Skydiving, Skinny-Dipping

by Sarah Zolton Arthur

  “Well, you certainly are easy on the eyes, Len,” my mom said.

  “Mom,” I protested.

  “What? He is. And I’m sure it’s not something he doesn’t already know.”

  “Then you don’t need to remind him.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind being reminded,” Len said through his snicker. “My own girlfriend doesn’t tell me she finds me attractive, so…”

  I punched him. Just in the shoulder and it clearly didn’t hurt him. But I had to prove a point. A silent point. That being, up until this morning, I’d thought he was my fake boyfriend and thus it would’ve been inappropriate for me to call him attractive.

  Yes, I figured all that could be conveyed through a punch. For good measure, I threw in, “And you are super hot.”

  My mother invited us to sit down, so Len and I sat on the two-person beige vinyl loveseat in between her chair and my dad in the bed. As we talked, Dad kept looking over at Len. He’d cock his head and squint his eyes, as if concentrating, then after a few seconds, he’d shake his head and try to rejoin the conversation.

  The third time of him doing this, my father finally asked, “Do I know you from somewhere, Len?”

  Len started and a strange expression crossed his face, but it withered away to be replaced by a genuine smile. “No. I just have one of those faces. People always think they know me from somewhere or other.” He waved off the comment with a flick of his hand.

  In the background, the beeping machine keeping track of my dad’s heartbeats, blood pressure, and all that other stuff I didn’t fully understand, became the fifth member to our party. My dad looked so frail in that bed, his color pale instead of rosy. The wrinkles seemed more prominent. As did the gray in his hair and beard. Dad never looked his age, and now he didn’t just not look his age, but he looked several years older. At least a decade.

  Tears welled in my eyes. I wouldn’t cry, at least not in front of him. Not without knowing how my tears would affect him. Len looked at me, then reached over to take my hand in his. The gentle squeeze helped more than he’d ever know. It was funny. We’d been together such a short time—wow, how weird to think we were actually together? All that time I’d thought we were playing—and he knew me, knew when I needed that added support.

  A knock sounded on the door and the nurse poked her head in. “It’s time,” she said as she pushed the door all the way open. Two nursing assistants accompanied her. A woman pushing the gurney and a man walking along next to the woman pushing the gurney.

  Worry flashed in my dad’s eyes. I couldn’t blame him. We all worried. Sure, heart surgeons put stents in clogged arteries all the time, but it was still a major surgery.

  My mother attempted to stifle a sob unsuccessfully. My dad, to his credit, lifted his hand to grasp my mom’s. He brought it slowly, while wincing, up to his lips to kiss her knuckles.

  “I can’t lose you,” she said to him. “I can’t. I buried my boy…” Mom’s lips quivered as the tears flowed freely.

  I didn’t want to leave, but at the same time it felt like an invasion of their privacy. This was a moment meant for a long-married couple and not for anyone else’s ears or eyes.

  Totally oblivious to the moment my parents were having, the nurse broke in. “We’ll take good care of him.”

  Though I supposed a huge deal for us was simply business as usual for them. The female assistant locked the wheels of the gurney next to my dad’s bed and the three of them transferred him. Next, the guardrails went up and locked in place. At that point they let us get close to Dad before they took him away.

  I bent in and kissed his cheek, dampening both our cheeks from crying. “Love you, old man.”

  Once I moved out of the way, Len stepped up. He patted my dad on the shoulder. “Sorry to have our first meeting be under these circumstances. I’ll be thinking good thoughts.”

  “Thank you, son. For what it’s worth, I’m glad I got to meet you.” Dad took a second to catch his breath. “It’s a lot to ask of a man you just met, but I’m asking anyway. Take care of my girls. They’re sensitive and will need a strong shoulder to cry on while their waiting on me to recover.”

  “You have my word, sir.” Len gave that same shoulder a squeeze. “Take care,” he said, then stepped back.

  At that point, we both let my mom have her moment with him without listening in. At first his arm slid around my shoulders, but when they pushed the gurney out of the room, my mother walking with them holding my dad’s hand, Len turned me into him so he could full-on hug me. I never appreciated his strong arms as much as I did at that moment.

  Brian had been great after my brother passed. We’d only been dating six months when it happened. Then with all the stalking and harassment that followed from Leo, Harrison’s brother, and I had to move, he moved too—gave up a job and everything. Albeit, a crappy minimum wage job that he didn’t mind leaving as it provided him the opportunity to find a much better one in the field he wanted to work in. But he did it for no other reason than so we wouldn’t be apart.

  Len’s hug felt like an absorption of everything. My dad’s surgery. Losing my brother. Leo. And even Brian. The man clearly had no clue what he was getting himself into when he’d decided to date me for real.

  The staff allowed us to stay in the room because it had been assigned to my dad and they’d be bringing him back here after his stint in recovery. Mom appeared in the doorway, bottom lip quivering, but she stayed strong. Too strong for the situation, in my opinion.

  “Mom, have you eaten today?” I got to her side in only a couple of steps.

  But she moved past me to sit down in the chair next to the empty bed. “I’m not hungry.”

  “How are you gonna take care of Dad if you aren’t taking care of yourself? Please, let me get you some soup or something.”

  “Okay, sweetheart. I’ll eat some soup.” She agreed far too easily.

  I beckoned Len over with my finger. As he reached me, I pulled him in to a private conversation. “She needs to eat. Can you sit with her while I go?”

  “You want me to go, baby?”

  Shaking my head no, I used my eyes to gesture for him to look at her. “Her husband went to surgery and she’s not crying. That’s not right. She’s being strong for me. You stay, please. Give her a safe place to let go.”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  My hand to the back of his neck, I pulled him in for a kiss. “Thank you, Len. I’ll grab you something too, okay?”

  A second kiss, this one from Len, and he let me go. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him take a seat on the edge of the bed and pull my mom in for a hug. What I told him was true. She wouldn’t let go with me in the room. But what I neglected to mention was that I needed the space. So many emotions swirling around inside one little body.

  I worried for my dad. The guilt I felt for staying away was probably giving me an ulcer as I walked to the elevator. Not to mention I’d fallen in love with Len and couldn’t bring myself to tell him because hello? Chicken.

  My phone picked that time to ping with another email. I pulled it from my pocket. Brian. Why wouldn’t he leave me alone? We’d broken up. He’d broken up with me. He’d just gotten engaged to another woman.

  Well, Brian happened to be one thing I could avoid dealing with for the time being. Yet again, I swiped to delete his message just as I reached the elevators. One was just about to close when I threw my hand between to stop it. The doors pulled back open to the empty elevator car. I pressed and held the door close button just to make sure I didn’t have to share the ride with anyone.

  On the first floor, I followed the smell of food to the cafeteria. Along with the regular cafeteria fare of burgers, pizza, fries, etc., they offered a spread of pretty credible Chinese food. I got mom a pint of the wonton soup. For me and Len, the Lo Mein noodles. And for all of us to share, fried pork wontons, crab-cheese rangoons, and eggrolls. What better for people waiting on a heart patient having a stent put in his
clogged artery to eat than fried foods?

  Some days comfort outweighed practicality. Today comfort won out.

  Fourteen:

  Back on my dad’s floor, I walked into the room in time to see my mom throw her head back and laugh. That man had magic in his blood. I knew it had been the right choice to have him stay, and I’m so glad he agreed with me. I’d never have gotten her to laugh.

  “Hey there,” I said.

  Both heads turned to look at me. “A mud slip-n-slide, sweetheart?” My mom asked, what I believed to be rhetorically, so I didn’t answer.

  Instead I shot what-the-heck-did-you-say-to-her eyes to my soon-to-be-ex boyfriend if he didn’t give the answer I wanted.

  “What?” he asked. “She wanted to know how we met. Then she wanted to know how we’d gotten together. Was I supposed to lie?”

  “Yes. You were supposed to tell her we met at a church social or at a homeless shelter or volunteering at a no-kill animal shelter.”

  “Like I’d believe you went to church socials?” my mom quipped.

  “You’re only supposed to believe good things about me—like I was kissed by angels or fairies fly out of my butt… I don’t know.”

  “Fairies?” Mom laughed again. “That would probably hurt.”

  “No wonder my brother—” Len started to say, but then stopped himself.

  “Your brother?” Mom asked.

  He shook his head. “He used to say, ‘Look at how a girl interacts with her family to know if you need to stick around.’”

  “And do you need to stick around?” she asked then.

  “Foods getting cold.” I cut in before he had the chance to answer, holding up the tray.

  He smirked but stood and grabbed the soup to hand to my mom. We spread the rest of the cartons on the small table. Mom’s eyes got huge when she spied my noodles.

  “Is that Lo Mein?” she asked, like she couldn’t tell.

  “Yup,” I answered and made a big show of sticking my chopsticks in the container to pull out what turned out to be a mouthful of delicious, saucy delightfulness. I slurped the noodles, flicking sauce all over my lips and cheeks. “Mmm…” I finished dramatically.

  Mom looked between her soup and my Lo Mein several times. I was going to have to force-feed her when I’d left and now she wanted my food? My meal enjoyment just cut itself by half.

  “Huh.” She sighed. “You give birth to children and raise them the best you can. Give up everything for their comfort… This one”—she pointed to me—“I was in labor with her for thirty-nine hours before they finally had to cut me open for a C-section.”

  I couldn’t take it anymore. “Here, Mom.” I handed her over the container of noodles.

  “No, I couldn’t.” Oh, she said she couldn’t as she snatched the carton from my hand and dug in with her own set of chopsticks that I’d brought her in case she wanted to try the fried pork wontons.

  The wonton soup tasted delicious, but I wanted what I’d ordered.

  To my utter surprise, Len reached over and grabbed the soup from my hands. “Share with me?” he asked.

  My mouth dropped open as I stared at him for a beat.

  “What?” he asked. “It smells good. We share, we get the best of both.”

  “Best of both,” I repeated dumbly, then snapped my mouth closed and picked up a rangoon.

  Eventually, well after we’d finished eating, we got word that Dad was out of surgery and they’d moved him to recovery. He’d done well and everything looked good.

  Dad acted pretty groggy when they finally wheeled him back into the room. He looked at Len and said, “Do I know you?”

  That’s when Mom stepped in and said, “That’s Len, honey. You met him earlier.”

  Dad nodded slightly and then passed out again. He still had a lot of the anesthesia in his system.

  Eventually, we had to leave for the night. Mom and I kissed Dad while Len gave his arm a quick squeeze, exactly as he had before my dad had left for his surgery.

  The drive back to my childhood home went quickly yet quietly. The stresses of the day sort of caught up with us all. Mom let us in. Len carried our bags.

  “I’m awfully tired,” she said. “Think I’ll head to bed.” She kissed my cheek first, and then went up on her tiptoes to kiss Len’s.

  When she was gone down the hall Len turned to me. “Am I allowed to share a room with you? Or do I take the couch?”

  “You can have the couch if you want it, but I’m sure my parents hold no pretense that you aren’t screwing my brains out on a nightly basis.”

  “It’s not nightly.”

  “I know that, but we’re young. They think everyone our age screws nightly.”

  “Ouch,” Len said, laughing. “Your poor vagina. Maybe give a girl some recover time.”

  “That’s what I’m saying.”

  “Makes me wonder about your parents.”

  “Don’t.” I put my hand up. “Don’t even go there.”

  Grabbing his hand, I tugged him halfway down the hall to my old bedroom, now turned guest room.

  We stripped down and changed into our pajamas, took turns using the bathroom, and climbed into bed. As soon as my head hit the pillow… nothing. I couldn’t turn my brain off. I lay on a bent arm facing Len. He took on the exact same pose, facing me.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  “Better, knowing Dad’ll be okay. Thank you for this, today. Coming. I didn’t even realize how much I needed you here until you were here.”

  “Sort of comes with the boyfriend job description. But you’re welcome. I’d have gone crazy not knowing how you were doing.”

  He leaned in to kiss me and right as his lips touched mine, I asked, “How come you always stop yourself when you talk about your brother?”

  Probably not the best time to have asked that, seeing as Len rolled back over to his original spot. “It’s hard. We were… close. But like you, my brother died. I didn’t handle it well. Actually, I sort of went off the rails on a crazy train. It got pretty bad. So I just don’t like thinking about it. Thinking about him makes me think of the stuff I did.”

  “And you can’t separate the two? The memories of your brother from the crazy stuff you did?”

  “I hurt some people in my grief. Not physically, but I’m really not proud of that.”

  “Have you tried to apologize?” I asked.

  His stare drilled into me. I’d never felt anything more intense. “Kami, baby, I’m going to kiss you now.”

  And he did. He rolled over me, pinning me to the bed, and took my lips in possibly the hottest make-out session we’d ever had. I squirmed underneath him as I groped his backside. But right when I was about to hit pay dirt, he moved my hand and rolled away, leaving me a heavily panting, confused mess.

  “Wha?” Yes, the panting continued so hard, I couldn’t even finish the word.

  “I’m not having sex with you here. Your mom is two doors down.”

  “But,” I whined. Not my proudest moment, but I really wanted to have sex. Now.

  “When we get home, baby. You can have me every way you want me. Just not here, not tonight.”

  It felt like there was something else going on here, more than him not wanting sex because of my mom, but I didn’t push it. If he needed us to wait, we’d wait.

  “Hold me?” I asked.

  Len laid me out with a sweet caress of his lips this time. “That I can do.”

  Dad was released the next afternoon and Len and I decided to wait the rest of the week to go home. Not a man to stay idle, Len mowed the grass, then changed the oil in my mom’s car because Dad had recently done his but had the heart attack before he’d gotten to Mom’s. Len generally did any fix-it things on the to-do list my parents kept tacked to the refrigerator. He’d come in, check one off, and then head back out to tackle another one.

  My dad could’ve gone back to work after a few days, but my mom made him take vacation time while Len and I visited. Mostl
y, I think, because she worried. My parents were only in their early fifties. Much too young to be dealing with heart attacks and blocked arteries. The problem probably occurred because dear old Dad, though he wasn’t overweight, never in all my years of knowing him let “that green stuff” touch his plate.

  I ate vegetables. Len ate vegetables. Mom ate vegetables. How a man went his whole life not eating them went beyond my comprehension. They bickered back and forth. He ate potatoes, that counted. That didn’t count.

  Mom was right, but I stayed out of their tiffs.

  By the end of the week, with Dad doing well, family time got to be too much. Especially after I informed them that I’d be setting sail with Len and the Lowenstein’s for half a year. They had some choice words for me. For Len. For Dion. But in the end begrudgingly gave their okay, not that I needed it. Things between us became somewhat stained after that. So we decided to head home. Plus, you know, I wanted me some Len booty—bad.

  We packed up, I kissed my parents goodbye and promised not to stay away so long again. Well, after we got back from sailing around the world, that is. Mom made Len promise to come back with me.

  “She wants me, I’m there,” he said.

  Then we climbed in the truck and drove away. Out of the side mirror, I watched them wave to us.

  Len grasped my hand in his and brought them both to rest on his knee. A coffee stop, a pee break, and two and a half hours of drive time, we made it back home safely.

  Home. Len’s place? Our place? What was the dynamic now that we were an actual couple? It was far too soon to “move in together,” but essentially, we had. And being on a boat for six months, unless we broke up, we would probably continue to share a bed.

  After bringing our stuff from this week into the house, I started up a load of laundry while Len unloaded the truck bed of the gear we’d brought camping the week before. When he walked in, the last load having been stored away in his storage unit, the sun hit behind him, glistening around him to the point he had this golden-white aura, my breath caught in my throat. I swallowed hard.