Blackbird: an Online Romance

by Fran Seen

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded as she cracked open the bay window.

  “Getting faded before Dad wants to share his disappointment,” Minnie called back, looking over her shoulder at me like I’d asked a ridiculous question. She puffed a billow of smoke out of the window and offered me a hit. I grabbed the blunt, stalked over to her bathroom, and flushed it down the commode with Minnie hot on my trail. “What do you think you’re doing?” she threw my previous question back at me.

  “Sit down. We’re drawing up your business plan,” I pointed at the bed. “You’ve made me endure your lectures and illustrations for over a decade. It’s time for you to pay your dues.”

  As I continued to draw on the dry-erase board, Minnie sniffed the air. “You do know that’s a permanent marker, right?” she asked, reclining back on the hoard of lace throw pillows.

  “Whoops,” I shrugged, sinking down in the bed next to her. After a few more notes, I offered her my illustration.

  * * *

  “What kind of game plan is this? The first step is to get rid of my pot?” Minnie pointed at the timeline and shook her head. “And I can’t quit the firm?”

  “Yes and yes. Does your supplier exclusively buy the skunk spray strain or something?” I asked, scrunching my nose and cutting my eyes over to her closet, considering a raid but thinking better of it. “Stay at the firm and help Dad, use your social networking skills to showcase your photography and advertise your services. Once you’ve got a substantial cushion and workload, tell Dad to find another partner. It’s that simple.”

  “Oh yeah, easy-peasy,” Minnie rolled her eyes and groaned. “Dad is going to scold me every day I walk into the office and remind me that I’m making the wrong choice.”

  “No, he’s not,” I said with confidence. “You’re Minnie Marie Drummond: bad-ass photographer, sub-par attorney, and accomplisher of all things. You’ve got a focus comparable to a light saber, concentrated and willing to cut anyone in half who stands in your way. It’s scary. I’ve never seen you fail at anything, besides that one time you tried to grow out your eyebrows. They looked like caterpillars on your face,” I bit my lip and grinned at her. “But even then, that’s not really a failure, because you demanded that your body grow excessive amounts of hair, and it obeyed.”

  We giggled in unison and found ourselves smiling for the first time in a long while.

  “Okay,” she nodded and extended her hand. “I’ll do it. I’ll stick to the plan.”

  “Okay,” I ignored her hand and wrapped her in a hug.

  I spent the next few hours learning about my sister. Minnie was a total stranger to me. I discovered details I never knew about her, like how she fell in love with her English 1101 professor in college, Steve, and ended up getting pregnant. After peeing on a stick, Minnie didn’t call Dad. She didn’t call me. She didn’t call her roommates. She didn’t call Steve. She wandered over to Planned Parenthood alone, endured the heckling of protestors, and got an abortion.

  “I would’ve gone with you,” I cringed, thinking about my sister making such a heart-wrenching decision on her own.

  Minnie waved me off. “It’s done. Me and Steve were over before we even started. Steve would’ve made an awful father and husband,” she sighed, running a hand through her glossy hair. “He cheated on his wife with me, after all.”

  “Oh God,” I cringed even harder, trying to imagine how the smartest person I knew managed to stumble into such an unsavory situation. “He sounds like a bonafide douche canoe.”

  “Total douche canoe,” she concurred. “Your turn to tell me a secret.”

  “Fine,” I said, flicking through my memories for all of the embarrassing and shameful actions I’d ever committed. The list was long. It was a toss-up between the time when I let my best friend pierce my belly button with the sharp end of an earring and ended up with a staph infection, or the time I stole Dad’s car and went for a joy ride at age thirteen. I cleared my throat, “One time I—”

  Minnie’s phone rang, and we both lunged at it.

  “Charlie?” I answered, getting to the phone first.

  “You live in a castle, ogin,” a familiar husky voice said over the phone.

  My mouth dropped, and I dragged Minnie off the bed by the elbow. We stared out at the front lawn through the already cracked bay window. Amongst the perfectly manicured sod and identically trimmed holly bushes stood my wildflower—the devilishly handsome, rugged mountain man, Charlie Blackbird.

  My legs trembled at the sight of him.

  Minnie waved down at Charlie, and I stood there, open-mouthed and gawking like an idiot. “I’ll distract Dad,” Minnie said, beaming at me, then whipped around, grabbed her laptop, bounced out of the room, and shouted down the stairs: “Dad, help me decide which face tattoo I should get!”

  I blinked several times to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. “Put the phone down and get out here, bearslayer,” Charlie demanded. I didn’t need to be asked twice. I tossed Minnie’s phone on her bed and scrambled down the stairs, bursting out of the front door and into Charlie’s open arms.

  “Did you just sniff me?” Charlie asked, smirking down at me as I wrapped my arms around his neck and planted a lingering kiss on his warm lips.

  I glanced at his truck parked in the street. “I might have,” I admitted. He smelled like pine and bar soap and a touch of man-sweat. His lips curved, and without warning, he dove his nose into my hair. I squealed at the sudden intrusion.

  “Now we’re even,” he said in a low voice. His eyes cut across the yard, scanned the neighborhood, then he wiggled his eyebrows at me. “Are you going to invite me in, or are the neighbors about to get a show?”

  I creaked open the front door, and we tip-toed up the stairs, careful not to draw attention away from the heated argument taking place in the kitchen.

  “You think I won’t be able to find stable employment with a face tattoo? Think again, Grandpa!” Minnie’s voice boomed through the house. From this day forth, I would be eternally indebted to my sister.

  I grabbed Charlie’s hand and tugged him up the stairs, beckoning haste, but he was too busy taking in the sights of my home. He fixed his gaze on the mammoth portrait of nine-year-old me and twelve-year-old Minnie staring back at him from the top of the stairs, in which we stood stoically, staring at the camera with displeased expressions, dressed in white gowns, like something out a horror movie.

  “Come on,” I pulled on his arm, trying to get him to budge.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Charlie mumbled in an almost-whisper and took a step forward, then turned back to get one last look at the portrait. “It’s just that…you both look so constipated.”

  “We probably were,” I pressed my lips together to mute my laughter, thinking back to the day the photo was taken. Minnie and I were beyond displeased about having to pose for a creepy camera man, while wearing frightening Victorian night gowns. Plus, Dad only knew how to cook boxed macaroni and cheese back then. We didn’t have a varied diet full of fiber, so Charlie was most likely correct on the constipation front.

  We’d barely crossed the threshold of my bedroom before Charlie’s hands crept around my waist. I locked the door behind us. His golden eyes dropped from my face as his hands trailed down the sides of my body, and he said, “This is mine.”

  When our mouths reunited, I couldn’t stop myself from kissing him any more than I could stop the earth from spinning or the wind from whipping outside my window. “Say it, ogin,” Charlie pleaded against my lips. “Say you’re mine, and you can have every last piece of me.”

  Tearing my mouth from his, I found his smoldering gaze and braced myself against him. “I love you, Charlie,” I told him, absolutely certain. I’d been afraid of admitting the degree of my affection ever since I left the Boundary, because muttering the words gave him power.

  Power to hurt me.

  Power to break me.

  Power to make me happy.

  I didn’t
dare look away from him. The whirring ceiling fan did little to blow the heat from my skin. I watched his eyebrows come together and the smile widen across his face as he said, “I love you, too, Dolly.”

  My dress pooled at my feet without me noticing how it managed to get unzipped. Charlie whisked me up in his arms, and we crashed on top of the bed. As he ground his hips into me, my lips collided against his, and my tongue invaded his mouth.

  I wanted more. More of him.

  Without breaking eye contact, I jumped to my feet, shimming his black fitted t-shirt over his head, pausing only to run my hands across his muscled chest, then trailing down to unbutton his jeans and tugging them off with his boxer briefs.

  And then my eyes drew lower.

  And lower.

  “You’re so good-looking,” I smacked my forehead with my hand and stood back, willing myself to tear my gaze from his waist to his face. Providing me with only a moment of gawking, Charlie grabbed my legs behind the knee, in one, swift movement, I was on my back. As I wrapped my legs around Charlie’s waist, he tossed me a smug look, but before I could scold him, he snatched my panties off in one forceful tear.

  Charlie moved his hand between my legs, and I groaned deep into his throat. Pressing my hips into his, he rubbed himself against my entrance, and I responded in a series of whimpers, snatching a fistful of his thick hair and pulling him to me. We both gasped as he entered me without breaking eye contact, spurring my arousal with his slow, torturous movements.

  As his hips thrusted between my legs, I heard myself moan, unable to control the sounds escaping my mouth. He silenced me with his lips, and his tongue teased mine, halting only to groan into my mouth.

  “Shhh. Good girl,” Charlie tucked a strand of hair behind my ear as he pumped faster and held his finger over my lips. His chest rose and fell as he panted. “Touch yourself while I fuck you. I need you to cum around my cock,” he growled into my ear, glancing down to see that I obeyed. “No, don’t look away. Look at me.”

  With one hand on his back and the other petting myself in sync with his thrusts, I found it impossible to look away as our bodies synchronized with every movement. I bit my lip as the pace of my fingers matched his increased speed. His eyes bore into mine when I clenched around him, experiencing the most powerful orgasm of my life. The intense, all-encompassing fulfillment sent me over the edge, tingling all the way down to my toes. Charlie smothered my mouth with his hand as I reached my climax, so no one could hear me. As he spasmed inside of me, I muffled his groans with my hand, relishing in the delicious agony of his twitching cock.

  Making love to Charlie was the most beautiful thing I’d ever experienced. As we kissed each other, our whimpers subdued.

  “How are you even here?” I breathed, staring at our reflections in the bathroom mirror, both as naked as the day we were born.

  Charlie hugged me from behind, and he laughed against my collarbone, “You said you wanted to talk. From personal experience, I happen to know the best talking gets done in person. I texted you for your address, and since you sent me a text back, I figured you were expecting me. Are you happy to see me?”

  God damn, Minnie was a sneaky snake, texting Charlie back with our address and not breathing a word of it to me. “Yes. I’m happy to see you,” I closed my eyes as his breath tickled my neck. Without warning, he bent me over the sink and took a few steps back, his erection bobbing with every step.

  “I’m happy to see your ass isn’t bruised anymore,” Charlie smirked, dishing out a series of spankings on my backside. I snatched the towel off the rack and proceeded to chase him around, popping him with the end.

  After we dressed, I gave Charlie a tour of my room, and he inquired about every photo, book, and trinket, filling in the vacancies the internet had created from time and distance.

  “What’s this?” Charlie uncovered a photo album from underneath the stack of law books on my desk and began to flick through the pages.

  “Oh,” I blushed. More than four years had passed since I’d last opened the album. “I used to take pictures of every cemetery I visited.”

  Charlie made himself comfortable, sitting in the desk chair, and pulled me onto his lap. “Will you narrate?” he asked, handing me the album.

  When Minnie knocked on the door an hour later, Charlie had the decency to blush a little and smooth down my hair. Minnie barged in with a bunch of empty cardboard boxes, looked Charlie up and down, and introduced herself.

  “Nice to meet you, Charlie,” Minnie beamed at him, glancing between us. “I’m Dolly’s sister, Minnie.”

  Charlie smiled back at her. “Dolly’s told me a lot about you. It’s great to finally meet you.”

  Minnie’s eyes widened, and she lowered her voice, “Has she really?” Charlie nodded, and a full-on, toothy grin spread across my sister’s face. “Don’t believe a word of it.”

  Without asking, Minnie began loading the contents of my drawers into a box. “What do you think you’re doing?” I questioned, snatching a handful of underwear from her and slamming the drawer.

  She tossed me an innocent eye flutter and answered, “Helping you pack.” Minnie threw down the box and hovered at the entrance of my room. “By the way, Dad’s downstairs, and he wants to have a family meeting. It’s bad, Dolly. He’s surrounded by buckets of Kentucky Fried Chicken. He hasn’t KFC’ed this hard since you got your first period.”

  “Oh my God,” I croaked. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

  “Girls,” Dad called out from the dining room when he heard us trotting down the stairs. His eyes doubled in size as he spotted Charlie rounding the corner. Charlie introduced himself, and they exchanged a firm hand-shake, followed by one of those weird arm-pats and another handshake. Dad wasted no time at all. “Thank God, I’m no longer out numbered,” Dad breathed, then instructed me to retrieve an extra plate for Charlie.

  The dining room table, which we hadn’t sat at since Christmas 2003, was covered in red and white buckets of KFC, filled to the brim with crispy chicken pieces and surrounded by trays of flaky buttermilk biscuits, green beans, and mashed potatoes. Dad even picked up a gallon of sweet tea.

  “Dad, it’s ten o’clock,” Minnie surveyed the food, snatched a drumstick from the bucket, and lowered herself into a chair. “Functional families don’t eat dinner at ten o’clock.”

  Dad threw his hands in the air, causing his head-to-toe windbreaker ensemble to shimmy and shriek with friction. “Minnie, you have tested me all day. Sit down, shut your mouth, only speak when spoken to—” Dad ordered, and before I had time to snicker, he directed his fury at me. “You. You sit down, too. I better see you eating this nice meal I’ve prepared.”

  I obeyed, realizing Dad meant business, because he had his navy windbreaker pants tucked into his tube socks. I piled food on my plate and scanned the room for Charlie, who stood in front of the marble fireplace with his hands on his hips and was staring at another large portrait of me and Minnie. Photographed the same day as the one upstairs, the dining room portrait’s theme was safari. Minnie and I wore sand pants tucked into tall boots and white linen shirts. The photographer took creative liberties to photoshop me riding on the back of a growling male lion and Minnie relaxing on the back of a zebra.

  “Another one?” Charlie whipped around and directed the question at me and Minnie.

  “Dad’s client couldn’t pay the attorney feeds, so he paid Dad in shitty portraits,” Minnie told Charlie through a mouthful of biscuit.

  A barely audible oh escaped Charlie’s mouth before Dad interrupted. “Minnie, what did I just say? I don’t want to hear you talk. I don’t want to see you talk. I don’t want to think about you talking,” Dad said, exasperated. “Charlie, do me a favor and sit between these two girls. I watched my own children attack each other today, in an office established in 1852, passed down through my family, starting with my great, great grandfather.”

  Charlie wedged himself between us at the rectangular table, and I sc
ooted my plate in front of him and handed him a napkin. Dad leaned against the opposite side, rubbing his forehead, as I’d seen him do numerous times, right before lunging into his closing statement in court.

  “Let’s clear the air,” Dad sighed, glancing up at us. “Are any of you pregnant?”

  “No,” all three of us said in unison. Charlie dove into a chicken leg and asked me to pass the tea.

  “Are any of you struggling with your sexuality?” Dad cringed, sweeping his gaze across the table. “This is a judgment-free zone. You are free to speak your mind without repercussion.” He cut his eyes at Minnie, “Except you. Think before you speak.”

  “No, Dad. I’m not gay. Obviously, Dolly isn’t either,” Minnie folded her arms across her chest and sunk into her seat lower.

  Dad nodded, pleased with our answers. “Very well, then. Who here wants Obama to serve a second term?”

  The room fell silent.

  Dad paced across the white carpet. “Forget I asked,” he shook his head in disgust. “Are any of you in trouble with the law, terminally ill, or swimming in debt?”

  I eyeballed the table as I filled another plate with food. “Nope,” I answered for all of us.

  “Excellent,” Dad began to nod maniacally while rubbing his hands together. I looked over at Charlie to see how he was handling our weird family gathering. He munched away at a piece of chicken and didn’t seem to have a care in the world. When he caught me staring at him, he gave me a shrug and a wink.

  “We can fix this,” Dad smacked his hand on the table and pointed at my sister. “Minnie, I’ll start with you. I’m sorry for telling you not to go to art school and encouraging you to go to law school instead. I wanted a sure-thing for you. I wanted you to have financial security and a successful career. I wanted my daughter to be a winner. All Drummond’s are winners.”