In My Head

by Schiefer, S. L.

  When we finally stop jumping around the kitchen, I’m pulled in for a tight hug. “I sure hope this is something you want, I can’t sit here and watch you slide further into depression.”

  I pull back from her embrace. Looking her in the eye I tell her, “I am not depressed. I just hate being here in this house all the time so I got myself in a funk. I’m totally fine now, I promise.”

  “Okay, good. I missed you. It does seem like you’re happier right now. How is Ben feeling about all of this?”

  “Ben is totally fine with all of this.” We both shriek from the voice. Ben is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, looking every bit the happy husband.

  Michelle smirks at him. “Yeah, yeah. Super sperm and all of that. We definitely don’t need to hear your special song about your sperm again.”

  Ben busts out in a small dance. Total nerd dancing. “But it’s such a great song.” He starts pumping his hips into the air and Michelle picks up a rag sitting on the counter and throws it at him. Shooing him out of the kitchen, she finally pours herself a glass of wine and then takes a seat at the table.

  I’m going to direct this conversation onto her, I don’t really want to talk anymore about myself right now. “So, what’s with needing the wine tonight? Work going okay?”

  She sighs and takes another sip. “Work is fine. It’s what’s happening outside of work that has me frazzled.”

  Giving her a look, I ask, “What do you mean?”

  “I met this guy, and we went out on a couple dates. But he hasn’t called me since.”

  I wrack my brain, trying to come up with any moment in all the time I’ve known her that a guy has blown her off. Coming up with nothing, I walk over to the table and pull the chair out directly across from her.

  “First, did you have sex with him?”

  She folds her arms on the table and slams her head down onto her arms. But I see her nod. She just doesn’t want to look me in the eye when I asked her if she actually likes this guy, instead of just wanting to hit it and quit it.

  “Michelle, do you like this guy?”

  Another nod.

  “How long has it been since you talked to him?” This is like pulling fucking teeth.

  “Four days,” is her mumbled reply. Her head is still down on her arms.

  Nodding. Trying to come up with a logical answer, trying to save her panic from rising anymore. “Maybe he’s just busy. Maybe he’s worried about getting too attached too fast.”

  All of those seem like logical reasons, but trying to get a woman to understand something logical when she’s feeling scorned doesn’t really work too well.

  “Let’s text him. See what he has to say.” That sounds like a great idea.

  Her head slowly raises from the table. “I’ve texted him a couple times and tried to find out his plans for the night, but he never texts back.”

  I stick my hand out, motioning for her to hand me her phone.

  “I left my phone in my purse, which is in your living room.” She stands up, so I follow her out to the living room. I watch as she rifles through her gigantic purse, trying to find her phone. When she finally removes her arm from her bag her phone is in her hand.

  Her eyes light up when she presses the button on her phone. “Did he text you? You all of a sudden looked excited.” Walking over to the couch, I sit down. Waiting for my friend to come over and sit down with me.

  “He did. He says that he was out of town at his parents’ house for a couple days.”

  “Well, there you go.” I silently thank God. Being at your parents’ is a great excuse to not have to reply to texts.

  “He said he can hang out tonight, if I still want to.”

  She turns pleading eyes on me. I laugh, “My how the tables have turned, my friend. I remember being like this with you when Ben and I first started dating. Go. Go have fun. Be safe. And you owe me.”

  Squealing she runs over to me and gives me a hug. “Thank you! We’ll have lunch this week, I’ll blow off work. And I’ll tell you everything from the very beginning with Luke!” She scrambles away from me, grabs all of her things and is out the door before another word is spoken.

  I walk over to the door and shut it after waving to her before she drives off. Going back into the kitchen I put some of the chili into a bowl to sit down and eat. I walk over to the table and set the bowl down, grabbing the glass of wine I take that over to the sink and dump it. Rinsing the glass I place it in the sink.

  “Ben!” I yell in the direction of the stairs. Hopefully he hears me over Kay’s loudness. A couple seconds after I sit down at the table, I hear Ben stomping down the steps. When he walks into the kitchen, I lose it laughing. It appears as if our daughter decided to give Daddy a makeover tonight.

  “Why did you let her do that to you?” I say between giggles. He mumbles under his breath something about girl’s night and needing to keep the kids entertained. “You know better than to let her use all of her makeup on you.”

  “Yes, tell that to your daughter who thinks she’s going to be the next makeup artist star.” He glares as he says all that. Like it’s my fault she has all that makeup, more like it’s him blaming me for his bad decisions. That only makes me laugh harder.

  ”You’re the one who decided she needed all that makeup in the first place. Don’t even try to turn this around to be my fault, mister.” I shove a spoonful of the chili into my mouth. It’s so good, and it’s been so long since I’ve had it that I moan as soon as the spoons hits my tongue.

  Ben’s eyes narrow on me. “Don’t try to distract me from being mad.”

  “Let’s be real. You’re just butt hurt because you look like a better girl than you do a man.”

  He growls, “I’ll show you what a real man is like later, baby.” He walks out of the kitchen. Presumably to go upstairs and clean all that junk off his face. He’s in for a rude awakening when he realizes that it isn’t going to come off that easy.

  I finish my chili then sent about rinsing the bowl and putting all the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. I grab the bottle of wine and put it in the fridge, so it’s nice and chilled when Michelle comes back over to claim it. Because trust me, she won’t leave an open bottle of wine anywhere for too long if it belongs to her.

  Satisfied that the kitchen is as clean as it’s going to get for tonight, I walk upstairs to spend the night with my husband and my kids. My kids that have miraculously stayed quiet this whole evening.

  Super Dad did his job tonight.

  SINCE IT’S GETTING cold outside, I decided to head to the local rec center to swim. I check in at the front desk and pay the daily fee as I don’t have a membership here. Walking downstairs to the locker room, I get changed into my swim suit. I shove my bag and jacket into a locker and grab my towel. Slamming the locker shut, I make my way into the pool area.

  I was told this was a good time to come, that no one was usually using the pool. And my sources didn’t disappoint. I have the entire pool to myself, excluding the bored looking lifeguard in the corner flipping through a magazine.

  The pool itself is your standard Olympic size pool, with two lanes roped off on one side and the rest of the pool is for open swimming. Carefully walking around the pool, I lay my towel down on the bench right in front of the lane I’m going to swim my laps in.

  Slipping a toe into the water, I gauge the temperature to see if I’m going to be shocked when I slide in. But my toe tells me that the water is bath water warm. Sitting down on the edge, I submerge my legs up to my knees. For as cool as it is outside, this water makes me feel like I’m in the Bahamas, that’s how warm it is.

  Deciding to just jump in, I slip off the edge and dunk myself under water. When I come back up, I immediately wipe the water away from my eyes. Looking around the pool, I make sure that I’m still in here by myself. I take off from the wall and start swimming my laps.

  Every time I hit the wall, I come up and glance around. Not that it matters that no one is in here. Bu
t, we know how it goes. Everywhere I go, Bronson is always hot on my heels. And I’m kind of liking the solitude today.

  I lose track of how many laps I’ve swam after fifteen. This is the first time, in a very long time, that my mind has been this clear of all the shit that I always have running through it. I have no cares in the world.

  When I come up on the wall on the last lap that I plan on swimming, I rest my arms on top of the wall and place my head down on my arms. Trying to catch my breath, I forgot how much it takes out of you to swim that much.

  “This would seem less stalkerish if you would just give me your number like a normal person.”

  And of course he’s there.

  Not bothering to raise my head, I tell him, “There is a reason why you’re not getting my phone number, buddy.”

  “I see how it goes. I’m only good enough for you when you need a little action. But, other than that, you want nothing to do with me, right?”

  I finally raise my head. I’m shocked when I take in his attire. He is wearing a shirt that has the name of the rec center across the chest, and a pair of basketball shorts. Looking at his face, I wait for him to explain himself.

  “I volunteer here a lot, my little brother likes to hang out here. And I have a lot of free time, although I know a good way to fix that.” At his salacious grin, I splash him with water.

  “You’re impossible. You know that?”

  He smirks at me. “Of course I know that. You aren’t the first person to tell me that. Why don’t you hop out of the water and get dressed and meet me in the gym? We can play a little game of twenty-one questions. Basketball style.”

  Curious as to what he means by that, I reluctantly climb out of the water. Grabbing for my towel, right where I left it, but it’s snatched out of my reach before I can get my fingers on it.

  “What the fuck, Bronson?”

  “Aw, I haven’t seen you in a little bit. If you give me a kiss, I’ll give you the towel right back. Scouts honor.” He holds his fingers up in the universal sign for the boy scouts.

  “I’m not sure that sign or words holds any merit if you’ve never been a scout.” I lift one eyebrow and stick my hand out, and wait patiently for him to hand me my towel. I’m trying not to let my teeth chatter, but the air outside of the water is cold as fuck.

  “One kiss and it’s all yours.” Bronson hides the towel behind him, completely out of my reach.

  Grunting, I stand up and walk the two feet to him. I lean down and place a quick peck on his cheek. “Is that what you call a kiss now a days?” And before I can get too far away from him, his free hand darts out and grabs ahold of the back of my neck and brings my lips down to meet his.

  The kiss is a closemouthed one. But it’s no less electrifying as one that feels like he’s consuming my soul. After just a few seconds he pulls away, panting. His eyes meet mine, and I see love reflected in them. I know he feels it too, but neither of us want to say anything.

  “Here’s your towel. Go get dressed, I’ll be in the gym.” He stands without another word and goes back through the open door he must have came in through.

  Wiping my face off with my towel, I wrap myself in it and try to get warm. The hallway leading back to the locker room feels like it has the air conditioner running full blast. Running into the locker room, I dry myself off and get dressed. Thankful that I wore sweat pants and a long sleeve thermal shirt.

  That’ll making playing basketball easier. I’ve never played basketball in my life though, so I’m not sure how good I’m going to be when it comes down to winning a game. I decide to leave all of my stuff in here, since I’m not leaving yet. And I don’t want it to be in the way of anyone.

  I walk out the door and across the hall to the gym. The door is open, and I see Bronson standing in the middle of one of the three basketball courts bouncing a ball. With his shirt off. God, he has such a great body. All that tanned, toned skin on display, it should really be a crime.

  We can’t all look like perfection like he does.

  “Pass me the ball.” He startles at my voice, but tries to cover it up by spinning around and tossing me the ball. I catch it and start dribbling towards him. Once I reach him I take off running while I dribble the ball. I go in for one of those lay-up things. And in trying to be slick, it seems like someone is always there to keep me grounded, literally.

  It’s like it says, nope. Nope. Not happening you can’t look that cool in front of him.

  So, because something always happens, I trip over my own foot and the ball missed the hoop by like seven feet. At least I keep myself from falling flat on my face, and making an even bigger fool of myself. When I turn around and face Bronson. He’s standing there with his hands on his hips. A smirk spread across his face.

  “Don’t say a word. I swear to God if you do, I will end you.” I stomp back over to him. He already has another ball and is holding it under his arm.

  He shakes his head and lets out a small laugh. “Are you done showing off your awesome skill?” He quirks an eyebrow at me, challenging me to keep going. And I want to, but I refrain.

  I nod, and prop my hands on my hips. Waiting expectantly for the rules for his obviously made up game.

  He walks closer to me, putting himself a few feet away from me but still in line with the basket. “Here are the rules. You shoot until you miss. After each basket made, you get to ask one question. Each question has to be answered.”

  I know, almost immediately, that these questions are not going to end up tame. They’re going to start out easy and turn very bad really quick. I’ll bite though, only because I want to know more about my mystery guy.

  “Okay, but I get to go first.” He passes me the ball, not even protesting a little bit. He must be taking pity on me since I about fell on my face. Nothing was said about how far away from the hoop you had to be, so I’m taking advantage. I walk up close to the basket and put the ball in the air, bouncing it off the backboard and it goes right in.

  I grab the ball when it bounces on the court, and turn to Bronson. Tossing the ball in the air and catching it, I repeat that until I come up with a question. He stands there expectantly. A smile tugs at my lips when I finally think of a question. “What did you think of me when you first saw me?”

  Taking a couple steps toward me, he closes the gap between us. Reaching out, he tucks a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. His hand lingering on the side of my face, a small smile playing at his lips. “At first I was shocked because normally no one else is out there in the paths. But, my god, you were breathtaking. Even in your sadness you wear like a cloak, you lit up my world like a sunrise.”

  Sighing, I feel like my knees should be weak from his swoon worthy words. “All right, smooth talker. Let me shoot again.” I grab the ball and lob up it at the basket. Praying it goes in, because I’m really not ready for him to ask me personal questions.

  Not surprisingly, it doesn’t go in. I really shouldn’t have agreed to this game. I’m awful at sports.

  “Oooohhhhhh. Looks like it’s my turn now.” He grabbed the ball from where it shot backwards off the rim. Walking over to the free throw line, he lines himself up, and takes a shot. And it was nothing but net. This boy is hustling me. “What should I ask you?” He comes close to me, and slowly walks around me. Trailing his finger across my shoulders and across my chest.

  Inching his face closer to mine, I involuntarily lean into him hoping for a kiss. He divulges me, and gives me a quick kiss on the lips. “None of that. I don’t need you distracting me. Oh! I got it. When we had sex, at the lake, where you impressed with my mad skills?”

  “Mad skills? Are you serious right now? I’m pretty sure you’re the last guy on earth that needs his ego stroked.”

  A grin lights up his face. “That’s answer enough. You said I don’t need my ego stroked, so answer or not, I’m taking that as an astounding yes.” He turns away from me and shoots the ball from the same position. And he makes it again.

&nb
sp; This is going to be a long day.

  “ROBERT?” I’M CALLING my real dad today, to see if he wants to come over for dinner tonight.

  “Yeah?” Comes the reply in my ear.

  “It’s Lyla. I was wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner tonight. You haven’t been able to meet my kids yet. And Ben should be home somewhat early tonight.” I pace nervously around the kitchen as I await his answer. “I know it’s last minute, but I figured I would call and ask.”

  “Sure thing, I’ll just need your address and I’ll be there.” I rattle off my address and I hope he’s writing it down. “Well, I guess I better get off of here and start getting ready so I can head out.”

  “All right, then. I will see you tonight.” I hang up my phone and set it down on the table. Now I need to figure out what to make. Walking over to the pantry, I open the door to see what I have inside. I could do stuffed shells, I do have all the ingredients to make that. Pulling all of the stuff out that I need, I place it over on the oven.

  Walking back out of the kitchen, I head into the living room to start picking up toys that were left out again. “Hey, Kay?”

  I hear her little voice screaming from her room. “Yeah, Mommy?”

  Rolling my eyes, I tell her, “Why don’t you come downstairs, instead of yelling down the stairs?” She drops whatever toys she was playing with and comes stomping down the stairs. Clearly very put out by me asking her to come talk to me.

  She comes down the stairs and stops right at the bottom. Crossing her arms across her chest and just stares at me expectantly. I see so much of my attitude in her, I always laughed when my mom told me she wished I had a child that acted worse than me.

  “Mommy has a friend coming over tonight. I want you to be on your extra best behavior. I don’t want him thinking I’m raising wild animals, okay?” She looks thoughtful for a minute.

  “Who is your friend?” She dropped her arms to her side and is starting to swing them back and forth. My child can’t hold still for the life of her.