Sinful Abandon

by Jeannine Colette

  “Where are we?” I ask, looking around at the kids playing ball in the street.

  The sun is still bright, as it is in the summer evenings, making me happy I changed into shorts and sandals.

  Ryan waited outside my building while I got dressed. When he saw the orchid-colored high-waist pleated shorts that look like a skirt and the matching tank I slipped on—paired together, they look like a dress—his face lit up all too appreciatively.

  We turn a corner. Lush trees of green line the streets, stretching to the other side and connecting to one another like lovers.

  “Since you got to change, so do I.” He stops in front of a modest house with blue siding and a white door.

  “This is your house?”

  The front door is open, light laughter sounding from inside and somewhere in the back. A woman in the front window is talking to a young girl with long brown hair. Both have striking blue eyes.

  “You live with your parents?” I didn’t mean for my tone to sound so accusatory.

  “Not everyone leaves home at sixteen. It’s normal for people to live with their parents. At least, around here, it is.”

  There is a loud ruckus of cheering coming from the backyard. I tilt my body to see what is going on.

  “That’s my family,” he answers my unasked question, walking up the stoop.

  “Family?” I swallow with the question. My stomach drops, and my feet don’t leave the cement walkway.

  “Uncles, cousins—you know, family,” he says. Then, he pauses. He turns around, his mouth parting as he inhales slightly with the realization.

  Ryan walks back toward me, stopping just inches away. His hand rises and grazes my cheek. The feeling of warm skin on mine sends a lightning bolt of electricity down my spine.

  “Hey,” he speaks softly, “I’m just running in to change. If you don’t feel comfortable, you can wait out here. Though I’d feel better if you came inside with me. You can wait in my room. Whatever you need.”

  His thumb runs a light circle on my skin. I look up into his handsome face and fall deep into the cobalt. His tender look consumes me, making me want to crawl into him like a warm security blanket. If he knew how his touch made me feel, how a single caress of his hand comforts me, how a hold while dancing makes me feel secure…

  It feels like home.

  The sound of a storm door closing breaks our moment.

  We look over and see a man and a woman standing on the stoop, looking surprised. The man is tall, like Ryan, with a full head of dark hair and dimples to match his son’s.

  Ryan places a hand behind my back and escorts me to the couple who meet us on the sidewalk. The woman, who I presume is Ryan’s mother, signs to Ryan.

  He replies, “This is Heather McCallister. She is the senior producer.” Then, he continues to sign something to her, which causes his mom to hit him in the arm with the wooden spoon she has in her hand.

  I squeeze my lips together to keep from laughing.

  “Hi,” I say. Immediately, I feel stupid. They can’t hear me. Idiot.

  “Hello,” his mother says.

  My eyes dart up in surprise.

  Ryan lets out a small laugh. His mother starts rapidly signing to him and motioning toward me.

  Not wanting to get hit by his mother’s hand or her spoon again, Ryan darts to the side, closer to me, and says, “Heather, these are my parents, Jenny and Fred Pierson.”

  I wave again, not saying anything.

  “You can talk to them. I’ll translate,” he says.

  “How do I know you won’t change what I said and make something up?” I ask him.

  “Because he knows his mother will kick his ass,” his mom speaks and signs at the same time. Her words are spoken from the back of her throat. It’s slightly difficult to understand but manageable.

  I let out a laugh at her statement.

  Ryan shakes his head with a smile. “Remember how I told you how hard it was growing up with deaf parents? They read lips. It’s awful!”

  His mother hits him with her spoon again, and I cover my mouth to contain my laughter.

  His dad starts to sign, and Ryan translates, “I don’t know how you put up with my son. Smart-ass, this one.”

  “He’s a hard worker. The brightest intern I’ve ever had on staff. You must be very proud,” I say.

  Ryan pauses in signing for a moment, seeming surprised by my compliment.

  “My son was supposed to go pro,” Ryan translates what his mom signs. “He was City Player of the Year in high school and First Team Conference Player of the Year at Northeastern.”

  I smile and nod to his mom, wondering if it bothers Ryan to have to talk for his parents, especially about himself.

  “Then, he hurt his foot, and his career ended. I’m happy he’s found a new passion. I was never crazy about football. Always praying he wouldn’t get hurt. But, now, he has a new path, and we are so thankful you have taken him under your wing. He says you are the smartest woman in television.”

  My head shoots toward Ryan, surprised he talks about me to his parents.

  “Mom,” Ryan says. Then, he starts signing to her without speaking his words.

  His mom voraciously signs back while his dad curiously eyes me.

  “Fine,” he says. He turns back to me. “My mother would like me to invite you to stay at our house for dinner.” Ryan says out of the side of his mouth, “I already told her we have plans. Besides, I’m trying to impress you, and a night with my family is not the answer.”

  His mother hits him in the arm again.

  “Quit it, will you?”

  Fred takes me by the arm and escorts me away from Ryan and his spoon-wielding mother. “Come, stay for one game,” his father speaks, his speech less intelligible than Jenny’s.

  I follow the man down the driveway.

  Ryan goes into the house to change, and I am brought into a backyard full of celebration with people talking and laughing. There’s a long table in the center where a group is sitting down, playing a dice game. In the back is a barbecue with another table filled with food next to it.

  Fred walks me over to a girl, about eighteen years old, with long brown hair and bright blue eyes, and he signs to her.

  When he’s done, she instantly shouts, “Ryan brought a girl home!”

  Her words cause everyone in the backyard to stop what they’re doing and look my way. I offer a pathetic wave.

  She grabs my arm and pulls me into a hug.

  “You must be Aubrie?” I guess, my arms hanging on the sides of her.

  “I’m Andrea. Nice to know the lughead talks about us. Come, meet the family.” She pulls me toward the big table.

  “I’m not staying long. Just a few minutes.”

  The crowd has gone back to enjoying themselves.

  I take in the tiki torches and lanterns decorating the backyard. “Is there a special occasion?”

  Andrea shrugs. “No, this is just a typical Friday night,” she says. Then, she stops for a second. “You’re just as pretty as he said you were.”

  My face heats. I fear I’ll turn bright red. “Ryan said I was pretty?”

  Andrea’s face lights up, her smile wide and bright. Then, she turns to the table of people playing a dice game. “This is Ryan’s boss, Heather.”

  The group looks up.

  “Supervisor,” I correct.

  An overweight man with a Jimmy Buffett shirt is the first to speak, “My supervisor doesn’t look like you.” He laughs as the woman next to him hits him in the side.

  “Cut that out, Hal. Don’t harass the girl,” she says to him.

  “What? My supervisor is a fat sack of—”

  “All right, old man. Respect the lady,” Andrea says. She pushes someone from the table and then ushers me toward the chair. “Sit here.”

  “No, I’m good.”

  “Please, sit,” Fred says.

  I find myself having a hard time saying no to him.

  He signs to A
ndrea.

  She looks down at me and asks, “Dad wants to know what you’d like to drink.”

  “Nothing for me. I’m not staying long!” I shout toward Fred. I feel like people are silently laughing at me.

  Fred picks up a beer from the table. He points to it and then makes a thumbs-up. His head is bobbing, looking for a yes.

  “Yes, that’s perfect,” I answer.

  Andrea leans down and places a hand on my shoulder. With her other, she points to various people around the table. “Heather, these are our cousins—Nancy, Gia, Quinn, Mila, Amanda, and Brody. Uncle Hal and Aunt Maria. That’s our neighbor Glen and my other uncle—John. Over there”—she points to the barbeque area—“are Uncles Bill and Tony and their wives, Sarah Jane and Leora. More cousins—Jack, Lucy, and Stacy. And my dad’s friends from the Knights of Columbus—Gene, Frank, Mike K., and Mike P.” She looks around the yard to see whom she’s missing. “Oh, and that mess by the cooler are my friends Lisa and Anne.”

  “And this”—Hal holds up the three dice—“is Left Center Right. Have you ever played?”

  I shake my head as he places three dollar bills in front of me.

  “What’s this for?” I ask.

  “It’s your ante. This is entirely a game of chance. You make no decisions of any kind. Just roll the die.”

  Hesitantly, I take the dice from him and roll them into the middle of the table. The letters L, R, and a dot appear on the dice.

  “That’s good,” Andrea says, shaking my shoulders. “The L means you hand one of your dollars to the left, the R means you give one to the person to the right, and the dot means you keep one. As long as you have a dollar in front of you, you’re in the game.”

  I hand one dollar to Nancy and another to John.

  The dice get passed to Nancy, who rolls. She gets three dots. Everyone yells at the table that she fixed the roll.

  “It’s been a long time since Ryan brought a girl home,” one of the cousins—I think her name is Mila—says.

  “She’s wearing a ring, moron,” Quinn says as she rolls the dice. She gets R, R, and C.

  The C means she has to put a dollar in the center. That dollar is now in the winner’s pot and out of play for the rest of the game. Her other two dollars get passed to the right.

  “Still, it’s nice to see him bringing someone home, other than that whore, Maxine,” Mila says as she takes her turn.

  “They were on the fritz before everything happened,” Aunt Maria says.

  “Bullshit,” Andrea utters from behind me. “She was just sticking around to see if he was gonna go pro.”

  Fred walks over and places a beer in front of me. I take a long swig of it and listen in on the conversation around me, getting whiplash from keeping up with the family banter.

  “They dated for a year. That’s a long time to devote to someone, only to have them dump your ass as soon as you get hurt,” Hal says. Then, he hollers when he gets C, C, and R. “Goddamn it!”

  The dice come around to John. He has to give me two dollars. I roll the dice and take my turn. Then, I pass the dice with three singles in front of me.

  Jenny comes over and places a platter of chips and dip onto the table. The cousins start diving into the salsa. Jenny signs to Andrea.

  She signs back to her mom as she says, “We were just talking about Maxine.”

  Jenny makes a pissed off face and then sticks her finger in her mouth, like she’s gagging. The table laughs.

  “She was no good for Ryan,” Andrea translates for her mom. “They didn’t have that connection. He’d walk into a room, and she wouldn’t even look at him.”

  “Oh, hell, I haven’t looked at Hal in years,” Aunt Maria says with a laugh.

  Hal pats himself on the gut. “Good thing. I’ve changed quite a bit over the last twenty-five years. Just keep on thinking of the guy you married on your wedding day.”

  Jenny shakes her head. “When you are in love, especially young love, you’re supposed to look at them like they are the only person in the room. When they speak, your heart races, and when they touch you—oh, when you touch—it’s like fireworks exploding on the Fourth of July,” Andrea speaks for her mom.

  I take a long drink of my beer. The cold bottle gives me something to feel, other than the words Jenny just said. I remember Ryan saying his parents were firm believers in love. I’ve just never heard anyone speak of it so beautifully.

  I clear my throat and play the game.

  “I leave her for five minutes, and you wrangle her into a game of LCR?” Ryan’s soothing voice comes from the background.

  He pulls up a chair and sits behind me, maneuvering himself slightly next to his Uncle John. He’s changed into blue cargo shorts and a beige crew neck T-shirt. His hair is styled back in a loose yet perfect way. He smells like a fresh shower.

  When I look back toward the table, I see Jenny has a knowing look in her eye, directed toward me. Her brows are raised, and her mouth is quirked up.

  “Looks like you’re the ringer.” Ryan motions to the money in front of me and places a hand on my knee.

  My current, the river inside me, flows with his touch.

  “So, Heather, when is the wedding?” Aunt Maria asks.

  Lost in the feeling of Ryan’s hand on my skin, I have to think about what she just asked me.

  Yes, the wedding. Why does everyone want to know the answer to this question?

  “My fiancé hasn’t picked a date yet.”

  Hal makes a cackling noise. “You’re waiting for him to pick a date? That’s the girl’s job. The groom just shows up.”

  I fake a smile. “We haven’t gotten around to planning. The engagement just happened. We’re…settling into that. Getting our paperwork in order.”

  “Paperwork?” Hal asks curiously.

  Ryan saves me. “Heather is swamped with work. She’s brilliant at what she does.”

  I roll my eyes. “I don’t think the staff would agree.”

  “That’s who I heard it from,” he says.

  I twist around to face him.

  “You’re the best senior producer they’ve ever had. Before you came, the show was gonna be canceled. You saved it.” He takes my beer off the table and starts drinking from it. “They’re thankful for you. You just make it hard for them to show their appreciation.”

  I blink at Ryan a few times. Being appreciated by the staff is the last thing I expected.

  “Your turn.” John hands me the dice.

  I roll them and get three dots. The table erupts in cheers and jeers.

  We’re toward the end of the game. Most of the dollars are piled in the center. Only a handful is floating around the table. We continue to pass the dice to whoever has bills in front of them, all while talking and joking. His family is fun and welcoming in a way I never expected. No one thinks it’s odd that Ryan’s engaged supervisor is here. No one questions why he is sitting so close to me or why he becomes overly excited when my chances of winning this silly game become greater.

  This is what a family is like. What a home sounds like. It’s warm, a place a person could easily become accustomed to remaining.

  The game becomes intense. I even find myself getting enthusiastic about what other people’s rolls are going to be. Dollars are passed left and right, and more are being placed into the center.

  It comes down to me and Nancy. We each have a single dollar in front of us. If she gets a dot or an R, the game continues. If she gets a C or an L, the game is over, and I win.

  Everyone starts banging on the table, like drummers. The movements make the table bounce.

  Nancy blows on the dice, says a prayer to some saint, and then rolls them onto the middle of the table.

  “L!” Ryan screams.

  Everyone throws their hands up and yells.

  “You won,” he says, his hands on my shoulders, shaking me.

  I won a grand total of thirty-three dollars, but they’re applauding like I won the lottery.

&
nbsp; When I look back at Ryan, his face is full of happiness. A simple happiness for my simple win. A huge smile breaks out on my face at the sight of him.

  We decide to stay for another hour. I talk to some of Ryan’s cousins, who are curious about the show we work on and how they can get into television, and Ryan’s aunt, who wants to travel to New York and asked for restaurant recommendations. Every once in a while, I find myself looking over toward Ryan, who is playing with younger cousins or talking to a neighbor. Each time I look his way, he instinctually lifts his head and gives me a smile.

  On a swing in the backyard, Jenny and Fred Pierson are sitting and swaying. Fred’s arm is around Jenny. Her hands are holding both of his, one on her shoulder and the other on his lap. Her head is leaning into his shoulder as they look out onto the yard filled with friends and family. They’re not talking. They are just two people sitting in complete silence, enjoying the warmth of each other’s touch.

  Jenny sees me watching her and Fred. She rises and walks over to where I’m standing. She gently asks the cousins to leave, but Maria stays behind.

  “I want to talk to you without my son watching. He’s a nosy bastard,” Maria says for Jenny. Then, Maria adds on, “I agree.”

  I smile and then look toward Jenny as she uses her hands to form meaningful words.

  “I met Fred at school, here in Chicago. We were the only two deaf kids in a building of a thousand students. When we met, I wasn’t hoping to fall in love. I just wanted a friend. And I got that from him. To be able to speak without outside influence, just listening to what the other is saying, you get to know a person more intimately than ever.” She smiles, her eyes crinkling on the sides. “Many people look at the deaf community as if we have a disability. But what they don’t see is our ability to love deeper than imaginable. When Fred places his hand in mine, I feel his pulse racing through his veins. When he holds me, I can feel his breath on my skin in a way most people ignore. To love is not just to go through the motions. It’s to feel every emotion. If you don’t have that with the one you’re with, then you’re missing out on the greatest gift this life has to offer.”

  A love as she describes, the way she has with her husband, sounds amazing. Beautiful. Unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed in my lifetime. A love I know I’ll never feel.