by K A Moll
“What does that mean, honey?” Coy asked gently, “that you’re not right down there?” Her stomach flipped, scared.
“It means I’m a freak,” Coby said in a matter of fact manner.
“No, you’re not,” Coy responded firmly. She took a quiet breath and continued. “Are you trying to tell me that you have a condition?”
“Yeah, I guess you could call it that,” Coby said.
Coy lifted an eyebrow. “And that condition is?” she asked.
“I don’t know what it’s called,” Coby said. “I don’t even know for sure that it has a name.”
“Oh, I’m sure it does,” Coy answered with a bite to her lower lip. “So, you’ve never had it checked out, medically I mean?” she asked hesitantly.
“No, of course not,” Coby responded with a wild shake of her head. “You’d be surprised how easy it is to dodge that exam,” she added.
“No, actually I wouldn’t,” Coy said with a sigh. Her mind began to tick through the myriad of health conditions, some life threatening, which could involve abdominal pain, nausea, and genitalia abnormality, or any combination thereof. “So that night,” she surmised with a hard swallow, “you didn’t want me to touch you because you were afraid I might want to do a pelvic.”
“Exactly,” Coby exhaled.
Coy turned away.
“Are you crying?” Coby asked in disbelief. “Oh my God, you are.” She slipped her arm underneath Coy’s shoulders and pulled her close. “Honey, it’s nothing you need to worry about,” she added, “I’m okay.”
“You don’t know that,” Coy choked, “and it scares me.”
Coby sighed. “I’m getting tired,” she said. “I think it’s time for me to crash.” She gave Coy a kiss before rolling to face the wall.
“Okay,” Coy squeaked, rolling with her. She laid her arm around her middle and planted a wet kiss in the center of her back. “Night, baby,” she whispered. It wasn’t long before her next soft sob.
Coby stared into the darkness, her chest aching, and her stomach rock hard. The worst was over. She’d told her that she was a freak, so what was the big deal if she showed her. She’d be grossed out, but at least she’d stop crying. But she couldn’t. She hadn’t been able to let anyone see her since that night. She buried her face in her pillow with her eyes shut tightly.
Coy sniffled, burrowing closer, crying.
Coby sighed. “I know what you want,” she said, “but I can’t do it.”
“I know,” Coy peeped before falling silent. In no time, she hiccupped another soft sob.
Coby sighed. “Look,” she said, “I can’t even stand to look down when I’m in the shower.” She sucked in a breath and let it go. “How am I supposed to let you see me when I can’t even stand to see myself?”
“You don’t have to let me see anything,” Coy responded. “All you have to do is let me touch you.” She propped up, looking hopefully over Coby’s shoulder to make eye contact. “Just let me reach in really quick, so I can ease my mind.”
Coby sighed. “You’re a sly woman, Coy Annabelle,” she said, “and you probably took drama in college.”
“Just as an elective,” Coy responded with the hint of a smile.
“Alright,” Coby said as she rolled onto her back, unzipping, “anything to get you to stop crying.”
Coy bit her lower lip, holding her eye. “You know what,” she said gently, “it’d be so much easier if you’d just go ahead and slip those ol’ tight jeans off.” She planted another wet kiss, this one on Coby’s shoulder. “You can leave your undies on.”
Chapter Nineteen
Cold and heavy, the damp slime—fear—slithered through Coby’s body, choking off her heart, and oozing into her inner recesses. This moment, this moment that she’d dreaded for the entirety of her adult life was upon her. A coward, doing what cowards do best, she’d been in hiding since she was seventeen years old—petrified. Petrified, that someone might break through her defenses, back her into a corner, and force her in the name of love, to display her ugliness. She sucked in a long breath as she sat on the edge of the bed. From behind, she heard the rustling of covers. She zipped her pants as she stood, knowing that she couldn’t go forward, knowing that whether or not she did, rejection would follow. Women like Coy didn’t enter into relationships with women like her, and she knew it. She knew it in the deep, dark recesses of her soul.
“Are you okay?” Coy asked. God, she was so sweet, such a kind, beautiful little songbird.
“No,” Coby responded, “not so much.”
Coy rubbed the center of her back in a circular motion.
“I can’t do this,” Coby continued, “I don’t have it in me to show you.” Images of what could’ve been flashed through her mind. “I need to go downstairs for a little while,” she said. “I need to be alone.”
“You don’t have to go,” Coy said, moving closer. “We’re not in that big a rush. I’m sorry I pushed you.”
“It’s not about that,” Coby said. “It’s about me not being right. It’s about demons, past and present, holding me down.” She swallowed an uncomfortable swallow, meeting Coy’s gaze over her shoulder. “As it turns out, you were right about the mind games, huh,” she choked. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come.”
Tears trickled down Coy’s cheeks, staking Coby through the heart, as she padded toward the door. She looked back before stepping into the hall. “Try to get some sleep,” she said quietly.
“I’ll try,” Coy responded, “but I don’t expect to be terribly successful.”
***
Coby opened the glass door of the carved oak cabinet, fingering the bottles one by one.
Gin
Vodka
Rum
Cognac brandy
Conecuh Ridge Whiskey
Orange liqueur
Sweet vermouth
She ran her fingers along the rim of a mug, imagining it frosty, imagining the taste of her preferred alcoholic beverage foaming over. She’d searched for it when she’d first come downstairs, finding none in the refrigerator or pantry. She touched the glasses on the rack one by one.
Shot glass
Brandy snifter
Champagne flute
Martini glass
Through the semi-darkness, a gentle hand came out of nowhere to touch her. “You don’t need that,” Coy whispered.
“I know,” Coby responded. “I didn’t have any. I was just stroking the bottles, trying to latch onto a bit of courage.”
“I’ve been scared like that before,” Coy said softly. She planted a tender kiss on her shoulder blade. “Don’t worry, baby. I wouldn’t hurt you for anything in the world.”
“I know you wouldn’t,” Coby said, “at least in my head. It’s the rest of me that wants to scream.”
Coy slipped her arms around her middle, pressed her cheek against her back, and squeezed. “What can I do to make it easier?” she asked.
“Nothing, other than just be you,” Coby responded with a deep breath. “I was on my way back up,” she added as her stomach took a dive, empty. “Do it quick, okay?” she asked as she met her gaze, “before I lose my tiny bit of courage.”
“Fast as a hot knife through butter, and gentle too,” Coy said with her hand extended. “Come on, baby,” she added, “come back to bed.” She crawled to the center, waiting patiently.
Coby stepped alongside, trying desperately to tap into her evaporating courage. “I know you’re still worried about pancreatitis,” she choked as a wave of nausea nearly overtook her.
“I am,” Coy whispered.
Coby sucked in a breath as she unzipped her pants. “Do what you want to about that too,” she added, “lights on or off, your choice.” She dropped her jeans and laid them on the arm of the chair.
“I’ll palpate,” Coy said. “Lights off.”
“Alright,” Coby responded, biting her lower lip. “You know,” she cho
ked, “no one has ever…” She sucked in a breath as her voice broke. “No one has ever…not since the day my high school girlfriend took one look and flipped out.” Her eyes moistened as she fingered back her hair. “Anyway,” she continued, “I just wanted you to know that no one has ever been where I’m gonna let you go.” She tucked her thumbs inside the elastic of her boxers.
“I won’t hurt you, honey,” Coy murmured, “I promise.”
Coby nodded and took another swallow. “I’m counting on that,” she said as she dropped them down.
***
“Okay, now just lay back,” Coy said softly. “I’ll be finished before you know it.”
“I doubt that,” Coby choked as her breathing revved up.
Coy moved to hold her. “Shhhh,” she soothed. “You’re okay.”
“I’m sorry,” Coby said. “I’m a basket case, aren’t I?”
“No,” Coy responded, “you just have yourself all worked up; that’s all. In a minute, you’re gonna see that you’re fine.” She nestled down onto Coby’s shoulder, holding her close until she was calm. “Are you ready?” she asked.
Coby nodded. “As ready as I’m ever gonna be,” she responded.
“Alright, here we go,” Coy said as she slid her palm down her abdomen, palpating, noting tenderness in the left, upper quadrant. “Pancreatitis,” she announced, “at least that’s my opinion without blood work.”
“I told you that’s what it was,” Coby responded.
“Yes you did,” Coy said. She took a breath and exhaled. “So there’s enough light in here that I can see that you have an enlarged clitoris.”
“Gross, huh,” Coby muttered, curling her upper lip and shaking her head.
“No, not at all,” Coy responded gently. “Is that what you were talking about?”
“Yeah,” Coby said.
“Is it okay if I touch you?” Coy asked.
Coby nodded, catching her breath as Coy methodically palpated her clitoral shaft and labia. Their eyes met when she finished.
“You’re fine,” Coy said, moving up to meet her eye and hold her. “Thanks for humoring me,” she added.
“You’re welcome,” Coby responded, “I thought you needed to see for yourself that I was okay.” She smiled thinly. “I thought maybe if you did it would ease your mind.”
“Well you were right,” Coy said, “it did.” She propped up. “I want us to talk about your condition later on. Maybe this afternoon?”
“Yeah, sure,” Coby answered. “Whatever you want to do is okay.”
Coy unbuttoned the top two buttons of her nightgown and rolled to her side. “Come on, roll close, and put your arm around me,” she murmured. “We still have a couple of hours to sleep before we have to get up.”
Coby snugged in, dropping her arm around Coy’s abdomen.
Coy licked her lips, stroking the length of her long fingers, one by one. “I have big plans for these when you’re ready,” she said.
Coby swallowed.
Coy slid Coby’s hand inside her gown, pressing her palm to her left breast.
“Quite a handful, huh,” Coy commented.
“Yeah,” Coby said, clearing her throat, “I guess.”
“Larger than yours, huh,” Coy went on.
“Yeah,” Coby said, “I guess.”
“You guess or you know?” Coy clarified as she reached inside her gown, encouraging her to toy with her nipples.
“I know,” Coby croaked. “And why are we talking about this?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Coy responded with a thin smile. “It just struck me; that’s all.” Their lips met for a kiss and she nestled back down. “Hold me for a little while, okay?” she asked. “It’s been so long.”
“Sure,” Coby responded, “for as long as you want.”
***
Coby opened one cabinet and then the next, shutting the doors, ever so softly. At first, she didn’t know what she was looking for but knew she would when she found it. Ahhh, Christmas tree muffin tins. Perfect, she thought. She lifted them out of the cabinet next to the stove without making a sound. She smiled, thinking that Diego would be proud of her. She hadn’t had the courage to cook for anyone other than Coy in his kitchen, but this morning, a lack of courage didn’t seem to be a problem. She poked around in the refrigerator, confident that something worthy of Christmas morning, would come to her.
Eggs
Ricotta cheese
Spinach
Mushrooms
Peppers—red and green.
Festive, she thought.
Onions
Parmesan
Garlic cloves
She lifted the package of bacon but returned it to the meat drawer. The guests might like it better if it was included, but Coy wouldn’t—and Coy’s preference was all she cared about. She searched until she located a bottle of virgin olive oil, greased the muffin tins, and julienned the red and green peppers, setting them aside. While the oven was preheating, she mixed the remaining ingredients, spooned the mixture into tins, and popped the tins into the oven. She would build tiny red and green haystacks on top of each omelet. She prepared oatmeal with fresh blueberries as a second option, set a festive table with Christmas china, and brewed coffee. She texted a picture of her entrees to Diego, knowing that it was midnight his time, but hoping that he’d still be up.
As her biscuits finished up in the oven, Coy padded around the corner. “Merry Christmas,” she greeted as she moved in for a kiss. “You didn’t happen to turn my alarm off on your way out, did you?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Of course I did,” Coby responded with a wink and a smile. “You were up half the night, either worrying, crying, or doctoring. I thought I could handle this on my own.”
“Mmm,” Coy said with another kiss, this one with tongue, “aren’t you in a good mood this morning.”
“I am,” Coby responded with lingering eye contact.
***
“Mama’s gonna take one look at us and know we got friendly last night,” Coy said as the automatic door whooshed open. “She’s always been equipped with radar.”
Coby lifted an eyebrow, meeting her gaze. “You got friendly, honey,” she corrected. “I just got to hold your boob for five minutes until you flopped onto your back, snoring.”
“Minor detail,” Coy said with narrowing eyes. “And I don’t snore, Coby Lee O’Brien.”
“Ha!” Coby responded.
“The point is,” Coy continued, “we need to decide how much we’re gonna tell her before we go into the room.”
“It’s not like she’s gonna ask us straight up,” Coby responded. “We’ll tell her what we want to tell her when we’re ready to tell it.”
“Ha!” Coy countered with twinkling eyes. “Oh, she’s gonna ask alright,” she said as a smile spread across her face. “And you know what?” she continued with a wink, “I think I’ll just sit back and watch you respond.” She looked up and around when an alarm sounded.
Coby wrinkled her brow.
“Heart rate monitor,” Coy responded. Her eyes followed as one nurse and then a doctor made their way into the room. “It’s the man next to daddy,” she said. “I hope he’s alright.”
“Never met anyone so smart who cared as much about other people as you do,” Coby said as she slipped her arm around her shoulders. “I’m not saying that being what you are isn’t good enough, but honey, you should be a doctor.”
Coy sucked in a breath and let it go. “Been there, tried that,” she responded with a hard swallow. “It didn’t work out.” She met Coby’s gaze, tipping up, hopefully.
Coby gathered her in, kissing her easy at first, and then hungrily.
“Oh, my goodness,” Marigold chirped as she popped around the corner. “I was just thinkin’ about how I was gonna tactfully ask how you two got along last night.” She held Coy’s gaze for a knowing moment. “But I don’t think I need
to now.”
“No,” Coy answered with the hint of a smile, “I guess you don’t.” She kissed her cheek, wishing her a Merry Christmas.
“Merry Christmas, darlins,” Marigold responded, barely able to contain herself. “Your daddy will be so pleased about this new development,” she added. “I can hardly wait for him to wake up so I can tell him.”
Chapter Twenty
A modest collection of pots and pans dangled above the centrally located island in the kitchen. Coby touched one, and then another, as she moved through.
“You did such a nice job with breakfast this morning,” Coy complemented, “I’m glad you took some pictures to show mama and daddy.”
Coby grinned. “I’m the first to think I didn’t do good enough,” she responded, “but I gotta admit, those little Christmas tree omelets turned out pretty good.”
“They did,” Coy agreed with a smile. “Everybody loved those little haystack stars at the top.” She tugged Coby back for a quick kiss. “Attractive, healthy, and tasty,” she continued, “I’ve been telling mama for years that it was possible.”
“I gotta admit,” Coby said, “I never thought about it either until I saw you had a taste for it.” She chuckled. “I don’t even think the guests noticed that they didn’t have bacon this morning.”
“They didn’t,” Coy responded with a smile. “They scarfed those little omelets down like they were loaded with fat to clog their arteries. And they’re already talking about tomorrow morning.” She reached to stroke through the back of Coby’s hair as Coby paused for a peek into the refrigerator. “You seem to think you need to get a job right away,” Coy continued, “maybe you should just help out here.” She shook her head as her voice became pensive. “It’ll be a long time, if ever, before daddy can do much,” she said, “and mama can’t do everything.”
Coby bit down on her lower lip. “We’ll see,” she said.
“I mean it, Chef Coby,” Coy persisted with a wink, “you’ve got a talent for this.”
