by Joyia Marie
“So you like it baby?” Aiden said, slipping his arms around me from behind, his chocolate voice rumbling in my ear. He calls me baby, an offense, I would have ripped out any other man’s tongue forward and from him I find it cute. Okay, it's official, I’m smitten as one of my romance heroines might say.
Which would be okay as so are all the other females in my family. Even Mrs. Gunderson. She met Aiden when he was with me when I went to get the kids, one Friday afternoon when they were out of school.
Harold was at work and she had the kids that morning, but I agreed to get them in the afternoon and keep them that night. Harold would be taking them after the game to give Aiden and me a Saturday night together. My hours were flexible, but Aiden had the whole Monday through Friday groove going on so I work around him.
Anyway, Mrs. Gunderson met Aiden, took one look at him, and nodded in approval. “Big man, strong,” she said in her broken English, “like Mr. Gunderson.”
My eyes widened at the rare mention of the elusive Mr. Gunderson. “Oh, so Mr. Gunderson was a big man?” I said casually, hoping to parlay this tidbit into an exchange of information. Mr. Gunderson has fascinated me for years. Who was he? Where was he? Did he exist?
“Yes,” Mrs. Gunderson said and gave me that darkling look again so I left it alone. Therefore, all I learned was Mr. Gunderson whether real or imaginary was a big man. As well he should be. As I said, Mrs. Gunderson is a big German woman. Weaklings need not apply.
Mother met Aiden before she left for her latest adventure. South America again, I think, and Raphael is on speed dial in case she runs into trouble with her guide again. She should be fine as her agent now sends her out with teams of guides, as he should have been the whole time. The cheap bastard.
Aiden invited mother and me over for one of his delicious home cooked meals. Then dragged all of Mother’s war stories out of her about her travels. Mother was in love and thought Aiden would make a logical progression from Harold.
“Just a hand-fasting, darling, none of that pesky marriage stuff. With a hand fasting a divorce is built right in. A year and a day, darling, a year and a day,” which answered the question of why mother has been so casual about her dalliances.
According to her religion, she’s been divorced for years and I’m not a bastard. Now what the rest of the world might think I haven’t inquired too closely. I’m Helen Dudley, I’ve used that name all my life and I’m too old to change now, so whether or not I have a legal right to use that name is not up for debate.
During dinner mother did her own dragging and found out that Aiden was an artist. Well nothing would do but a trip to the third floor and his studio. Mother is a rare artist in she doesn’t respect private space, but then again she doesn’t expect it either.
As long as you pay attention to the light over the door and don’t ruin her prints, she has an open door policy on her dark room, when she used to have one. The reason I grew up looking at my mother by the red light in a dark room.
Vivian toddled up the two flights of stairs as if it was nothing. All those days of tramping up and down mountains had served her well, my mother is in awesome shape. She marched into Aiden’s studio and started ripping covers off canvases.
Aiden stood at the door with an indulgent, nervous look on his face. I thought he was okay with this since he had one of his pieces displayed over his gas fireplace. Then a picture of a beautiful red haired woman was unearthed and then he moved.
‘Not this one,” he said, moving it to the side after throwing the cover back over it.
Mother gave him a long look before going back to her uncovering. Soon she had about ten canvases uncovered. She looked them over carefully without saying a word. Aiden was twitching like an addict in line at the local methadone clinic.
Finally, she said, “very nice,” she said with approval. “If you ever decide you want to sell, let me know and I’ll set you up with an art agent I know.”
Then she left and went back downstairs, probably looking for another glass of Aiden’s Piesporter. That is our wine, Aiden’s and mine. Other couples have a song or a movie, we have a wine. Hey, it works for us.
Aiden stood there dazed for a minute, then started covering up his work again. I silently helped him as I could tell he needed a moment to process. We soon had the room put to rights and he looked at me. “Was she serious?” he asked, his voice sounding like a kid asking if there really was a Santa Claus.
“Yep, if she said she meant it,” I said, thinking about the email I just got from my father. Vivian had hailed him on Facebook and blessed him out about me. She ended by giving him my email address and telling him ‘stop being a lily livered coward and write your daughter’.
So he did and so we’ve been exchanging emails. It’s been slow and tentative, but I think we’re on the way to something. I doubt a true father-daughter relationship is possible, but we can have something. Time will show what.
Aiden still stood there with the same stunned expression on his face so I walked up and put my arms around his waist. He and I were still on the no touchy no feely program, but he looked like he needed the touch of a friend. The fact I enjoyed it as well was just a happy accident.
“Surely you know how talented you are?” I asked softly, looking up at him.
He looked at me with vulnerable eyes and said, “how do you know, you know? My family and friends have seen my work and they say it’s good but they’re not art people and they love me so they’re not going to say it’s crap. But your mom, Vivian Dudley? Man, that’s deep. I’m going to have to think about this,” he said then let me go. I sighed, missing his warmth, but I knew it was for the best.
He stood there staring into space and I looked around to make sure everything was back in place. He had many canvases, which told me he was prolific. How prolific I didn’t know because I didn’t know what time frame all these painting represented, but he had the basis of a decent show, if he decided to go that way.
Then I saw the hastily covered canvas and asked, “is that her?”
“Hmm,” he said absently, his mind still on my mother and her offer. “Is that who?”
“Her, the woman who made you so skittish about women?” I asked looking at the covered canvas.
My look was quick but I remembered the woman as being beautiful. , I look okay and I clean up good, but this woman was on a whole other level. She was almost unearthly in her beauty. I could see Aiden and her as a couple.
“Yeah,” he said dismissively, “but I don’t want to talk about her, right now,” he said, slipping his arm around me. I leaned into his warmth and felt his desire press against me.
“Okay,” I said with a sigh as he cradled me to him.
‘You know, I’ve been thinking…” he murmured into my ear.
‘Okay,” I said breathlessly, “about what?”
“Well,” he said slowly, “you know how we can’t do everything because you’re still officially still married…”
“Yeah, I said slowly wonder where this was going. We had had this discussion and even though it frustrated us to no end, we were on the same page.
“So we haven’t been doing anything…” he said in a low smooth voice.
“Yeah,” I said my eyes slipping closed so I could enjoy this rare moment of closeness.
“I’ve been thinking there’s a lot of room between everything and nothing…” he said slowly, whirling me around so I was facing him. “You know stuff like this,” he said before putting a soft kiss on my neck.
I shivered at the kiss and tried to remember why it was so important to wait. My kids, yeah, that’s right my kids. But how would the kids ever know, my ho of a libido said.
Before I could marshal an argument for my libido or Aiden, my mother called up the stairs and we shot apart like kids caught dancing too close at the prom.
“Um,” I said and looked at Aiden helplessly. He shook his beautiful head at me and grabbed my hand to lead me downstairs. With my mother in the hou
se, there was no everything or something, there was just nothing.
“Baby,” Aiden said, pulling me back to the present. I realized I was staring at my brand new king-sized bed as if it was the Promised Land or the gates of hell, depending on how you look at it.
“I think we need to go back down,” I said, pulling Aiden toward the door.
‘Baby…” he said, stopping me.
I looked up at him and sighed. He was so gorgeous and so mine. Well parts of him were mine. He still had a whole lot of unconquered territory. But I wouldn’t be planting any new flags tonight. Damn it.
“Yeah,” I said in a decidedly sulky voice.
Every since that night my mom has seen Aiden’s work, we had done a lot of exploring of the difference between everything and nothing. Yeah, something is better than nothing, but now something was getting frustrating. We had tiptoed up to the line quite a few times, so many times I was probably closer to a Catholic virgin than a saint.
However, we had always managed to not step over. Then again, we don’t fool around on a bed. Now couches, cars, chairs, walls, and floors are fair game but beds were out. Sleepovers were definitely out. I found I was looking as forward to sleeping with him as in actual sleep as I was sleeping with him as in actual sex.
He lifted my chin and smiled at my pout. I know I’m the older, not that we’ve discussed how much older, but right now I felt like a frustrated teenager. Why couldn’t I have met him when I was free? Then I thought about the last six weeks and I knew I wouldn’t trade that for the world.
He and I had gotten to know each other in other than the carnal sense. He plays a mean game of scrabble, the high holy game of the wordy set. He and I have been learning to cook Tex-Mex together. It’s been nice.
However, not all sunshine and roses. He has a temper, which is good as so do I. He’s Harold’s polar opposite in that he runs toward confrontations instead of avoiding them like Harold. Not that he’s a hot head, but he’s not afraid to speak his mind.
He looked, saw my resolute face and sighed. “I guess this isn’t a good idea,” he said with a sigh then followed me downstairs.
Once back on neutral territory we opened a bottle of Piesporter to celebrate. We like it better than champagne. After all champagne is not ‘our wine’.
“So have you decided yet?” I asked as I snuggled against his wide chest.
“Not yet,” he said, and I could feel his deep voice in his chest. “I think I need to try a few more pieces to be sure.”
I smiled and nodded. We were doing this for a month. I did take him to my storage unit, and gave him the nickel tour then I set out the pieces worth roughly the cost of my loft redo. Aiden fell in love with all of them and so the tryouts have begun.
He takes a piece, lives with it for a week or so, then he switches it out. I don’t mind, I actually think it’s great he loves my grandmother’s work so much. He did return the check so he’s welcome to take his time. I have a feeling in a while it won’t make a difference anyway.
I snuggle for a bit more while I finish my wine, then he and I start kissing and again try to discover just how close to everything we can come without going over. It’s frustrating, but I wouldn’t trade my something with him for everything with someone else.
Chapter Sixty: Helen
“So that’s it,” Aiden said, looking at the official manila envelope I held in my hands.
I know my hands were shaking because the envelope was shaking. I looked like I was waving it at him in triumph and I wasn’t. Not that I didn’t feel triumphant, well actually I didn’t.
Who can feel triumphant about admitting to the world that you were a failure? That you couldn’t cut it. When the going got tough, the not so tough got a divorce.
I know this is on Harold. Even Harold admits it’s on him, but still, it took two to get married so by that logic it takes two to get a divorce. Suddenly I wondered if I gave up too easily. Maybe if I had fought for Harold, like he wondered about that day in his office, we might still be together?
My eyes filled with tears and I suddenly felt like I had let everyone down from my mother to my kids. Why I felt that way when my mother had never married, hand fasting aside, I don’t know but there you go.
“Hey, hey, hey, what’s all this,” Aiden said, gathering me in his arms and carrying me to the couch. He snuggled me on his lap and I cried like a newborn. The whole time I hoped Aiden would give me a chance to explain before kicking me out of his loft.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I blubbered when I could finally form words. “I’m not sad,” I said through my tears.
Aiden looked at me kindly and said, “You’re doing a good impression of it. His kindness made me cry harder. Aiden lifted me off his lap and set me on his couch before walking out the room. That stopped my tears, as if he had turned off a tap.
Okay, I thought I knew I was a little over the top and I probably should have had this breakdown at my loft and not brought it over here. However, I just got the paperwork right before Aiden got home and I didn’t know a breakdown was imminent. My only thought was ‘thank God, now we can light this candle’.
Then I was ticked. Okay, yeah, I cried over my divorce being final, but not for the reason Aiden probably worked up in his mind. It wasn’t Harold I missed, it was the idea of being normal having a normal life. Even though normal had ended up being an illusion, but it was still a nice idea.
Either way, Aiden could have held me a bit longer, let me cry it out then let me explain. But that was too much to ask from Mr. never been married, but I have been hurt by a married woman so bear with me while I emote and get broody from time to time because now I’m involved with another married woman who I haven’t had sex with because her divorce is taking forever.
I swiped the tears off my face because in typical male fashion, there was no convenient box of tissue around. I would go to Sonya’s. Yeah, Dallas was a bit of a push for some sympathy, but better that then dumped on Aiden’s couch like an inconvenient house guest.
I thought about Denise but that had awkward written all over it. She had I had gotten close during the remodel and she called from time to time to show my place to a potential client. We had lunch and I introduced her to the joys of Raphael’s but I knew if push came to shove she’d back her brother over me. Even as an only child, I got that.
Okay, I thought Dallas, it is. I got up, grabbed the papers which seemed to signal the end of two relationships instead of one and headed toward the door. I had just grabbed the doorknob when Aiden said from behind me, “you going someplace?”
Which seems to be the question folk ask when I am holding a doorknob, first my daughter the night I left Casa Asshole and now Aiden as I prepare to leave Loser Loft. I smiled, yeah, that’s good, Loser Loft.
“Helen?” Aiden asked in concern and I realized I was standing there with a tear stained face and a smirk. No, not your usual combination of expressions, but hey, I just got divorced and lost my boyfriend, because I wasn’t handling the aforementioned divorce like a trouper so cut me some slack.
”Yeah,” I said as my smirk died. “I’m going home,” which would probably sound a lot more dramatic home wasn’t right next door.
Oh good on top of my divorce, I’d have to move as I really couldn’t stand to see Aiden every day and not have him especially now that I could have him. Ah well, growing up with Vivian I learned not to become too attached to places so I’d find a new place.
“Okay, why?” Aiden asked while I figured the logistics of moving out of a loft I just paid a lot of money to have renovated and that my mother hadn’t even seen her new dark room in yet but hey stuff happens.
“Um,” I said, wondering that myself since Aiden didn’t seem angry or disgusted or any of the emotions I had ascribed to him. He looked mainly puzzled and a tiny bit hurt. But he dumped you on the couch, my ever helpful conscious kicked in and then I remembered why I was leaving.
“You dumped me on the couch?” I said. It was su
pposed to be an accusation, but it came out as more of a question.
“Yeah, you looked like you had some stuff to work through and I didn’t have any tissues so I went to get some, but I got held up because all I could find was toilet paper. I could have sworn there was a box of tissues from the last time one of my sisters showed up upset, but I guess we burned though, so I brought you the toilet paper,” he stumbled to a stop and held up a roll of white toilet paper, like a flag of truce.
“Oh, okay,” I said and my eyes welled up again. What was wrong with me? This was it. This was the day we were waiting for and here I was doing my best Betsy Wetsy impression.
“Okay, okay,” he said gently as he tore off a hank of the toilet paper and dried my face, which I allowed. Then he tried to blow my nose, which I didn’t. Come on, I’m a mom. I’m the blower not the blowee. Therefore, I took the tissue from him, turned my back, and took care of business.
“You know I can still hear that, right?” he joked when I turned back around.
“Yeah, but we’ve already had an issue with one of leaving the room so I figured it was the safest way to go,” I said, my tone slight accusing. I get the tissue thing, but good grief, a little warning would be nice.
“Yeah, sorry about that, I guess I should have said something,” Aiden admitted, “but I guess I needed to do something for you and the only thing I could think of was tissue.”
I gave him a smile and dried the last of my tears. I took the sodden tissue in the bathroom and flushed it. I washed my hands and looked in the mirror. My eyes were swollen, what little makeup I wore was a memory and I still had a devastated look on my face. Oh, yeah, I feel sexy. Again, not so much.
I walked out, my resolve to leave renewed. I needed some time to process this and so sex was not on the menu tonight. Yeah, my libido was willing but my heart was not.
I wanted to be with Aiden when I was heart whole not heart sore. Maybe by tomorrow I’d know why this affecting me so much. I thought I was over this, processed, done.
