“We are nothing alike.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I’m with someone.”
“Break it off.”
“I’m happy with him.”
“Are you?”
I narrow my eyes across the small expanse of yard between us.
“Maybe he’s what you need, not what you want. What if I can give you both?”
“You assume too much and know nothing of my relationship.”
“Can’t be much of a relationship. He didn’t call or text once the whole time we were together tonight.”
“He’s busy, and we’re not exclusive. Not yet.”
“You know why guys don’t do exclusive at first, Clarissa? It’s because they aren’t at all serious about the relationship, but want all the benefits. You shouldn’t play into that. That’s fucking bullshit. You deserve so much better.”
“Says the guy who escorts a different coed out of his house every week.”
“It’s not all that often, and they aren’t you.”
I snort. “You can run lines all night, Jenner, I’m well versed in bullshit. Pretty words don’t work on me. Never have. If something happens, it’s because I want it to.”
“Believe it or not, I’m serious. If you were mine, I wouldn’t let an hour go by without proving it. Get back here and let me show you just how good we can be.”
“Troy—”
“Fine. Put the physical aside, it can wait. What if we do this right? Take our time. What if we work, what if we give Dante a real family?”
“Stop, okay, just stop. I’m with Brett. I’m hanging up.”
I end the call and see him hang his head before he disappears from the window. Gathering some clothes, I meet him at the door of my house. He’s angry, I can see it in the tick of his jaw as he takes them from me. “Thanks.”
“Troy, I’m sorry. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“I get it. You don’t think I’m good enough. It’s fine.” He drops the towel, and I can clearly see he’s hard. My jaw goes slack as I drink him in. Long, thick, and fucking perfect. That’s the best way to describe him. His body is a solid wall of muscle, every part of him masculine and worthy of worship, but the pissed off expression on his face is the biggest turn on of all, no matter how wrong it is. And it’s because I can picture the sex with him, the grudge fucking, and it’s tempting.
Following my line of sight, he glances down at his cock and smirks. “At least you know the attraction is mutual.” His tone is anything but playful. I’ve hurt him by shooting him down. He tugs on new boxers and then pulls up his sweats before gathering his costume from the floor. Breathless, I stand in the middle of the room as he glances at me with contempt before shaking his head.
“And women wonder why I don’t jump into commitment. Why I make my intentions clear. It’s because of this look, it’s because of these looks I get. My mother looked at my dad the same way. Either they’re afraid I’ll hurt them or afraid I won’t ever measure up to the daydreams they have of happily fucking ever after. News flash, maybe I won’t, maybe I can’t. I’m not perfect, but neither are they, and neither are you. But it’s expected of me somehow. To do the right things, say the right things.” He pulls his shirt down over his taut abs and draws my eyes away with his tone. “You and I may not be going anywhere, but I’m staying put. I’m not leaving my son. And I hope you hear me.” He walks over to where I stand and commands my eyes. “You keep punishing me for something you won’t let me apologize for, for something you won’t ever let me make up to you.” He rakes his teeth across his bottom lip. “But I want to, Clarissa. Oh, how I want to.”
Swallowing, I stand mute while his emotions fly around me. Emotions he’s hidden well. “Fuck it,” he says in a tone filled with ice. “I’m under enough pressure. Thanks for saving me from more.” And with that, he shuts the door softly behind him, and I realize I’m still holding my breath.
Troy
My supervisor, Steven, nudges me and I pull out my earbuds.
“Sup?”
“You going to work through your whole break?” I look at the clock and see I’ve missed half of my lunch hour. “Shit. Thanks, man.” I stop my place on the line and sub out.
Making my way toward the break room, I check my phone to see a text from Clarissa.
Clarissa: Okay, don’t ever tell him I showed this to you.
It’s four in the morning and way too late to reply, but I take a seat at the table with a sandwich in hand and click play on the video she sent.
I can clearly tell Clarissa recorded behind a crack in Dante’s door while he tried his best to follow along on a Fortnite dance. A few seconds in, I damn near spit out my sandwich, watching him jerk his body while my own body tenses because I’m embarrassed for him. It’s painful. My kid has absolutely no rhythm. He’s got no chance of winning any female over with those dance skills.
Knowing she won’t see my text due to the late hour, I respond anyway. We’ve pretty much been avoiding each other since I made a total ass of myself on Halloween, and I consider the text an olive branch.
Troy: OMG, that’s hilarious. I feel like a dick for laughing, but the poor kid has no rhythm. Sad emoji.
To my surprise, she replies.
Clarissa: I’m just as guilty. Can you dance?
Troy: What are you doing awake?
Clarissa: I usually wake up once or twice at night, it started when he was a baby, and I’ve never really gotten back to a regular sleep pattern. It’s a mother’s curse. So, can you dance?
Troy: I’m no Fred Astaire, but I’ve definitely got rhythm. Especially when it’s important. Winky face emoji
Clarissa: Ugh. Leave it to you to go there. Rolling eyes emoji.
Troy: My bad. Thanks for sharing the video. Our poor kid.
Clarissa: It’s so sad. I hate laughing at him, but it’s hysterical. Have you watched his others?
Troy: Yeah, it’s crazy how outspoken he is and totally different when he’s not on camera.
Clarissa: You think that’s something to be concerned about?
It hits me. She’s asking for advice or at least asking for my say about his well-being. It’s something.
Troy: Maybe he’s just more comfortable expressing himself on camera. I was shy when I was his age up until high school.
Clarissa: I can’t imagine that. Like at all.
Troy: It’s the truth. It might surprise you to know I had confidence issues. What about you?
Clarissa: I’m a pretty good dancer. I was on the drill team for a few years and then got bored. I had a healthy confidence growing up.
Clarissa: You there?
Troy: Trying not to picture you in tiny shorts kicking your legs up.
Clarissa: How’s that going?
Troy: I’m sporting a semi in the UPS break room, and I’m not alone.
Clarissa: You’re such a man.
Troy: Thank you. Want to send me a video of an old routine?
Clarissa: Goodnight.
Troy: Don’t go. I’ll behave.
Clarissa: I have to be up in three hours to teach American youth.
Troy: Do you like teaching?
Clarissa: Love it, but this level is hard. Hard to keep them interested.
Troy: I bet you’re a fantastic teacher. If I were your student, I’d sit up front.
Clarissa: Uh huh.
Troy: I would sharpen all your pencils for you.
Clarissa: Bang my erasers too?
Troy: Yep. Bring you an apple a day.
Clarissa: I hate apples.
Troy: How un-American.
Clarissa: Deal with it.
Troy: So, do you want me to try and teach him?
Clarissa: He won’t dance with me. Wouldn’t hurt to try.
Troy: That’s because you don’t listen to anything but old shit.
Clarissa: Don’t insult my tastes. I get my love for R&B and old soul from my mother.
Troy: How did she
die? You never said.
When she doesn’t answer for a full minute, I know I’ve overstepped.
Troy: You don’t have to tell me.
Clarissa: Heroin overdose. I wasn’t there.
I read her text twice. It’s nothing I expected.
Troy: Jesus. I’m so sorry.
Clarissa: It was a long time ago.
Troy: Still, that had to suck growing up without a mom. I can’t imagine life without mine.
Clarissa: That’s why I’m so careful about my choices with Dante. I can’t help but be overly cautious. I won’t mix over the counter meds. I’ve never even hit a joint.
Troy: I get it.
Clarissa: Gross. Let’s change the subject before I look like more of a square.
Troy: You’re a square for saying square. And no one can fault you for being cautious.
Clarissa: I rarely tell anyone that’s how she died. I usually say heart attack.
Troy: What did you tell Brett?
Clarissa: Heart attack. I’ll be honest with him at some point, but he comes from a well-to-do family. I don’t know why I lied. It wasn’t my habit. I shouldn’t be ashamed.
Troy: No, you shouldn’t.
Clarissa: I better go to bed.
Troy: Yeah. I’ve still got four hours left and then school and practice.
Clarissa: You shouldn’t have been Batman for Halloween. You’re living more of a Superman kind of life.
Troy: From you, that’s one hell of a compliment.
Clarissa: Don’t run with it.
Troy: It’s late, and I’ve caught you slipping when you’re vulnerable. I won’t read too much into it.
Clarissa: Don’t go thinking I admire you.
Troy: I wouldn’t dare. Sweet dreams.
Clarissa: Goodnight.
I can’t help myself, I smile for the full four hours of the rest of my shift for two reasons, the first being my baby mama thinks I’m Superman, the other is the fact that she’s not telling her boyfriend the truth about her past, but she’s revealing it to me. Maybe I need to try harder for something between us. For years I’ve watched with longing to hold my son the way she holds him in her arms, but now, now I’m imagining holding them both in the same possessive way. I went off on her without ever giving her a chance to grasp anything I was trying to convey. How could she have taken any words I said seriously with my hard dick swinging between us? I let impulse win. It was an immature way of revealing how I feel, what I want, by trying to seduce her instead of showing her what I am truly hoping for, not another shot between her legs, but at her heart. She is exactly the type of woman I should invest myself in. I need not look any further.
Lisa’s Luscious Lemon Cream
Vet Tech, Pennsylvania
Makes 3 cups
20 minutes
2 Eggs
1 Cup Sugar
1/3 Cup Real Lemon Juice from Concentrate
1 Tbsp. Cornstarch
1/2 Cup Water
1 Tsp. Vanilla Extract
1 Cup (1/2 pint) Whipping Cream – Whipped
In bowl, beat together eggs, 1/2 cup sugar and Real Lemon. In saucepan, combine remaining sugar and cornstarch. Stir in water. Cook and stir until thickened and remove from heat. Gradually beat in egg mixture. Over low heat, cook and stir until slightly thickened. Add vanilla and cool. Fold in whipped cream. Serve with fresh fruit. Refrigerate leftovers.
Very good with pineapple, strawberries, apples, grapes, bananas, and cantaloupe.
Clarissa
“LOOK, MOMMY! IT’S TROY!
Troy’s face graces the Jumbotron as the crowd stands on their feet, screaming their heads off, Dante and I included. It’s been one hell of a football game, and mostly due to Troy’s incredible plays. After being down by seven the whole second quarter, the Rangers came back kicking and screaming after halftime. Troy just scored another touchdown, one of two in the last five minutes, and this one included an impressive thirty-six-yard run that had him diving past the goal line. On the field, Troy’s a force to be reckoned with, and I can see the pride in his son’s eyes due to their association.
Briefly, I entertain the idea of telling Dante the truth about his father. How elated will he be when he finds out it’s Troy? Will he be upset? Will he be angry with me or the both of us? I decide I could never deprive Troy of that moment. It’s one he’ll get to share with his son. When the time is right, and I’m confident, I’ll give it to him.
Dante’s still screaming along with the crowd, his little fists in the air, the look on his face priceless. I pull him to me, hugging him fiercely as he cheers for his father. It’s not a moment I’d ever thought he’d have and emotions run rampant inside of me at the thought that if Troy sticks, I’ll have to share him forever. For so long, it’s just been the two of us, well us and Parker, and now the dynamic is changing. The selfish part of me mourns the loss, but most of me is happy for Dante. For the idea that he’ll finally have two parents and all that entails. A sort of peace washes over me then. I no longer have to shoulder it all alone. Troy is invested, it’s clear. I just have to believe he’s going to make good on all he’s promised. Seconds later, we appear on the Jumbotron, and Dante gives a thumbs up, shouting, “Go TROY!”
“Oh my God, he’s so cute!” Two of the girls next to us compliment while others around us vie for their shot at the camera. It’s no coincidence we’re on the big screen. I know Troy set it up. I’m thankful I put on a full face tonight and curled the hair beneath my toboggan. For the last few hours, I’ve felt a little like my old self, back in my element at a game at my old alma mater. And I know I have Troy to thank for this as my son squeals in my arms.
Our son.
Troy’s made it a point to eat breakfast with Dante every day. I don’t object, loving the stability it brings in their new relationship. This morning when he was running late, I found myself looking out the window to see if he was on his way, tempted to text. It’s happening, he’s become a part of our routine. But this relationship is between a father and his son. And I can’t for one minute let myself slip into believing we’re forming more than a co-parenting relationship. I don’t want to be angry anymore. I don’t want Dante to see the bitter grudge I hold against his father. I’m becoming more relaxed with this new situation, but some part of me is still fearful this could blow up in my face.
“Mommy, that was so fun,” Dante says in a sleepy voice from the backseat.
“You like football?”
“Yes! Troy is my favorite player.”
“He would love to hear you say that. You should tell him.”
“I will. You think he’s coming over tonight?”
“I don’t think so, buddy.”
“Why?”
Because he’s probably going to celebrate with a few beers and a blonde on each knee. “He’s probably really tired.”
“Oh, well, I’ll tell him at breakfast tomorrow.”
Thoughts of Troy’s celebration don’t sit well with me, but it’s pure ignorance to feel any sort of jealousy. First, I’m in a new relationship. Secondly, he’s been sleeping around since he came back into our lives, and that’s more of a turnoff than anything. That alone makes it impossible for me to believe he’s sincere about any sort of feelings he harbors toward me.
It’s not about you.
Pushing all those thoughts away, I dial Parker’s number. She answers on the second ring.
“Hey, you. I was just thinking about you.”
“What time is it there?”
“It’s noon.”
“Ah, good. I’m glad I didn’t wake you up.”
“I’m drunk.”
“What?”
“Yeah. I’m drunk.”
“What are you drinking?”
“Huangjiu, it’s like Sake but not Sake, and I just wrote another amazon review…this one is about a toilet cleaner brush.”
“What in the world?” I can’t help my laugh. Parker hates social media but uses product reviews t
o speak to strangers online about real-life issues. She claims it’s therapeutic.
“Would you like to hear it?”
“Of course.”
She ceremoniously clears her throat. “Here goes. Here I am in 2019 with four failed relationships, on the verge of thirty years old. I’m currently in one of the best cities in the world. It’s noon, I’m drunk and bitterly alone, so I’ve resorted to writing a review on a toilet brush. What can I say? It’s a great toilet brush. It cleans very well, getting all the marks left behind after drinking too much. The design of the brush is your typical looking brush with over 100,000 bristles and a handle large enough that you won’t be covered in toilet water that looks delicious to dogs but not humans. I thought it would be larger, kinda like I thought I’d be more successful in life than I am now. So now here I am, writing metaphors while listening to Radiohead about said toilet brush—that’s what I’ve got so far, what do you think?”
“I think you need to come home.”
“Don’t. I hear the worry in your voice, and I’m fine. Really. Just…”
Her voice trails off, and my eyes water.
“I’m just…lonely. I mean, I know I have you and that kid, but I want someone to spend my life with.”
“You’ll find him.”
“Yeah.” She doesn’t believe me, but I refuse to believe the opposite. Parker is far too special to walk through life alone.
“Are you still happy with your job?”
“Sure,” she says with a sigh. “I love it.”
“Then you’re exactly where you need to be. Just keep the faith.”
“Okay, pity party over. What are you and the munchkin up to?”
“We don’t have to change the subject.”
“Yes, we do. I’m sick of me.”
“I’ll never be.”
“Sake-to-me. What are you up to?”
“Cute. We went to Troy’s game. It was incredible. It reminded me of the best of times. I felt, I don’t know…nostalgic. Definitely made me miss you.”
The Underdogs: The Complete Series Page 38
