The Taste of Her Words

by Candace Knoebel

  I blushed. Cleared my throat. “Yes. Dinner should be ready soon.”

  “Good, ‘cause I’m famished,” Cindy said as she eyed my mother down. “Every time I get an invite out here, I’m always put to work.”

  Mother pursed her lips. She was still staring at me. Hadn’t stopped since I sauntered back into the room.

  We made quick work of finishing everything Mother had laid out and found ourselves piled around the large picnic table outside, bellies full and yawns stretching. Butterflies fluttered around us in slow, languid beats, drunk on the heated afternoon air as the sun bathed the woods in a sheen of gold.

  “I think that was the best steak I ever ate,” Betty declared, taking bits of the fat and feeding them to Kevin, the Dachshund she never left home without. He playfully pounced around the meat before diving in, his chestnut fur catching glints of shimmer from the sun.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Dean said, rubbing his stomach as he leaned back in a stretch.

  I got up from the table and started picking up plates, helping Mother as she carried them in. “I could have gotten these,” she said over her shoulder as I followed her to the sink.

  “It isn’t a problem, Mother.” I set my dishes on top of hers.

  She looked me up and down. “I’m sure. A little romance is enough to make anyone feel useful.”

  I was caught off guard by her remark. “What?”

  She straightened the strap of my dress, which had fallen off my shoulder. “You think I don’t know what goes on in my house?”

  A million awful theories came to life inside my mind. I looked past her. Was this place rigged with cameras? Was she psychic? Had we not been as quiet as I thought?

  “I see the way you two look at each other. The secret smiles. The palpable tension. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist, Andy,” she said when she realized I’d gone off the deep end with my musings.

  “Mother—”

  She held her hand up. “Lying is unbecoming and, frankly, you’ve never been good at it.”

  I closed my mouth.

  “Look, I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, but you should end it before someone gets hurt.”

  My forehead creased. Defensiveness took over. “Why would someone get hurt?”

  “Andy, he isn’t right for you.”

  I tossed my hands up in frustration. “Why? Because he doesn’t have some big fancy job?” I retorted, feeling a flush build behind my cheeks. “You know what? I’m glad you know. This whole time I was so worried about what everyone would think. What you would think. And guess what… I don’t care. He makes me happy, Mother. Maybe you forgot what that feels like, and so had I, but not anymore, and I’m not going to just give it up over something as frivolous as money. Money was always your worry… not mine.”

  Her eyes were hard, mouth parting as my phone vibrated on the counter. I turned away from her and grabbed it, a rock sinking in my stomach. “Thirty-one missed calls from Matt,” I said as a cold sweat lined my forehead.

  She moved behind me and glanced over my shoulder. I scrolled and scrolled, text message after text message from him crowding the screen. Messages like:

  Where the hell are you?

  Why aren’t you answering me?

  This is another bitch move on your part, isn’t it?

  You’re going to regret this, whore.

  I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Please answer.

  Andy?

  I should have never fucked you. Knew you’d turn out to be a dumb bitch.

  “Andy,” Mother said on a sharp intake of air. She took the phone away from me. “Do not respond to these. I’m going… I’m going to screenshot them at once and send them to your father’s colleague.”

  I took my phone back from her. “No, Mother. I’m not going to do that.” I huffed. “He just… he gets like this sometimes when I don’t answer him quickly enough. I can handle it.”

  “Bullshit,” she said, the word firing from her mouth like a bullet.

  I jumped, and then twisted my head in her direction. In all my thirty years, I’d never once heard my mother curse.

  Her finger wagged in my face, a hand planted on her hip as she moved in like a general dishing out an order. “Now you listen to me, Andrea Rose Hale. I know we don’t see eye to eye on, well, just about everything, but I will be damned if I sit back and watch your stubbornness put you and my grandson in harm’s way. You might not think much of me as a mother, and you might not think I don’t know anything when it comes to relationships, but your father and I talk, and I know what’s going on with you and Matt. This… this sort of behavior and the profane language in his messages… this is not the role model Charlie needs. This is not… it isn’t safe, Andy.”

  Her face was flustered by the time she finished, eyes glazing over.

  I rubbed at my temples. The phone vibrated in my hand again. She looked up at me. At that moment, maybe for the first time, I saw a mother looking at her daughter. Not at a disappointment, but at a human.

  She pulled it from my hand and pressed it to her ear. The moment she did, she straightened her shoulders and stuck her chin out, her strength pumping into her words. “Hello?” A pause. “This is Andrea’s mother. May I ask who’s calling?” Another pause. A slight crease to her forehead. “I’m sorry. Andrea can’t come to the phone right now. While I have you, I’d like to ask something of you.” She waited a beat. “Yes. Could you please refrain from contacting my daughter from this point on in matters that aren’t concerning Charlie? What Andrea does with her life is her business. The court has given their ruling, and the time you’ve been granted needs to be respected. On both parts.”

  Her mouth opened to continue, but Matt was quicker. His voice was raised loud enough I could hear it. Her eyes widened when he shouted, “Who the fuck do you think you are? Some old, washed-up hag trying to tell me what I need to do? Andy is the mother of my son, and that gives me free rein to do as I please.”

  If Mother was fazed, she hid it well. “I’m going to hang up now.”

  His voice, still shrill with anger, bordered on the edge of hysteria when he replied, “Good. Before you do, though, do me a favor. Tell Andy to sleep tight…”

  The call ended on the notes of his sinister laughter.

  Mother’s hands were shaking when she handed the phone back to me. I pulled her into a hug, holding her up as her entire body trembled. “Do you see now, Mother? Do you understand why I could never make it work? Why I chose to raise Charlie on my own?”

  I watched the understanding take shape in her eyes as she nodded. “He’s not ever to be around Charlie, Andy. Promise me you’ll do everything you can to keep that man away from you both.”

  I nodded, trying not to let any of the tears burning in my throat fall.

  She sucked in a deep breath of air. Pulled herself together as she stepped back. “Your father will be home in a couple of days. We will have these messages printed and placed in your file. Okay?”

  For once, I let her lead. “Okay, Mom. Whatever you say.”

  “As far as Dean is concerned, just, please… be careful.” She brushed her hand over my cheek. “Affairs of the heart, especially with two sensitive souls, are tricky to get right.” She squeezed my hand, forcing a smile, and then fixed her hair. “Now, help me with the rest of these dishes. The sooner we can send the hens home, the better.”

  I looked at her through new eyes as I followed her outside, pausing near the bed of flowers Kevin had his lengthy nose buried in. His little paws were digging and pawing at something, so I crouched down to pet him, moving aside the cluster of pink and purple flowers to see what he was messing with. Suspended from some of the small branches, deep inside the foliage, were a couple of orange-patterned chrysalides.

  “You can’t eat those, silly puppy,” I said as I rubbed behind Kevin’s ears and lifted him up. “Come with me. I’ll find you some scraps.”

  Dean was in deep conversation with a few of
the women. If set loose in a room full of people, he’d come out knowing the backstories to at least half. He had a way of relating to individuals and groups alike. He was a good listener… a trait as rare as they came.

  And he was mine.

  All this time I’d been looking for guidance, looking for a ray of hope, and then he kissed me. He saw me. The real me. Not the mom. Not the woman who worked relentlessly night after night. He saw me, as I was in that moment. Not a fragment of who the world tried to make me out to be, but who I actually was, darkness and all.

  And he liked it.

  He didn’t question my deepest thoughts. Didn’t argue my strengths.

  I wouldn’t let him go. I couldn’t.

  18

  H Y P O T H E T I C A L L Y

  If love is a cliff and your kiss is the edge,

  Let me press my lips to yours,

  So, together, we fall.

  LATER THAT NIGHT, AFTER THE women went home, Andy and Mrs. Hale disappeared somewhere inside the house. I headed upstairs to check on Josh, who hadn’t made a peep. He was still sleeping, one leg hanging off the bed and the blanket tossed on the other side of his room. The plate of food I’d brought him sat on the bedside table, untouched.

  I nudged his arm to wake him, but he just let out a snore and rolled over, pulling his pillow closer to his chest. Beside his bed was a picture of the three of us when we were younger. Josh jumping in the pool while throwing peace signs in the air, while I was mid-back flip near the deep end. Andy was on the other side of the pool, holding her stomach from laughing so hard.

  Her laughter was contagious. The kind of sound everyone wanted to hear more of. It could fix any broken heart, and we did anything we could to coax it from her.

  After shutting the door to Josh’s room, I headed to my own and moved into my bed, pulling my laptop out, trying to resist the urge to seek her out. Even though it had only been two days, it felt like this had always been. As if we’d been viewing our lives from the outside until we realized we only needed to open the door to discover the beautiful truth within.

  There was always more to us. A depth only we could understand.

  My email dinged the moment my computer was on, pulling my thoughts away from her. Manny needed an emergency proofing of a short story that was to be published by a magazine, so I lost myself in the project.

  I didn’t think there would ever be a day when words wouldn’t be able to comfort me.

  When I woke the next morning, I was sprawled out on my bed, the screen to my laptop dark. I had gotten through half the project before I passed out. I could tell by the angle of the sun streaming in through my window I’d slept later than normal. A quick glance to the clock confirmed it.

  It was nearing noon.

  I found Josh and Andy outside with Mrs. Hale, setting up decorations before Charlie and Mr. Hale returned tomorrow.

  “Hey, sleepyhead,” Andy said as she handed Josh the end of banner.

  “Hey.” I smiled as I scratched my head, and then lumbered over to the ladder and grabbed the edges, steadying it as Josh climbed higher, reaching to hang the banner.

  “Be careful, boys,” Mrs. Hale said, watching from the window. “Lord knows we don’t need one of you hurt and in the hospital. It’s my worst nightmare.”

  When Josh finished, he climbed down. I carried the ladder to the other end of the porch. Within minutes, we fell into our old patterns, and it felt like we were kids again. Joking with Josh just like old times. Mrs. Hale dishing orders in the background.

  Listening to Andy’s laughter.

  The day moved in a blur of patriotic colors. By the end of it, when the sun yawned and tucked itself behind the horizon, the three of us huddled around the bar in the kitchen, waiting for Mrs. Hale’s fried chicken. The smells were overwhelming, my stomach growling as we recounted memory after memory about growing up, laughing until tears leaked past the corners of our eyes.

  It was like time had never happened.

  When dinner was over, we parted ways. Andy went with Josh, helping him with something Mrs. Hale needed, while I headed back upstairs to finish what Manny had sent me.

  A little after midnight, a light tapping sounded at my door. Yawning, I said, “Come in.”

  Andy stepped in and shut the door. She wore an oversized T-shirt that skimmed her knees and fell off the slender curve of her shoulder. The lace of her bra was showing. I was instantly hard, knowing she wore it like that for me.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting you,” she said, fidgeting with the ends of her hair as she stood at the foot of my bed.

  She was so sexy I ached.

  “Not at all.” I wanted to throw everything off the bed and take her right there.

  She looked to her socked feet. “I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d see what you were up to.”

  I took my glasses off and set them next to my laptop before rubbing my raw-feeling eyes.

  “I didn’t know you wore glasses,” she said, leaning her thigh against the edge of the mattress. I couldn’t help but think about running my hands up her smooth skin.

  “Only recently. Last year, I had trouble reading the small fonts on my computer, so now I have to wear them.”

  She hooked a knockout smirk. “They’re sexy on you.”

  “Yeah?”

  She nodded. Picked them up and carefully placed them back on me.

  We stared at each other for a moment, her studying my face. Me marveling over hers. There was still a hesitation between us. A newness we were both adjusting to.

  “Come here,” I said, scooting back to give her room to sit.

  She moved closer, her notebook tucked under her arm, and stood in front of me, parting her thighs just enough so I could move my leg between hers. Hesitation snuck in between us, but when she moved even closer, I could see her heart outweighing her mind for once.

  Damn, but she got me so riled up. I felt like I was back in high school again, barely able to control my erections. Every moment she settled in, she became more brazen than the last time. It was a thrill watching her bloom right in front of me.

  I pointed to her notebook, trying not to show how easily she unhinged me. “What’s that?”

  She looked down to it. Picked at the corner. “One of my millions of notebooks I write in. I uh… I was working on something that came to me. A poem that sort of sparked this idea for that poetry book I was telling you I wanted to write.”

  “Read it to me,” I said, moving my hands up her thighs, tracing her wide hips.

  Her cheeks flushed a little and her lips quivered. “It’s sort of silly, to be honest.” I loved watching her react to my touch. All those years I’d waited to see that look on her face.

  “I know I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again… Nothing you could say or do would ever be silly, Andy.”

  Her eyes brightened, making my chest feel light and airy.

  She pulled the book from under her arm and clutched it tight against her chest, as if the words might jump out before she gave permission. “It’s a poem. Nothing serious. Just a scribbling of a thought I had after…” She paused, her blush deepening. “Well, after yesterday afternoon.”

  Her rosy skin made my nerves light up. “Read,” I commanded in a low, guttural tone. Desperate to hear what I inspired.

  She flipped to a page and swallowed. Sucked in air as if she was sipping on courage, and then read her words out loud as she grazed a fingertip along her collarbone in a charming, erotic way.

  “A morning kiss,

  Between my legs,

  That is how

  You wake me.

  With trembling thighs,

  And shortened breaths,

  Your tongue

  Is what sedates me.

  I reach for you,

  Your desire thick,

  And pull you

  Deep inside me.

  Swim in my ocean,

  Drown with me,

  And watch your current

&
nbsp; Break me.”

  I studied her every move, raptly memorizing her phrases.

  When she finished, I wanted to ask her to read it again. To let me kiss away her scars while I lived inside her mind. She brought me to the other side of her prose, where definitions and rules disappeared, and all that was left was raw, abstract feeling.

  “I can’t get you out of my head,” she said as she sat on top of me, pushing me back on the bed. Her fingers trailed down my chest, sending a network of pleasured chills across my skin. “My mind is spun like cotton candy with all these expressions and images. The story I was working on has washed up on the shore of my thoughts, ready to be picked up again.” She leaned down and skimmed her lips over mine. Her silken tongue traced the shape of my mouth. A striking hot punch of need hit me square in the gut. “You and me… we exist in a bed of words. I think… I think you were my muse, Dean. All long.”

  I clamped my fingers on her ass as she slowly, tortuously ground her hips into mine. The devil was playing tricks in her gaze as a smile crossed her lips. She knew what she was doing to me, and she was enjoying the hell out of it.

  My heart revved into gear as I grabbed her hips and moved her a little faster. She moaned and I nipped at her lip before exploring her mouth, circling my tongue over hers. I wanted to touch her everywhere, all at once. I pulled the cut neck of her shirt down until her red bra was exposed and then leaned back, taking her in. She was so fucking perfect. Skin shivering and raised with desire. Eyes glazed. Lips full and wet.

  She started to pull at the strap as she continued to grind against me, but I stopped her. “Let me just look at you,” I instructed as the need to take her built.

  She seemed hesitant at first, but then lost herself when I grabbed her hand and moved it to her clit, guiding her fingers in slow circles. Heat filled my chest as I let go and watched her pleasure herself while moving against me. As I took my dick in hand and did the same, riding the thrill of foreplay.