by Naomi Niles
“Yeah, but your mom is such a sweet lady,” said Allie. “It would break her heart if I told her I already had three copies of that book in my office.”
***
I spent most of the afternoon teaching her the basics of horse-riding. Once we had mastered the concept of saddling, which she picked up pretty easily, the hardest part was getting her to stay on the horse. For the first hour or so, she kept weaving dangerously from side to side with every step the horse took through the tall grass.
“I’m horribly uncoordinated,” she said as we headed out on the trail, me walking beside her ready to grab her if she fell. “And clumsy. It took me forever just to learn how to ride my bike.”
“How did you ever manage to get your driver’s license?”
“I had a rich uncle who pulled some strings at the DMV. I’m kidding! It just took about a hundred and fifty hours of practice before I was comfortable being on the road with other drivers. Even now, I still get panicky when I have to go out on the highway. Driving through Nashville on my way here was a nightmare.”
“Just be glad you didn’t have to go through Dallas. Maybe after we’ve mastered horseback riding, I can give you some driving lessons.”
“Thanks, but I think I’m alright as long as I stay in the small towns with the dirt roads. Just don’t ever let me take you on a road trip.”
I laughed. “If we ever go on a road trip,” he said, “I’ll be the one driving. Or we can just take the horse.”
In a more serious tone, Allie said, “It’s actually really scary knowing you could die every time you get in your car. I don’t know if you’ve ever had that experience, but it’s something I have to think about whenever I go to work. That within a few minutes I could be just a pile of flesh and twisted metal on the roadside.”
“We could all die at any time,” I said, thinking of Christine. “That’s true no matter what you do.”
“But being in a car really brings it home to you,” said Allie. “Or at least it does for me, because I’m such a bad driver. That’s one of the reasons I’ve put off having kids, because I don’t want to bring them into this world not knowing whether or not I’ll be around to see them graduate from high school.”
“I didn’t know you thought about death so much.”
Allie pitched slightly to the left, and I ran forward to catch her. “You’re alright,” I said. “I’ve got you. I think the horse just stumbled over a turtle shell.”
“Did you ever want kids?” Allie asked as she straightened herself in the saddle.
It was going to be a day of unwanted questions, apparently. I could tell by the tone in her voice she had wanted to ask me this for a while. “Yeah, me and Christine talked about it. It just never happened, though.”
Of course there was more to it, and I think she knew that, but I wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. Not now and maybe not ever.
“Sad,” said Allie, kicking one foot against a large stone with black etchings carved into it. “When I was younger, I couldn’t be bothered with children. I was so focused on getting my degree and becoming a licensed nurse. But as I’m getting older, I think I would like to have kids someday. Maybe not immediately, but before I’m too old to have them.”
I turned her around, and we trotted back toward the house in the waning light. I hadn’t shown much enthusiasm for the subject of kids, and I think Allie took it as a sign of disinterest. She slumped down in the saddle with a sad, sullen look as we made our way down the trail, thorns and briars and barbed wire on either side of us.
I figured she’d go back to her house when we got back, and that’d be the end of it. But when I was leading Bessie back into the stall, she appeared at the door of the barn, framed in the light of the setting sun.
“Hey,” she said. “You wanna come over for a bit?”
I could tell by the tone in her voice she had more on her mind than just a friendly visit.
“Yeah, I’ll be over there in a minute,” I told her, and I went on feeding Bessie.
Chapter Twenty
Allie
This time when he came into the room, I think we both knew what we were there for. It was the second time in only three days we had met to make love. The first time, we had been clumsy and hesitant. This time, we were ready.
Curtis sat down on the edge of his bed and tore off his boots. As I fumbled in the drawer of my nightstand for protection, I kicked off my socks and flung them against the back wall. I was wearing a sprightly yellow blouse and a pair of faded blue jeans ripped at the knees that hung low on my waist, revealing my midriff. More than once, Curtis’ eyes had fallen on it while we were out riding.
“This is so fun,” I said as I flung myself down onto the bed at his feet. “You want me to change into my fox pajamas?”
“That depends,” he said in a coy voice. “How long you plannin’ on wearing ‘em?”
I laid face-down on the bed. He ran his hand up my shirt along the small of my back, stopping just before he reached my bra strap.
“That’s the cool thing about lovemaking, though,” I said, turning around just enough that I could see him. He beamed down at me. “We can dress up, pretend to be anyone or anything we want. We could be kings and queens, or secret agents, or—or pirates! It’s like being kids again, only I don’t think kids ever had this much fun.”
“I think it’s illegal for kids to have this much fun,” said Curtis, eyeing me with confusion and amusement. “Anyway, that’s all up to you. You’re the creative one, not me.”
“But we both have imaginations!” I was so drunk on love and summer and the warmth of his smile that I was beginning to babble like a drunken person. “And imagination is the sexiest organ of the body.”
“Hmmm, I can think of a few that might give it a run for its money,” said Curtis, leaning down over me and kissing me on the tips of my ears, first one and then the other. I shivered with pleasure. “But you got me beat in that department, too.”
“I just feel like when we’re together,” I said, turning over onto my back, “there’s nothing that isn’t possible. If we wanted to fly to the moon, we could. You wanna go to Saturn? We’re there! You want to fly to Venice for dinner? You just say the word, and we’ll be there.”
“Yeah, but only in our minds,” Curtis pointed out. “We couldn’t really afford to go to those places.”
I grabbed his right hand and threaded my fingers through it. “Maybe not before,” I said. “But when I’m with you, I’m beginning to feel like it could really happen.”
I liked talking with him like this before we began lovemaking. It made the ensuing scene, when we were both naked and sweaty and moaning like pigs in a sty, seem less bestial somehow.
“Did you ever watch porn when you were growing up?” I asked him as he ran his hand over my face.
“Yeah, sometimes,” said Curtis. “Darren got way more into it than I did. He used to torrent the filthiest videos and make me watch ‘em.”
“I tried it a few times,” I said. “Maybe it’s a guy thing, but I just could never get into it. All the videos I saw, there was a couple, and the dude was just ramming her. And that was it. There was no conversation, no play, no intimacy. Just five or six minutes of straight pumping. I don’t know. Maybe I’m weird, but I don’t get it.”
Curtis bent over and kissed me on the top of the head. “You’re not weird,” he said. “This is way better’n porn.”
“You don’t think I’m a freak for wanting to talk while we make out?”
He shook his head. A light of sincerity shone in his eyes. “Talk all you want.” He raised my shirt and ran his tongue over my belly button so that chills ran all the way up and down my body. “God, I love the sound of your voice.”
There wasn’t much talking after that. Curtis once again pulled my shirt off so that I lay beneath him wearing only my bra and blue jeans. Then he deftly reached around behind me and unclasped the bra, pulling it away to reveal my bare breasts. These he sat strokin
g with a look of quiet admiration, like a university student in an art museum rapturously studying the old masters for the first time.
When it began to seem like he might do that for the rest of the night, I took control of our lovemaking, removing his belt with an effort and unzipping his jeans. Something seemed to awaken within him as I did so; he snapped to attention and took over, unbuttoning my jeans with clumsy fingers and tearing them off in a single swift motion.
“You know, I really appreciate what a nerd you are,” he said as he ran his fingers through my hair. “And how you insist on wearing your glasses even when we’re making love.”
I smiled. “I mean, how else would I see you?”
“I’m sure you could do some amazing things if you tried,” he replied as he cupped his hands over my breasts. “Maybe one day we’ll make that trip to Venus you were telling me about.”
“Or we could go there now,” I said. And we did.
***
When it was all over, as I lay in bed beside him with his arms wrapped around me, I asked him, “How was it?”
“Perfect,” he said drowsily, but without hesitation. “Even better’n the first time.”
“Yeah, and you know somethin’? It’s just gonna keep getting better. The more we get to know each other, the more familiar we become with each other’s bodies—the less nervous we get…”
“Were you nervous?” he asked. “I wasn’t nervous.”
“Maybe not this time,” I said. “But you were before. Anyway, maybe you’d better get goin’ before your friend with benefits comes back.”
Curtis laughed. “You know what I’ll do if she shows up at my door?”
I turned around to look him in the face. “What’s that?”
“I’ll send her away,” he said, “and then as soon as she leaves, I’ll call you up, and you’ll come over, and we’ll make love all over again.”
As great as our second time had been, the third was even better.
Chapter Twenty-One
Curtis
Lately, I had been waking up in so many strange places. When I first opened my eyes, it took me a minute to register that I was lying on Allie’s bed in the tiny house and that Allie was lying next to me. Carefully, so as not to wake her, I unwrapped my arms from around her and reached for my boots and blue jeans.
It occurred to me as I was feeding the puppy that Mama might look out the back window and see us leaving the house together. I was still debating whether I should run home before breakfast so she wouldn’t know we had spent the night together when Allie stirred and rose slowly out of bed.
“Thanks for doin’ that,” she said wearily. “Would you mind feeding the cats while you’re at it? I’d imagine it’s about time to head over to your mom’s for breakfast.”
“I was just thinking,” I said as I reached under the desk for the cats’ bowls. “You’ve had Mama’s cooking, but you ain’t ever had mine.”
Allie stared in disbelief, a hand over her mouth. “You mean to tell me you can cook, and you never told me? All this time you’ve been holding out on me?”
I shrugged apologetically. “I lived alone when me and Christine first started dating. I’d been living off ramen noodles and pita bread eaten with tuna fish out of the can, not because I couldn’t afford to eat better but because nobody had ever taught me how. I’d go to the store and have no idea what to buy. Occasionally I’d get somethin’ that looked good, somethin’ that I remembered Mama makin’, and have no idea how to make it.”
“Why didn’t you ask your mom?” asked Allie.
“Mama and I weren’t on the best of terms at the time. She wasn’t happy about the fact that I’d spent my tuition money on a motorcycle. It wasn’t until Christine came into my life that we got all that straightened out.”
“And Christine taught you how to cook?”
“No, I taught myself. Mostly by reading recipe books and watching cooking shows on TV. There’s no way she was gonna know I’d been living on pancakes for the past, I don’t know, eight months. First time she came over, I made her honey garlic shrimp with pasta salad. And it was terrible! Practically uneatable. She could tell I had worked really hard on it, and also that I had never cooked in my life. We ended up in the Dairy Queen parking lot eating blizzards and hamburgers.”
“Ooo! That actually sounds really good right now,” said Allie.
“Well, that’s not what we’re having for breakfast,” I said.
“What are you making?” She batted those long lashes at me. “Can you not tell me? Is it a secret?”
“You could call it that.” I rose from the chair and let out a loud yawn. “I’m gonna head out and start gettin’ it ready. I’ll text you when I’m ready for you to come over.”
***
By the time Allie showed up at the house about an hour later, breakfast was ready and on the table. I had made us Spanish-style omelets with potatoes, parsley, cilantro, peas, and sautéed onions, with greasy hash browns and sausage patties on the side.
Allie’s eyes widened in astonishment when she walked into the kitchen and saw the plates laid out. “This looks incredible,” she said. “How did you manage to cook such a perfect omelet?”
“Ten years of practice and a thousand bad omelets.” I handed her an empty glass. “What would you like to drink? We’ve got orange juice, grapefruit juice, pineapple juice, pink lemonade from concentrate, Dr. Thunder, and a couple cans of Fresca.”
“I don’t even know what half those drinks are, so I think I’ll just have orange juice.”
I opened the fridge and pulled out the orange juice container. “What’ve you got going on today?”
“I’m still off work,” Allie said, “so my schedule is pretty much open. After breakfast, I think I might go back to my room and finish reading Goblet of Fire.”
“Haven’t you already read it a bunch of times?”
“Yeah, but I don’t really read things to find out what happens. I like books that create a world I can get lost in for hours at a time. It’s funny because I thought I would enjoy having the week off, and while I loved going camping, I almost miss going to work. If Dave were in town, I don’t think I’d have given myself such a long holiday.”
I handed her the orange juice and took the seat across from her. “Haven’t you always loved work, though? I guess it doesn’t surprise me that you’d be itching to get back.”
“No, I guess it doesn’t,” said Allie. “As weird as it sounds, I sort of wish I had more to do. I got into this business because I wanted to help animals, and taking the job as Dave’s assistant seemed like the perfect opportunity to do that. But we get maybe one customer a day, and the rest of the time I’m either sitting at my computer playing free cell or reading one of the books in the back office.”
“You must really love animals, then.”
Allie’s eyes blazed. “I love them. That’s why I wanted to become a veterinarian. The best part of my day is when somebody brings in a goat or a turtle or a tame fox.”
“I’ve seen the way you bond with animals,” I said as I cut up my sausage. “Like, the second you see them, your eyes light up, and the rest of the world just fades away. And it’s weird, but I sometimes get the feeling they understand and respect that.”
“Some of ‘em do,” said Allie. “There’ve been times when a customer couldn’t get a horse to budge from the back of a truck, so they call me out and I’ll say a few words, and the horse comes right out. I think it’s because I’m an INFP.”
“What’s that? A horse whisperer?”
“INFP? It’s one of the sixteen basic personality types. Even though we’re introverts, we’re very sociable and friendly, and we form special bonds with kids and animals. Our friends tend to describe us as fun to be around but a bit overwhelming.”
“I’d say that about sums you up.”
Allie nodded proudly. “Anyway, what’ve you got going on today? I can’t imagine you going out riding again in this weather.”
“I won’t, if I can avoid it.” I set down my fork. “After dinner tonight, me and Zach was thinking about heading out to Fifth Street and maybe going dancing at one of the local bars. You wanna join us?”
“Shoot! I’d love to, but me and Lindsay were planning on going out dancing tonight.”
“Well, why don’t you bring her along? We could have a double date.”
Allie looked skeptical. “Who, me and you and Zach and Lindsay?”
I nodded. “Yeah, text her and see if she wants to come. I don’t know if you’ve ever line-danced, but that’s where we’ll be going. If you have an hour or two this afternoon, I can come over there and teach you the Boot-Scootin’ Boogie.”
Allie nearly spit out her drink. “I’m sorry, what in the hell is the Boot-Scootin’ Boogie?”
I gaped at her. “Only the greatest country line dance, probably ever. You’ve never heard that ol’ Brooks & Dunn song? ‘Heel, toe, do-si-do, come on baby, let’s go, boot scoot!’”
“Are you speaking English? Also, does everyone in Texas do this?”
“Just about. When you get your Texas driver’s license, they make you do it at the DMV. It’s part of the exam.”
“Wow, okay.”
I pulled up the official Brooks & Dunn music video on my phone and played her the first minute or so. Brooks & Dunn were singing onstage at a bar in Oklahoma while a hundred couples twirled and swayed and kicked their boots on the floor below. Allie did not look impressed.
“I have never felt like more of a stranger in my own country,” she said.
“Well, this ain’t America,” I said. “This is Texas.”
“Right. How could I forget?”
“Anyway, we’ll be scootin’ our boots tonight down at the Palladium on the Corner of Fifth and Brookner. Bring your ripped jeans and cowboy hat. If you don’t have a cowboy hat, I will provide you one. You and I are going to have the time of our lives!”
“Mmm, I can’t wait,” said Allie in a tone of the deepest sarcasm, and went on eating her hash browns.