by Tara Sivec
"Jesus, how do you fit your ego through doorways?" I asked as the sound of the front door opening and closing stopped Drew's musings.
Faster than I've ever seen anyone move, Liz flew out of the kitchen and bolted to the front door. They had a foyer around the corner from the living room so we couldn't see who had just got here, but we could definitely hear her.
"Elizabeth Marie Gates, you owe me big time. That was the single most horrific experience of my life."
Holy fuck, I know that voice. And why am I suddenly thinking about barking dogs?
Muted voices filled the room as Jim sauntered in from the kitchen with a giant bottle of grape vodka in one hand and two bottles of beer in the other. He cocked his head and stared at Drew with a funny look on his face and for a minute, I wondered if maybe Drew was right about sleeping with Liz. After a few seconds though, he smirked like he just remembered the punch line to an inside joke, placed the beers on the coffee table in front of Drew and me and turned to face the direction of the foyer but didn't move from where he was standing.
The voice from the foyer suddenly got really loud.
"I lost my shit after the question on cock rings getting stuck in vaginas and told them all about my stellar sexual history. Jesus H. Christ, Liz, a woman who has had one point five lays and didn't even come close to getting off during them should not be selling sex toys!"
Ouch. We should probably not be listening to this. She's going to be pissed.
Jim unscrewed the lid to the vodka and tossed it down on the coffee table where it clattered a few times before coming to a stop. I thought he was going to take a drink straight from the bottle or something, but he just stood there holding on to it, as if waiting for something. At least Liz was trying to get her to talk a little quieter. We heard a few of her attempts but they went completely unnoticed.
Shit, one of us should say something. Alert her to our presence by walking around the corner or coughing or something. But like the assholes we are, we just sat there waiting to hear more.
The name Max was yelled and something about him getting two thrusts in before his dad walked in on them. Okay, now I wanted to hear more. Drew must have had the same idea because both of us leaned our bodies closer to the door so we could hear better. Fortunately, there was no need for that. Suddenly, everything was loud and clear as she walked with her back to us into the living room while Liz followed her, shaking her head frantically.
"Why in the hell did you ever think I would be good at this?" she said as she came to a stop and put her hands on her hips.
It was the girl from the bar last night. Halleluiah! And don't judge me just because I knew it was her as soon as I saw her ass. That was a really, really nice ass right there. I wanted to get down on my knees and praise God and the makers of the jeans she was wearing. I wanted to fuck that ass.
Wait, that didn't come out right. I mean, yeah what guy wouldn't? But she might not be into that sort of thing. That's something you have to discuss with a woman. You don't just go poking around or you'll get punch in the face and the words, "EXIT ONLY!" screamed at you.
The word 'vagina' being yelled right at that moment was the only thing that pulled my mind and my dream dick out of this chick's ass.
"By the end of the night, every woman in that room was giving my vagina sad looks. My vagina is going to get a complex, Liz."
Jim was the only one of us with any brains at this point. He walked over to the two women and stood quietly next to the one with the great ass, vodka bottle still in hand.
"It's already judging me because it's only gotten off with my hand. And I don't count dry humping your leg that one time we were really drunk after finals freshman year."
I have now lost all motor function. Someone check and see if I just came.
“Oh my God, I think I just wet myself,” Drew whispered excitedly.
"Why the hell are you staring at me like that?" the woman asked irritably as she looked back and forth between Liz and Jim. She whispered something and Liz just nodded her head and looked in our direction. By the speed with which her hand flew out and grabbed the vodka bottle and chugged it, I'm guessing she just realized there were other people in the room listening to her talk about blah, blah, blah, masturbation, blah, blah, girl-on-girl-action. She slowly turned her body around and her eyes flew right to mine. I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me and watched the bottle of vodka slip from her hands. Jim calmly stuck his arm out and caught the bottle before it hit the floor, while I just sat there staring at the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
Okay, I knew I saw her last night, but I was drunk and objects in drunk eyes may appear hotter than they actually are. My recollection of her face in my mind might not have been as accurate as I thought it was. Thankfully, she was just as beautiful as I remembered. And now I felt really bad that she looked so horrified by everything she blurted out to Liz when she thought no one else was here.
"So, who wants another drink?" Liz asked cheerfully as she moved around the brown-haired beauty.
Drew and I wordlessly lifted our beer bottles to show Liz we were all set. She grabbed onto the poor girl's arm and dragged her into the living room. I watched her bring the vodka bottle back up to her lips and take another swig as she walked. Liz snatched the bottle away from her and slammed it down on the coffee table.
"Carter, this is Claire. Claire, this is Carter," Liz said, emphasizing our names for some reason. I feared for Liz’s life a little right now. I was afraid Claire might claw her eyes out.
"We sort of met last night," I said with a smile, trying to move the attention to me and save Liz from disfigurement.
Claire let out a hysterical laugh.
Liz sat down on the couch, pulling Claire down next to her.
"Well, we have a few minutes before dinner will be ready. Jim tells me you guys just moved here from Toledo, is that right?" Liz asked as Jim walked in front of the women to take a seat on the other side of Claire.
I nodded my head. "Yeah, we were transferred here from the Toledo Automotive plant."
I turned my gaze back to Claire. Her knee was bouncing up and down at a frantic pace. Liz reached over and put her hand on it to stop the movement.
"So, Claire, how long have you been a bartender?" I asked. I wanted to know everything there was about her. And I wasn't going to lie, I was dying to hear her voice again and learn more about her vagina and how often she found herself humping girlfriends. Shit, please don't let me get a hard-on right now.
"Almost five years," she said as another awkward laugh bubbled out of her and Jim reached up to pat her on the back a few times.
How much of the vodka did she chug from that bottle?
"Liz, I can't take it anymore," Drew interrupted. "You look so fucking familiar."
Claire jumped to her feet, her knee slamming into the coffee table and knocking over the two beer bottles. Thankfully they were already empty.
"I think I heard the timer go off on the oven. Liz, did you hear the timer go off?" she asked.
Liz shook her head casually. "Nope. Definitely didn't hear the timer," she said with a smile.
I watched as Claire turned her back to us and faced Liz.
"The timer definitely went off. You just didn't hear it because you weren't paying attention. We need to go check on the food. Because the timer. It went off."
"Hey, Liz," Drew said. "I think she's trying to tell you the timer went off!"
He laughed at his own joke and I reached over and smacked his arm.
Watching her go from horrified to embarrassed to nervous was fascinating. She was like a beautiful train wreck and I couldn't stop watching.
Liz sighed and finally stood up, smiling at Drew and me while she excused herself and followed Claire into the kitchen.
Drew leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Did you see the way Liz looked at me? I think I definitely banged her."
9. Claire’s Coochie Kills
Oh, Jesus Christ. Oh, f
uck. Can a person die from humiliation? Shitfuckdamn.
"I think I'm having a heart attack. Or maybe a stroke. Which is the one that makes your left arm numb?"
I've lost all brain function. This is it. I'm dying. Tell my folks I love them.
"A stroke," Liz said in a deadpan voice as she followed me into the kitchen.
"Shit. I'm having a stroke. Feel my pulse. Does it feel weird to you?" I asked, thrusting my arm out to her.
Liz smacked my hand away. "For fuck's sake, Claire, get a grip."
"Carter. His name is Carter. And he has no idea who I am," I whined.
Fuck, I hate whiney girls. I'm turning into an insecure, whiny girl. I'm going to have to kick my own ass. Liz bent down in front of the oven and took a peek at the lasagna cooking inside. She stood back up and crossed her arms in front of her chest, leaning her hip against the front of the oven.
"You think you have it bad? That fucktard Drew thinks he slept with me. I can see it in his eyes. He's trying to remember if he knows what I look like naked. Like I would ever let my lady bits near someone who wears an "I pooped today" shirt. He doesn't even remember hitting on me that night or how close he was to having cock and balls permanently drawn on his face. I wonder if he remembers the hex I put on his dumb stick? He really believed I was a witch that night. What an idiot."
"Really Liz? You're comparing the fact that a guy doesn't remember telling you he'd make out with you because you had nice tits to my sperm-donor'ing one-night-stand sitting twenty feet away and not know who the fuck I am? Really? Is that what you're doing right now because I just want to make sure I understand this correctly and didn't accidentally hit a bong full of bad crack on the way over that I don't know about," I ranted.
Liz rolled her eyes at me. "Jesus, Cranky VonHyperAss, simmer down."
I put my hands on my hips and gave her my best "I'm gonna fuck you up look".
"Okay, so this isn't the most ideal situation for meeting back up with your baby daddy, I'll give you that. But it's done. He's here and there's nothing we can do about it now. After all these years of wondering, you finally know who he is so you can tell him about Gavin. So pull up your big-girl thongs and get your ass out there."
We stared at each other blankly for a moment.
"I know what you were going for with that but it didn't work so well," I told her.
"Yeah, I realized that as soon as I said it. Next time I'll just stick with big-girl panties."
I started pacing back and forth across the kitchen.
"What are the fucking odds, Liz? First, he shows up in the bar out of the clear blue and now he's here. In your house. And he's talking to me like I'm some new chick he just met that he wants to get to know."
"Well, technically, you are some new chick he just met," she said with a shrug, like it was no big deal. "I know we wondered last night if he just didn't recognize you because he was drunker than Mel Gibson when he called his wife a pig in heat, but I think it's safe to say, he really doesn't remember who you are. It’s time to face facts, Claire. Your vagina just isn’t that memorable."
“Fuck you,” I mumbled.
“Not tonight dear, I’ve got a headache.”
It wasn't her fault she could be so nonchalant about this whole thing. I never really told her just how much I actually thought about him over the years. She had no idea how much that man sitting out in her living room had occupied my thoughts and dreams. In all the scenarios I made up in my head about someday finding him, they always began the same way. He remembered me and everything about that night immediately and apologized for never trying to find me. We would kiss in the rain, jump hand-in-hand together into a pool and ride horses together along the beach.
Or maybe I've seen one too many tampon commercials.
Seeing him again, knowing that he had no clue about the night we spent together, sucked big time. Especially since I was raising a reminder of that night and had to think about it every time I looked at my son.
"How am I supposed to even begin telling him about Gavin when he has no idea who I am? He is never going to believe me. He’s going to think I’m some nut job who’s looking for child support,” I stopped my pacing and moved to stand next to Liz by the oven.
"Not necessarily. Jim didn’t realize who Drew was until just before you got here when I dragged him into the kitchen, but he knew immediately who Carter was. Said he talked all about you this afternoon when they were at the bar. He knew right away when the poor guy mentioned something about you smelling like chocolate."
I stopped my manic pacing and stared at her. My heart started beating furiously again.
"What?!"
"I guess he told Jim about a girl, and I quote," she paused and brought her hands up to make air quotes. "That he met at a frat party and how he's thought about her for five years. Jim didn't get a chance to elaborate on what all was said because you chose that moment to walk into the house telling everyone about your neglected vagina and two-pump-chump Max."
"Fucking hell," I whispered.
"That's why Jim invited them over. I didn't have a chance to tell him that we saw Carter last night at the bar so he had no idea until our kitchen pow-wow.”
He DID remember me! Well, not me-me, but the 'me' from that night. The 'me' he met at the party. The ‘me’ whose virginity he took.
I need to stop saying 'me'.
"A little advanced notice would have been nice. You know there's this nifty little gadget called a cell phone right?" I complained.
"Oh, shut the fuck up. I was just as surprised as you were. They got here right before you did and Jim had all of thirty seconds to blurt out what was going on while we hung up their coats," she argued as she pulled plates down out of the cupboard.
"There is no way you were even remotely as surprised as me. If I woke up tomorrow with my tits sewn to the curtains, I wouldn't be this much in shock," I replied petulantly.
"Hey, I tried to shut you up. Several times. It's not my fault everyone now knows you have an irritable vagina. Heh, irritable vagina!" she laughed at her own joke. “Maybe it’s like irritable bowel and you can get some medication for it.”
Jim chose that moment to stick his head in the kitchen.
"If you two yentas are finished discussing Claire’s rabid who-ha, me and the boys would like to eat sometime this century."
"You and 'the boys?' You just met them today. Does the Ya Ya Brotherhood already have a secret handshake and a password?" Liz joked.
Jim made a production of grabbing his crotch. "Secret handshake - check. And the password is ‘Claire’s Coochie Kills’."
I threw an oven-mitt at him, hitting him square in the face. Just then the buzzer to the oven went off and the doorbell rang.
"That's probably Jenny," Liz said as she opened the oven door and pulled out the pan of lasagna. Being the good friend that I am, I had the foresight to send her a text with the news about Jenny joining us for dinner.
"Perfect timing. We'll all sit down and eat, she will inevitably say a bunch of stupid shit and everyone will forget about your pikachu. That should give you enough time to figure out a way to tell Carter his boys can swim."
***
Fifteen minutes later we were all seated around the dining room table, filling up our plates. Thankfully, my earlier embarrassment was pushed to the side while I watched Drew fall all over Jenny. Unfortunately, I couldn't ignore the Carter situation since he was sitting right across from me and I couldn't stop staring at him.
Fuck he's hot. I mean, really, really hot. He filled out a lot in five years. I bet he works out. He’s probably a runner. He’s got that lean look to him. I wonder who cuts his hair? It looks like he pays a small fortune to make it look like he doesn’t care what it looks like. Totally works for him.
Shit! Focus. Who cares what kind of hair products he uses? How are you going to tell this man he’s a father?
Hey Carter, how about this crazy weather we've been having? Speaking of crazy, your spunk h
as a crazy backstroke.
The hum of conversation around the table shook me from my thoughts.
“So, I was in the left-hand lane and some idiot tried to come over to where I was. I had to slam on my breaks so I didn't hit the medium."
Everyone stopped what they were doing and waited for Jenny to correct her mistake. Unless she really meant that she almost ran her car into someone who could communicate with the dead.
"Um, Jenny, do you mean median?" Jim asked when the silence around the table lasted for far too long.
She paused with her fork halfway to her mouth and looked at him funny. "Isn't that cement thingy in the middle of the highway called a medium?"
Carter tried to cover up a laugh by coughing, and I saw Drew punch him in the side.
"It's alright, Jenny. You can call it whatever you want to," Drew said, patting her hand in reassurance.
"Oh, Claire, I forgot to tell you. The purchase I made tonight worked awesome!"
I should never have taken a drink of my water at that moment. As soon as the words left Jenny’s mouth, I took a deep breath in shock and the water went down the wrong pipe. I started hacking and coughing, tears running down my face as Liz put her fork down and started smacking me on the back.
"What did you buy?" Drew asked as over a mouthful of noodles and sauce, completely ignoring the fact that I was dying across the table from him.
Carter at least gave me a concerned look and did that half-sitting, half-standing thing like he was getting ready to vault over the table to make sure I was okay. His concern for me was hot.
Hey Carter, speaking of hot - your hot beef injection had a play date with my eggs.
"The best vibrator I've ever owned," Jenny announced proudly, answering Drew’s question.
It was his turn to choke. Some of the lasagna flew out of his mouth as he pounded his fist against his chest and Carter reached over to slap his palm against his back.
It was starting to look like a Heimlich convention in here.