by Robin Leaf
Loosen Up
By Robin Leaf
Loosen Up
Copyright © 2018 Robin Leaf
All rights reserved
Robin Leaf, publisher
Cover art by Marianne Nowicki at PremadeEbookCoverShop.com
Except for use in a review, no part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names of characters, businesses, places, events, or incidents are fictitious or have been used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The use of actors, artists, movies, TV shows, and song titles/lyrics throughout this book are done so for storytelling purposes and should in no way be seen as advertisement. Trademark names are used in an editorial fashion with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.
Prologue
“Simple Man” – Shinedown
“Wow. You’re finally here.”
I blink back the tears threatening to fall on the face of my newborn son.
“What a roller-coaster ride we took to bring you into this world. I am ashamed to admit this, but as we were taking this journey, I started to wonder if anything in life is really worth all of the trouble. And because of that… I’m so sorry, but I never wanted a kid.”
He squeaks out a whine. I smile and kiss his forehead, breathing him in.
“Don’t worry, I changed my mind. I have to say that now as I stare at your smooshed up face, this… this moment was worth all the trials and tribulations, all the pain and heartache, all the joys and devastation. You, my boy, are worth everything.”
I can’t stop staring at this little miracle in my arms. Yes, all parents think their child is the most precious thing (or at least they should), but this baby truly is a miracle.
It’s my first time alone with the kid. I just want to look at him. I am so tired, but I can’t allow my eyes to close. Eighteen hours of labor can wipe parents out. The rest of our family is sleeping, and I could easily be, too. However, I look at him and feel energized, powerful, like I can conquer anything. I’m also a little afraid this is all a dream. If I go to sleep, I’ll wake up and get punched in the throat with the awareness that he is not real because he was never meant to be. That is what terrifies me most, and I don’t scare easily.
I want to teach him everything, give him the world. I want him to be kind, thoughtful, intelligent, open, strong, honest, and brave. I want to keep him grounded but teach him to fly. I want him to be expressive and to have an impact on everyone he touches, and I want him to find fun in everything he does. I want him to love fiercely and allow himself to be loved the same way. I want this and so much more for him.
I guess now is as good a time as any to have my first heart to heart with my boy. He sleeps, but he’s used to my voice. I talked to him enough during the pregnancy. I know he heard me then, and he’ll hear me now.
He moves his head as if he’s nuzzling me, and his subsequent grunt-then-sigh is the sweetest sound in the world. Since he’s getting comfy, I might as well tell him the story… his story.
“I should be sleeping. I can’t. I just want to look at you, hold you, make sure you are real. I want to rock you and tell you how lucky we are to have you in our lives. The only problem is I don’t know where to begin.” I chuckle. “Jeez, kid. I’ve never had a problem figuring out where to start before.”
He pops open an eye quickly, which I’m sure is his first of many eye rolls. Then, he smiles, like he knows how funny that was. I’ve heard somewhere that newborn smiles are reflexive or maybe gas, but I think right now, it’s a sign I should tell it all from the beginning. I certainly won’t tell the whole story to him; it will need some editing to protect his sensitive psyche. I mean, as his parent, there are some things I shouldn’t admit to my kid. However, I will remember everything.
“I’m going back fifteen years. You need to know your origins, so here goes your first lesson. Take it from me, and I’m sure anyone would agree with me… you be you, kid, without apology, because so many people don’t know how to just be themselves…”
One
Darla
2003
“American Girl” – Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
“Dar-la! Dar-la! Dar-la!” they chanted while I dangled upside down, slowly swallowing mouthfuls of the cheap swill everyone kept insisting was beer. It tasted more like skunk sweat and was the temperature of a lukewarm urine sample.
See, someone dared me to do this keg stand. Normally, I would tell whoever it was to get fucked, as I had no problem doing (I even told off my Cal 2 teacher, which got me suspended from school, yet again). This dare was special, and no, it wasn’t because I got to drink beer.
Drinking wasn’t the naughty, forbidden fruit to me like it was to the other eighteen-year olds in my high school. I knew how to be responsible and when I’d had too much, and I didn’t need it to have a good time, unlike most of my classmates.
The reason the dare was special was because Jase Heywood dared me. Jase, my brother Dex’s good friend, stood behind me holding my legs in the air, his arms wrapped around my middle. Jase, the boy (now the man) I’d always liked (try hard-core lusted after, not just a simple crush) was holding me upside down and touching my bare stomach. Jase, with the root-beer colored eyes, the hair that, depending on the light, was on the cusp between brown and blonde, the strong jaw, straight nose, and high cheekbones. Jase, the tall boy who could be a model.
He never really seemed to be interested in me before tonight, but he called me out by name. He had to notice my ass now. I mean, how could he not, with it so deliciously close to his face and all? And, bonus, he was probably looking at my bra-covered boobs, now at my chin, exposed because of my upside-down state. He kept pulling me to him, and I felt what I’m pretty sure was his impressive hard on between my shoulder blades. By the time I took my last swallow, I was so fucking turned on, it had to be noticeable.
Although Jase wasn’t at all intimidated by me, he orbited around me, maintaining a safe distance. I was well aware of my rep as the hippie chick, and hell, I reveled in it, even if it wasn’t quite accurate. Girls didn’t always know how to handle my cosmic, in-your-face nature, and it seemed to intimidate boys my own age. My naturally dark auburn hair, average height, and slightly curvy physique got enough attention, but my personality was an acquired taste. Many people just never knew quite how to take me.
Jase always laughed with me and showed interest in our conversations, but he never quite engaged fully. He seemed so formal and socially awkward, and he was completely oblivious to the I-am-willing-to-fuck-you vibes I kept subtly throwing into the ether. So I took that to mean he was either not interested (his current hard on to the contrary) or completely stupid.
Let’s face it, I have always been as subtle as a jackhammer.
I usually sensed the energy around people, but he was the one boy I couldn’t get a good read on, which was probably what intrigued me so much.
However, there was definite groping when he helped me down, so that’s a plus, even if it just ignited my already-aroused state. He might’ve been trying to help right my shirt, but he absolutely thumbed my hardened nipple in the process. The shade of red he turned was priceless. He smiled shyly and walked us to a secluded spot in the corner of the barn.
“Sorry about that.” He nodded to my boob. He wiped away a small piece of my hair that had fallen from my ponytail and stuck to my mouth. “So, tough girl, are you okay?”
I moved closer to him, close
enough to tell he was definitely (and impressively) hard. “Yes, and I’d really like for you to do that again,” I whispered in his ear.
“Hold you for another keg stand?” he asked, raising his eyebrow. “Your brother would kill me if I got you sick.”
I grabbed his hand and held his thumb.
“No. This.”
I pulled his hand and held it to my breast, rubbing his thumb over my nipple again. I arched and moaned at the contact.
He carefully removed his hand and gracefully stepped back. “No, Darla Maize. You are drunk.”
I laughed. “Oh please, Jase,” I began, moving closer to him. “It’s good to know you have standards, but you’ve been around my family for years. You’ve seen me drink wine with my parents since I was fourteen.” I ran my hands up his chest. “That keg is super slow. I maybe had the equivalent of half a beer in the thirty seconds I was upside down. I am not anywhere close to drunk.” I threaded my hands into the hair at the back of his neck and dropped my voice to what I thought was a sultry tone. “And I warned you about using my middle name.”
He was unmoved. “You are Dex’s sister.” He grabbed my wrists, removing my hands from his hair, and held them loosely to my sides. “There’s a code.”
“Bullshit!” I rolled my eyes. “Look, Jase. My brother does not rule me, you, or our naughty bits.” I rubbed my hand against his cock and felt it harden further. “We’re both adults who make our own decisions.”
He moved back a step, out of the way of my hand and tightened his grip on my wrists. “You’re barely an adult.”
“So this is an age thing?” I asked, genuinely curious. He was throwing off such mixed signals, I had to know what his deal was. “I mean, I’m beyond legal. I’ll be nineteen in a couple of months…”
“No, it’s not that at all,” he paused. “But I thought…” He looked down at his feet.
I ducked down so he could look into my eyes, which he refused to do. “You thought what?”
“I... I thought… you were…”
I shook my wrists out of his hands forcefully and whisper yelled, “Goddess dammit, Jase, just spill it.”
“I thought you liked girls,” he hissed, rather vehemently. Then he looked around to see if anyone was watching us. As he made eye contact with me, his face softened. “I thought you were a… lesbian.”
I rolled my eyes. “I hate labels, Jase. I’m not anything. I’m just me, Darla Maize Flurkey.”
He looked in my eyes, probably trying to figure me out. “But you’ve been with girls.”
“Yeah, a couple, and I’ve been with a couple of boys, too.” I smiled. “I have no preference.”
He studied me a bit longer. “So, you’re a…” he swallowed, “bisexual?”
“Jeez, what is it with you and labels? I told you, I’m just Darla.” I grabbed both his hands. “And I am very attracted to you. I want to…”
(Shit, if I finish that with “fuck you,” it would be too forward and would probably sound really desperate, which honestly, at this point, was how I felt.)
“…be Darla with you.”
He looked away again.
“I’m guessing my history is a deal breaker.” He shifted on his feet nervously and shook his head quickly. “It’s okay if it is, Jase. Just tell me. Whatever you say, I won’t judge you.” He shook his head again. “Please say something.”
He shook his head more vigorously and dropped my hands. “I... I can’t.”
He bolted away from me, leaving me standing in that dark corner.
I’d never allowed myself to feel rejected before. I knew I was a lot to take. I never faulted anyone who felt overwhelmed because of me. This time, I couldn’t stop the feeling, like I’d been kicked in the ovaries with steel-toed boots.
It monumentally sucked.
I took a moment to indulge in the feeling. I knew that sounded weird, indulging in a bad feeling, but any feeling, especially new ones, I allowed myself to experience fully. I felt it, analyzed it, and studied it, so I could recognize it when it happened again. I usually never dwelled or brooded, but this time, I found it difficult to separate myself from it.
I had been sitting in the corner for a while now, way too far gone from the party spirit. So I decided to go home. It was late anyway; I heard only a few partygoers in the barn by the time I emerged from my corner. Therefore, it was well past the time it would be considered rude for me to leave my own party.
I found Dex, who, from the looks of it, was about to get very lucky. Two girls were dancing with him like he was their stripper pole, rubbing all over his parts with theirs, while other guests looked on like they were about to join in the frivolity. Dex was into the group thing. While I support his lifestyle fully, I never want to accidentally walk in on one of his love fests… ever again.
“Dex, I’m taking off,” I yelled over my shoulder.
Dex and I shared the same sense when it came to people, so of course he noticed something was wrong. Ever the big brother, he pried himself free from the girls and trotted over to me. “You okay, Darls?”
I loved how he always called me either Darls or kid. It made me feel so special.
I smiled. “Yeah, I will be.”
“You know I wish I wasn’t leaving before you graduate next week. Are you upset I’ll miss it?” This party was a sendoff for his second deployment, and he graciously insisted it also be a graduation party for me. I missed my brother terribly when he was gone. The two months he was home had flown by, and I was not ready to say goodbye again.
“No, I realize you can’t be just my superhero. You have to go save the world. I’m okay with sharing.”
“You know I love you, right, kid?”
I nodded. “It goes both ways.” He reached out to hug me, but I deflected. “Knowing what you are about to go do, big brother, makes hugging your sister seem kinda skeevy. Go. Get lucky.”
He laughed. “Right.” He took two steps away to go back to his writhing women, but he turned back to me. “Freddy is leaving. I’ll ask him to walk with you back to the house. You and I will have a date in the morning.” He shot me his patented finger guns. “You think you’ll be up for pancake Saturday?”
“Definitely.” He smiled and walked back to his group of friends. I watched him walk away for a moment, but when the girl who was grinding on him earlier shoved her tongue down his throat, I turned and jogged out of the barn to wait for Freddy.
As a reward for helping our parents with their winery, Dex and I were allowed to turn this barn into a multi-purpose area, which is where we held the party. We had a game room, a pool table, desks for studying or writing, and a bedroom in the loft. Therefore, most acts of Dex’s “debauchery” (for lack of a better term), as well as a couple of experiences of mine, were executed within the confines of the barn.
My brother and I were experimental with our sexuality, sure, but neither of us wanted to witness the other actually expressing it. We also didn’t talk about our experiences to each other, but we grew up in an openly expressive household where we were encouraged to be comfortable with who we were.
We were both very comfortable with who we were.
“Thanks for walking with me, Darla,” Freddy began, startling me out of my thoughts. He found me outside and smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
Freddy went to high school with Dex. They joined the Marines together, and both were leaving Sunday.
“I hate to admit this, being a Marine and all, but I always get lost walking back from the barn this late to your house. Why does it have to be so dark out here?”
Because Dex and I shared the innate ability to tell when people needed us, I noticed Freddy was throwing off some pretty serious “need to talk” vibes, probably about a girl. I thought I’d trick it out of him.
“I’m surprised you want to leave with the way that blonde was eyeing you.” I nudged him with my shoulder. “I thought you’d want a last hurrah, too.”
Freddy blushed. “Nah,” he shoo
k his head. “I’m in a complicated relationship that I really don’t need to complicate further.”
See?
“I didn’t know you were in a relationship.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “Well, like I said, it’s complicated.”
“How so?”
“I dated this girl in high school, but I broke it off before I left for the Marines. She wrote me all the time, so we hooked back up when I returned.” He sighed. “She’s pregnant now.”
“And are you okay with that?” I asked.
“I just found out today. I kinda freaked out on her.” He looked down. “I honestly don’t know how to feel. It’s something that caught us both by surprise.”
“I can’t help you there. I don’t know if I will ever see myself having kids. I mean I like them and all, but it would be hard to live the gypsy life I want to lead with kids in tow.”
“Your parents made it happen. Didn’t you guys move around when you were younger?”
“A little bit, but they decided that they wanted this…”
I slowed down our walk and spun around, taking the time to appreciate my surroundings. My parents bought this abandoned farm just outside of San Francisco that they turned into a winery and bed and breakfast.
“What made them want a winery?”
“I’m not sure. When they were deciding whether or not to buy this place, the house and the land needed so much work. Mom and Dad home schooled both of us until we were old enough for high school. One of our projects was to research how to grow grapes, so we traveled around California learning about things like soil nutrients and irrigation systems. After all the research, they bought it and have loved it ever since.”
I’m proud of the job we did. I truly loved this place… the seclusion, the smells, the quiet, the blood and sweat we gave to make it a thing.
But sometimes, I went stir crazy.
“So… what do you think I should do about this baby situation?”
