by Jayce, Aven
Div, you got PMS or something? You’re good at everything you do, but unfortunately you don’t have anyone telling you how amazing you are. Without the support of your parents, you’ve grown into an adult with little confidence. Can’t you see that? You need to find someone who’s gonna back you up, tell you when you do a good job, and support you in everything that you do. And it’s not me, because I think you’re a whiney ass bitch most of the time.
“Thanks Violet,” I whisper. “Life’s hard without them. I think I’d be a better person if they were still here.”
But then you wouldn’t need me. Now get to work so we can go home and see this Dan character. I’ve changed my mind, the guy’s got potential. I like a man who’s not afraid to fuck a silicone foot.
I grin and walk to class, allowing Violet to place one more important fact in my head.
Hey Enivid, that’s your name spelled backward, and according to the Urban Dictionary it means you’re very influential, powerful, and wise, with a vast amount of knowledge and you have great confidence in yourself. Everyone knows the Urban Dictionary is the best source for information, so put that in your pipe and smoke it.
When in doubt, look to your crazy inner voice for the answer.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Dan and I are becoming the couple that people find utterly annoying and over-the-top-barf-o-licious. I made a mental note the other day when he mentioned we could discuss hockey or anything my little heart desired, so I have on my father’s replica Pittsburgh Pirates hockey jersey. It’s a conversation starter and a test to see just how familiar Dan really is with the sport. If he knows anything at all about the Pirates, a team that went out of existence in the ‘30s, then my father would’ve fallen for him as much as I have, so I guess this is my way of getting my father’s approval without him actually being here.
Dan’s in the same jeans he had on the other night and a black tee, and when he sees my shirt the grin on his face fills the room. He opens his entryway closet door and rummages through a pile of hats, finally pulling out one that’s yellow and black, placing it on his head. And no, it’s not the yellow and black Pittsburgh Pirates baseball team hat, it’s the actual logo from the ‘30s hockey team.
He’s the one.
Those were my father’s words that entered my head for a split second, and then I look over at his book collection and can picture my mother smiling and saying the same thing. I used to laugh at my friends in college who just knew when they found the guy they were going to spend the rest of their lives with, like it was that easy. They said I’d understand when it happened to me. I think it just happened; you just know. You feel it.
He’s the one.
After a long kiss, I’m led to his backyard where smoke is billowing from the sides of his grill. We sit in lawn chairs and wait for the meat to cook, me in my hockey Jersey, and Dan in his hat, a total cutesy couple that reminds me of the matching Han Solo outfits we wore last week to the mall.
It’s another gorgeous spring night and for the first time since last fall, I hear someone mowing the lawn. It’s one of those push mowers that most families used back in the ‘50s, and it makes perfect sense to have them in this new urban community where the yards are the size of a living room. Dan turns on the radio, a top-forty pop station, and my foot bops to Beyonce.
“I should’ve asked if you like hamburgers,” he says, handing me a soda.
“I’m an American girl. Give me burgers, fries, and an apple pie and I’m happy.”
“No fries tonight, how about some Fritos?”
“Same thing,” I respond.
He flips the meat, then closes the grill and sits next to me. I put my feet on his lap and he slips off my white Keds, massaging my feet for a few minutes while the meat continues to cook. I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist my feet. His hands travel under the cuffs of my jeans, above my ankles and up my calf. It’s fucking incredible to be in a relationship again. God, what a feeling.
“So when am I going to find out what’s wrong with you?” I ask, half jokingly.
“Soon,” he says, reaching for a plate and the hamburger buns that sit on a small table in front of us. He lowers my feet gently to the ground then turns off the grill and hands me a piece of beef.
“Soon? So something’s coming?”
“Maybe something, maybe nothing. It depends.”
“On what?” I squirt mustard and ketchup on my burger and take a bite. It’s delicious. My man can cook.
“It depends on if you can separate fiction from reality.”
“That’s not easy for some people,” I say.
“What about you? Can you do it, or not?” He eats his burger while I think, even though I already know the answer.
Violet’s my fiction, but she’s also reality, so for myself fiction is never untrue.
“What you and I have in our heads may be true to us, but it could be fiction to the guy next door,” he says. “And what he believes to be true may be for him, but it’s not our reality.”
“Wait, don’t get all philosophical on me. I know what’s going on here. You’re ending it. If you want to break up, you don’t have to brainwash me into believing that you’re some fictional character I created in my head. I’m not that fucked up.”
He laughs and drinks his soda. “I have no plans on breaking up with you, Div. You asked what was wrong with me and I hinted that it depends on how you view the world. What one person would find wrong with my life and personality, another person might adore, so the question was turned to you.”
“Oh... mmm. No, that’s not what you said. You asked if I could separate fiction from reality.”
“Yep. Exactly. What you like about me, and the things you can relate to will be the reality in our relationship, and the surreal and bizarre characteristics you don’t get we’ll say are fiction. And fiction’s not a terrible thing, so it all becomes positive.”
“You’re an oddball sometimes.”
“Call me an oddpuck,” he tips his Pirates hat.
“And a total cheeseball too,” I laugh.
“Call me...”
“I know,” I cut in. “A cheesepuck.”
“My beautiful woman catches on quickly. Another burger?”
I shake my head, still working on the first. I don’t know what the fuck he just said, but it sort of made sense, a little sense. I wonder if he’s stoned.
“Do you smoke?” I ask.
“Smoke what?”
“Smoke anything.”
“I have, but not in years. How about yourself? Is Divine Hallowell the university’s supplier, bringing in a brick each week to sell to the college students?”
“No,” I laugh.
“But you have?” he asks.
“As I repeat your words, I have, but not in years.”
I watch as Dan takes pleasure in his meat like a man. Sounds stereotypical, I know, but he’s sexy when he eats, gripping the bun tightly and taking large bites, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand while he chews, and then diving in for more. If I weren’t in the starry-eyed phase of our relationship I’d probably nag him to use a napkin, but since my heart’s just beginning to bloom; nothing really bothers me.
“See that bird building a nest in my back pine?” he asks as he passes me the bag of Fritos.
“It’s pretty. Do you know what kind it is?”
“A Kingbird. They build in that tree every year, and I only wish I could warn them about the neighbor’s cat who’ll be around in another month or two to eat their babies.”
“Uh, ug. I’m not a fan of animals roaming the neighborhood. The cats hunt the baby rabbits and the birds, and the dogs leave brown gifts in my front yard. And then my heart breaks when I come across the poor things on the side of the road after being killed by a car. It’s tragic. If you own a pet, you should take responsibility for it, like you would a kid. I wouldn’t let my child leave brown drop-offs in my neighbor’s yards and I certainly wouldn’t allow it to toss furry a
nimals in the air then bite their necks and rip their intestines out, not when it has a bowl of food at home.”
He laughs. “I won’t debate that with you, Div. But animals and children are not the same.”
“I think half the population would disagree with you. If I ever brought home an animal it would be my child,” I say.
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who would dress her bulldog up in a pink tutu?”
“Sounds personal.”
“My mother,” he nods, “just wait ‘til you meet her dog Tillie. She has her own bedroom and yeah, a dresser full of outfits. My mother even puts her in pajamas each night and brushes her teeth before bed.”
“That’s a good thing. You’re supposed to brush an animal’s teeth.”
He puts up his hand, not wanting to hear another word that I’m siding with his mother.
“I’d much rather live in a world full of people who treat their animals with love and kindness, even if they dress them in silly outfits, than hear about all the abusive situations that take place.” I whisper, needing to get my two cents in.
He holds my hand and I can tell by the tender squeeze it’s because he’s in silent agreement with my last words. There are worse things than dressing an animal in a t-shirt that reads Bone to be Wild.
“Speaking of birds, Dan.” I look down at his shirt, interested in the story behind his tat. “Crows remind me of Edgar Allen Poe, but what’s your fascination with them?”
“You’re thinking of a raven not a crow, and what’s wrong with being reminded of Edgar? He was brilliant with words. A great storyteller.”
“I don’t have anything against Poe, or birds, but I’m curious about your choice... and I thought crows and ravens were one and the same?”
“Ohhh,” he cringes. “You’re talking to a guy who’s a bird lover. No, they’re not the same. Ravens croak and sound like a frog with a chest cold. Kraaa-kraaa.”
I laugh at how realistic it sounds. “You’ve practiced that.”
“In the shower,” he nods. “And crows have a strong and brassy caw-caw call. It reminds me of a trumpet.”
“Hmm, okay. So is the tat of a raven or a crow?”
“Neither, it’s a blackbird,” he grins. “You finished eating? Anything else I can get you?”
“I’m good, it was delicious, and thank you. And don’t think I didn’t notice your attempt to change the subject.”
“Tell you what.” He pulls me over to his chair and guides me to sit on his lap, my legs straddling his thighs as we face one another. His hands sneak under the hockey jersey and up to my breasts, pushing my bra away so he can feel my flesh. “Take me for a drive in your truck, up the dirt road to our secret place, and then I’ll tell you about my tat.”
I lean in, my lips an inch from his. “Is that a trick to get in my pants when we’re alone in the woods,” I whisper. “Or is it a line to get a free ride because you’re out of gas and low on money?”
We kiss, both of us trying to hold back smiles and then laughter, as he picks me up with my legs still wrapped around his body and carries me inside, locking his backdoor after we enter.
“Shouldn’t we clean up?” I ask.
“Nope. My crush on your truck takes precedent and I’m sure you can feel my erection twitching for it. You’ve got an F-150 from the ‘80s with the original and classic kick-ass red and white paint job. I bet it even has the original tape deck in the dash.”
“Yep, kicking it old school. I inherited the truck after my grandfather passed away a decade ago. It was when my father was just teaching me how to drive, and it’s the only vehicle I’ve ever owned. I plan on keeping it forever.”
We’re halfway through his living room when he stops and sets me down. I know the look on his face since it’s one I’ve seen a hundred times from my friends in college.
“You really lost everyone, didn’t you? I can’t believe you’re all alone.”
“Come on,” I take his hand and pull him to the door. “You can drive. Let’s have a night of fun, not of dreary memories.”
He grabs his house keys, locks his door, and runs after me as I climb into the passenger side of my truck.
“Here.” I hand him the keys from my front pocket. “No tricks, no donuts, or hot dogs, or whatever people call those things.”
His eyes close as he listens to the revving sound of the engine.
“Dan?”
“This is awesome,” he says, pulling away from the curb. “I promise to treat your truck with the same respect I have for you, to love, honor, comfort, and cherish it, from this day forward, forsaking my Cherokee, keeping only to the F-150 for as long as she will run.”
“Jesus Dan, you want me to leave you two alone so you can get it on?” His cheeks are red with excitement. “I’m a bit jealous that you proclaimed your love for my truck before me.”
“No worries, Div. Your time will come,” he jokes.
He’s careful driving, just like he said he would be, staying under the speed limit, approaching stop signs slowly and keeping both hands on the wheel; even when I slide my hand along his leg, he reacts with a smile, but his eyes remain on the road.
“You pass,” I say. “You can drive her anytime you’d like, as long as I’m allowed to see her once in a while, like on the weekends and holidays, summers would be nice as well... hey, do you have a destination in mind. I thought we where going to our secret spot to... you know.”
“You wanna suck face?” he laughs. “How about IKEA instead?”
“What?” I stare at him like he’s insane. “First of all, how did you go from touching my tits, to wanting to go up that dirt road and make out, to IKEA? You’re definitely changing the subject about the blackbird. And secondly, it’s two hours away.”
“So what.”
“It’s after seven o’clock. We’d get there when they’re closing.”
“Yeah, but we can find a hotel and make out all night then wake up and eat an IKEA breakfast, and then shop.”
“Dan?”
“Huh?”
“Where did you come from?” His idea’s crazy, but I fucking love it... I’m tempted, so fucking tempted. “Regretfully, I have to work in the morning,” I frown. “I’m trying to be a responsible adult this week, my job’s on the line and I have an email to take care of later tonight.”
“Just this week you’re trying to be responsible?”
“One day at a time,” I whisper.
“Can you leave? Quit? Get out of that place if... I know it’s easy for me to say because I work from home, but you sound so unhappy whenever you mention it. I wish I could help.” He looks over as he speaks and then sets his eyes back to the road.
I want my shadier side to take over and push me into playing hooky and running away with him for a night. My underwear’s wet from him mentioning the hotel, alright, I’ve been in heat for hours thinking about him and not just now because of the hotel. I want to take this a step further tonight, but not in another town. “Can I have a rain check for the overnight trip?”
“But...”
“But I’m not passing on the sex.”
“Fuck, what am I, some male escort to you?” He’s horrible at hiding a smile.
“Yes. Driving my truck is worth at least an hour of pleasure, don’t you think?”
The paved road we were on just turned to a stone drive and I’m suddenly bounced around as he takes us into a wooded lot, deep into a wooded lot.
Hell, Div, I don’t care if he’s going to fuck you in the woods or show you where he keeps a pile of bodies, anything’s better than a two hour drive to shop for a bunch of shit you don’t need.
You’ll never understand the importance of spending time with another person, Violet. Quality time. I want to go, but I have to send that email to Richard, and I can’t take another day off from my job. My department’s about to explode, or implode.
Oh good, there’s a house. Hopefully there’s a bed so you don’t have to fuck i
n the mud. Wait, what do you mean I don’t understand the importance of spending time with someone? What the fuck? I spend quality time with you every day.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“My parents’ property. The house is on your right, try not to laugh. And just so you know, I’m not avoiding your question about my tat.”
It’s pretty. A small brown ranch probably built in the ‘70s with the front door and shutters painted red and a one-car garage. Simple, but I don’t see anything to laugh about... oh... no... wait.
Dan pulls around back and my mouth drops open at the display in his parents’ yard. Holy shit. I giggle at first, which is a rare occasion for me, I’m not a giggler, but it comes out that way since I’m trying my best to hold in the laughter. Not gonna happen. I burst into a full-bodied laugh, almost in tears at the sight.
His parents have wooden cutout replicas of him and his sister around the property. All at different ages in their life; frolicking in the garden, standing next to the garage, holding rakes, oh shit, hanging out buck naked next to a small pond. And I thought his silicone foot was surreal. Whoa.
“I was only kidding, Div, you can laugh your ass off. I do whenever I look back here. Ridiculous, aren’t they?” He gets out of the truck and opens my door. “My aunt’s a painter, a portrait painter, and my mother requested a painting of Bridgette and me every year since we were born. Unfortunately this is what she came up with. These things.” He leads me into the backyard and I see more at a distance.
“I can’t believe how realistic they are, she’s incredible.”
“Yes, too bad she couldn’t have painted a portrait of us on canvas to hang on the living room wall like a normal artist.”
“That one of you by the pond is, uh, interesting.”
