by Sarina Bowen
“Don’t get me wrong. The sex with Antonio was amazing,” Meg continues, unfazed. “He would do this thing with his thumb and forefinger, sort of like this little swirly and hook thing…” She starts to demonstrate with her hands and I’m both horrified and interested. Barb interrupts before she can get too far.
“Meg! Sadie!” And Barb Thornapple is booming right at us. “It is so good to see you two. All grown up now!”
And with boobies, I want to say, but keep the snark on the inside.
“Brad and I just got back from Iceland! Can you believe it? We went to one of those outdoor hot tubs.”
“Springs,” Brad mumbles.
“Springs. And we went...in the buff,” she shares with us, whispering that last part. I think Liam shivers. “Anywho! What are you girls up to? How are your parents? And, Meg, look at you! You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman. And this must be your strapping boyfriend! You two would have beautiful babies!”
Barb motions from Meg to Liam, and my stomach drops right to the floor. Liam is sitting next to me. His hand is under the table, inching ever so closely to between my thighs, but Barb assumes Liam is with Meg?
Goddammit. Do I really look that much older than he does?
“Wouldn’t they have cute babies?” Barb asks Brad. Brad doesn’t answer. “Your mom was just telling me the other day how she needs more grandbabies. Boys preferably. I mean, Sadie, with you being divorced and all, it’s just going to be you and your girls. No hope for more, is there?” I couldn’t get a word in even if I wanted to. “Are there going to be wedding bells for you two soon?” she asks, again to Meg and Liam.
I want to argue, I do. But I can’t. Words are stuck in my throat. Nothing will come out. I think I’m dying. I think it’s a panic attack. So this is what one feels like. It feels like I’m turning inside out. Of course, Barb assumes Meg is with Liam. Why wouldn’t Liam choose young and supple Meg over her dried apricot sister? Clearly, they belong together.
I want to die.
Worse, I want to go home, watch The Bachelor, and eat actual dairy, non-organic ice cream. Straight from the tub. I won’t even use a spoon. I’ll just dig my face right into the container like a dog.
“Actually,” Liam tries to say, but Meg beats him to it.
“This is Liam McAllister,” she says. Loudly. “Liam is fucking my sister. They go at it all the time. He can’t keep his hands off her. She left her husband ages ago. Because he was a prick. I’m home now because I’m starting over. I was fucking a podiatrist in Atlanta, but I’m done with him. Basically, I’m back in town to find a big dick to sit on and spin for a while. Any big dicks in Iceland?”
“There was one,” Brad offers. Barb actually elbows him.
“Any other questions?” Meg asks.
Barb’s lips have disappeared. I think she’s swallowed them. “No,” she says, simply. “I think I’ve got it.”
If Barb stayed even one more minute I think my panic spiral would sweep me under. But—thank the heavens above—I see her eyes lock on someone else across the room. “Ooh! It’s Bert and Becki! I wonder if they’re still pretending their daughter is away at camp when she’s actually moved in with her girlfriend. Excuse me…”
She hustles off.
An exhausted silence settles over our table. None of us make eye contact. My only comfort is Liam’s hand under the table. It’s practicing a spiral and hook thing against my thigh.
* * *
On the way home from Rose’s, Meg passes out in the back seat of Liam’s car. One minute she’s ranting about how all the good men on Earth are either married or gay, and then she literally breaks off mid-sentence to slump down on the back seat.
The silence is beautiful. Except that Liam and I don’t fill it with carefree banter. He looks so tense behind the steering wheel that I worry he’ll break it right off of his own car.
“I’m sorry our weekend plans to stay at your place were ruined,” I say. “But I think Meg needs me to be around.”
“We can have nachos some other time,” he says through a clenched jaw.
“Nachos?”
“Just a figure of speech.”
I haven’t heard that one before, but I am too wise to say so right now. “Can you come over and watch a movie with me?”
“Sure,” he says. “I’ll stay the night. Your sister doesn’t care. In fact, I believe she encouraged me to boink you.”
“That wasn’t even the most embarrassing part of this day.”
“No, it was not.” He sighs. “Look, I’m going to grab my toothbrush and the dinner I made you.”
“You made me dinner?” I gasp.
“Of course.” He pulls up in front of his house. “Sadie, I love cooking for you.”
There’s a beat of silence between us while I try to absorb that. He loves cooking for me, because it’s not just sex. “Thank you,” I breathe. “That was really nice.”
I’m in so much trouble.
“I’ll be right back with an Instant Pot full of butter chicken.”
He gets out of the car, leaving me with my sad thoughts and a sister who’s begun to snore.
If she stays asleep, I’m eating her share of butter chicken.
Liam comes out of his house a minute later with a small gym bag over one shoulder and a pot in his hands. He has to set the pot down for a second to check his mail. As I watch, he flips through a couple of envelopes…and then freezes.
He tosses all the mail except one envelope back in the box, picks up the pot, and comes back to me. I jump out of the car and open the trunk for him, so he has somewhere to set the pot down.
“What’s the envelope?” I ask, and he grimaces.
“It’s from the Child Study International. I think they’re letting me know where I’m going in October.” He lifts blue eyes to mine, and they’re worried.
“Open it,” I whisper, after we blink at each other for a second.
Wearing a grim expression, he slits the envelope open with one finger and pulls the paper out. He unfolds it quickly and…
“Rome,” he says in the same voice that Russian dissidents might use to say “Siberia.”
“Oh, wow,” I say quietly. I’m not sure what to think about that, or what I’m allowed to say. “What a dump, honey. All those marble antiquities. And the gelato and excellent coffee.”
He looks over the edge of the paper and gives me a sad smile. “October fifth is when I leave.”
“That’s…” I do the math. “Only a few weeks away.” Okay, it’s eight. But still.
Liam swallows. We’re standing here trapped in our own misery, but there’s nothing to be done about it. I don’t know what to say.
Luckily, Megan wakes up with a snort. “I smell butter chicken,” she grumbles.
“That’s for me,” I say automatically. I’ve had all the disappointments today that I can take.
“There’s plenty for everyone,” he says. “Let’s go.”
18 A Loud Whinnying Noise
Liam
That night Sadie and I don’t have sex. It’s not because her sister is one room away. It’s because we’re sad.
If only Sadie would admit it. I wish she’d beg me not to leave. I’d probably still have to, but maybe we could try a long-distance relationship. People do that. It’s a thing. I wonder what she’d say to that? Maybe that’s why she’s so quiet. Right now she’s probably thinking about my moving away and it’s caused all this silence. “What are you thinking about?” I whisper as I smooth down her hair.
“Meg,” she says immediately.
It’s a good thing it’s dark in here so she can’t see me flinch. Maybe I’m the only one who is going to lose sleep over Rome.
“...She must have suspected that guy was married. How could she not know?”
“No idea,” I mumble.
“Meg makes poor life choices, and then I pick up the pieces.”
“Seems like it,” I say just to be nice. “Although you told me sh
e flew up here when you needed her to help you throw Decker out.”
“Oh, Liam. You’re right.” She gives me a little poke in the ribs. “You’re a better person than I am for remembering that.”
Sadie has no trouble telling me I’m a good man. And yet she doesn’t see a future for us. I just don’t get it. Doesn’t she want a good man in her life, in her girls’ lives? Why can’t it be me?
I fall asleep holding her, and trying to think of a scenario where we work out as a couple.
But I can’t.
In the days that follow, two things quickly become apparent. One—I wasted a perfectly good night in Sadie’s bed, feeling sad when I should have been giving her orgasms. And two, her sister Meg is around all the time. She’s cock-blocking me.
It’s fast becoming a desperate situation. I have seven weeks with Sadie left, but now Meg is here and taking up a lot of Sadie’s time.
Meg is, however, another pair of hands. So sometimes Sadie and I escape for a late dinner or a cocktail somewhere after the girls are down for the night. It’s great spending time with her, right up to the point where I kiss her goodbye in the car and go home alone. Hello, back to being a teenager.
I’m not the only one who feels this way, either. Last night when Sadie kissed me good night she actually climbed into my lap until her ass tapped the car horn in the middle of our makeout sesh. “God, we have got to get Meg her own place,” she’d whispered. “I’m taking her to see an apartment tomorrow. I found it on craigslist.”
“Good plan,” I’d said, diving in for one more kiss.
Let’s just do it in the car! shouts fourteen-year-old Liam.
But alas, grown-ups can’t expose their butts to their neighbors on Willow Drive. And even if Meg wouldn’t mind me following Sadie upstairs and banging her into next Tuesday, we’re not doing that.
I’m not sure why, but we’re not.
Which is why I’m kneeling on Sadie’s rug the next morning, giving pony rides to Kate and Amy while the two women run out the front door.
“Mommy will be back in less than an hour!” Sadie calls from the doorway.
“Giddyup,” Kate says, having already forgotten her mom. She gives me a little kick in the flank to make sure I understand my role.
I make a loud whinnying noise as the front door shuts.
Sadie didn’t even ask me to watch the girls, but I offered. That’s how eager I am to get Meg her own place to stay. Very, very eager. Eager enough to whinny and wobble around the rug for a solid hour, and then pretend to eat oats out of Amy’s hand.
I’ve just enjoyed my second imaginary carrot in the imaginary barnyard when I hear a car pull up outside. My knees are grateful. But Sadie doesn’t walk in like I expect her to. Instead, someone raps three times on the door. And then it opens. “Sadie? Girls? Daddy is here.”
“Daddy?” Amy says.
“Giddyup,” Kate insists from my back. “Faster.”
I execute an awkward maneuver whereby I stand up without letting Kate slide to the floor. So I’m red-faced and wearing her like a scarf when a strange man appears in the living room doorway. He’s wearing a polo shirt and a pair of khaki pants with creases so sharp that he might cut himself on them. And prissy deck shoes and a gaudy gold watch.
This is Sadie’s ex? Really? When I came face to face with Decker, I expected someone fascinating. In my mind, he’d have to be both seriously attractive and magnetic. Artistic, maybe. This guy is your standard issue golf club member. He’s attractive, I suppose, if you like ‘em bland and preppy.
It must be a subconscious reflex that causes me to flex my pecs and biceps. Either that or I’m having some kind of rare but harmless muscle spasm.
“Who are you?” he asks.
“I think that’s my line,” I say coolly, even though I have a pretty good inkling. Also, I tighten my biceps. I can’t help it. I blame fourteen-year-old Liam. Punch him in the nuts! my inner teen suggests.
Good thing I don’t listen to him.
“Daddy!” Amy squeaks as she scurries over to stand at his feet. She raises her arms overhead, waiting to be picked up.
He ignores her, because he’s too busy frowning at me. “Look, I have a company picnic today. And we just read the schedule and saw there’s a bouncy castle. So I’m taking the girls. If you could just get their stuff together.”
Kate squeals and wiggles, forcing me to bend over and set her gently on the floor. Meanwhile, my head is going to blow right off, I’m pretty sure. Because you do not say the words “bouncy castle” to a pair of two-year-olds if you can’t follow through.
And he can’t. Because there’s one huge problem. “I don’t know you,” I say as calmly as I can. “And furthermore, Sadie didn’t say a word about a company picnic. She’s out with her sister for a bit, but I can have her call you when she gets back.”
His face curls in displeasure even before I stop speaking. “I’m their dad. It makes no difference whether you know me or not. And who are you? Answer the question.”
“The babysitter,” I say from between clenched teeth.
“Wiam,” Amy tries.
“Pony,” Kate adds with a solemn nod.
Decker looks at his watch. “The picnic starts in fifteen minutes. I can’t be late.”
“Be that as it may, it’s my job to stay with the girls unless Sadie tells me otherwise. So why don’t you step outside and call her.” My tone is chilly. Like, twenty-below-zero chilly. “Just because you woke up today and remembered you had…” two children. I can’t say that out loud because it might hurt Amy or Kate’s feelings. “…A picnic,” I say instead, “doesn’t mean you can just show up and expect me to hand them over.”
“Bouncy castle?” Kate asks as Decker turns and stomps out the door. I notice that he never once greeted his girls or spoke directly to them at all.
What a tool. Seriously, what was Sadie even thinking? He must be very, very good in the sack because Sadie has a high libido. Almost as high as mine.
It’s really the only explanation that makes sense.
“Who’s turn is it?” I ask the girls, trying to snap out of it.
They both clamor for the next ride, and so I load ‘em both up there. Sorry, knees. And about four minutes later I hear Decker’s car start again, and he drives away.
Either Sadie didn’t answer, or she did answer and she didn’t give him the answer he was looking for.
“Daddy?” Amy says, and she’s starting to slide off my back. I freeze and then flatten myself onto the rug so she doesn’t hurt herself on the dismount. She runs to the door. “Daddy?”
Oh shit.
“Dadddddyyyy,” she wails.
When I glance at Kate, her face wobbles, too. “Bouncing,” she says with a sniff. “Want to go now.”
“Girls,” I say with false cheer, leaping to my feet. “We can make our own Bungee Bouncing Palace. This is going to be great!”
Now I know why divorced parents sometimes spoil their children. Because Amy wailing “Daddy” out the front door is breaking my heart into teeny tiny shreds.
“Come on!” I gather her up and brush away her tears. “I have an idea.”
* * *
Sadie
When I get home, the living room is empty. But there are giggles coming from upstairs.
“Okay. Backflip,” Liam says. “You got this. On three.”
I jog up the stairs, and I’m startled to hear that the noise is coming from my bedroom.
When I walk in, I’m still confused. And a little terrified. There’s a…contraption strung up between the closet door and the door to the bathroom. Liam has tied several blue bungee cords—vaguely familiar, I think they’re from a hook in my garage—to a harness made from… I squint. Yup, that’s really two of my nursing bras tied together.
What the actual heck?
As I stare, Amy bounces on the bed. In the first place, that’s strictly against the rules. If I let the girls bounce on my bed we’d have to get stitches
at the E.R. at least once a week. She’s holding Liam’s hands, and the bungees give her extra lift. So she probably imagines herself to be super woman right now.
“Three…two…one…” Liam counts down and then grabs Amy by the diaper and flips her neatly around until she’s executed a perfect layout backflip, and her stubby feet land back on the bed.
She lets out a shriek of glee that’s nearly as high as a dog whistle. And then her sister follows up with: “Me me me my turn mine!”
“Excuse me,” I say. It comes out sounding a little bitchy. But this little game isn’t okay with me. “Are those really my bras? And the springs on the bed may never be the same.”
Liam whips around to see me standing there. But the look on his face isn’t the sheepish one I expect. It’s red and hurt and angry and fit to burst with a few other emotions I can’t even unpack on the fly. “They each get two more turns,” he says in a clipped tone.
“But…”
Kate is already climbing into the harness.
“Did you get any calls while you were out?” Liam grunts, helping her.
“Yes, but…” Decker. That’s who’d called me. I’d ignored the calls because ignoring Decker’s calls gives me a thrill.
But why does Liam know that?
Uh-oh.
I step out of the room and pull out my phone. Sure enough, Decker called more than once. And when I listen to the message, my heart sinks. “Sadie, this is bullshit. Some dumbass kid won’t hand over the girls and pack a diaper bag. There’s a company picnic and a bouncy castle and Honey thought it would be fun if we brought the girls. Fix this. It starts in fifteen minutes.” Click.
And all becomes clear. Liam’s impromptu game and the look on his face are the direct result of Decker’s latest moment in tone-deaf parenting.
Some dumbass kid. No, Liam is the smarter man. He did the hard thing, which was to tell two girls they couldn’t have their dad and whatever pleasures the picnic held, because grown-ups have to say no sometimes even when it hurts.
I walk back into the bedroom just as Kate is collapsing in a red-faced, smiling heap on the bed after her final turn. “Bouncing,” she sighs. “I wuv it.”
