by MJ Fields
“I like a lot of things, so many things … Basically everything. I can’t even fault him for honoring his word with that —”
“Cunt,” Tonya interjects.
When I don’t say anything, she laughs. “Still hate that word?”
“I wouldn’t say I hate it as much as I used to.”
“Oh my God, did he use it between the sheets?”
Nothing like the C-word to remove seriousness from the situation.
“He totally did.”
“Oh my God, anyone who can make that word sexy is definitely a keeper.”
And nothing like the word “keeper” to bring it all back around.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I sigh. “That term comes with a lot of power, and I’m not sure I ever want to go back to being that vulnerable again.”
“Do you allow him to have his way with you in bed?”
“Oh my God, Tonya!” I laugh.
“Well?”
“Let’s just say I don’t worry about the lights being off or covers being pulled up.”
“And is sex more enjoyable with him?”
“You just stepped out of the friendship circle again,” I joke.
“Well?”
“Of course it is,” I answer truthfully.
“Then just imagine the orgasmic bliss your heart would feel if you allowed yourself to let it be vulnerable and loved by the right person.”
Tears prick my eyes as I truly think about what she’s just said. “That was absolutely beautiful.”
Except the whole orgasmic part.
And we shall let that pass.
Yes, we shall.
Aw, look at us finally agreeing on something.
“Did you just talk to yourself?”
“You know what?” I laugh. “I did, and I don’t even care to deny it.”
“I’m happy for you, Lizzie.”
“I’m happy for me, too.”
Water Fire
Ethan
“Will you tell me where we’re going, please?”
I look over at Elizabeth, whose hair is in a braid laying over one of her shoulders. She’s wearing a long, white, strapless dress with a cropped denim jacket, one white sandal and, of course, the boot. In her hand, she holds a single rose and looks at it like it’s gold. When she’s not pissed at me, for good reason, she is the epitome of femininity. And if this is the last time that she and I are together, I’m going to leave her knowing this is how she deserves to be treated.
This also mean basically tucking my tadger between my legs, but for good reason.
“No,” I answer, trying not to smile and failing because her excitement is like a contagious disease.
“Payback, Ethan James Stewart,” she warns softly.
“As long as it doesn’t include a knee to my genitalia, bring it on.”
She laughs, and that, too, is contagious. “Sorry.”
“Forgiven.” I pull her hand up and kiss the back of it.
After parking at one Citizens Plaza, I run around the front of the car and make sure to open her door, giving her my hand and helping her out.
Linking my fingers around hers, I glance down at her. “Ye ken where we are, right?”
She nods. “One of my favorite places. Dad and I used to go here at least once a season to watch the water fire. I haven’t been back since … well, you know.”
I squeeze her hand, and she squeezes mine back.
“This is the first time I’ve made it.”
“You’ve been here five years and never once?” She seems shocked.
“Working every minute I could to pay legal fees and … well, ye know.” I wink.
This time, she squeezes my hand, and I do it back.
She slows down and looks up. “You should definitely bring Kai here.”
“I plan to do a lot with her.”
She smiles. “I don’t often give advice on parenting, since I’m not one, but I did have the best father in the world, so I do have some.”
“I’m open to all the advice ye can give. I want Kai to always look fondly on our time even when after I’m gone.”
“Make traditions … lots of them. Make her measure every man against you. After all, you will always be her first love, so be the man you want her to marry someday.”
I scowl. “When she’s in her thirties.”
She laughs.
When we get to our first stop, she keeps walking, and I have to pull her hand to get her to stop.
She looks over her shoulder, smiling, and the setting sun behind her … makes my heart skip a beat.
“What?” she asks. “Are you okay?”
No.
“Yes.”
Fuck.
“You sure?”
“Come on, or we’ll miss the boat.”
“No,” she gasps.
“Are you afraid of boats?” I ask.
Smiling, she shakes her head from side to side.
“Then what is it?”
“I’ve always wanted to do this.”
I can’t help smiling. “Ye have no idea how happy that makes me.”
With the sun setting, we board the Venetian gondola, heading for what the agent on the phone told me was the most romantic way to experience the water fires.
After I found out the tickets that I purchased didn’t guarantee it would be just the two of us, I opted to upgrade so that it was just her and me, and of course opted for the wine and biscuits.
As we move along, the ceremonious lighting of the fires is underway, and the banks of the river are packed. I don’t much notice them though. I watch Elizabeth take it all in and am rewarded with her captivated, expressive face as she sits in front of me between my legs, leaning back, more relaxed than I am, for sure.
Our ride is only about thirty minutes and perfectly timed to get to our dinner reservations at a bar and restaurant just a few yards away.
When we get out, I notice she has the empty bottle of wine.
She shrugs. “Please ignore the awkwardness surrounding me. I just really love this bottle and think it’ll make a pretty candle holder.”
“I rather like yer awkwardness, as you call it. It’s enduring, as well as refreshing.”
“Okay, then.” She smirks. “And just so you know, I’m smitten by this side of you.”
“Which side is that?” I ask, taking her hand.
“The gentlemanlike side.”
“Gentlemanlike suggests I’m not truly a gentleman.”
She laughs silently to herself.
“Care to share what has ye laughing?”
“Not particularly.”
“Inside joke?”
“Yes.” She laughs boisterously. “Between me and myself.”
After a few moments of making our way through the now crowded pedestrian walk, I step back and pull her toward me. I cup her face and kiss her, completely taking her off guard.
When I step back and look at her face, her eyes are closed and a smile begins to spread.
“And how’s my not so gentlemanly side?”
Eyes still closed, she whispers, “Perfect.”
“Ye mentioned ye’re a teacher; what made ye change yer major from art to education?” I ask over dinner.
She crinkles her nose. “Did I mention that?”
Fuck, I curse inwardly.
She shrugs. “I must have. Well, after my father’s diagnosis, I took leave from school to look after him and get married. He was strong emotionally, so, so strong, but he worried he wasn’t leaving me with enough to take care of me. And he worried because I’m a bit of a loner. That I’d be alone.”
“So, ye got married?”
“To a man my father never liked, but I did. He liked him after that. Hindsight, he was just happy I wouldn’t be alone, you know?”
I nod.
She takes a drink of her water then shrugs. “Art was mine and Dad’s thing. He was a graphic designer, worked on many huge campaigns. I liked drawing more than
design, and there isn’t really a stable job market for that. Russ, my ex, and I talked about it; or rather, I talked and he played his video games.
“And before Mom got ill, she was a librarian. She always told me there was magic in books, and when she was wasn’t feeling well, I read to her, brought her magic. The last series I read to her was Harry Potter.”
“I’m assuming the Harry Potter Lego collection was part of your remembrance of your mother?”
She nods. “Dad kept that magic theme going. And he showed me art was magical, too.”
“That’s beautiful, Elizabeth.”
“And teaching is the best way to share that enthusiasm with kids, give them an escape, and yes, honor the best lessons each of them taught me that still to this day help me cope when I’m feeling kind of lonely.”
After a few minutes of silence as I contemplate what else I can do to elongate the night and avoid the inevitable, she clears her throat.
“Where will Kai attend school?”
As soon as I mention the name of the school, she smiles.
“Is that where ye teach?”
“My mentor retired, and I was given her position. Next week, I won’t just be a substitute, I’ll have my very own classroom.”
“I’m sure yer father and mother would be proud.”
“You think?”
I nod. “Without a doubt.”
“So, is it weird that your booty call will be teaching your daughter two or three days a week for forty magical minutes?”
I clear my throat, and the waiter drops off the check. I slip a few bills in it and tell him to keep the change.
Once outside the restaurant, we walk in silence for a few moments.
“I’m guessing it’s weird, huh?”
“It’s not weird at all, but ye should ken Kai has a condition that doesn’t make her the most eager pupil. In fact, she’ll only be going to yer school on a trial basis.” I look over at her, seeing concern evident in her expression. “Kai has what they are now calling selective mutism. It’s due to an anxiety disorder, and the diagnosis only came when I was able to prove she did in fact speak to me.”
“So, she talks to you?”
I chuckle. “When she chooses to, yes. We’re hopeful that the change of environment will help her.”
“Does she sign?”
“When she chooses to.”
“Well, hopefully, she’ll experience some sort of magic that—”
“I hope so, as well, but it’s been five years. If she never speaks, as long as she’s healthy and happy, that’s all I can ask for.”
“Do you know the cause of her anxiety?”
“Her grandparents have spent years blaming the accident, and using their money in an effort to prove that and still blame me.”
“And you? What do you think?”
I exhale. “I think it nearly drove me away three years ago, but something happened, and it hit me that she’s worth fighting for. But in that realization came another. I realized my little girl more than likely was hearing what a monster I was, and it caused her to shut down.”
She squeezes my hand. “Didn’t her mother come to the courthouse?”
I nod. “The courts have squashed that and have threatened to take away custody and visitation if they continued to blame me for the accident. So, it’s a non-issue now. Her husband doesn’t ken she showed up, and I can’t for the life of me, regardless of how much pain they have caused me, inflict that on them, unless it takes Kai away from me.”
“That’s awful for you to have dealt with.”
“What’s awful is the system. I shouldn’t have had to fight for so long so my daughter could be with me. But now I’ve got to put that behind me and try my best to make up for all those lost years, because I may be her father, but that man has played the role, and so help me God, if she marries someone like him—”
“She won’t, Ethan. You have an indescribable effect on people.”
I hit the key fob on my vehicle and ask, “Care to explain?”
“You’re powerful, which makes weaker people feel weak, but us fighters feel safe going toe-to-toe with you. I know that makes no sense, but it just is. I even told Tonya that you make me feel stronger. Maybe it’s the way you challenge me, or maybe—”
I grab the back of her head and pull her in for a kiss, one that I’ll always want more of, and one I may never get again.
“Wha— wha— what was that for?” she stammers.
“I want a picture of us.” I pull my phone out and go into full-on selfie mode, which is definitely a first for me, but I want to remember the way her face, her lips, her eyes look after I kiss her.
She smiles, her nose scrunching up, and then she laughs. “You’re as crazy as me.”
“We need to talk.” I guide her inside the car, shut the door behind her, and slowly take deep breaths as I walk around the car and get in.
“Ethan, are you okay?”
Fuck no.
“Could ye grab my phone out of the glove box?”
“You mean the one you just had in your hand?” She laughs.
“No.” I reach over and open the glove box, pulling out the beat-up iPhone 6 that I’ve had for two years now.
“Ouch.” She laughs. “What did that thing ever do to you?”
“Broke me, healed me, and will probably break me again.”
“Um … you’re talking Lizzie now, yet I’m still not able to follow you.”
I inhale a deep breath and turn my body fully to face her. “Do ye remember the day ye came to my office?”
“Of course I remember the day,” she says in confusion.
“Ye stepped on a Lego, fell down the stairs, and then what happened?”
She laughs. “Okay, so is this where you tell me you are a peen pedaling—”
“Elizabeth,” I sigh.
“I’m not judging at all, but I’m sure I would have remembered your peen so …” She stops and looks at me curiously. “I’m confused.”
“Before we go any further, ye do believe me that I never sent you a dick shot, right?”
She nods. “Yeah.”
“Fuck.” I scrub my hand over my face.
She pulls it away and links her fingers through mine. “Ethan, I believe you.”
“I ken.” I nod as my heartbeat increases. “Look, I’m going to admit that I’ve known of ye for two years now.”
“Should I be afraid?”
Jesus Christ, this woman.
“No. Even after I tell ye how, I’m going to ask that ye understand that it was not planned, nor provoked. It wasn’t—”
“You’re freaking me out, Ethan.”
“Well, that’s because I’m not sure how the hell ye’re going to react, and that kind of freaks me out.”
“Then just say it, okay? Because I’m two seconds from diving out of this Tesla and running back toward the crowd.”
“Two years after the accident and a hundred, if not more tests later, any medical reason for Kai not talking was ruled out. It was then they suggested a therapist. I hated every single one, because they sided with Beyza’s father. It was always the strained relationship with the biological father. I got to the point where I was going to leave the country to allow her to have some sort of life without whatever stress it was I caused. And to say I was in a good state of mind would be a gross exaggeration. I’d lost both my parents and coped better with it than I did the thought of not being a part of her life. It was bad, really fucking bad.”
I’m guessing she senses just how close to the edge I was at that time in my life, because she takes my hand. Selfishly, I allow it.
“One of Kai’s therapists suggested I get her a phone so that we could text because, although she wasn’t a great reader, it might cause her to remember the video chats that were always happy times, and at least she would see me still. So, I got her a phone, brought it home, charged it up, and was going to give it to her that weekend.” I pull her hand up to my mouth and kis
s it, because I’m moments away from possibly losing her.
Releasing it, I power up the phone. “In the middle of the night, I received a text.” I open the text app and read it.
Daddy,
Today marks eight months that you’ve been gone. Google tells me that’s two hundred and forty-three point three days, five hundred eight hundred forty hours, three hundred and fifty thousand, four hundred minutes…
Monday
One Week Later…
Ethan
Looking in the rearview mirror at my beautiful little Kai nervously chewing on her already too short nails, I force a smile at her, hoping it eases her anxiety and praying she doesn’t see mine.
“Do ye want music, a sheòid?”
When she looks away from me and out the window, I feel the emotional disconnect broadening with each passing mile.
“Kai, are ye excited about a new school?”
“No,” she whispers.
“Excited about the new start?” I ask, hoping to keep her talking.
“No.”
I want to turn around and head right back to the house. Back to the place where I brought her home, finally in my custody after a five-year battle with her mother’s family, a place she talked more, talked louder, played with Scotch, and laughed, fucking laughed.
I know I can’t afford to get emotional, but it’s hard, so damn hard. I also need to keep her talking so she doesn’t freeze up when we get there.
“Do ye miss Scotch?”
Her eyes swing to mine, and she smiles.
“Miss him big or just a little?”
“Miss him huge.”
“I bet he’ll have missed ye, too. Do ye think he’ll stay in yer bed all day, waiting until ye come home?”
Still smiling, she nods.
“Do ye think he’ll try to read all those books or wait for ye to read them to him?”
She rolls her eyes, just like any other ten-year-old preteen would at such a juvenile question, but she answers it. “Dogs can’t read, athair.”
I can’t help beaming.
“I like ye speaking Gaelic to me, Kai. I’ll teach ye more so when ye’re ready, we can fly to Scotland and ye can see the country I came from.” And, God willing, you’ll want to stay there. “Would ye like that?”