by Claire Adams
“No, I don’t think he has.”
“Graham’s father was able to just completely act like Graham didn’t even exist. Had no interest in ever even meeting him. Could you imagine that? Having a child out there in the world that you’ve never met? That you don’t even care about? No way I could ever do something like that.”
“That’s awful,” I said.
“It is awful. But of course, that’s just what men do. Well, some men. And I did as good as I could with Graham, which, I can admit, wasn’t always perfect. But I’ve always wanted the best for him. And it sounds like that’s what your parents want, too, even if they’re not going about expressing that the right way.” Janice nudged me with her elbow. “You know what you should do? You should give her a call. You’re her daughter; I’m sure she misses you a great deal, even if it has only been a few days. I know I miss Graham, but I try not to bug him too much. I don’t care what kind of argument we got into; I’d always be happy to get a call from him. I bet your mom feels the same way.”
“Maybe you’re right,” I said.
After I finished eating, I stayed and talked with Janice a little while longer, and then I told her I had to get back to the studio.
“Thanks for being such a good lunch date,” Janice said.
“It was my pleasure,” I said. “And I’ll tell Graham to give you a call or something. Or you could come over for dinner.”
“I don’t want to get my hopes up, but that does sound nice. Thanks, Chloe.”
I smiled and said bye, and as I left, I decided that maybe Graham’s mother didn’t dislike me, after all.
*****
I drove back to the art center, but when I got there, I sat out in the parking lot, phone in my hand. Janice was right; I just needed to call my mother and at least say “hi.” Ask how she was doing. The worst she could do was hang up on me, and I didn’t think she would do something like that, if for no other reason than she wouldn’t think it was good manners.
I scrolled through my recent calls list until I came to her name. Mom. I stared at the three letters, stalling, and then I touched the screen. The phone rang, once, then twice, and then she picked up.
“Chloe?”
“Hi, Mom. Is now a good time to talk?”
“Of course it is! I’ve been wanting to call you but I just haven’t. It’s not because I haven’t been thinking about you. I ran into Melanie the other day and she said that you’d been staying at her house, but that she hadn’t seen you the past couple of days. I assume that everything is okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
“I’ve been really worried. I know that you’re an adult and everything, Chloe, but I just hated the way everything happened with your father that night. I wasn’t expecting him to say that at all. I thought we were just going to have another talk with you. Let you know how we felt about Graham.”
“But how can you say that, Mom? You were just telling me before that that you thought he was nice. That you wanted to see him again.”
“What I really want is for everyone to get along. I don’t want there to be fighting, and I don’t like conflict. I want you to be happy. You know that, don’t you? I hate this, I don’t want things to be this way. It’s summer! We’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves, not fighting! And I’ve missed you,” my mother said. She sniffed, and I could tell she was crying.
“I miss you too, Mom.”
“I’d like to see you. And you know what? I don’t care what your father says; I’m not going to spend the rest of the summer exiling you. I want to see Graham, too. If he is someone that you like, and he treats you well, then yes, I want to give him a chance. Why don’t the two of you come with me to the yacht club tomorrow? You don’t have to stay all day; we could just do lunch, if you wanted.”
I hesitated. “I would be more than happy to do that, but is that a good idea?” When my father wasn’t golfing, he could usually be found at the yacht club, and I didn’t know how well it would go over if he happened to see the three of us there. I didn’t want to fight anymore, either, but I also didn’t want to make things worse between him and my mother.
“Don’t worry; your father will be gone all day. He and a few friends are going to golf on Nantucket for the day. Please, sweetie? I’d really like to see you, and I’d like it if you brought Graham along. I mean it.”
It felt weird to be making plans like this, as though we were both sneaking around behind my father’s back. But my mom was inviting not just me, but Graham, too. She wanted to see us both. And I didn’t really feel like going to the yacht club, but that was her comfort zone and maybe she’d feel more at ease there.
“Sure,” I said. “We can do that.”
“Okay, great. I am so glad you called me. Why don’t we plan on meeting there tomorrow around noon? Does that work?”
“Noon sounds good,” I said. “We’ll see you then.”
“I love you, sweetie.”
“I love you, too.”
After we hung up, I sat there in the car for a few more minutes. The call had actually gone better than I’d thought it would have, and now, I could only hope that tomorrow would go smoothly, too. First, though, I’d have to convince Graham that he wanted to go.
*****
I was pleased with the amount of progress I’d made on my sculpture when I finally left the art center for the day. I was also glad that I’d listened to Janice’s advice and called my mother.
Graham had sent me a text and said he’d be home earlier than he thought since one of his appointments had rescheduled, so I decided to stop at the grocery store and pick something up to make for dinner. My culinary skills wouldn’t win me any awards or anything, but Alicia had showed me once how to make clams and linguine, which was simple to make but tasted exquisite.
When Graham got home, I was just draining the pasta.
“Whoa,” he said as he walked in. “Something smells good.”
“I’ve made dinner,” I said. “And it will be ready in two minutes.”
“I’m feeling like quite the lucky guy. I don’t think anyone’s made me dinner before.”
“Well, then, I’m glad I get to be the first. You get to be the first guy I’ve slept with; I get to be the first girl who’s cooked you dinner.”
“Good trade-off, I’d say.”
“You haven’t tried the food yet.”
He laughed. “Touché.”
But the food turned out to be quite good. It was hard to mess up pasta, and so long as you had butter, olive oil, garlic, clams, and white wine, it was hard to mess up the sauce, too.
“This is delicious,” he said. “I could probably eat about two pounds of this. I didn’t really have lunch today, it was so busy.”
I took another bite; it had come out quite good. “I was pretty busy today, too. But I did happen to stop for lunch. I went to Lorraine’s, actually. You should maybe give your mom a call.”
He made a face. “Why?”
“I actually ran into her today.”
He gave me a quizzical look. “Please tell me you weren’t applying for a job down at The Finery.”
“No way,” I said, hitting his shoulder lightly. “I told you—I was taking a break from the sculpture and I decided to go get lunch, so I went to Lorraine’s and your mom was there.”
“Oh, right. Yesterday was Monday. She always goes to Lorraine’s on Monday.”
“She gave me some good advice.”
“I can just imagine. Actually, I don’t think I even want to know.”
“We had a nice chat. It started off a little awkwardly, but then we started talking about parents and stuff and ... I don’t know. I can tell she loves you. She misses you. She ...” I paused. “She told me a little about your father.”
“Oh, Jesus.” He put his fork down. “I really don’t want to know.”
“We don’t have to get into it,” I said.
“That’s good, I’d really rather not. There’s no need to spoil this fine
meal that you’ve made.”
“All right. We can talk about something totally neutral. Like ... the weather.”
Graham picked up his fork and started eating again. “Tell me how your sculpture’s coming along.”
“Really good. I was able to get a lot of work done today, and I’m happy with how it turned out.”
“That’s great. Still a secret, though?”
“Top secret.”
He took another bite. “Well, if it’s even half as good as this food, then you’ll be in good shape.”
“Why, thank you. I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”
We watched a movie after dinner and then got ready for bed. I’d felt tired when we’d been sitting together on the couch, but now that I could actually close my eyes, I could tell sleep was a long way off.
I turned to Graham and curved my body against the length of him, draping my leg over his. I could feel his cock, which was hard and getting harder as I gently squeezed it. He groaned softly into my hair, running his fingers down my flank. I could feel myself getting wet as he slid a hand between my legs, his fingers probing.
“You feel so good,” he whispered as he slipped first one finger, then another, inside of me. I ran my hand up and down his cock.
“So do you,” I said.
We started to kiss—long, slow kisses, our tongues entwining. I moaned against him as he pushed his fingers further into me, rotating his wrist slowly in a clockwise motion. It felt so good, but I needed more, I needed him inside of me.
“I want you inside of me,” I whispered.
He reached over to the bedside table. He opened the packet, then slid the condom down onto his shaft and then lay back on the bed. I straddled him, easing myself lower until I felt him pressing against me. He held onto my hips and guided me down, his cock easily sliding into me because of my wetness. I let out a deep breath as I lowered myself all the way down. He kept one hand gripping my hip bone and brought the other up to cup my breast. I closed my eyes and focused on the warm, tingling sensation that seemed to be encompassing my entire body. I began to rock back and forth. An intense shiver shot up my spine each time I moved my hips back; there seemed to be a spot that his cock would press against just right each time I shifted back. I bit my lip to try to keep from crying out too loudly, but it felt so good I couldn’t help the little moans that escaped from my mouth.
He squeezed my nipple a few times, almost enough to hurt, but not quite, and then brought that hand down and began massaging my clit. It felt so good, I threw my head back and shrieked; if someone had been outside and heard me, they probably would’ve thought I was getting bludgeoned to death. But this was like the exact opposite of that; I couldn’t remember ever feeling so good. I moved my hips faster, grinding into him, not just back and forth, but side to side, and then in a spiraling counterclockwise motion. He was breathing in ragged gasps, his jaw clenched, the tendons in his neck sticking out.
That incredible feeling kept building and building, and I knew with his hand there on my clit and his cock so deep inside me that I would hit the peak in just a few seconds if I kept on like this. Part of me wanted to, of course, but another part wanted to prolong it, ease off a little so we could keep doing it and make it last as long as possible. I liked the feeling of being in control of it, and he groaned as I started to swivel my hips again.
“You’re torturing me,” he said. “God, you look good.”
I started to grind into him, with increasing force, until I couldn’t control myself. I wanted to back off again, make it last, torture him a little more, but I couldn’t. It was as if some unseen force had overtaken me, my body reduced to pure sensation, almost as if my energy was mixing with Graham’s and becoming one. It felt like a gigantic wave rising and overtaking me, and I bit down on my lip as I came. He came a second later, pulling me down on top of him, his arms wrapping around me and holding me there like he was never going to let go.
*****
I realized, as I was starting to drift off, that I hadn’t even mentioned the conversation with my mother, and going out to lunch with her tomorrow. It was dark in the room, but I could tell by Graham’s rhythmic breathing that he’d already fallen asleep. I wasn’t too far behind. I could talk to him about this tomorrow morning, I decided, nestling up next to him.
*****
The next morning, we both slept in, and then woke up slowly, limbs entwined in each other’s. I felt him kiss my forehead, then the tip of my nose, then my lips as I stretched, a smile going across my face.
“So,” I said, “I know we were planning to go to the beach, but how would you feel about going to the yacht club instead?”
He smiled. “Is that a rhetorical question?”
“No. But I talked to my mother yesterday. And I think she was crying, and she was saying that she missed me and she wanted to go out to lunch. At the yacht club, of course, which is basically her comfort zone. I told her we could go.”
“We?”
“Yes. She wanted you to go, too. And she made certain to assure me that my dad would be gone all day golfing, so we wouldn’t have to worry about seeing him.” I paused, thinking about it again. If you had told me at the beginning of the summer that this was how things would be, I never in a million years would have believed it. “How is it things turned out like this? It’s so weird.”
He ran his hand down my side and let it rest on my hip. “I like how you ambush me after a night of sex with this question,” he said. “I’m in a vulnerable state. I’d say yes to anything.”
“Great.” I kissed him. “Thank you.”
“How’d it go with your mom, though? They ready to have you back home?”
“I wouldn’t go that far. But she wants to see us both. It’s really my father that has the problem. So, I think we should go. How does that sound?”
“Like I said, after a night like last night, I’d agree to anything. But sure, let’s do it. Today?”
“Yeah.”
“And it’s at the yacht club? I’ve never been to the yacht club before, you know. In fact, I think I used to make fun of people that would pay thousands of dollars a year just so they could hang out at a place called a ‘yacht club.’ I’m joking … mostly. But do they listen to yacht rock there? That’s the important question.”
I grinned. “I guess you’ll just have to go there and find out.”
*****
Of course, I didn’t really have anything to wear for lunch; I’d left the few dresses and skirts I had at my parents’ house. My dad was probably long gone for his golf trip by this point, but I called Tara instead, and asked if she had anything I could borrow.
“You know, I actually do have something that would be perfect for you,” she said. “And you know what? If you like it, you can have it; it’s a little too long for my tastes. Mom and I are headed to the beach in a few minutes; want me to drop it by?”
“Sure,” I said. “That’d be great.”
“Do you have shoes?”
“Shit. No.” There was no way I’d be able to squeeze my feet into any of Tara’s shoes, either.
“I’ll borrow something from my mom.”
“No, you don’t have to—”
“See you soon!” She hung up.
*****
Graham was in the shower when Tara arrived. “Look at this dress!” she said, holding it up in front of me. “You’ll look great in it.”
The dress was a dark sapphire blue, and it had a vintage, 50s look, with capped sleeves, a fitted bodice, and a flowing skirt that would probably stop right above my knees.
“Wow,” I said, taking the dress from her and letting the silky fabric run through my fingers, “it’s beautiful.”
“It’s yours!”
“You’re sure you don’t want it?”
Tara shook her head. “No. I mean, it’s gorgeous, but like I said—way too long on me! It’ll be perfect for you. And, to go along with it ...”
She held out a pai
r of bright pink pumps with at least a 3-inch heel. “These will go perfectly!” She handed me the shoes.
“No,” I said, catching sight of the label. I tried to hand them back. “There is no way in hell I am wearing a pair of your mother’s Manolo Blahniks!” Even I had seen enough episodes of Sex and the City to know that there is was no way in hell a girl like me should be wearing shoes like that. “Tara, these were probably a thousand dollars!”
She waved me off. “So what? My mom probably has half a dozen pairs of them. And they’ll go perfectly with that dress! You will look amazing.”
“I can’t. They’re your mom’s.”
“And you guys have the same size feet. She’s only worn them like once.”
“Exactly! I can’t wear them.”
Tara sighed. “I told her I was giving you this dress to wear out to lunch at the yacht club. Then she asked me what you were wearing with it, and I said, knowing you, probably nothing because you didn’t have any jewelry. She said that was too bad. And then she asked what shoes. And I jokingly said you were going to wear flip-flops, and you know my mom, she immediately went over to her closet and dug these out and said you had to wear them, because they’d go perfectly. You need the pop of color to go with the dark blue.”
I probably would not have taken the shoes if I had anything else even remotely close to resembling a dress shoe. But I didn’t; all I had were my sandals and a pair of sneakers.
“Go try it on!” Tara said.
“Okay,” I said, clutching the shoes and dress to my chest. “Here goes nothing.”
I went in the bedroom and changed into the dress. I didn’t even need to look in the mirror to know that it fit perfectly. The fabric felt silky smooth against my skin. I slipped the shoes on one by one and then stood for a moment, giving myself a chance to get used to the feel. I rarely wore high heels, but I did like the way I felt in these. At least right now I did; a few hours from now, I’d probably be crying in pain.
I made my way slowly out of the bedroom, back to the living room where Tara was waiting. She grinned and clapped her hands together when she saw me.
“Look at you!” she exclaimed. “Holy shit, you look amazing. Where’s a mirror?”