Part Of The List

by Xavier Neal

  Her tongue grazes her lips. “Say please…”

  The simple action causes my cock to nudge against the inside of my jeans. “Please.”

  Kenny lets go of the paintbrush she was holding and squeezes past me in the doorway, making sure to press her ass firmly against my crotch. I bite back another moan and let my eyes follow her full behind until it’s out of sight. Quickly, I exit the room and shuffle up the stairs to Em’s bedroom.

  I crack open the door just as she seems to be tucking herself in. With a smile on her face she asks, “Can we get ice cream too?”

  “Before dinner?” I pretend to sound appalled. When mischief hits her eyes, I smirk. “Make it a good nap and I’ll see what I can do.”

  Overly excited, she squeezes her eyes comically closed and the bear too tight. A light chuckle leaves me. “I love you, Em.”

  “I love you too, Daddy!”

  “Nap. Nap.”

  “Nap. Nap,” she echoes, still trying too hard to pretend to be asleep.

  It only takes a minute to get back downstairs to our bedroom, but manages to feel like an eternity. The moment I open the door, I’m greeted by the sight of Kenny completely naked, legs open and waiting, leaned back on her palms. With the situation feeling too surreal, I cautiously approach, cock commanding me to move faster than I am. Her curvy brown skinned body only grows more perfect every day. For the entire time I’ve known her, she’s never had lines too straight or edges too sharp. And I’m thankful for that. I’m thankful for the voluptuous territory I’m allowed to worship every goddamn day like a king at the feet of a deity.

  In a low growl, I question, “How the hell did I get so lucky?”

  She pulls her lips into a full fledge smirk at the same time her hands reach for my belt. “I wonder the same thing about you…”

  Before I have another chance to say anything else, her hand is wrapped tightly around my dick giving it slow yet eager strokes. They’re brief but effective. Despite the fact we both enjoy long drawn out foreplay, it’s not a realistic option when Em’s in the house. As much as I love my little girl, she came with a built-in sex stopping detector that has an impeccable long range distance. Thankfully, we’ve had an entourage of people from the minute she was born more than willing to keep her for overnights or babysit for romantic dinners. Those are the days or nights we’re allowed to take our time. Allowed to tease and bring each other right to the brink of ecstasy for hours.

  Kenny helps tug me out of my jeans and boxers then kisses me on my lower stomach while I remove my shirt. Her lips snake their way upward, tongue leaving a scorching trail in its wake. On a possessive grunt, I yank her mouth to mine, and devour it. She instantly surrenders. Her body melts into my hands offering its willingness to have her anyway and everyway.

  I break our mouths apart and admire the way her lips are puffy and cheeks flushed. With a devilish smile, I spin her around, push her flat on her stomach on the mattress, part her legs and dive deep. Her entire body seizes through the invasion and a scream attempts to break free at the same time she arches up.

  I swiftly capture the sound with my hand while my lips knock against her ear. “I don’t want Em up until we’re finished.” The words are proceeded with another hard push and the slight pull of her into me. She whimpers her understanding against my hand, as her pussy’s pulsating pleads for more. “I need you to show me I’m your favorite…”

  The joke from earlier gets a light sexy laugh from both of us.

  I release my grip on Kenny’s mouth and use it to keep myself propped up. With her spread out underneath me like a chocolate delight begging for my tongues attention, I lower my mouth to her flawless skin, and cover it with long languorous licks between territory marking nips. It’s pointless I know. No other man will ever touch her again. I don’t have to keep her gorgeous body covered in my handiwork as a reminder, but it doesn’t seem to stop the carnal desire of needing to. Of wanting to. In an erotic oscillation of thrusts and using my teeth to toy with the weak spot on the back of her neck, I edge us towards the cliff of ecstasy.

  All of a sudden, her neck strains itself backward, face brushing against mine. The small hitch in her breath warns me she’s seconds from shattering.

  I slow down the final strokes to be sharp and short. My unexpected change of rhythm taunts her orgasm and causes a frustration I find slight pleasure in. The heat of my breath sends a shiver down her spine. “I love you, Kenny.” I deliver the deeper thrust she’s craving. “I always have…” Another rock of my hips. “I always will…” As soon as the words land in her ears, she crumbles, crying out loud enough to crack the foundation of our home. I explode directly behind her, my face falling to her shoulder while my body releases burst after burst inside, desperate for her body to take it all. Desperate for this family to grow again.

  The two of us collapse side by side, completely spent. She scoots closer so the dampness of her back is flush with my chest. I prop myself up onto one arm and gently stroke the hair out of her face.

  A satisfied sigh seeps free. “I love you, Bailey.”

  “Enough to have another baby?”

  She doesn’t immediately answer.

  It’s not that she doesn’t want more kids. I know that. We both want four or five. It’s just that her job is important to her, just like mine is important to me. But unlike her, I’d give it all if it meant we could have more kids right now. I’d get a shit job. Or two. Or even one at some corporate nightmare if it meant I didn’t have to just sit around any longer and wait for us both to ready. Sometimes I wonder if Em hadn’t been an accident, would I still be waiting around to be a father.

  “Yes,” Kenny finally states.

  I brace myself for the rehearsed follow up. When there isn’t one, I lean over her shoulder for our eyes to connect. “Now?”

  She slowly nods.

  “As in…right now?

  Kenny nods again.

  Elation shoots through me and my lips drop to hers. Our tongues tangle until I’m dizzy on the delicious dominance she’s demonstrating. I pull back and question, “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.” Another grin finds its way to her lips. “There’s actually a small chance I might already be pregnant.”

  The new information drops my jaw.

  “When I went to the doctor yesterday for my stomach, one of the things they checked for was to see if I was pregnant. They drew some blood, so we should know some time today. The office was backed up yesterday, so they should get back to me today.”

  I fight the urge to be irritated. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why didn’t you let me go with you?”

  “I thought it was just a stomach bug!” She pleads. “Remember, it was going around Em’s class? Then she had it. And so when I got sick, I just figured it was my turn. If I would’ve even considered that I was possibly pregnant, I would’ve told you. I wouldn’t keep something like that from you. You know that…” The moment relief hits my expression, she tempts, “Wanna try again? Up those chances?”

  My mouth instantly moves to answer with an explicit yes, but stops when the promise of grabbing the box of baby photos hits me. “Tonight.”

  Kenny pouts. “I was thinking…now.”

  After a chaste kiss, I sit up. “I want to Kenny…believe me. I would love to spend the rest of Em’s nap trying to knock you up, but I promised my mom I’d swing by my dad’s to pick up a box of old baby photos he didn’t let her have in the divorce.”

  With a look of concern on her face she shoots up. “No.”

  “He’s not gonna be there,” I quickly offer as comfort. “I don’t even have to go in the house. They’re in the back storage shed.”

  The look doesn’t dissipate.

  I wrap my arms around her and reassure firmly, “It won’t take me long. Probably forty minutes tops. That’s including drive time. I’ll be back before Em wakes up making ice cream and park demands. I promise.”

  Kennedy doesn’t object a second time, but he
r expression stays.

  After quickly getting dressed and giving her a not so quick goodbye kiss, I grab my stuff and head for my truck. During the drive, I try to keep my attention focused on the road and not the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach. As soon as the white brick house is within my vision bile boils in the back of my throat.

  I hate this house. I hate everything about it. Everything it stands for. Everything it’s always stood for. I have more memories of desperately finding excuses to not be home than great memories of being here. Playing sports only to keep me away from his hate filled speeches and drunken backhands. Secretly begging that the McCaws would just adopt me rather than insist I go home after spending three nights in a row over. Hiding in the garage to build little bird houses for Emma. I remember fearing the time on the clock. Wishing for bed time. Praying my mother would run away and take us with her.

  I put the truck in park along the curb and promptly hop out. Refusing to take any more time than absolutely necessary, I let myself in through the side gate and dart across the renovated backyard straight for the shed. The inside is so baron it takes me by surprise. In what used to be packed full of old holiday decorations and baby furniture only three boxes remain, two of which have trash labels on them. Guess he didn’t really mean what he said about letting her have whatever she wanted. He should’ve just told her this was all she could have.

  I grab the flimsy box filled with photos just as a voice snaps, “What the hell are you doing in my backyard?”

  Like an automatic embedded reaction my entire body shakes. Slowly, I turn and let my eyes meet the ones they came from. While I was hoping time would be cruel rather than kind to my father as a vengeance for the lack of love he showed us, it wasn’t. Aside from the salt and pepper hair he barely looks like he’s aged since he removed me from his family.

  His face forms a surprised reaction. “Bailey?”

  I clear my throat. “Dad.”

  An unfamiliar emotion seems to cross his eyes, but it disappears as quickly as it came. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Came to pick up mom’s box.” Without waiting for an invitation to a conversation, I start to stroll back the way I came. “I’m leaving.”

  He grunts and moves his body into my direct path. “Couldn’t pick it up herself?”

  I reluctantly halt my movements. “She’s working.”

  “And you’re not?” He lifts his eyebrows in challenge. “You don’t have a job now? That lazy ‘spic husband of hers teach you to be worthless like him? Just lounge around and have hard working tax payers like me pay for you to do nothing but knock up your fat wives and shove tortillas into your obese babies?”

  My hands grip the box tighter, breathing through the building ire. “I run my own business. I did this as a favor to mom.” I take a step forward in an attempt to leave when he steps in front of me again. “Excuse. Me.”

  “What kind of business?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “I asked.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if you’re running a taco truck, it’s not a real goddamn business.”

  “Custom furniture.”

  He smiles and my stomach churns. “Workin’ with your hands. Just like your old man.”

  “I’m nothing like you,” I coldly counter. “I will never be anything like you.”

  A hurt look falls on his face. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means for as long as I fucking live my wife and child will never flinch when I lift my hand.”

  “Then you’re doing it wrong.”

  I know I shouldn’t be appalled by those statements any more after over thirty years, but I still am.

  “Did you say child?” His eyebrows furrow. “I’m a grandpa?”

  “No.” My quick denial is met with a glare. “You’re dead to my daughter.”

  “She’s my grandchild-“

  “No. She’s not. She’s Becca and Jose’s grandchild. She’s Marc and Maye’s grandchild. She’s Elizabeth and Michael McCaw’s grandchild. Never yours. She’ll never be yours. And not just because you looked me in the eyes and said you had no son. That’s more of a footnote than an actual factor.”

  “You don’t think she has the right to know about me? Who I am? You don’t think she should have a chance to be raised to see the world the right way?”

  The feeling of my skin crawling from the memories of those words being bruised into my flesh causes me to shift my weight. “That’s exactly why you’re dead to her. To me. To our family. My daughter…my future son…all of my future children will know that you don’t choose to accept someone because of their race or wealth. They’ll know that you shouldn’t judge someone based on a choice of DNA they never had any control over any more than you should keep yourself from loving one because the color of their skin! My children will be raised in the way you never could. They’ll look at their mother’s beautiful brown skin with admiration not disgust. They’ll look at their own and wear it with pride in the face of all the worthless bigots like you out there. They’ll have all the support and understanding to love and be with whoever the fuck they choose. Man. Woman. Black. White. Hispanic. Straight. Gay. Lesbian or whatever else appears in the next twenty years.” With my chest puffed out, now swollen with pride for doing something that’s long overdue, I state, “I’m gonna be the father…the man you never could be.”

  This time I walk around him, body roughly bumping him out of my way. Three steps are all I make it before there’s a blinding pain in the back of my skull. The box crashes to the side of me just as another blow lands in the same spot as the other one. Pain pierces through my body encouraging me to fight back yet I’m never given the chance. Another strike from the hard object turns everything black.

  “He hit me because I stood up for Kenny,” I quietly recall, drowsier than ever. “Because I didn’t just give up that time. Because I didn’t just walk away and let him win. He beat me to death because he couldn’t stand the idea he failed at submerging me in the hate he tried so heavily to.”

  Emma’s face seems to bob in front of my fading vision. “He would rather you die than love someone not of your own race.” Her fingers gently brush the hair off my forehead. “But you’re right. You didn’t give up on Kenny this time. You stood and fought for what you thought was right. You proved with everything you had in you that you were no longer afraid. That nothing would stop you from loving her anymore.”

  My eyelids struggle to stay open as I echo her. “Nothing…”

  “Shh…” She sweetly whispers in my ear. “Rest now…You’ll be at peace soon.”

  With Kenny’s smiling face still floating in my mind, I take one last breath, and allow for my body to do just that.

  Kennedy

  Emma yawns against my chest once more. She’s four. She should be in bed. She should be fast asleep dreaming about dolls or cartoon characters or whatever it is children dream about. She should be safely and peacefully waiting for her father to sneak in to check on her before he crawls into bed next to me. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t be about to say goodbye to a man she’s barely had time to know.

  Bailey’s mother comes down the hall, hysterical sounds, and endless tears streaming down her face. The sound of her blaming herself over and over again tugs at my heart. I know I shouldn’t blame her, but subconsciously I do. If he hadn’t gone over there for her…If she would’ve just gone herself…If she would’ve been the one in the line of his rage instead…

  I push away those useless and hurtful thoughts. No one deserves what Bailey got. It wouldn’t have been better had we been here for her final moments of life. The pain would be just as vibrant. I shouldn’t be wishing this on anyone else. I should just be thankful the realtor got there when she did. Thanks to her prompt 911 call, she gave us these few extra days with him.

  Jose holds Becca close and tilts his head the direction indicating it’s finally my turn to stay goodbye.

/>   Thomas poorly masks his sniffles. “You want me to hold Emma while you go in there?”

  I shake my head. “She needs to see him one more time. Will you wait outside though? Take her afterward so I can say….” The sentence abruptly stops. “Will you do that for me?”

  “You don’t want your parents to take her? Or my parents?”

  I shake my head again. “No. I want you to be there for this Em, the way you couldn’t for the other.”

  He rises to his feet letting go of Tami’s hand. The words settle strangely by the expression on his face. “Of course. Of course, I will…”

  With Em tightly in my arms, I stand, give my crying parents a grim look, and make a completely different walk of shame. I should be ashamed I didn’t go with him. I should be ashamed I didn’t give him another child sooner. Or ten children sooner. I should be ashamed that my voice, my love for him wasn’t strong enough to bring him back to us.