“Are you hungry?”
“Sure.”
“Stay for dinner?”
“That’d be great.”
She seems just as lost for the moment as I am, I decide to cut the bullshit. “Clarissa—”
She takes a tentative step toward me, keeping her voice low. “You know orgasms may be ninety-nine percent mental, but studies show that parts of a woman’s brain deactivate during an orgasm, especially those involved with emotion. This explains the ‘oh shit’ mentality women feel after.”
“You think I’m an ‘oh shit?’”
“I know you were before. I’m not sure what you are now.”
“Can I be a ‘hot damn!’ or a ‘hell yes!’ instead?”
We both laugh, and it dies just as quickly.
I close the space between us, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Take your time, Clarissa. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Favorite movie?” I ask, folding a pair of Dante’s jeans.
“When Harry Met Sally.”
Though I let impulse win yesterday, I’ve decided to embrace her ‘adult’ way of dating, using her dinner invite to my advantage to get to know her. She was nervous when we got home and dressed for me. I’m positive she’s thought plenty about it and I’m not about to fumble this chance. At this point, I know everything from the age she was when she got her first kiss to her favorite color—purple. Which I could have easily guessed because the bulk of the clothes I’m folding are a varying shade of it. She tugs the thong I’m fondling from my hands, just as I hold it up.
“Behave. And it’s a classic. Also, Sweet Home Alabama. It’s about a woman who’s torn between two different…” Her blush is unmistakable.
I lift a brow. “Go on.”
She hides behind the shirt she holds up. “I don’t think I will.”
“Then let’s watch it. After dinner.”
“I’ll pass. What about you, movies?”
“I’m more of an action movie guy. Mission Impossible, that kind of shit. And superhero movies.”
“I see. And music?”
“Rap, rock, whatever.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Just not old soul.”
“I like your favorite song.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say, lifting a purple bra which she snatches from my hand.
“Stop handling my delicates, Jenner.”
I exhale through my teeth, shaking my head.
“Yeah,” she smirks, “I know that was loaded. Look at you, growing up.”
“Don’t accuse me of that, you have no idea what was running through my head, Ms. A. There’s a ruler involved.”
She rolls her eyes, grabbing another shirt seeming lost in her thoughts before she speaks. “There’s this one song. I listen for it all the time. My mother used to sing it to me while we did the dishes. I can’t, for the life of me, figure out which one it is. It’s haunted me for years.”
“Man or woman singing?”
“Man. Like James Brown, but not James Brown. I remember in the middle of it, Mom always made me laugh. It’s funny how memory works. Maybe I’ve heard it already, and I just don’t recognize it anymore.”
“I’m sure you’ll know when you hear it.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“And your dad?”
“He was…” she twists her lips, “well, he existed in a universe of his own where the party never ended, and champagne and women flowed like water. He was a producer out in Hollywood, where he met my mother. She was going to be his next big star before she died. And when she did, he took a job in Austin as a promotor. I think his intention was to settle down and give us a more stable life. I guess you can take the guy out of Hollywood…” she sighs. “Anyway, I moved here to attend Grand and never left.”
“Did you have plans to leave after you graduated?”
She shrugs, and I can see in her eyes, our discussion is over.
Guilty, I lift a pile of Dante’s laundry in question.
“Second drawer from the top of his dresser.”
Walking down the hall toward his bedroom, I freeze when I hear his voice sound on the other side.
“Yo, what’s up, guys. Today for the first time on Legit Life, I’m going to answer all my comments. That’s right, haters, get ready.”
Freezing, I stand outside his door with a handful of his clothes as Clarissa runs into my back.
“Did you hear that?” I whisper.
I glance back to see her hand over her mouth to muffle her laugh, her eyes wide. Dante speaks up again.
“Let’s do this, so the first comment is from DeanBohanon700 of Rip audio. ‘I’m confused on what happened to the mailman.’ I know, buddy, I know. It was ridiculous. He got struck for nothing.”
I turn to Clarissa. “Do you have any idea what he’s saying?”
She shakes her head with a smile. “No clue. Techie stuff?”
I shrug.
Dante’s voice interrupts our confusion. “Okay, there’s another comment on the same video. LawrenceOppen243 says ‘ye.’ Uh, okay, dude. Ye, to you too.”
Clarissa grips the back of my shirt, leaning in.
“This one is on my video about my new merch. Comment says, ‘I ordered.’ Liar, I never got email confirmation. The next comment is, ‘I love Legit Life videos.’ Thanks for the support, bud.”
Clarissa is in hysterics at my back, her laundry dropped at my feet while I shush her.
“This next comment is for the kid who says I should use iMovie. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, kids, I’m never going to use iMovie, not in my lifetime.”
Clarissa’s still muffling her laugh in my back as I try to hold in my own.
“Okay, some kid said my sniffing during my video was disgusting. Hey bro, that shirt you were wearing on your video was disgusting. Burrrrn. So, guys, if you don’t like my videos get off my channel.”
Clarissa hums along with her music at the stove while I chop vegetables at the table, watching Dante while he plays in the yard with his drone. It’s been the perfect Sunday and more than I could have hoped for. Dante and I watched all three Spiderman movies back to back while Clarissa stretched out in her recliner grading papers. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt, being such a present part of their lives, and I hate the fact that I’m about to have to leave. And when I do, I’ll once again be watching from afar in my bedroom when she tucks him in tonight.
But I’ll take what I can get. I’ll toe the line. I’ll do whatever it takes.
The holidays are coming up, Thanksgiving mere days away, and it’s time to talk about how that’s going to go down. I lift the cutting board full of vegetables, hauling them into the kitchen ready to finally broach the subject when I hear Dante call from the porch.
“Who are you?”
“Dante,” Clarissa groans, turning the heat down on the stove. “This kid is the neighborhood watch.” We share a grin as she crosses the living room to get to where Dante stands at the door.
My whole body tenses when I hear the reply.
“Are you talking to me?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, I’m here to see Troy.”
“Troy? He’s over here.”
“Clarissa, wait,” I say just as she steps out onto the porch.
By the time I join them, I’m too late, Pamela Jenner is eye level with her grandson.
Sally’s Chicken & Dumplings
RN, North Dakota
Makes 8 servings
45 minutes
4 Boneless, Skinless Chicken Breasts
2 Tbsps Butter
2 Cans Cream of Chicken Soup
1 Box Chicken Stock or 2 Cans Chicken Broth
1 Onion – finely chopped
2 10 oz. Cans Flaky Biscuits – each cut into sixths
In a crockpot, mix together the chicken, butter, soup and onion. Cook covered for 5 to 6 hours on low.
Once cooked, remove and shred the chicken. Return the chicken
to the crockpot and stir well.
Add the biscuit pieces to the chicken and cook for an additional 30 to 45 minutes until the dough is cooked through.
This is a simple and easy dish and is great with a salad or fresh vegetables.
Clarissa
Two things are evident within seconds of laying eyes on this woman. One is that genes run strong in the Jenner family. Two is that she knows without a doubt she’s looking at her grandchild. Dish in her hands, she kneels down in front of Dante.
“I’m Pamela. Troy’s mama. What’s your name?”
“Dante.”
Pamela swallows. “What’s your last name?” There’s a rattle in her voice, and I can feel the swell of emotions rolling off her.
“Arden. Dante Arden.”
Pamela’s eyes lift to meet Troy’s, and I can clearly see the panic on his face.
“Mom, what are you doing here?”
“What am I doing…” she’s completely baffled by his question as the casserole dish shakes in her hands, “I brought you butterscotch pudding, but you live next door. You’re parked next door.”
“I do,” he says. “Let’s head over, okay?”
She’s beautiful, the years have served her well, and I make a mental note to get the name of her moisturizer at a later date, that’s if she doesn’t murder me on my front lawn.
Troy steps up to her in an attempt to usher her away as she looks back to Dante. She shoves the casserole into Troy’s stomach as Troy whimpers out a “Mom, don’t.”
“How old are you?”
“You’re funny,” Dante says, staring at her gaping mouth. “I’m six.”
“Six,” she says breathlessly before she looks directly at me. “And you’re his mother?” I nod, fear racing through me. I knew this day would come. I just didn’t think it would be today. “I’m Clarissa. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Jenner.”
“To meet me?” She looks over at her son. “I’m not sure we were supposed to meet.”
“Mom,” Troy pleads. “I need you to go next door, and I’ll meet you there.”
She lifts her chin, reading the guilt on both our faces. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Dante, go play,” I order as my stomach starts to churn.
“What’s wrong?” Dante looks between the three of us. “Troy, you in trouble with your Mommy?”
“It’s okay, bud. Just go inside.”
“Nothing’s wrong, Peanut,” I push gently at his shoulder. “Just go in, and we’ll be in in a minute.”
“I’m always sent to my room,” he grumbles. “Will you be here when I come back?” Dante askes Pamela.
“I don’t know.” She’s utterly devastated, and the guilt I feel at that moment is crippling.
I close the front door as Pamela faces off with her son.
“I would know that face anywhere,” she says as tears finally surface. “He’s the spitting image of you,” she whispers hoarsely. “He’s yours.”
Troy nods slowly, the look in his eyes a mix of fear and devastation.
“Tell me, son, tell me you didn’t keep this from me for six years.”
“Mom, I made a huge mistake.” Pamela cuts his explanation and glares over at me.
“Tell me you didn’t know I existed.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say as Troy grips his mother’s shoulders in an attempt to reel her back toward him.
“Mom, I lied to Clarissa. This is my fault. Put this on me. All of this is my fault.”
“I have a six-year-old grandchild, and no one told me?!”
“Mom, please, keep your voice down. He doesn’t know. We haven’t told him yet.”
Her eyes bulge. “You haven’t told him in six years!”
“Damn it, Mom! Stop it!” Troy snaps. “I’m going to need you to get it together, or you need to leave. Either hear me out or go.”
She looks over to Troy, furious. “You don’t talk to me like that!”
“I will when it’s serious. And I take this as seriously as you did. Now listen to me. I screwed up. I’m trying to be a better father. I’m trying at a relationship with him, and I can’t have you bulldozing in and—”
“Bulldozing? I didn’t even know he existed,” she says just before tears spill down her cheeks. Troy’s eyes close, and I can feel the crack inside him. I’m witnessing first-hand the damage I caused with my grudge. I want so much to blame Troy’s lie, but this heartbreak right here, it’s on me.
“Mrs. Jenner, I kept him away.” She looks over to me. “Troy lied the night Dante was conceived, and I kept him away. I’m partly to blame.”
“You kept my son away from his child? Why? Why would you do that?”
My voice is pathetic when I find it. “Because at the time, I was a new teacher, and he was a student in another school.”
She turns to Troy. “You lied about being a student?”
Troy nods.
“So you could bed her?”
Biting his lips, Troy nods again. “I didn’t think—”
“Jesus, Troy. No, no, you didn’t think. And now I have a six-year-old baby who doesn’t know his grandmother. I didn’t raise you this way!”
“Mom, please stop. Please. I swear I was going to tell you.”
“You’ve had years to tell me.”
“I kept him away,” I admit freely feeling the shift of her hurt shaping into fury. “I’m just as much to blame.”
“And I will blame you,” she says curtly, “but right now, I’m dealing with my son.” She turns to him spewing anger and hurt. “How could you? How could you lie to me for so long? That baby is partly mine too, is he not? I raised his father.”
“Mom, I just met him three months ago.”
Her eyes bulge. “How so?”
“Me,” I say with lead in my voice. “That’s me.”
“You kept him away from his child for six years?”
Guilt riddles me as Troy tries to reason with her.
“Mom, look. We can’t erase what’s happened, but we’re all doing so well now. You of all people know how hard it is to raise a child. She was just protecting him.”
She glares at me. “No one needs protection from you, Troy. That’s unforgivable.” She takes a menacing step toward me. “And just who in the hell do you think you are?”
“His mother, Mrs. Jenner, but I feel ter—”
“Call me Pam, we’re family after all, right?” she snaps. “I can’t, I can’t believe this. Why?”
When neither Troy nor I speak, she breaks down. “I’ll never get that time back. You realize that, don’t you?” She looks between us as her tears fall rapidly. “I’ll never get that back,” she cries as Troy tries to pull her into his arms. “How could you?” She says, crumbling as she pushes him away and then looks to me. “How could you?” My tears fall along with hers as Troy finally pulls her in.
All I can do is watch her cry.
Troy
My mother drives away and I look over to where Clarissa stands on her porch, a cup of coffee in hand. It’s been one of the worst fucking hours of my life, and I’ve never seen Clarissa so upset. Enduring my mother’s wrath, she went back and forth between begging for forgiveness and defending her decisions. I hate myself, I resent her, I hate the whole fucked up situation. For the first time since I came into their lives, I feel like I need some distance. We stare at each other for long moments, both spent from hammering out our mistakes. I’m unsure of what she’s thinking as she looks at me and I have no idea where we stand, or if we have any footing at all.
I’ve just broken my mother’s heart and fractured her trust.
And maybe if I’d have come clean with Mom sooner, I’d have a place in my son’s life. Mom would have fought for me. That’s the one thing I can’t stop thinking about. I may have taken advantage that night. But did Clarissa take advantage of the fact that I was young and naïve enough to go along with her selfish declaration that I didn’t get to be his father? Or was she so tainted by my lie that she genu
inely believed I had no place in his world? I can feel the distance growing between us as she stands there with tears drying on her cheeks. It’s then I feel the wall resurrect between us. But this time, I’m not sure who’s constructing it, and instead of consoling her, I throw my sledgehammer down and walk away.
Troy
Dante, ball, work.
Priorities.
I exhale the rest as I grip the bar in my hands and push off.
Three games left.
With any luck, we’ll get to the playoffs and snag a bowl game.
I push off again, wrestling with the weight of my load.
Finish the season, get an invite to the NFL Combine, prove my worth, get drawn in the draft.
Priorities.
No more distractions. No more stalking, obsessing, daydreaming, or fucking pining.
I can’t handle any more indecision when it comes to Clarissa. Instead, I’ve pushed harder than ever, taken a full second off my dash time, and used the gym as my punching bag. I’m not sure what I want anymore, but I am an athlete, and that’s the only thing that’s getting me through.
Lance spots me as I do another set of reps.
“What’s good, man? How’s the BM situation?”
“Everything’s coming out smooth,” I grit out.
“I’m not asking about the integrity of your daily shit, Jenner.”
“Keep my count, man. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“That bad?” He lifts the bar as I finish my set.
I down the contents of my water bottle and wipe my mouth. “Too much water under the bridge.”
“She still giving you hell?”
No, she’s gone quiet, and I have nothing to say. We’re on opposite sides of the field, our son pulling us together on the fifty. My resentment is winning for the moment after each conversation with my mother.
“Nope, she’s…whatever. It doesn’t matter. I could be a fucking saint sporting a halo, and she still wouldn’t have it.”
Kevin takes that moment to add his two cents. “She’s got a rich side piece who wears penny loafers.”
The Underdogs: The Complete Series Page 43
