by LK Collins
4
Thane
Faye is quite possibly the strongest woman I’ve ever met. Had I been through a quarter of the shit she has, I’d be in a fuckin’ mental institution. But Faye, she finds positivity in life. The darkest of things she pulls out of, and I admire that. I really do.
“Daddy, can I stay the night here?” Jack asks me running down the hallway.
“Oh, buddy, I don’t think so.”
“Please!” he begs.
“You don’t have any clothes here or your toothbrush, maybe next time.”
He nods listening to me, right as Braxley yells, “The movie is starting.” And he runs off down the hall, leaving me chuckling.
“Sometimes, I wonder what goes through their little minds,” I tell Faye as she yawns next to me as we both are sitting on the couch. I check the time, it’s late, we’ve been here all day, and I have to get going, but part of me doesn’t want to.
“We should go.”
“Yeah,” she agrees, and as we stand I just want to kiss her gorgeous lips, but knowing about her past has me hesitant. I don’t want to push her.
“Thank you for hanging out today and for letting Jack come over,” I tell her, and before she can answer, I pull her into a tight hug and to my surprise, she clings to me. As I hold her back, I battle with my cock to keep it down. It wants her in every way imaginable.
“Thank you for lunch and for just…listening. I hope you don’t think I’m crazy.”
I kiss the top of her hair, smelling her sweetness, so fresh like a summer’s rain. “‘Crazy’ is the last word I would use to describe you. You’re strong, Faye.” Then I let her go, and together we head towards the boys who are both lying on the floor of Braxley’s room, watching their movie. “What are you guys watching’?” Faye asks them.
“The new Lego Movie.”
“Well, we gotta get going, Jack.”
“No, please let me finish the movie.” Which Faye pauses.
“It’s late, buddy. We’ll have another play date here soon.”
“Please, Daddy, I’ve never seen this movie before?” Their little eyebrows push together as they both give us that look begging, and I look at Faye who can’t say no to them either, “Are you boys hungry for dinner?” she asks.
“Yes,” they chant in sync.
“I can order pizza,” I offer, feeling bad that we’ve stayed at her house all day.
“No, you don’t have to do that. You already bought lunch.”
“Please, it’s not a big deal. Brax, what kind of pizza do you like, sport?”
“Pepperoni.”
“All right. Jack, you still want double cheese?”
“Uh huh.”
“What do you like, Faye?”
“Oh, I don’t care. I’m sure two pizzas is enough for the four of us.”
“Just tell me what kind you like!” I order her, and she shakes her head, not giving in.
“Hey, Brax,” I kneel down. “What kind of pizza does your mommy like?”
He gives me a grin showing off his missing front tooth and responds, “She loves vegetables pizza.”
“All right, vegetables pizza it is.”
She rolls her eyes at me, and I pull out my phone to place the order. She un-pauses their movie, and I follow her back into the kitchen. “I can pay,” she offers, and I give her a playful glare from across the room, which she clearly understands is me not accepting her offer.
Going into my text messages, I pull up her address and complete the order online. And as I finish, she passes me another glass of wine. “I shouldn’t,” I tell her, “I’ll have to drive home soon.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, don’t be sorry…ever.”
I follow her into the living room, and she sits back on the couch. I sit next to her, and my eyes follow hers as she gazes out into the water of the pool.
“You okay?” I ask as she’s suddenly become quiet.
“Yeah, I am. So you never told me what you do for a living.”
“Ahh, I didn’t, did I? I’m a pilot.”
“Really, what kind?”
“I work for a commercial airline, but I do contract out and take private flights for extra money from time to time.”
“Wow, so you like fly the plane?”
“Yeah,” I chuckle at the obviousness of her comment wanting to tease her so bad. “I mean, with technology nowadays it’s more like babysitting the plane, but I’m in charge. The takeoffs and landings are all a manual process, and getting from one place to another safely is my job.”
“Do you like it?” she asks me, intrigued, and for once it’s nice to meet someone who is genuinely interested in what I do and not just my looks.
“I do, I love it, there is nothing like the feeling of being in the open sky.” Faye’s glass is almost empty. I get up, grabbing the bottle of wine and topping it off. She smiles at the gesture and says, “Thanks. Is being a pilot sometimes hard on the home life?”
“The long days and traveling can take their toll on relationships. That’s why I started to contract out for private flights. They are shorter and quick money. I’m just at a place in life where I want more time with Jack, and if I meet someone new, I will be around more.”
“I’m sorry you’re going through that,” Faye tells me.
“Don’t be; I’m happier than ever without that kook.”
“But she is the mother of your child.”
“She is, and she has her moments, but even the judge can see Jack is better off with me. He granted me primary custody, which she’s fighting for and stalling the divorce over it.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“Pray she’ll make a change, but until then…keep fighting her. I have to do what I believe is best for Jack.” And the truth is, I don’t know what I’m going to do. Char is putting me in a very bad situation with wanting primary custody, and it’s not that I don’t want to compromise and give her joint custody, but she’s got to take care of herself first and learn to be financially responsible. There is no way I will lose Jack to her, or I’ll lose my mind. He’s everything to me.
“Flight attendants, please prepare for landing,” I announce over the intercom of the plane. We are making our final descent into Dallas after a full day of flying, and my co-pilot, Elliot, says to me, “Captain, we are clear for landing, autopilot is now off.”
“Ten-four. DFW control tower, this is American 1472, we are six thousand and approaching,” I radio in for clearance to land.
“American 1472, you are clear for runway 177, alpha center.”
Slowly I bring the plane down from the sky and find my mind is on Faye. I can’t shake her from my thoughts, no matter what I do. Especially now since we hung out, she’s all I think about.
The plane gets lower and lower, and I hold on to the controls until the wheels smoothly touch the ground. I ignite the brakes, and we slow from two hundred miles per hour to ten. “American 1472, you are clear for gate seven,” the control tower says. “Ten-four, American 1472 will head towards gate seven.”
“Echo Helo, cross 177 to the right,” they direct me, and I ask Elliot “Left, right, clear to cross?”
“Left clear, right clear,” he affirms, and we cross to the other side of the runway, then make our way to gate seven, following the person directing us on the tarmac. As I bring the plane to our final stop, Elliott thanks the passengers for flying. Then I turn my cell phone off airplane mode. Right away, a text comes through from Char, Did you get a chance to review the new custody agreement I sent you?
Oh, I received it, and she is out of her fuckin’ mind if she thinks that I’m going to give her primary custody and she knows why. I don’t even know why she would think it’s an option. Have you found a rehab to help with your shopping problem? I text her back, and I know she won’t respond, because she doesn’t think she has a problem, but she does. Her compulsive shopping led to our divorce. The lies and debt were th
rough the roof, one step from forcing us both into bankruptcy, and the judge saw it too when I turned over our bank statements. I won’t have Jack spending the majority of his time sitting in a dressing room, zoned out on some sort of electronic device while she carts him around like he’s a toy and digs us into a financial hole we can’t get out of. It’s his future too.
Going back into my text messages, I see the one I typed to Faye while we were flying today. I snapped a picture of the sunset which reminded me of one of her paintings. Pressing send, I think to myself how much it sucks what she’s been through. A woman like her deserves the world, not the shitty hand of cards she’s been dealt.
5
Faye
Looking down at the text Thane sent earlier as I compare it to a painting in my studio, he’s right. It does look just like the picture. Texting him back, I respond, You’ve got a good eye and send a picture of the painting to him.
“Braxley, it’s time to get in the shower,” I holler.
“‘Kay, Mommy,” he responds, and I start the water for him as he undresses and then hops in. “Can you get my race car pajamas?”
“Sure, I think they’re in the dryer, I’ll grab them now. You be safe, no jumping around. Stay on your rubber mat and wash yourself really well, okay?”
“Mmhmm,” he smiles back at me as I peek at him through the curtain. His grin missing that one front tooth melts my heart.
Racing downstairs and into the garage where my washer and dryer are, I notice the garage door is still open. I press the button to close it, but nothing happens. Looking at the sensors, both are clear, and I try again, but still nothing. Taking the remote from the car, it won’t work either. Frustrated that another thing in this house is broken, I grab Braxley’s PJ’s and dial my dad as I head back into the bathroom.
“You good, buddy?” I ask him.
“Yup.”
My dad doesn’t answer, and as I go to leave him a message, his voicemail reminds me that he’s traveling, which I totally forgot about. I hang up and ask Braxley, “Did you close the garage when we got home tonight?”
“I pushed the button, Mommy, just like you told me to.”
He finishes his shower, and I help him dry off and get dressed. “Brush your teeth, and I’ll meet you in your room.”
Going back into the garage to try and get it closed again, I press the button, and nothing happens. I begin to get aggravated and slam my hand against the button on the wall, but still nothing. Looking at the…whatever it’s called on the ceiling; I think Ben once told me there is a rope I can pull to close it. But all I see it a two-inch frayed string.
My phone vibrates, and I see a message from Thane, Could I buy that picture from you?
How about you fix my garage door and I’ll give it to you for payment?
Is it broken?
Yeah, it won’t shut, and I don’t know what to do.
Can you pull on the red rope?
I snap a picture of the remaining rope and send it to him, just as Braxley peeks his head out of the doorway. “All done, Mommy.”
“Okay, baby.” Leaving the garage open, I head inside and tuck Braxley into bed. He hands me a story to read him that he picked out, and I scoot in close. I can come by now Thane texts me.
Thanks, just come in, I’m putting Braxley down.
“All right, you ready?”
He nuzzles against me. His short hair is already dry, and I hold him tightly, loving our story time so much. This is where we get lost in magical worlds, and for a brief moment, that pain of our past washes away. I imagine Ben, sitting on the floor listening to us, just like he used to, and I find peace in hoping that he still does.
“There once was a fierce orange dragon, who lived deep in the forests of India.” I use my best narrator voice as I tell him the story. Braxley stares at the pictures as I read. “He was like no other dragon in the world…he was special and had magical powers. But his powers made the other animals scared of him, so he lived all alone and only went out early in the morning before the other animals awoke and the nocturnal animals were asleep.”
“What does nocturnal mean?”
“It’s someone who stays up all night.”
“Like you, you’re nocturnal, Mommy?”
“No, Mommy isn’t. I just have a hard time sleeping. Nocturnal are animals who sleep all day and are awake all night.”
“Like bats?”
“Yes, like bats,” I say, and he gives me a long yawn. I continue on with the story and make it through only a couple more pages before he’s out. Closing the book, I watch the tiny breaths reel out of him and kiss the top of his head. I’m so thankful that I have him. If I didn’t, I don’t know what I’d do with myself. Quietly, I slip out of his room, and as I enter the kitchen, there is a glass of wine sitting on the counter for me. God, Thane is such a good man.
Picking it up, I head into the garage where I find him on a ladder, messing with the motor—that’s what it’s called—to the garage door. I take a sip admiring him for a second. Looking at him up there reminds me of Ben.
“So you gonna be able to fix it?”
“Hell yeah, I will,” he responds confidently. “I see you found your wine.”
“I did. Thank you for pouring me a glass, that was very kind of you.”
“I try,” he smirks down at me, and as he fidgets with the wiring, I find my eyes scanning his body—his perfectly sculpted abs are peeking at me from beneath his shirt that is lifted from his arms being above his head.
“Thanks for coming over.”
“Of course. Did you get Brax down okay?”
“I did. I didn’t even make it through the whole story.”
“What did you read to him?”
“Oranges The Magical Dragon.”
“Oh, Jack loves that one, especially at the end when Oranges saves the forest.”
“Well, I didn’t finish it, thanks for ruining it for me.”
“Damn, sorry.”
“I’m only kidding. So you worked today?”
“I did, I was in five states. On the ground, that is.”
“Wow, busy day.”
“It was.”
“Where’s Jack?”
“With Char, hopefully asleep.”
“Why do you say that?”
“She doesn’t have a lot of structure when she has him. He runs the show if you know what I mean.”
“That’s gotta be hard.”
“Not harder than what you’ve gone through. How are you holding up?” he asks me. And I’m not sure how to answer him. I have my moments. The pain comes and goes, but I don’t always want it to be about me and what I’ve been through.
“I’m okay. I started a new painting today.”
“Yeah, what of?”
“I’ll show you, and you can tell me what you see.”
“Will you push the button?” he asks me, and I try, but nothing happens.
“I hate to say it, but I think your motor is fried.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah, notice how the light here won’t turn on anymore?”
“So what, it worked to open when we got home and then just died?”
“I think so. But a new one’s only a couple hundred dollars, and I can put it in for you tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I tell him.
“Do you want to back your car into the driveway and I’ll manually close the door?”
“Sure.”
Grabbing my keys, I back my car out, and then he closes the door, his arms flexing as he maneuvers it down, and then he latches it locked before we head inside.
“Do you want a glass?” I offer him, as I top mine off.
“Sure.”
“Thanks for trying to fix the garage door.”
“I don’t mind at all,” he steps in front of me, and I swallow, the closeness of his body to mine has my heart racing, and I have to stop it. “Wanna see the painting?” I ask.
“Absolutely.”
&
nbsp; We head into my studio and on the easel is the new painting. Thane’s eyes are drawn to it right away, and he keeps walking closer and closer until finally, he sits down on the stool I spent the day on creating it as I let all of my pain out while I painted. His glass of wine hangs in his hand, dangling over the wood floor and he’s lost in the colors, the same way I felt painting it—so lost.
“Did you do all this today?”
“Yeah, I couldn’t stop once I started.”
“God, it’s beautiful, Faye.”
He touches the canvas, feeling the dry paint beneath his large fingertips, and I stand behind him, breathing him in. Closing my eyes, I let myself relish this moment. I’m not sure why when I’m around Thane, he makes me feel so turned on, but he really does.
“Are you going to sell it?” he asks me, pulling me back to reality.
“Maybe, what do you see when you look at it?”
“I think it’s the most breathtakingly painful and beautiful painting I’ve ever seen.”
Studying the mixture of paints and how they bleed together, painting a vision of what one could describe as heaven and someone else might see as hell, I lose my breath, and suddenly Thane has me in his arms. I cling to him as if he is the answer to my problems. Leaning into his touch as he cups my face, I can feel Ben urging me for some strange reason, telling me that it’s okay. But I don’t feel like this is okay, not at all.
Thane holds me, not giving me an inch of wiggle room, and his breath is heady against my lips. Then slowly he brings his lips to mine and our mouths mold together. A blazing connection ignites, so hot my soul burns. He’s tender kissing me, gentle like he doesn’t want to hurt me, and the gesture reminds me of how much pain I’ve been through. How hurt I still am. I pull away from him and second-guess everything. That connection to Ben is suddenly gone, Ben is not here, and Ben would not be okay with this. This is another man and what I am doing is betraying my husband.
“I’m sorry, I can’t, I’m not ready,” I tell him. The expression across his face is wounded. I’ve hurt him, and it’s the last thing I wanted to do. But…I’m just not ready.