by C. Penticoff
I was going to have to hold in a fart.
Every.
Girl.
Has.
Been.
There.
But why did it have to be that night?
He slid his hand further up my thigh, and after playing around for a minute he stuck his hand down the loose neck of the suit and put his fingers inside me.
The gas immediately moved further south and I clenched my butt cheeks together as hard as I could.
"You okay?"
I knew he thought I was clenching because it hurt. If he only knew. "I'm perfect." I smiled seductively, despite my big problem.
Why? Why me! Why now! Couldn't this have happened when I screwed my brother's friend last year? Or the time I got drunk and fucked a homeless trucker? But no! It had to happen while I was in a private jet flying over Portland with the hottest and richest guy I'd ever been with.
Over the loudspeaker, the pilot spoke the most beautiful words I'd heard all night.
"I hate to do this, Kent, but I just had an error message pop up regarding the engine. I'm gonna have to turn around and land."
Thank you, God! I thought to myself while I held my stomach.
Kent scrunched his face up. "No problem."
I pretended to be disappointed with him but really I was extremely relieved.
After the pilot dropped us off, Kent and I spent the rest of the night driving around and talking about random things in life. When he dropped me off at home, I laid in bed and lit a smoke while I thought about the night. I thought about the bomb ass dinner that led to a not-so-bomb almost-fuck.
I wondered if I even liked him. I mean, he was sexy as hell. He intrigued me. I liked him, but I wasn't really getting that overwhelming feeling of I-can't-get-enough-of-you.
I think I'm still putting my guard up.
I mean, this guy had everything. He was rich, charming, handsome, and he obviously knew how to treat a lady. Why couldn't I just fall hard for the damn guy? Leave it to me to only ever dig the losers. Do I feel unworthy of his attention? I had to get over that worry if I would ever move forward with him. I also apparently had to give up dairy if I wanted to take the next step.
***
It was the following day and I spent most of the time cleaning up getting ready for the family lunch with Desmond, cooking breakfast, and cleaning up after Tyson's stupid mini party from the night before. He was supposedly helping me clean up, but what that really consisted of was him picking up beer cans and throwing them in a garbage bag and that's about it. His assistance didn't include the pile of cigarette butts sprinkled around the house and tossed by the lawn chairs; the sink full of dishes accompanied by crud-infested countertops; nor did it include sweeping and mopping the ashes off the ground. I really shouldn't have put up with it, but when it came down to it, I wasn't his mom so he was going to have to see on his own time that his laziness and lack of respect was uncalled for.
"You ready?" I asked Tyson as I tossed the wash rag down the hall, aiming for the basket of laundry, which I missed. I heard him shout, “Yes!” as I grabbed my purse from my bedroom. When I walked out of the hallway with it, I realized I didn't need my purse to just go downstairs and down a few apartments, so I set it on the counter and grabbed my smokes from the front pouch.
"What's there to be ready for? I'm not going."
"Tyson, come on. He invited us for lunch."
"And? I don't know the guy." He pivoted back to the television and clicked away at his remote control.
"Whatever." Stupid video games.
I walked over to Coyote who was gluing buttons to a toilet paper roll with mountain sized globs of glue.
"Whoa, too much, Coyote." I swiped the glue bottle out of her hand and she started whining.
"Hey! I was using that!"
"Coyote, don't yell at me." I looked at her sternly. "Baby glue dots, remember?"
"I need all that glue." She pointed to the glue bottle and cried.
"No, you don't, baby. Use what you've got." She kept crying while I slid the glue up on the counter. "Besides, we're going to Desmond's today. Remember, he's the one with the baby."
"Oh, the baby." Despite the tears in her eyes, Coyote's face lit up at the mention of baby Linus.
Funny how she so quickly forgets about her devastating loss of the glue bottle. I saw Tyson giggle and I knew he was thinking the same thing.
Prissy came slowly walking out of her bedroom, smiling, with her eyebrows glued together and breathing only out of her mouth. This was a telltale sign that she was nervous. "I thought our meal was at four."
"That would be dinner. And no. It's lunch at two. Right now."
She handed me her clipboard that displayed her daily schedule and pointed to her four-p.m. slot where it read, Dinner with Desmond and Linus.
"Four p.m.," she said. "See." She bit her lip.
"Prissy, it's okay." I could tell she was becoming more and more nervous because she got the same disoriented look on her face. "What's the matter?"
"My day is all screwed up." She took a deep breath. "And I'm not ready."
"Dude. It's no biggie. I'll text Desmond and tell him we'll be ten minutes late."
"But that's terribly rude to be late."
"He won't mind. He's got a newborn baby. He's probably not even ready himself."
"You sure?"
"I'm positive. I'll text him." I pulled my phone out. "Go get ready." I shewed her away with my hand.
Prissy walked into her room and shut her door.
Tyson said something to me but I couldn't hear him because I was busy texting Desmond. "What did you say?" I asked my brother after I was done.
"I said that Prissy needs to get away from that damn schedule."
"I know. It's causing her more harm than good."
"She probably needs to stay away from that Gretel girl."
"What Gretel girl?"
"That girl she follows on her Picstagram."
"Who is she?"
"I don't know." Tyson slammed his controller onto his lap and cussed at the t.v., then turned to me like nothing happened. "Some weird hipster chick that she's obsessed with. This Gretel girl is on a kick where she's following a daily schedule. That's where it started. She's not a bad person or anything. But you know how Prissy gets."
"Yeah." I did know how Prissy got. It wasn't that Prissy was the type of person who needed a schedule to feel normal. She would fixate on something, or someone, and completely consume her life with it. She was extreme with everything. There was no in between with her. At that time, it was the schedule she was fixated on.
"That's why she became obsessed with doing pink Chapstick for a while. Remember that?"
"Oh. Yeah."
"Yeah. That chick was promoting the same Chapstick."
That's why she insisted on having it on twenty-four-seven. At the time, I thought it was totally weird. "I guess I'm going to have to talk to her about this Gretel girl."
I walked outside, smoked a cigarette, and scrolled through my news feed for a while until Prissy came out a while later with Coyote and said she was ready.
A few minutes later, Desmond let us in his house with the baby in his carrier. It was so touching to see a father be so hands on. With my life, seeing any parent being hands on was a great thing.
I introduced Desmond and Prissy.
"I grabbed a few toys for Coyote to play with." Desmond pulled out a box from under his kitchen table which held a stuffed animal, a baby doll, a toy crib, and a toy keyboard.
"Desmond, you didn't have to do that."
"I got them from a local buy and sell group. She's gonna be here more often with you watching the baby, so I thought I'd keep some stuff for her here. I'll add more to it over time."
"I get to bring Coyote?"
"Why not? I don't mind at all. I mean, why worry about daycare if you don't have to? Plus, once Linus gets older, he can play with her."
"How is Linus?" I stroked the baby's bal
d head.
"He's been pretty good. He seems to be fussy unless I have him in this, though."
"Ah, so he doesn't like to be set down?"
"Nope. Watch." Desmond unbuckled his carrier and pulled Linus out of his carrier and laid him down on the couch. The baby seemed content.
"He seems fine to me." But, right after I said that Linus started kicking his arms and legs while he fussed.
"See."
I picked him up and held him against my chest. "Does he like his swing?"
"Uh, I haven't tried it."
Oh boy. This man was so clueless. "Oh, you've gotta pull it out. Babies love swings. They rock them for you."
"That's genius. Why didn't I think of that? Come look at the swings I have."
Desmond brought me into his bedroom, which looked like a tornado went off in it. Around the stacks of unpacked boxes were clothes tossed about everywhere.
"I've got these two." He pointed to two swings he had. One was a smaller one that was suitable for newborns, and one was a larger swing that was meant for kids up to a year old.
"I'd use that smaller one for now. The other one is more for when he's a bit bigger."
"Got it."
He grabbed the swing and brought it to the living room. He dug around for some batteries and found just enough for the swing.
I placed the baby in it, strapped him in, turned it on, then waited. Slowly, the swing began to move back and forth and the baby fell asleep.
"See."
"Dude, you're the best. I don't know what I'd do without you, and I hardly know you." We both laughed.
"What will you do with all this free time now?"
"Maybe I'll finally unpack my boxes."
"I can help you after we have lunch, if you want."
"Shit, I'll take the help."
We had lunch, which was nothing fancy. I mean, really not fancy. He made bologna and cheese sandwiches. It wasn't even real cheese. It was the kind of cheese that was in a wrapper. Not that I cared, because I definitely was easy to please, and the kids loved it of course. I just thought it was funny. Desmond was obviously a very simple man that could have used a good woman in his life to help balance him out...to bring some folded laundry and wall art to his bologna sandwiches and stained band t-shirts. I've got to hook him and Bailey up. He was totally her type.
Prissy and I changed and fed Linus, giving Desmond a break while he started unpacking his living room boxes. Prissy insisted on rocking in the chair with the baby while he slept and she played with her phone.
Coyote got bored with the toys he had pretty quickly, so we put a movie on t.v. for her and she sat next to Prissy, cuddled up. That was the nice thing about Coyote. She was good about sitting still, at least compared to most young kids her age.
"Okay, how can I help?" I asked once the kids were occupied.
"Hmm." Desmond was holding a knick knack in his hand.
I opened up a box sitting in front of me. "Books," I said.
"Let me grab the bookshelf." Desmond left the living room, then came out of his bedroom dragging a four-compartment shelf. "Where should I put it?"
"I'd put it there." I pointed to a spot in his living room. He dragged it there and I pulled the box over to it.
The first book I pulled out read Witchcraft for Beginners. "Are you a witch?"
He chuckled when he saw the book. "No. I just love to read about anything and everything that catches my attention. I bought that years ago and have never broken into it. Well actually, Linus's mom bought it for me."
"What's the deal with her anyway?" I realized it was probably kind of rude to ask, but I was so curious. "Sorry. You don't have to answer."
"It's okay. She's a drug addict. In and out of jail. Probably bipolar or something." He was pulling things out of his box and putting them into its proper places as he talked to me.
"What drug? Meth?"
"No. Heroin. She's pretty bad into it."
"Heroin's the worst. You completely lose them to the drug." I stuck a book onto the shelf. "At least they're somewhat coherent on meth."
"Tell me about it," he said, his voice somber.
"Do you still love her?"
"Oh, I never loved her. At least not in that way. She was one of my best friends growing up. We took our friendship to the next level, stupidly, one night."
"Well, it wasn't that stupid." I nodded my head toward Linus and winked.
"True. We were never going to be together. I just wish she could be a good mother to Linus. He deserves it, you know."
"Is there any chance?"
"I mean, there's always a chance, but the problem is she doesn't lie about doing heroin."
"Why is that bad?"
"Because she's completely open about being a heroin user. She doesn't see anything wrong with it and tries to justify it and convince you that it's not a bad drug, ya know--like she doesn't even get it's wrong. If she denied it, it would at least mean she knew what she was doing was wrong. She'll use the excuse that it's no different than pot. That it's just the way society views it that makes it seem bad." Desmond rolled his eyes as he reached into a box.
"Oh, gag me." I hated when druggies did that--compared weed to their life-ruining, depression-inducing poison. I wasn't a daily dabbler in the cannabis world, but I enjoyed a joint or two every now and then.
"Isn't that the worst when they pretend it's like pot?" He tossed the box to the side and pulled a new one over.
"Yes. My brother does it."
"Is your brother an addict?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
"Sorry to hear. Which one does he do?"
"Meth. The good stuff," I joked.
"That's a bad one too."
"He's in rehab right now, so I'm hoping this time it sticks."
"Has he done rehab before?" Desmond asked.
"Yeah, but he actually hasn't done inpatient treatment before. He normally does detox, then makes some shitty excuse for why he can't do inpatient, goes to outpatient for a bit, until he relapses and goes back to his old ways. He's done that a few times."
"So inpatient is better for him?"
"Definitely. I'd do anything to get him back. I have hope, but I'm keeping my guard up, you know?"
"Yes, I know. Wish I didn't. How long has he been an addict?"
"Oh, for five years or so. He started doing it with my mom."
"With your mom!"
"Isn't that lovely?"
"She's not on drugs anymore?"
"Oh, yeah, she does drugs. I don't know if she still does meth. She kind of just does whatever she can get her hands on. I know she drops acid a lot."
"A lot? Like regularly?"
"Yup. Usually every day. She micro doses. Major hippie. But the hobo loser type."
"I didn't even know dropping acid daily was a thing. I tried it a couple times and I loved it, so don't get me wrong, but it's intense as fuck. I couldn't imagine that intensity every day."
"Not to mention you turn something positive into something that rots your brain."
"Right, exactly."
"So are you from Longview?"
"No, actually I'm from Vancouver."
"What brought you here?"
"Before I left for the military--"
"I forgot you said you were in the military."
"I was, and by the time I got back, housing had gone up so much in my hometown there was no way I'd be able to afford it. I mean, I probably could if I wanted to spend three quarters of my paycheck on rent. I saw prices were considerably lower here so I decided to come here. Of course, now that I'm here I see why it's so cheap. No offense."
"None taken. This town's really gone down the shit hole."
"I think it will get better. That's why I'd like to buy a home here as soon as I can. It's cheap now, but give it five to ten years and the property value will skyrocket."
"So what branch of the military were you in?"
"Army. Joined when I was twenty."
"
Aren't you twenty-three?"
"Yes."
"I thought military contracts were four years."
"Some are. Mine was, but I was honorably discharged a few months ago when his mom went to jail and it had become clear she wasn't going to be taking care of Linus at all."
"Wow, I'm sorry to hear that."
"It's okay. I hated it. I only joined to get away from my parents. It was kind of an impulse decision. The first day I joined I knew I made a mistake."
"It's hard I bet."
"It is. They strip you of your identity. It's part of their training. It toughened me up and taught me to work hard, which is something I needed coming from a wealthy family who gave me whatever I wanted. But, I was beginning to lose myself and forget who I am."
"Who are you?"
"Someone who cares about people. About justice and the greater good. Aside from that, I don't know. I'm trying to figure it out."
"Same."
My phone began to ring and I saw Gray's name on my screen. "Hey, it's my brother. Do you mind if I take this?"
"Go ahead."
"Hey, Grayley Goose. How's it flappin'?"
"Frizzy. How's it going?"
"Good. At a friend's house. How are you?"
"Good. I can't talk long. Just wanted you to know that I have a release date. But before they let me go they want to make sure I have a drug-free place to go. Can I put your address down?"
"Yeah, that's fine, Gray. As long as you promise me you're going to stay clean."
"Scout’s honor."
"And there's going to be rules and expectations."
"You've got it, boss."
"Shut up." Him and I laughed.
"I'll talk to you later," he told me.
"Peace, bitch."
"Later, slut."
I heard him giggle before he hung up.
It looked like Grayson was for sure going to be coming home. I better not regret this.
Chapter Twelve
"Prissy, let's talk, girly." I leaned against the door frame.
"Okay." She nervously smiled. "What do you want to talk about?" She held her smile, but looked away.
"You've been really on edge, lately. Is everything okay?"
"Oh, I'm fine." She smiled, but let go of it pretty quick which told me she was lying.