by Amy DeMeritt
“How many kisses do I need to give you to pick you back up from your stressful day?”
“Give me the best kiss you can and I’ll see if that’s enough.”
My cheeks are aching from the cheesy smile on my face. She giggles as she playfully bites my nose. “You going to kiss me or just smile at me, sweetie?”
“I’m sorry, baby, you have my face frozen like this. I missed you today.”
“I missed you too.”
I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths to bring my excitement under control so I can control my face, then I bring our mouths together and pull her into a passionate kiss right here in the foyer. Our lips and tongues softly twist, flick, glide, suck, and tug on each other’s for a few minutes. When she pulls away breathing heavily and blurry eyed, my core is burning up and my insides are contracting with desire for my wife.
With a breathiness in her sweet voice, Shannon quietly says, “Thank you, sweetie. You have successfully lifted my spirits.”
“Already? You sure you don’t need more kisses? Like, maybe an hour’s worth?”
Shannon laughs hard and kisses my lips. “You can give me an hour’s worth of kisses tonight when we’re settling down for the night.”
“That is the best damn offer I’ve heard all day.”
She laughs again and caresses my cheek. “How was your day, sweetie?”
“Great. We signed with Bio Pure, Tough-Bod for their underwear line, and Savoy’s Fine Jewelry. Bio Pure and Tough-Bod are for three years and total thirteen-million annually. Savoy’s is two years for two-million annually. Savoy’s will be interesting. They have a big unisex line of fine jewelry and want to show how all types of women and men can wear the pieces. I’ll have to do some tomboy style ads, like how I would prefer to dress, and some very feminine ads, like how I really don’t care to dress.”
Shannon licks her lips with a loving smile and combs her fingers through my hair. “But you are gorgeous both ways. I’m very proud of you. How much did you drink, sweetie?”
I blush and nervously rub the back of my neck, feeling like I was caught doing something wrong. “Oh, like half a glass of champagne. Sara made me. Am I acting weird or slurring my words?”
“No, sweetie. I could taste it on your kiss. Do you have any special requests for dinner tonight?”
“Hey.” Sara walks into the foyer holding Keira’s hand followed by our parents, Joey, Talia and her girlfriend Maya, Bella, and Karen. She offers me the half-empty bottle of champagne to take. “We’re going to The Firepit for dinner. Good luck with everyone else tonight.” She looks back towards the family room, then leans in and whispers, “Personalities are clashing in there.”
“Great, thanks. Have fun.”
After they leave, I groan dramatically and lean into Shannon, wrapping my arms around her. I kiss the side of her neck, and whisper, “You think we can sneak the rest of our wives and babies out of the house without anyone noticing?”
She rubs my back and kisses my temple, saying, “I think we might come back to furniture turned over with the families throwing water balloons or worse at each other.”
I laugh against her neck and give her another kiss before lifting my head. “Ok, I guess we should figure out what we’re feeding the hoard so we don’t have a mutiny problem on our hands soon.”
Shannon takes my hand and leads me to the kitchen, where our wives, Jo, Giz, Jerry, and the two sound technicians from the record label are animatedly discussing music and a game plan for their last day in the studio tomorrow. Jo sets her glass of ice water on the counter and excuses herself to get between Madison and Giz.
“Hey, I know you guys are about to start cooking dinner, so I’m going to take off.”
“You’re welcome to stay for dinner if you want, but you don’t have to.”
She glances back at Madison and Giz, then shrugs a shoulder, saying, “Maybe.”
“Ok. How did the construction go today?”
“Good. Do you want me to show you what we got done?”
“Yeah, sure. It looks like this,” I nod behind her towards Madison and Giz, “could take a while to settle.”
She releases a small laugh then clears her throat and nods as she jerks a thumb towards the front of the house. I give Shannon a kiss on the cheek then follow Jo.
I follow Jo upstairs to the far end of the hall, where they opened up the wall and built a nice hardwood staircase to lead up to the attic. She hits the lights for the stairwell and we come out near the chimney. The front part of the attic space is a nice sitting area with the stone chimney, a large window that looks out over the lawn and woods, and it also has a couple of built in wooden bookcases.
The windows were first to be cut and installed and they turned out perfectly – from the inside and outside. Yesterday, they had finished all of the frames for the walls to divide the space into four more bedrooms and the duct work for the air vents.
“Careful with what you touch. So, today, we wired all of the rooms. Each room now has outlets, light switches, and the wire housing for the light fixtures that we’ll install after the drywall is done. We’ll be starting on the drywall tomorrow.”
“This is getting done a lot faster than I expected.”
“This is the easy stuff. Drywall is the hard part. It’s much less forgiving and mistakes are very easy to see.”
“Are you trying to tell me you’re not cut out to hang drywall?”
Jo rolls her eyes. “Shut up, Kayla. We’ll make sure it’s perfect.”
“Have you told Rod that you’re changing careers?”
She smiles and leans against the corner of a wall frame built with sturdy two by fours. “I talked to him yesterday. I think he’s relieved to be rid of me.”
“Shut up, no he’s not. You’re a hard worker. You won’t be easy for him to replace. If he seemed happy, it’s probably because he’s happy for you, not about you leaving.”
“I’m still not sure I am.”
“I thought you decided to accept the offer?”
“I did.”
She walks away, so I follow her, keeping a few paces behind her. She stops to lean against the stone chimney and looks out the window. The sky is turning a medium gray and the woods look like a fuzzy black mass.
“How many times have you almost died?”
She asks the question to the window and doesn’t look over her shoulder at me for an answer. I move to lean against the opposite wall, just in the corner of her eye.
“That depends if you mean by someone purposefully trying to kill me or in total.”
“Both.”
“By people purposefully trying to kill me, three times. By protecting people, another four times. And once because of my stupidity by running away from facing a situation. And if you count the showdown with the rattlesnake, one more time.”
“That’s a lot for a civilian. Do you ever struggle with the memories? Do you ever feel like the moment you’re in isn’t really real and only that memory is real?”
“Sometimes.”
“How do you deal with it?”
“By being greedy.”
She looks over her shoulder at me for the first time with a pinched brow, asking, “Greedy?”
“Yeah, I savor every moment I can with the people I care about. I try to surround myself with my loved ones as often as I can. I work really fucking hard, so hard I feel like my body is going to fall apart, so I can provide a fairy tale life for everyone I care about. I have a very greedy habit of snatching up people I meet that I like as my family and keeping them close. I try to live every day like it’s my last and make sure the people I leave behind are well provided for.”
“Greedy sounds selfish, but you’re probably the least selfish person I’ve met.” She looks out the window again, and says, more to herself, “Living greedy, without being selfish. Interesting.” After a few moments of silence, she asks, “That really helps to keep you present and out of the memories?”
“For
the most part. Memories will creep up when I least expect them, but surrounding myself with love really helps.”
“I, uh…” She pauses and looks down at her feet, inhaling deeply through her nose, before she looks out at the woods again. “I realized something last night. This week, in the moments I’ve been hanging out with you guys and working on music, the memories have been less intense. But when I’m with the crew, I feel like I’m on a battlefield still. Being around other military, being called Rodriguez, instead of Jo, I feel like I’m waiting for an IED or sniper to take us out. It makes my attitude worse. That’s why I know Rod won’t miss me. I’m hard to work with when I’m stuck in those memories.”
“So, why do you feel like you’re not really leaving if you feel more present in the world when you’re doing what you love?”
“I can’t erase the memories. Part of me will always be stuck in the army.”
“That’s true – the memories will never go away. But the more you can remain focused on the here and now, the less your past can occupy your present.”
“Do you trust me?” Jo looks over her shoulder at me, waiting for my answer.
“You spent six years risking your life for me, when you didn’t even know me. Yes, I trust you.”
“But I attacked you when we first met. Aren’t you worried I’ll lose my temper again?”
“Are you worried you’ll lose your temper again?”
She looks out the window again and takes a deep breath. “Yes, but I don’t think I’d ever lose it on your wives or anything. I’ve lost it a few times, but it’s always been on someone I know can hold their own. I’ve never hurt anyone.”
“If you ever feel like you’re going to lose it, and I’m around, come find me. We’ll wrestle it out of you. If I’m not around, and you’re with Maddi, talk to her. She’s brilliant and super caring. She’ll be able to help talk you down.”
“I feel like I’m going to wake up tomorrow and this is all going to be fabricated in my mind. Like this is my mind’s attempt to bury the past. I’m having a hard time accepting that I’m really going to be a musician for a living.”
“I get that feeling pretty often too. Sometimes, I can’t believe this is my life – the money and fame.”
“Do you ever regret it?”
“Not once. I work really hard and I’ve had to deal with some very disrespectful people, but I enjoy what I do. I like entertaining people and I like being able to give my family the best in life. Why do you like music so much?”
“I feel the most alive and happy to be alive when I’m making music. Listening to music is great, but when I’m physically playing that’s the best feeling.”
“Even better than sex?”
Jo looks over at me laughing. She shrugs and turns to face me, resting her back against the chimney. “Probably.”
“Damn, girl, you need to get a partner who knows how to rock your bones and light your nerves on fire. Playing the guitar should not feel better than sex.”
Jo laughs hard and runs a hand over her face. “You are so annoying. We’re trying to have a serious conversation here. Why do you have to make me laugh?”
“Hey, I am being serious. You need to go break a fucking headboard or sex swing. What do you like, men or women, or both?”
Between hard laughter, she says, “Oh, my god, shut up, Kayla.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“None of your business.”
“Oh, come on! I’m your best friend! I should know what you like.”
Jo smiles and shakes her head in amusement. “So very annoying. I’ve been with both, but I identify as straight.”
“That’s interesting. Were the women experiments or lost in the moment kind of situations?”
“Why does it matter?”
“It doesn’t. I’m only making conversation to get to know you more.”
Jo rolls her eyes and exhales hard. “A girl in high school was a drunken mistake. We were friends and we were completely trashed. I don’t really remember the circumstances leading up to it, and I barely remembered it the next morning. The other two were real relationships. I’ve been with more men though.”
“How can you identify as straight if you’ve had real relationships with women? Were you happy with them?”
“Why do you like to dig so much? Why can’t you accept anything at face value?”
“Because, nothing is just surface deep. You don’t have to answer. I’m just curious. I’m not judging. Love and sexuality can be very complicated and they can change over time for some people. And some people don’t like labels and there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“I guess that’s the thing – it depends what I need at the time. I guess I look more at the person and what they can offer in a relationship and not so much at the parts they have. I’m more attracted to nonphysical aspects of a person than I am to bodies. But I haven’t been able to get into a relationship since, well, before my last mission.”
“How come?”
She looks down as she starts to pick at the loose threads in a small hole in the upper thigh of her jeans. After nearly a full minute, she finally answers. “I’ve been pretty fucked up for a while. It wouldn’t have been fair to anyone to have to deal with me while I’m trying to sort myself out. It’s taken me a long time to be able to have a conversation like this.”
“I understand, but having someone who loves you helps the healing process go a lot faster and makes it easier to bear. If shit gets rough again, don’t go pushing people away again. I guarantee you, you won’t get rid of me, no matter how hard you try to drive me away.”
Jo gives me a genuinely touched smile as she finally looks up at me again. “Thanks. So, you broke a headboard and a sex swing?”
“None of your business. Stay out of my bedroom, weirdo.”
Jo laughs and her shoulders visibly relax. “That’s a yes. What the hell were you doing that you were able to break those? Both of those are made to withstand some serious abuse. A damn sex swing is rated for like at least four hundred pounds and there’s no way two of you can add up to that. Wait, did you try to get your whole damn family in a sex swing?”
I laugh hard and shake my head. I run my hand through my hair and look out the black window, where night has officially blanketed itself over our side of the world.
“I’m not going to tell you what happened, but it was only two of us in the swing.”
Jo smiles and nods in understanding. “All of you with the headboard?”
“Well, you see, the thing was…”
Jo laughs, and says, “Any sentence that starts off like that has to be a good story.”
“Well, you know the whole bone rocking and nerves on fire thing? Yeah, well, my wives fucking slaughtered my body and my strength went like fucking Hulk destroyer in a split second. I snapped two slats out of the headboard of our bed in our house in Los Angeles.”
“Shit. Did you hurt anyone?”
“No. So, how do you know the weight limit of a sex swing?”
Jo rolls her eyes, but then licks her lips with a grin. “I just have a wealth of unnecessary knowledge.”
“Yeah, right. So, how does it feel to know you’re going to be a big rock star?”
She rolls her eyes with a small laugh and looks down at her feet for a moment. “Shut up, Kayla. Don’t make this weird. Besides, I don’t know if rock star is the appropriate term. Madison’s style is more like a cross between pop and soul.”
“You’re the one making this weird by trying to act like you’re not excited. You know you’re excited. Just admit it.”
She narrows her eyes with a perturbed smile. “You are so annoying.”
I laugh as I push off of the wall. I look over my shoulder to make sure I didn’t get any saw dust on my suit jacket, then nod towards the stairs.
“Come on. Let’s go figure out dinner. I’m starving.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
As Shannon sets the second of
two very large trays of giant, fragrant and gooey cinnamon rolls on the kitchen island, I wrap my arms around her from behind and nuzzle in her neck.
“Good morning, baby.”
She turns in my arms and kisses my lips, then smiles as she wipes sweat dew off of my upper lip with her thumb. “Good morning, sweetie. How was your run?”
“Good. Aura and I snacked on some blackberries in the woods. We need to go out with some baskets. There’s a bunch of berries that need to be picked and we have a bunch of peaches and pears in the orchard that are ready to be picked.”
“I can’t help you pick fruit right now, but I can later today. Everyone will be here soon for breakfast and I still have some work to do on the food.”
I pout as I lean into her neck and give her gentle nibbles up the full length of the warm smooth curve. “I’m sorry I wasn’t in here to help. I thought if I went for my run before all of you got out of bed that I would be back in here in time to help with meal prep. What can I do?”
“It’s ok. I already had the rolls made and ready to go in the oven last night. I just had to put them in to cook. We need to cook the sausage links and scrambled eggs. How about you wash up and put the sausages on a cookie sheet? We’ll put them in the oven to cook since it’s already hot.”
“Ok, baby.”
After I wash my hands at the sink, I open the fridge to grab the packages of fresh chicken and sage breakfast sausage from our favorite local organic farm. I spray the cookie sheet with oil, then arrange the links in nice neat rows with enough room between them that they can cook evenly. After I put the tray in the oven, I wash my hands, then help Shannon crack eggs.
“I think it’s ironic that we have military veterans working on the attic at the same time that we have the entire family here.”
“Why is it ironic?”
“Because I feel like we’ve been cooking for an army every damn day.”
