by Claire Adams
“Whatcha making?” he asked.
“Tacos,” I said sarcastically with a smile.
“Hmm, I think you might be doing it wrong,” he replied, kissing me hard on the cheek.
“What? You’ve never had flat, fluffy tacos?” I joked.
“There is a first time for everything.” He laughed.
“No, I’m actually making pancakes,” I said happily. “One of my favorites, especially after… well, a good workout.”
“That, we did have,” he said, kissing my neck.
“I just wished that I had some apples, so I could make some apple pancakes,” I said with a sigh. “They are one of my favorite things in the world. My father, before he left, would make them for me every Saturday morning when I was young. He would turn them into funny shapes and then sit with me and eat them. It’s one of the few good memories that I have of him. I just remember feeling happy and content when I smelled that apple smell. It meant my mother was out and there would be no bickering and fighting, just me and my father.”
“Well, they sound absolutely divine,” he said, smiling. “And I promise you from the bottom of my heart, I will go through hell or high water, travel a thousand seas, kill the biggest giant, to find you some apples. You, my dear, may have whatever you like in this world.”
I laughed, turning and watching him walk off around the counter with his arms in the air. He was quite the showman and extremely sarcastic. He got me giggling so badly I could barely say a word to him.
“The world is your oyster,” he continued, his arms in the air. “There is more than one way to skin a cat. A bird in the hand is as good as two in the bush…or something like that.”
“Okay, okay.” I laughed, flipping the pancake. “You know, you aren’t my servant any longer.”
“Oh,” he said, dropping his arms. “Well, it was definitely good while it lasted. In fact, I was thinking of implementing at least one day a month where this servant thing takes effect. Actually, I was thinking we could swap off. I don’t know how many varieties there are of that boxed meal thing I made.”
“Yeah,” I scoffed. “Keep dreaming, but what I will do is come over and cook your dinner. You just have to be the one to do the dishes.”
“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s a tough one. I hate doing dishes.”
“I’ll throw in a massage,” I said, flipping the pancake and smiling.
“You twisted my arm; done,” he said, slapping his hand on the counter.
We both burst into laughter, looking around the room at the fruit that was in the kitchen. He pretty much had everything but apples, which was odd, and I made sure to make fun of him for it. I plated the pancakes, and we sat down at the breakfast bar to eat.
“Okay, I have to figure out how to get the apples,” I said, taking a bite. “It’s going to haunt me if I don’t.”
“I mean, they do make these things called grocery stores, and I’m pretty sure I’ve seen little round, red balls that resembled apples in their produce section,” he replied sarcastically.
“No, no,” I said, shaking my head and sighing. “You can’t make apple pancakes with an apple grown in Malesia.”
“I don’t think they grow apples in Malesia.” He laughed. “In fact, I don’t think Malesia is a real place.”
I shook my head. “It’s real, although I’m not sure if they grow apples there. But you know what I mean.”
“No, I think I’m missing this one,” he replied, looking at me.
“We need fresh apples,” I said, exasperated. “Like pick them from the tree, fresh.”
“Well, it is apple-picking season,” he said.
“Oh, I know,” I said excitedly. “There is an apple orchard about an hour away. We could go!”
“Perfect,” he replied. “It’ll be good to get out of town anyway.”
We finished up our pancakes, and Ollie got ready while I collected my things and waited for him. As I sat there by the door, I couldn’t help but smile, thinking about how amazing of a night it had been. On top of that, we were getting ready to do something that was actually normal. An actual date where we would walk hand in hand and pick apples together, just like I always wanted.
“You ready?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said, pulling myself from my thoughts and smiling as he grabbed his jacket and walked with me out the door.
We jumped into his car and headed over to my place, so I could change out of his boxers and t-shirt. I looked like I was doing a serious walk of shame, smiling at the neighbor as I hurried inside the house. Ollie waved awkwardly and meandered inside, closing the door and smiling.
“Not a word,” I said, pointing at him. “Now, I’m gonna go change. If you want some coffee, there’s a Keurig in the kitchen.”
“Got it,” he said, folding his lips in and sticking his hands in his pockets.
I went upstairs and jumped in the shower, trying to get the oil and sweat out of my hair. When I was done, I pulled it up into a messy bun and threw on a pair of jeans, a gray fitted t-shirt, and a black jacket before jogging back down the stairs. When I got down there, Ollie was standing with two travel mugs of coffee and a smile, waiting for me to be done.
We drove along in silence, but not an awkward silence, more of a contemplative and joining silence. We were happy to be with each other, to hold each other’s hands and just be together. It was calming and sweet, and I had never been with someone before that I felt that close to in the moments between the conversation. My mom always told me the measure of a true relationship was not in the words spoken, but the ones that never had to be spoken. I finally understood what she was trying to say. I understood why she and my father never had the conversation about divorce. It just happened one day, standing in the kitchen, staring at each other.
The drive into the country took about an hour, and then we finally stopped off at Elegant Farms. When we arrived, there were tons of families with little children running around with sticky hands and faces and chowing down on beautiful red apples. I giggled as we walked around, dodging a couple of kids chasing each other through the orchard. We paid for a bag and set out, using the long basket stick to get some really good apples from up high. We laughed and joked with each other the whole time, sneaking a kiss now and then between the trees. Once we filled a bag, we headed back over to their country store, where we walked around and looked at all the handmade crafts.
Ollie was obsessed with the fact that they had their famous country ham, so we picked some of that up and some cheese to go along with it. I figured if nothing else, we would be completely engorged by Sunday morning breakfast. From there, we drove a little bit farther into a small town where we stopped and ate lunch, looking out at the people as they passed. This was a really small town, like the kind where everyone knows each other, and visitors were welcomed with open arms. At one point, we were even able to stop and talk to the mayor, who was just doing some grocery shopping at the local market with his kids and wife. We wouldn’t have known it was the mayor, of course, except for the fact that we were greeted by everyone and introduced as visitors in town. I was completely smitten by the whole experience and was hoping to come back when the season got closer to Christmas.
We spent the whole day shopping, eating, laughing, and teasing each other, before stopping and eating some more. I was pretty sure I hadn’t eaten that much in a really long time. It had to have been one of the most fun days I’d ever had, and there wasn’t anything flashy or expensive about what we did. We were together, and that seemed to be the only thing that mattered to either of us at that moment. I was definitely finding myself falling deeply for Ollie, and I didn’t even care.
Chapter 27
Ollie
“I’ve got an idea,” I said as we drove back to the city.
“Uh oh,” she said, smiling.
“No, really. Let’s go back to your place, grab some food, and go have a sunset picnic,” I replied. “It just sounds like a real
ly good way to wind down at the end of such a perfect day.”
“I like that idea,” she said, smiling sweetly and grabbing my hand.
When we got back to her place, we went inside and unloaded the treasure trove of things that we bought. Both of us had managed to get every Christmas present that we needed for our families in one small trip to the country. Not to mention the fact that I actually scored Elegant Farms fresh ham while we were out. I used to eat it as a kid and didn’t even realize the place was so close to Madison. I knew my mom was going to freak out when she heard.
As Elana prepared the food for our picnic, I went upstairs and found her stash of blankets, pulling out a big quilt to sit on. We then slowly made our way down the street to the park. I rolled out the quilt and secured it with my backpack before helping her set down the basket of food. We sat down and spread our legs out in front of us, munching on fresh cheese, pieces of ham, and a pasta salad that she had whipped up quickly. She looked at me and handed over a tin camping mug, pouring some wine it and clinking her glass against mine.
“What are we toasting to?” I asked.
“An amazing day, of course,” she said with a smile.
It certainly was an amazing day. I watched the sun make its way to the horizon, its vibrant colors blanketing the sky, I couldn’t help but think about how far I had come since I moved back to Madison. I had tried so hard to keep myself from Elana, but in the end, she was the one that brought me back to life. I could feel a sense of peace radiating through my veins that I had never felt before. It was like everything that had happened over the last five years had finally moved itself from the forefront to just visions of the past. I still didn’t know everything that Elana had been through after I left, but I could tell being together helped her, too, and gave her a sense of purpose and clarity. It was an amazing journey to think about, almost forgetting what it felt like to be in so much pain and suffering.
I didn’t have to worry about any of that when I was with Elana. As soon as she was in my presence, I felt relaxed and ready to tackle the world. She calmed me down when I was all riled up and soothed me when I was hurting and in pain. Nothing and no one else in my life could give me those feelings. None of the alcohol did that for me, none of the therapy did that for me, and none of the self-loathing ever helped anywhere as much as Elana. She was like a drug, so addictive that I couldn’t imagine ever putting her down ever again. I had made the decision that I wanted to give it a shot, and I could now see that it was the best decision I had ever made.
After the sun dipped low behind the horizon and the air began to cool even more than it was, we decided to go back to her place. She packed the basket back up, and I folded up the quilt, putting it back in my backpack. We both took the last gulps of the wine in our cups before heading back, hand in hand. We walked through the door and without speaking, immediately went to work. Elana emptied the basket, putting away the uneaten food. I went upstairs to put away the quilt, and we met in the kitchen, looking at each other fondly. There was no longer that panicked need to pull her close because of my fear of losing her. I knew that she was there, and she wasn’t going anywhere.
We walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. She immediately stretched out, pulling the throw over her and laying her head on a pillow in my lap. She reached forward and grabbed the remote, flipping on the television and looking up at me with a smile. I leaned over and kissed her lips gently before relaxing back on the couch, feeling completely at home, a feeling I hadn’t had since I was a child.
She flipped through the channels slowly, stopping on a couple of kid’s movies, a chick-flick, a murder mystery, and a handful of infomercials. Finally, she found a horror movie and stopped on that, sitting up straight on the couch and gawking at the screen. I raised my eyebrows as the opening scene started, the cameraman obviously not being given the budget to have a stabilizer on his equipment. I sat there silently watching the cliché scenes, wondering what in the world had gotten her so excited.
“This is Diabolical Dead,” she gasped. “When I was a kid, I was freaking obsessed with this movie.”
“You mean, more people than me and you have seen this?”
“It’s totally a cult classic,” she said, wide-eyed. “I went through this phase when I was like ten where I was obsessed with horror movies. Me and a couple of my friends started a little club, and we used to watch this religiously. Trust me, we thought it was just as bad then as I do now, but it was like our thing. My mom was actually getting worried about me because she thought there was something wrong with a girl being obsessed with slasher films. I swear, she thought I was a serial killer for like two years.”
“And all along, it was really me,” I said, acting like I was stabbing her with a knife.
She fake-screamed and laughed, laying back down in my lap. We continued to watch the movie, busting out laughing every time something was so fake that it looked like we could have made the movie ourselves. Elana ran to the kitchen and popped some popcorn really fast, coming back to sit down next to me.
“Wait, wait,” she said, pointing at the screen. “This is the part where this possessed hand comes back to life and tries to kill the main character.”
“Wow,” I said, shoving popcorn in my mouth. “Why wouldn’t he just trap it or like cut off its fingers?”
“Because then the movie would be over, duh,” she laughed.
“Holy crap,” I said, laughing. “Did that hand, not attached to anything, just pick up a chainsaw and cut his arm off?”
“Yep, and wait. Here it is. The terrible squirting blood scene. I’m pretty sure you can see the ketchup packets on the floor.”
I loved everything about what we were doing. The day just seemed so…normal. Normal may sound absolutely horrible to everyone else, but to me, it was what I had been yearning to have in my life. We had gone apple picking, explored a small town where everyone thought we were married and neither of us corrected them, and then had an amazing picnic at the park. There I sat, finishing up the day in the most perfect way imaginable, making fun of a scary movie, shoving our faces with popcorn, and all while sitting there next to each other wrapped in a blanket.
Elana scooted closer to me, wrapping her arm in mine. Every time a “scary” scene came up, she would bury her head in my neck, making my heart start to race. I wrapped my arms around her and held her as tightly as I could, taking full advantage of having her that close to me. Everything about her was perfect, and having her in my arms felt absolutely amazing. I couldn’t have thought of anything better at that exact moment. The fact that Elana felt so confident and sure of us that I was the person that could make her feel safe and secure warmed my chest even more than it already was. All I wanted in this world was to know that she was okay, and now, I was getting the chance to make sure that was a reality. Maybe I felt a bit clingy because I had lost Lillie in a car accident, something I had blamed myself for over the last five years, even though I had nothing to do with it. Either way, I didn’t want to let this beautiful woman out of my sight.
She screamed as the possessed, one-armed woman escaped from the cellar.
She buried her head into my neck again, but this time when she raised it, I leaned in and kissed her. Before I could pull away, she had turned to me, putting her hands around my neck and pressing back into me. Slowly, she moved over into my lap, straddling me as our lips moved softly over one another’s. I could feel the heat between us like nothing I had ever felt before, and it was almost too much for me to bear. I pulled my arms under her and stood up, cradling her and walking toward the stairs. When we got to the bedroom, the lust had taken over, and we tore our clothes off, falling into the bed, entangled in each other’s arms.
I took a deep breath and slowed things down, running my fingers up and down her body. The sounds she made as I kissed her breasts knotted my stomach and hardened my cock. Wanting to give her all the pleasure I could, I ran my hands down to her wet pussy, massaging her gently as s
he moaned out, her hand clutched in mine. Moment after moment, I absorbed her passion, filling the room with the sounds of our voices, the beating of our hearts, and the ecstasy that lingered between us during every second of every day. She had become this force that I couldn’t escape, nor did I want to. As my tongue lapped through her juices, she gripped down on my hand, her breathing intensifying and her body going stiff.
I watched her as she came, hard and long, everything in me wanting her more with every moan. When she came down, I climbed on top of her, hovering over her as I kissed her lips with ease. Then and there, we made love like we never had before, our bodies cascading over each other, the attraction beyond compare to anything I had ever experienced. Not only could I feel the physical passion, but the emotional passion as well, vibrating from our bodies and twisting and turning with every move.
When we were done, ending in an exquisite chorus of orgasms perfectly timed to coincide, we laid close, my arms grasping tightly around her, and my face pressed into her neck. The day had taken all the energy we had, and she had already fallen asleep in my arms. I laid there listening to her breathing and feeling her heart beat against me. This was the most contentment I had ever felt in my entire life, and I couldn’t even begin to think of the words to express what I was feeling.
Being with Elana was like being home. It was like coming back from a long vacation to your house and collapsing on the couch, just feeling like everything was okay, even if it was just for a moment. It was smelling the Thanksgiving dinner cooking in your mom’s kitchen, or the way you felt on a snowy day wrapped in a blanket with a hot cup of cocoa. I realized at that moment that I had always felt that way with Elana: like I had finally come home. I just didn’t realize what that meant until then.
