by Leslie Pike
But Bing’s a good boy. Boy. I sense his independence rising, and even though every parent knows it must happen, I’m sad. It’s obvious that once it comes to full blossom, the child will be gone. Being a mother has been the hardest, most beautiful journey of my life. I don’t want it to change. My throat tightens with the thought. Appreciate these last days. It has repeated in my mind over the last year.
“You look pretty, Mom.”
Ohhh. Bing’s words brighten the day.
“Thank you, son. I’m really happy you aren’t upset that I’m going on a real date.”
He looks me in the eye. “You’ve been alone for a long time. I don’t mind.”
Out of the mouths of babes.
“But it’s very mature of you. Although technically, you have seen me go on lots of dates with Ken.
He shoots me a knowing look. “You never acted with Ken like you’re acting around Maxen.”
“What? I don’t know why you’re saying that,” I fib.
“Because it’s true. You don’t like Ken in that way. Right?”
I just smile my agreement. I’ve got one smart child.
“Which purse do you like better?” I say, ignoring the question.
I hold up the shoulder strap next to the updated fanny pack. His face contorts.
“I don’t know! Whatever.”
Accepting his take on things, I make an executive decision and chose the fanny pack. The doorbell rings, my stomach drops, and Bing moves to answer. Swinging it open, we are greeted by Maxen and Hunter. This kid rarely wears a smile, but we get half of one.
“Hey, guys,” I say, loading my pack.
“Hello,” Maxen says.
He doesn’t try to hug or cheek kiss me. I’m glad. He doesn’t know how unusual it is for me to expose Bing to a man I’m interested in. Technically it has never happened.
They enter the room, and Hunter gives a passing glance at the dog.
“You know McFly,” Bing says. “You’re the first one here. I’ve got everything set up in the garage. Let’s go.”
“Are you a musician too?” I ask.
“No.”
Bing weighs in. “He may be able to sing. We need a singer.”
What am I missing here? This shy, wounded boy is going to audition to be the lead singer? Wonder if Maxen knows. By his expression, it’s surprising news to him too.
“That’s great. Have fun, boys,” I say, walking to Maxen’s side.
But they’re gone before I can say another word. Leaving us alone with only McFly as a witness. He’s got an eye and a pissy look on my guest. Maxen turns and lifts my chin.
“Hello, you.”
His arm slides around my waist, and he gently brings me against him. Oh, hell yes!
“What do you think you’re doing?” I protest without one hint of real pushback.
“This.”
His lips lower to mine, and he pauses there, just a breath away. Dark brown eyes draw me in. My pulse quickens. Then he takes the kiss, and it’s like manna from heaven or the first rain after a drought. There’s no tongue, no overt passion. There’s just this one memorable kiss that lingers when our lips part. The man has planted his flag.
There is a look on his face that I read as satisfaction. No pride involved, but happiness that what just happened happened so effortlessly. I hope my face reflects the same.
“Do that again,” I say.
This time it is another story he tells, another question asked. It begins with anticipation. A promise of what things may come. He lingers a breath away at first. Then the kiss. There’s a hunger felt, and it comes from both of us. It’s hot. And the first feel of his tongue sends an electric current down my spine. It settles in my pussy. And we don’t stop there.
Our hands touch the curves and muscles with a hunger for more. Trying to find ways of getting closer to each other. To become one being. It’s an obvious promise of what’s to come. When we stop, my head is spinning. It’s a dizziness born from pleasure, and I’ve never felt it before. I want so much more.
“You’re the woman I imagined,” he says in low tones.
My answer is to take the sides of his face in my hands. My eyes ask for more. He does not hesitate. We’re locked in a steamy embrace when Bing walks back in.
“Shit! Sorry,” he says, spinning and heading back out.
“Bing! Stop.” I say it firmly as Maxen and I break away.
Maxen mouths ‘sorry’ to me, but I shake my head, refusing his apology. It’s not needed.
Bing peeks his head around the corner of the hallway. “Mom. It’s no big deal. You didn’t scar me. Sorry I said shit.”
That brings a chuckle from my kissing partner.
“Well, that’s good. I just want you to know I wouldn’t have done that if …”
“Mom!” he interrupts. “Let’s not talk about it. Please, I beg you.” His palms come together in prayer.
“All right. We’ll talk privately.”
He is looking at me like I’m the kid, and he’s the parent. Like my antics are laughable.
“Just go on your picnic and don’t kill the ants.” His expression is entirely serious.
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
“If you roll over on them, they’ll be dead.”
The laughter can’t be held back by my Chris Rock. He’s amusing himself, and if I’m truthful, us too. Maxen thinks it’s funny as hell.
“We’re leaving now. I have my cell. Don’t let McFly out by accident.”
“Okay.”
“And don’t get too loud with the music. Mrs. Patterson has complained about your band practices, you know.”
Bing’s head is nodding, but his eyes are saying, ‘leave already.’
I grab my helmet and leave one last kiss on my son’s head. It was accepted because none of his friends saw me do it. That’s what it has come to now in this new dynamic. Even a mother’s kisses are not always welcomed. It’s the way of the world, but damn, it’s sad to know that truth.
Maxen’s Harley is everything I expected. The beefed-up Fat Boy is smooth. The moment I swung my leg over and settled against his body, it felt familiar. I have not been on a bike since Robert died. Seems like once you love the feeling, the acceleration, and the wind in your hair, you always will.
I almost forgot what it’s like to lean into the curves of the road. It isn’t only the man who becomes one with the machine. The rider can too. In a way, you become an extension of the bike. When you peel away all the daily bullshit and experience the elements, you come alive. Random people nod at you, and you can always get someone to talk to you about your bike. There’s a cool factor that isn’t limited by your age. It’s your ride that does the loudest talking.
A Zen-like quality engages all my senses. I am reminded of how easy it is to feel joy. There’s a beautiful simplicity to appreciating things that usually pass by without much notice. The smells alone. Every restaurant and fruit stand we pass offers a sampling of what they are selling. Not literally, but just in the way the scents wafted over and past us. Oranges and peaches, hotdogs, and berry pies. It’s a feast for the nose.
But now, the most tantalizing scent of all reaches us. As the road dips closer to the river and its banks, an earthy, mossy smell permeates the air. Humidity settles on my skin, and I rest my head on Maxen’s back and take in the moment.
He slows to a crawl, navigating the narrow road through the trees. I’ve never been here before because this Western access to the riverbank was closed to the public until last month. I’m not sure it’s widely known. I haven’t seen anyone else so that we could be alone. Alone.
A Tennessee summer day is as good as it gets, as far as I’m concerned. Of course, I’m prejudiced because my childhood summers were spent in idyllic settings like this one. The memories rise.
Maxen turns his head. “How you doing back there?”
“I’m good. This is a beautiful spot.”
We are mostly in shade now, and
the Silky Dogwoods with their white blossoms make a gorgeous show. The River Birch trees line the water’s edge and reach deep back. But it’s what appears next that stuns. Suddenly we are in a shady forest of hydrangeas. They blanket the floor of the expansive space. Mostly white, but there are some green and purple patches every so often. It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.
“Oh, Maxen! This is stunning,” I say as he comes to a stop under a Birch tree and turns off the bike.
“I wanted to give you a bouquet you haven’t had before.”
I swing my leg over and stand. He gets off and engages the kickstand. Then our eyes meet, and I see the desire rise. He gently takes me in his arms.
“Where were we?” he asks softly.
Chapter Six
Maxen
This might be an alternate reality. Dominique is one of a kind, and it’s hard to explain how I know that. It’s not information gathered from long conversations. We’ve only had a few. It’s not the passage of time spent in each other’s company. We were introduced ten days ago. Seven have been spent apart. But I’m going with my gut and my dick. They both have arrived at the same conclusion.
I don’t want this woman to fall through the cracks. She makes me feel more. More myself. Like I’ve been missing a limb, and she’s suddenly showed up with it. That’s what I’m left with from the hours of thinking about why I’m drawn to her so strongly.
And now we’ve kissed, and it lived up to the fantasy. Oh yeah, every fucking thing confirms the pull. I want it all. Going slow with Dominique might be the best approach. But fuck that plan. I want to remove everything that is in the way of me making love to her.
I need to remember what I want. More. So, to that end, we need to talk. I’m going to learn more about her if I can tear myself away from fantasizing about our future sexual escapades. That thought seems to be taking up lots of my time.
There’s a touch of vertigo happening here, and my world feels literally rocked. Her parted lips and the beautiful green of her eyes make a great picture. A man could get lost in them. What’s the power she has over me? Whatever it is, I am going to surrender without a shot fired. Take it all, babe.
“Let’s spread out the blanket and get to our picnic,” I say, attempting to control myself by moving away from the nuclear reactor that is her mouth.
We unload the supplies and unroll the blanket. Working together, we place it in the open space under the Birch’s shade. That’s where we sit, facing the sea of hydrangeas. I get out the cider and the lunch I bought at the deli this morning.
“Has every man you ever kissed told you you’re a great kisser?”
She chuckles and dips her chin in a shy gesture. “Every man? There haven’t been that many to categorize.”
“That’s hard to believe. I’d guess they line up for the chance to get to know you. Your husband must have been a fool to divorce you. Or did you divorce him?
As she takes the plastic cup I hand her, her expression changes, and I can’t quite read it.
“I’m not divorced. I’m a widow. It’s been nearly a decade now.”
“Sorry. Shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”
“It’s not a raw subject to talk about anymore. Ten years softens the grief.”
“He must have been very young. Was he ill?”
“No. It was an accident. He was walking across the street to help a woman who was changing her tire. He got hit by a teenager texting. That was the random undoing of our lives.”
“How horrible.”
“Yes.”
“And you had Bing to care for. Did your family and friends help?”
“That was the saving grace. My brother, sister, and parents did everything they could possibly do to help me. When Robert died, I was still in school, and they made sure I finished. They were Bing’s babysitters and my rocks.”
“Do they live here in Smyrna?”
“My parents live in Paris, France now. They retired there a few years ago.”
“How exotic. Why Paris?”
“That’s where they met. My father rode through Europe on his Harley when he was in his early twenties.”
“Really?”
“He met my mother in a café where she worked.”
“She’s French?”
“Oui. Hence my name.”
“What about your brother and sister? Where are they?”
“My brother lives in Utah, and my sister went to France to visit the folks a year ago. She’s still there.”
“What about your husband? What was he like?”
Dominique’s eyes soften, and she smiles. “That’s very kind of you,” she says quietly.
“What is?”
“For you to ask about him. It’s rare.”
Her hand reaches over and takes mine, and she speaks with certainty.
“He was a good man. I was lucky to know him and love him.”
The guy won the lottery being loved by her. The words don’t bother me. They confirm what I already suspect. Her beauty is undeniable, but the strong suit is her heart.
“He was a Harley man too,” she adds, lightening the moment.
“What was his ride?”
“He had a Hugger. A twelve hundred Sportster. It’s in storage for Bing. I’m planning on giving it to him when he turns eighteen. He thinks I sold it years ago.”
“Why haven’t you told him?”
A wide smile lifts the corners of her mouth. “You obviously have no children.”
“Well, that’s true.”
“If he knew a Harley was waiting for him, I’d never hear the end of it. He is much too young to ride, so why torture him? Besides, I need to make sure he’s mature enough before I give him such responsibility.”
“Has he ever been on a bike?”
“He’s gone with Wes and his oldest boy since they were about nine. They go up to Turkey Bay dirt biking.”
“That’s good because not every kid is into motorcycles.”
“Oh, he is. It’s a connection to his father. He has so few memories to hold on to. You should see his bedroom. It’s covered with Harley Davidson posters.”
I lock eyes with her and get to the point. “I want to get to know you. Is that something you’d be interested in?”
She takes a few beats before answering.
“I’m interested. Can’t you tell?”
It’s a question she already knows the answer to.
“Those kisses kind of convinced me,” I say, grinning.
“But we can’t ignore the fact you’re geographically undesirable. California is a world away.”
“I can find my way to you.”
I think she liked my answer because she bit her bottom lip and held back a smile.
We’re interrupted by the sound of her cell. When she looks at it, an expression of concern rises.
“That’s our code for an emergency.”
She taps the number and waits.
“What’s wrong?” she says calmly.
There’s a one-sided conversation happening for a minute.
“I’m putting you on speaker so Maxen can hear,” she says with a slightly disgusted look.
“Repeat what you just said.”
Bing’s voice is one part fear and the other a kind of fake calmness. And the words pour out in a stream of consciousness.
“We were messing around, trying to see who could balance the most things on their head. Umm, then Trevor accidentally pushed Hunter, and he tripped and broke his front tooth. Not all the way, but maybe half is gone. I’m sorry. We were just goofing off.”
“Is he bleeding?” I interrupt.
“No. There’s no blood at all.”
In the background, I hear the muffled laughter of boys.
“This is nothing to laugh about!” Dominique says. “That’s a permanent tooth!”
“There’s one more thing, Mom.”
“Oh, God, what?”
“Umm, one of the things on Hunter�
�s head was your iPad. The screen got broken.”
A fire rises in Dominique’s face. Be warned, kid.
“We are coming home. Stay where you are, and do not do anything else that proves your stupidity. You’re in trouble, and I am really disappointed, Bing.”
I don’t think her disappointment is that great of a deterrent because his voice actually sounds calm now.
“Okay. Sorry, Mom. Hey, can I feed McFly some of the steak you made last night?”
“What? Why?”
“Umm, well, he’s kinda wedged between the refrigerator and the counter. He got scared when everything crashed, and he won’t come out. I think he went too far in, and he can’t back out now. Think if I hold a piece of steak up behind him and he smells it, I can get him to move. He’s really stuck in there, and we can’t reach him.”
Her face scrunches up, and her eyes narrow.
“Try it. But do not move the refrigerator! We will do that when we get there. Send Trevor and Marcus home. And keep us informed if anything else happens. We’ll be there in half an hour.”
The call ends, and Dominique wears a look formed from a mother’s experience.
“Welcome to parenthood.”
The food gets returned to the basket and the blanket too. As we stand, I take Dominique in my arms.
“Let’s have one more kiss before we leave Eden behind.”
There is no hesitation. She lifts her mouth to mine, and a hand wraps around my neck. Fingers thread through my hair. This one reaches every part of me. I’ve got a feeling down deep in my soul that I don’t really understand. But I know this. Being without her doesn’t seem like an option.
“When can we get together again?”
I climb on the bike, and she joins me.
“You mean where we can be uninterrupted?”
“Yes.”
“There’s no such thing. I am always on call for Bing. And while you’re responsible for Hunter, the same applies to you.”
My sigh leaves its mark.
“But we can do everything possible to prevent being needed. Like having someone watch both boys,” she whispers in my ear.