by Rae Kennedy
I tell her about how at the end, he had several days of white stubble on his face and how he would have been mortified if he’d been aware of it. And about how I could hardly even hold his hand when he left because of all the tubes.
Dr. Gallagher: Can I come see you?
Kyla ‘dat ass’ Rosenbaum: Gracie is over. Honestly, we’re just lying in bed mostly. I wouldn’t be good company right now
Dr. Gallagher: I don’t care what kind of company you are, I just want to be there for you too
* * *
I'm sitting in the front row between Gracie and my mom. The wooden pew is cold. It cuts into the back of my knees and is hard against my spine. Makes me glad I wasn’t raised particularly devout. Everyone around me might as well be ensconced in fog. I don’t really see any of them. I know they’re speaking but no words get through.
Just before it’s about to start I have the urge to look around. I don’t know what for until I see him. Eric is standing in the back in a black suit and tie, he’s looking straight ahead with a somber expression. I don’t think he sees me, but threatening tears prickle at my eyes just seeing him here. Knowing that he’s here for me.
I turn and put my hands on my knees, wiping my palms. I stare at my shoes and the wood floor. Anything to avoid looking at the casket. I know he’s in there. But it’s not really him. It’s certainly not how I want to remember him.
My mom stands up and goes to the podium to speak, straightening her blazer. She’s been busy making funeral arrangements and I’ve hardly seen her since we got home. She asked if I wanted to say some words today but I'm not up to it. What would I say? How would I express how much he meant to me? How he’d taken on the role of grandfather and father for me. That he was the only person in my family who really understood me and accepted all of me. The only other person who takes me fully as I am is Gracie. And now Eric, I guess.
I look back over my shoulder to the back of the room, but he’s not there anymore. I sense him before I see him. His presence, his scent. I turn and he’s next to me. He sits close without saying a word and takes my hand. I hold it tightly on my lap and he squeezes it back. Our entwined hands are in full view, and I’m sure Gracie has noticed. But she doesn’t say anything either, just puts her arm around me as we listen to my mom talk.
He holds my hand the whole time—as we walk out of the church and when we get to the cemetery. We stand around the gravesite and somehow he knows to hold it tighter, like he’s my lifeline, like he’s the only thing keeping me upright. I lean against him. He’s solid and unmoving. My rock.
We watch the casket lower into the ground and hot tears spill down my cheeks. The first real tears I’ve shed for him and now that they’ve started they won’t stop. I cry into Eric’s shoulder and he takes me in his arms, pressing my face to his chest. He stands and holds me. Still silent, still strong.
Mom’s hosting food at the diner afterward for everybody. I don’t want to go. I stay by the grave a bit longer. He’s next to Grandma now, finally. Their shared headstone has weathered a bit over the years, making the newly engraved year of death under Grandpa’s name stand out against the rest.
Eric and Gracie stand on either side of me, Eric’s arm around my shoulders, and no one says anything until my tears have finally dissolved away. I blink, my eyelids sore and swollen, but my eyes feel refreshed. Clean. And I breathe in deeply, the warm summer air oddly sweet. A light breeze winds through the nearby trees, and for the first time I look up and notice how bright blue the sky is today and how the sun glows through the luminescent clouds and dapples the lush, green grass. Grandpa will like it here.
“Do you want to go to the diner?” Gracie asks.
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Okay. Do you want to stay at my house tonight?”
“I’ll take her home,” Eric says, turning slightly so more of our bodies are pressed against one another.
Gracie looks to me in question.
I give her a small smile and nod.
“Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Get some rest.”
When we pull up to my house, Eric parks his truck and turns off the ignition.
“You don’t have to walk me in.”
He tilts his head as he studies me. “Ky, I’m not doing anything because I have to. I want to. I’ve missed you.”
“Right. Of course. Sorry. I’ve missed you too.”
He pulls me over the center console for a crushing hug. “You don’t need to say you’re sorry. You’re preoccupied and hurting. It’s okay. I just want to be with you.”
When we get inside, I leave Eric on the couch to take a quick shower. I put my wet hair up in a messy bun on top of my head and put on a comfortable pair of sweats and a loose-fitting tank top. I don’t bother with underwear or a bra.
“Hey beautiful,” he says when I walk out.
I snort.
“What do you want to do?” He gestures for me to come sit with him.
“What I really want to do is climb in bed and snuggle down under the covers.” Actually, snuggling under the covers with Eric sounds nice. More than nice. It sounds like just the sort of distraction I need.
“Then let’s do that.”
“But my mom will be home in an hour or two.”
Eric shrugs as he stands, unbuttoning his dress shirt. “I’ll stay as long as I can.”
He gathers me up and we walk down the hall, his arms around my shoulders and his lips pressed to my temple. I crawl into my bed immediately and after stripping down to his boxers, Eric climbs in behind me. He crosses his arms over my chest and he tucks his knees up against the back of mine. His breath is light against my neck.
As my eyes close, I’m plunged into a sea of softness. Warm pillows and plush blankets. Held tight and safe. And soon I’m sinking.
* * *
When I wake up, Eric is gone. I just turn back over and go back to sleep. Gracie brings me food in the afternoon, guilting me into getting out of bed. I make myself stay in the living room even after she leaves, knowing I’ll just go back to sleep if I go to my room.
The sun is setting and I’m in the third hour of watching random videos on my phone, one leg slung over the back of the couch, when there’s a knock at the front door.
Mom went to sleep early, so I tiptoe to the door and look through the peephole. I open the door to Eric on my front stoop in faded jeans, a big grin on his face, and a giant bottle of Macallan single malt whiskey held up in his hand.
Grandpa’s favorite.
“Wanna drink?” he asks.
I quirk a smile. “That sounds like a great idea. But my mom is sleeping. Let’s go to your place.”
“Okay.”
I glance down at the T-shirt and sweats I’ve been wearing on and off all week. “Just let me go change.”
“No need. You look great.”
When we get to his place, Eric pours a small amount of whiskey into two glasses and sets them in front of us.
“To Jerry.”
We raise our glasses in a toast. It’s cool in my hand and the scent of the alcohol stings my nose before I take a sip. It burns all the way down and makes my stomach instantly lurch, wanting to reject it.
“I forgot how much I hate this stuff.”
Eric chuckles and takes another sip, unaffected.
I put my glass down. “Distract me.”
“How should I distract you?”
“Any way you want.”
The little freckle on his upper lip moves as his mouth twists into a smile.
He takes a small sip of his whiskey then slides his glass away. “I told you a while ago I was going to tell you about the girl.”
“Girl? The one you had unrequited feelings for?”
He nods. “Can I tell you about her?”
“Okay.” Seems a weird subject to me. I thought I was the girl he’d had long-standing feelings for—but the way he’s referring to her, now I’m not so sure. Was there someone else, too?
“For starters, she’s beautiful.”
“Obviously.” Why wouldn’t she be?
“She’s smart.”
“Of course.”
“She’s got a great sense of humor.” He smiles when he says it.
“The trifecta.”
“And she’s got a hot body.”
“Naturally.” Okay, he better be fucking talking about me.
“She’s kind, and thoughtful.”
I nod.
“She cares about her family and friends. She’s fun to hang out with. I like spending time with her.”
Okay, it’s got to be me, because if he’s spending time with another chick that I don’t know about, this is not going to turn out well.
“I like to annoy her.”
“You like to annoy everybody, though.”
He shakes his head. “Not really. Just her.”
There it is. I smile as he continues.
“She definitely gives as good as she can take.”
The way his eyes glisten as he’s speaking makes my throat constrict. He adores me.
“She's honest. And she’s easy to talk to. She thinks she talks too much, but she doesn’t.”
My heart is pounding.
“She’s one of the only people I feel like I can truly be myself around, and I really value her friendship.”
I nod but I'm not breathing.
“I love when she smiles. It lights up her entire face.”
I try to smile for him but I can’t because my lips are quivering.
“I love the sound of her laugh.” He leans in close and touches my face, wiping a tear from my cheek I hadn’t even known had fallen.
“And I really hate when she cries. I’d do anything to make her happy.”
CHAPTER 28
Eric puts on the most campy, ridiculous eighties slasher film he can find. The bottle of whiskey clinks against the shot glasses that inevitably spill over resulting in multiple fits of giggles. We take a shot every time there’s gratuitous nudity, every time someone runs upstairs when they should be running out the front door, every time someone dies, and whenever the bloody special effects are hilarious instead of scary.
I’ve lost count of the number of shots poured.
By the halfway point in the movie, Eric is taking swigs directly from the bottle, which is now only a quarter full. When he sets the bottle down, I grab his thigh and kiss him hard, my head swimming in delirium. Dizzy on lust and alcohol. He kisses me back, and my mind does cartwheels, light and carefree, everything is painted in a prism of rainbow colors.
Before I can even register how we got here, Eric is on his knees on the floor, my legs thrown over his shoulders, my sweatpants who-knows-where, his head buried in my pussy. He’s eating me out so good, everything in my ethereal state feels brighter, more saturated, more intense.
Fuck, I love his mouth. Fuck, I love his tongue. Fuck, I’m drunk.
I come quickly, moaning loudly and grinding against his face. But he doesn’t stop, he keeps devouring me, not satisfied. I throw my head back, panting, squeezing my eyes shut until colorful stars burst behind my lids. I come again, the pleasure erupting in sparks across my skin.
I'm frantic for him, pulling at his shirt until it comes off and then smashing his lips to mine in a kiss so hot and wet that neither of us want to come up for air. I reach for him, finding his waistband easily and sinking my hand inside to touch him. He’s hot and hard and he groans when I stroke him firmly from base to tip.
“Come here,” I urge him.
He stands between my legs, and I push down his pants. His erection springs free, jutting straight out at me. He stumbles as he kicks his sweats off the rest of the way. I take his cock fully in my mouth, my hands on his tight ass pull him toward me, urging him to fuck my face. His fingers are in my hair as I pump and suck him.
He’s moaning and telling me how good it feels. “Oh. God. Rosenbaum. Shit.” His words become shaky, his breaths erratic as he talks. “Fuck. Ah. So good. Ky.” He tightens his grip in my hair and thrusts his hips deeper. “I want you so bad.”
I look up at him, his eyes are already on mine, and I let his cock slide out of my mouth. It’s red, hard, and throbbing in front of me.
“I have condoms,” I say, out of breath.
His dark brown eyes look into mine for several beats. He licks his lips and swallows before saying, “Okay.”
“Sit down,” I tell him as I retrieve the condom.
His cock stands fully upright between his legs as he watches me open the packet. His lips are parted as I step closer. I place it over the head of his cock and roll it down slowly, carefully. His breaths are shallow, the pulse in his neck visibly quickening.
My legs tremble as I put one knee on the couch and then lift the other to the side of his thigh to straddle him. “Ready?” I whisper.
He nods, his gaze going back and forth between my face and where I’m poised over his sheathed cock. I reach between us, steadying him and guiding his cock to my entrance.
I sink down about an inch, just until his thick head has breached inside.
His chest rises and falls rapidly and he bites his swollen lip. He rubs up and down the outside of my thighs with shaky hands.
I push down another inch. Slowly. So slow. His cock is thick and it stretches me as it goes in. He closes his eyes for a second, the shadows from his lashes playing over the freckles on his cheeks. He flutters his eyes back open when I sink down another inch, his gaze locked to where our bodies are joined.
His fingers dig into my hips as I move down more. Down, down until I’m fully seated on his lap and he’s buried completely in my body.
His eyes roll back and he lets out a hard breath. “Fuck.”
I don’t move, letting us both get used to the sensation. My heart is pounding wildly. He’s inside me and I feel perfectly full. The ache increases, urging me to move.
“Does it feel good?” I squeeze his hips between my thighs.
“Yes. Fuck, you feel so good.”
I lift up gingerly and then slide back down, impaling myself on him, my slick cunt throbbing with the sensation of his cock moving in and out of me. Eric. Eric and I are doing this. He chose me.
This time when I move up and down on him, I clench around him, grinding into his pelvis as my thighs slap against his hips.
He slides his hands up my back and around to cup my breasts, supporting them as they bounce.
“Ky. Fuck. I’m not going to be able to last long.” He swallows hard, perspiration breaking out on his forehead. “Shit, I had no idea it would feel...like this.”
“It’s okay. I have more condoms.”
I increase my speed, riding him harder, enjoying his expression of being lost in pure bliss. He takes my face in his hands and crushes me to him, kissing me desperately. Now his hips are thrusting up to meet mine, bucking hard, about to lose control.
Then he wraps me in his arms, holding me tight to his chest as he jerks into me, grunting and panting, his movements stilted and raw. He’s quivering under me as the last few spasms of his climax ease away. And we stay like this, connected in a heated embrace, our skin slick with sweat as we come back down together.
I pull back to look at him, my heartbeat still forceful in my chest. I want to ask him if he’s okay but that seems like a weird question to ask. But it was his first time and I want to make sure he’s good.
He brushes strands of hair from my face and leans his forehead to mine. “You’re amazing,” he whispers into the space between us.
“Are you glad it happened, then?”
His smirk is devilish. “Yes.”
“You want to do it again?”
His cock stirs inside me with a twitch, growing and coming back to life.
“Is that a yes?”
“I want you in my bed.” He eyes darken as he hooks his arms under my bottom.
“Yes. I want that too.”
He stands with me in his arms and I vise my legs around h
is waist. His dick slides out of me with the movement, and he discards the condom as he carries me down the hall.
It’s dark in his room, the faint glow of the moon mixing with the black to create a deep green cast over everything. His bedding is soft as he lays me down. He comes over me, planting open-mouthed kisses to my breasts and neck.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs as he makes his way to my mouth.
We kiss for a long time—deep, unhurried kisses. He undulates over me and we fall into rhythm, rubbing our bodies against one another. Skin on skin. His hardness to my softness.
When I open my legs to him, his hips nestle perfectly between mine, and I lift my hips, urging more. He thrusts his pelvis against me, his cock hard and thick once again as it drags along my wet center. He’s breathing heavily now, his kisses becoming more erratic.
I prop myself up on my elbows as he sits back on his heels and puts the condom on this time. I bend my legs, spreading wide open for him. He brings his hips toward mine, glancing at my face as he presses the broad tip to my entrance, hesitating for a split second before pushing in.
“Do you want me to go slow?” He lays back over me so our noses almost touch and smooths the hair away from my face.
“You can go as slow or fast as you want. As hard as you want,” I whisper back.
He slides in and out, closing his eyes as he starts to pick up speed, moaning in pleasure with each thrust. It’s wonderful, beautiful, how we fit.
I loved riding him on the couch, watching his face when I took him in. I loved the newness, feeling how much his cock stretched me. He was experiencing it all for the first time and I got to go through it all again, through him. I loved setting the pace and seeing his reactions, mesmerized as he held my hips and let me have him. But this—him on top of me, pinning me down and driving into me, taking control, fucking me—there’s just something about it.