense of panic.
She doesn’t even miss a beat as she pulls on her dark blue pea coat and buttons it up. “I told you, in the shower. He tends to take a long time in there, so make yourself at home. There’s food on the stove and cold drinks in the fridge. Kyle will be back soon, too.” She picks up her purse and strides toward the door.
“Kyle? Who is that? Wait! You can’t go!” I shout while running after her. I am not above begging at this point.
“Please, I’ve never been alone with a baby. Simon didn’t know I was coming. He doesn’t really like me very much.”
She laughs, but stops at that. She looks me up and down. “I doubt that, dear.” She opens the door and calls out, “Goodnight!” before she slams it shut behind her.
Holy shit!
What the hell have I gotten myself into now? What the fuck am I going to do? Should I leave? Can I leave? I can’t leave the baby alone while Simon’s in the shower.
I walk over to the crib and look down. Ok, this should be easy enough. He looks happy enough in there. “You can do this.” I tell myself. I peer down at him and say in what I think is a confident, happy tone, “Hello, Henry,” while I give him a big smile.
Well, that must have been the wrong thing to do because as soon as I do that, his little face seems to crumble and he lets out a wail so loud I jump back.
“No, no, no, no, no,” I say and reach down to pick him up. I don’t even know how to hold him. Something about their heads, right? I put him on my shoulder and pat his back which only seems to make him cry harder.
I start walking around the room and the minute we start moving, his cries soften. Suddenly, I remember a song, my father used to sing to me when I was little. It was his version of “We Love you, Conrad” from Bye Bye Birdie, but it always made me feel better.
“We love you, Henry, oh yes we do,
We love Henry, and we’ll be true.
When you’re not with us, we feel blue.
Oh, Henry, we love you.”
I sing this over and over again and before I know it his cries have turned to little coos. I pull back and look at him, he brings his little hand up to grab my nose.
Sit down on the floor and start to chat with him. He’s got the eyes of someone who has got a story to tell.
Who knows when Simon is going to get out of the shower. With nothing but time to kill, I decide to spend some time getting acquainted with Henry.
I’ve discovered his inexhaustible tickle bone when Simon suddenly walks in the room. He stops mid-sentence when sees me. A look of utter confusion contorts his face.
I panic and move away from Henry, start to get to my feet and explain. All I can say is a useless, “Hi Simon,” and prepare myself for his wrath.
September 17, 2014
Henry’s fever had finally started to come down. For a couple of days, nothing Mercy had given him worked. The doctor said it was viral and so antibiotics weren’t an option. So we just waited, but it was horrible and his little body is struggling.
The only reason that I didn’t completely lose my shit was that his doctor didn’t seem overly worried. Henry was exposed to only God knows what substances when my sister was pregnant with him. He was born addicted to heroin and various over the counter painkillers. They have wreaked havoc on his immune system.
It’s why I chose a nanny instead of daycare for him. But he’s been doing so well I’d started to forget he’ll probably always have some challenges and restrictions children born free of addiction won’t.
The last two days have been a living nightmare. No sleep, constant updates as we waited for his fever to abate, and the little guy looked at me like he didn’t understand why I couldn’t make it all better. His fever finally broke this afternoon.
I have been working from home because Mercy is exhausted and honestly, being at work and away from him when he is so unwell was driving me nuts. I couldn’t concentrate and I just need to be close in case he needs me.
Despite that, I have been more productive over the last three days than I have been in the past two weeks. You’d think the presence of a crying baby, one no amount of singing or constant holding or feeding seems to console, would make it near impossible to get anything done. You’d be right.
But, I’m still a fuck of a lot more peaceful than I was sitting down the hall from a sexy siren named Addie, whose mere presence in the same building rendered me unable to think coherently for more than five minutes at a time.
Those staff meetings have been the worst. I’ve tried to keep my participation minimal. I only join when they let me know they need me and even then, I walk in, ask what they need, answer their questions, and leave.
Every time I look in Addie’s direction, she sitting next to that asshole, usually talking to him in hushed tones and barely spares me a glance.
So, being at home works. And when I need a document that’s not available electronically, they send it over by courier at the end of the day. I’ve been talking to the other architects by email, phone, and it works really well.
Mercy took yesterday off, and I was completely on my own, but she came in this morning and is staying until Kyle gets home. Which means I was able to go for a run.
I used to play Rugby every Sunday, but I haven’t had the time in almost three months, so my runs have been extra hard and fast. Today I pushed myself while Beyoncé pumped loudly in my ears. Hey, what can I say? I’m a huge fan.
When I got home, I took a long shower while Mercy was still there. My flat had been the one indulgence I’d allowed myself and my bathroom was the room that made me want to buy it. Huge by London standards, the shower takes up the entire back wall. The dark gray, glass tile of the feature wall gives a stark contrast to the white tile in the rest of the bathroom.
I turned on the eight powerful sprays and overhead rain shower-head, letting it steam up while I stripped.
When I stepped into the cavernous space, big enough for two, my thoughts drift to Addie. I still can’t get the taste of her pussy off my tongue. I can’t forget how she sounded when she screamed my name as she came. Or how I had planned to fuck her when I’d finished eating her. My dick starts to get hard and I grab it with my soap-slicked hand while leaning back against the shower wall.
I close my eyes and let the fantasy run free. I think about her in this shower with me, sitting on that bench with me between her thighs, her knees pulled up so that her pussy is on display for me.
My fist moves up my cock, my grip tightening as I remember how dark and wet she was when I was lying between her legs that Sunday afternoon. I know if she was in this shower with me, I’d throw her legs over my shoulder and eat her while I finger fucked her pussy with my index finger and her ass with my thumb.
I don’t know if she’s into that, but I have a feeling that between Addie and me, nothing would be off limits. My hand moves faster, up and down my cock as I think about her coming on my fingers and face, before I pull her sexy little body up so that I can fuck her against the glass door of the shower while I watch us in the mirror.
And fuck, that thought is enough to send me into an orgasm which comes much faster than I expected. I shoot out all over the wal
l and watch as the shower spray washes it away. This about as good as it’s going to get when it comes to Addie, and as pathetic as it may sound, it was pretty fucking good.
I step out of my bedroom feeling relaxed. I could hear Henry’s high pitched giggle, and I am glad Mercy has gotten him in a good mood as she gets ready to hand him over to me for the night.
“Mercy, thanks for staying and giving me a chance to get that shower in…”
My words died in my throat, and I stopped mid-stride at the scene which greets me.
The source of my torment is kneeling on my living room floor with Henry between her knees, tickling him and making faces at him while he screams laughter back at her. Her sweet, wool clad ass is pointed straight in my direction; her head whips around when she hears me walk in.
And just like that, the relief and relaxation I found in the shower is gone. The source of my torment is right in front of me. What the hell is she doing here? Where the hell is Mercy? What the fuck is going on?
September 17, 2014
“Hi Simon,” she says as she stands up. She looks perfect. As always. She is wearing slacks and a very light green sweater that looks like it can’t be very warm. In fact, I can see straight through to the black camisole she is wearing underneath it.
With her hair falling in dark waves over shoulders, her face almost free of make up with her striking eyes, wide and staring up at me, she is a vision.
Her ever present gold pendant winks at me as the lights from my ceiling fixture hits it, and I’m distracted for a second. I wonder about that pendant. She wears it every day; I’ve never seen her without it.
She starts to speak, and I force myself to focus on what she is saying. “—said she had to go, so I was just waiting for you to get out of the shower.”
I cut her off. “Where is Mercy?”