by Monica James
As we walk up the short driveway to the American Foursquare house, the four wide steps before me suddenly feel like four hundred steps. It’s a pretty home, with multi-color flowers hanging in baskets from the porch ceiling swaying lightly in the hot breeze.
As Jasper all but drags me to the front door, he presses the doorbell, and the heavy sound resonates in my belly and I begin to feel uneasy.
Loosening my hand out of Jasper’s hold, I rub my sweaty brow with the back of my hand.
“Relax, baby,” he says, looking over at me with a small smile.
That’s easy for him to say, however. Before I can think another thought, the door opens and we’re greeted by the smiling assassin.
“Oh, Jasper, you don’t have to ring the doorbell. This is your house as much as it is mine,” his mom says, stepping forward and capturing Jasper into a tight embrace.
She looks laid back in a loose flowing brown skirt, and a black t-shirt, which hangs off her small frame.
As I stand off to the side awkwardly, I notice his mom narrow her eyes at me over Jasper’s shoulder. It’s only for a nanosecond, and then it’s gone as she pulls out of his embrace, looking at me with a big smile.
“Hello, Ava. You look lovely.” She beams and opens her arms for me to hug her.
I am stunned. She is so not pulling this, ‘I’m happy to see you’ stint, is she?
As her arms open wider, I know she is. With no other choice, I step into her embrace and give her a small, distant hug. In a circumstance where I should feel warm and fuzzy, I feel the complete opposite.
I feel cold and distant.
Pulling out quickly, I give her a forced smile.
“Hi, Danielle, thanks for having me.”
“It’s not a bother, please come in.” She steps inside, holding the door open for us to enter.
Jasper latches onto my hand, giving it a small squeeze as we enter the dragon’s lair.
As we step inside, I smell a subtle woody fragrance. She’s burning some scented candles. I all but kick myself for not going with V’s gift suggestion.
Her home is lovely. The walls are a bright white, which contrast beautifully with the dark furniture she has scattered throughout the living room. The trinkets she has strategically placed around the room give her home a warm, welcoming feel.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” she asks, her cerulean eyes looking at Jasper and I.
I still can’t get over how her eyes can differ so vastly from Jasper’s. Her son’s eyes only reflect love, but hers, they only reflect hate, especially when they look my way.
Jasper shakes his head, his messy hair slipping over his brow.
“I know where the fridge is. You and Ava catch up.” He takes off, leaving me alone with the ice queen.
Clearing my throat, I feel awkward standing, so I take a seat on the itchy, chocolate colored sofa. I tuck my dress underneath me, and try to be as ladylike as possible.
Danielle follows suit and sits near me, looking just as uncomfortable as I feel.
She’s a short, slender woman. Not as short as me, but very small framed and petite. Her long brown hair reaches mid-back, and I notice she tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear inadvertently. Looks like I know where Jasper gets his nervous habit from.
Her face is hard and lined, and her mouth is pulled into a small frown. Her looks are so sharp and harsh, not soft and caring like her son’s. I can’t help but wonder how is he a creation of this person sitting near me?
The silence stretches out between us, and I smooth out invisible wrinkles from my dress, attempting to suppress my nerves.
So, this definitely is not a good start. I need an ice breaker, and thankfully, I remember my gift.
“I got you something,” I mumble, looking through my bag for her present.
“Oh?” she replies, slightly surprised.
“Yes, to thank you for having me over,” I answer as I finally find the wrapped present stashed under the junk in my bag. I hand it to her shyly, and hope to God she likes it.
Looking at it, she accepts it cautiously, like it might detonate. “Thank you,” she says. Finally she undoes the silk silver bow, and removes the white tissue paper.
Once she has uncovered the gift, she stares at it for a long while, her long brown hair covering most of her face. I can’t read the expression behind her blue eyes, as she has the perfect poker face.
Only when I shuffle uncomfortably does she meet my eyes.
“Thank you, Ava, this is very… thoughtful.”
Okay, is ‘thoughtful’ code for I hate it?
“What’s thoughtful?” Jasper asks as he strolls into the living room with a beer and a tall glass of ice tea.
I’m hoping the beer is for me because I need it.
Danielle holds up her gift. “Ava’s gift.”
Jasper looks slightly stunned, taking in the picture of him and his mom I stole out of his bedroom. It sits in a heavy mahogany frame, with a gold rimmed border.
He places the drinks down in front of me, and takes the frame from his mom’s outstretched hands. I eye the beer like it’s my salvation.
“You didn’t tell me you were doing this.” He smiles, looking at the picture affectionately.
Breaking my transfixed gaze from the beer, I look up at him.
“I’m full of surprises,” I joke.
“Did you break into my house again?” he questions, cocking an amused eyebrow at me.
Letting out a small giggle, I recall the last time I ‘broke’ into his house. I did have a key, so technically I didn’t break in.
Jasper hands the picture back to his mom, and gives me a quick kiss on the forehead before sitting near me.
“You’re the best.” He smirks, his bright eyes sparkling affectionately at me.
Returning his look, I give him a big smile.
At least someone likes my gift. Too bad it isn’t the person it was intended for.
“So, I better check on the chicken.”
Jasper and I break our love stare and I quickly stand, as Danielle is headed towards the kitchen.
“Let me help you.”
I slowly follow her. I would rather steer clear of the kitchen, as there are way too many pointy implements she can poke me with.
“No, please, Ava, you’re my guest. Sit down and relax,” she says over her shoulder.
I look back at Jasper, who shrugs and pats the couch cushion near him.
I’m torn.
As much as I want to stay with him, I feel obliged to help Danielle out.
When she senses my dilemma, she smiles. “I insist.”
“As long as you’re sure,” I reply, secretly breathing a deep sigh of relief.
“Of course.”
Danielle is headed towards the kitchen, but then stops and turns back around. She walks past me, heading over to the mantel. She places my gift on it, and adjusts it until she’s happy with the positioning.
I smile, touched that my frame is important enough to sit beside the other family portraits on display. However, that feeling is short lived when I see what sits alongside it.
Danielle takes a step back and looks at the picture, her hands clasped in front of her.
“Perfect.” She beams, and it’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen all evening. She gazes at the picture one last time, then excuses herself as she makes her way into the kitchen, humming happily.
Suddenly, I feel hot and claustrophobic.
My gaze is still fixated on the mantel. I storm over to it, just in case my eyes have deceived me.
Sadly, they haven’t.
I see red. Well, actually, I see Indie.
My beautiful frame is shadowed alongside a photo of Indie and Jasper. What the fuck?
“What’s wrong?” Jasper asks, picking up on my bad mood instantly.
But I can’t respond.
I am silenced by a teenage Jasper and Indie, sitting on Santa’s knee. I do a quick calculation from the date on the pi
cture, and realize this was taken when Jasper was sixteen years old. He looks grungy in a faded Nirvana T-shirt, with long shaggy hair which falls into his eyes. And Indie. Well, even as a teenager Indie looks like a whore.
“Ava?” he asks, walking over to where I remain frozen.
He looks at what has caused me to freeze up like the Arctic and sighs. I try to appear calm, but Jasper knows me too well. He reaches for my hand, which I didn’t even realize is clenched into a tight fist.
“I’m sorry about that,” he says, jutting out his chin towards the picture.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s fine,” I reply, trying my best to sound nonchalant, but failing.
“No, it’s not fine. I would be pissed if I went to your parents’ house and they had a picture of Harper on their mantel.”
I can hear his teeth grinding at the mere mention of Harper.
The combination of seeing Indie and hearing Harper’s name within the span of two minutes makes me want to puke, and I put my hands on my tummy, afraid I might throw up my lunch.
Is it nerves, or anxiety, or anger, or is it the… baby? The baby I have yet to tell Jasper about.
This is all too much and I need to take a seat before I pass out. Plonking down onto the sofa, I hug a beige throw cushion to my chest, staring off into the distance. I am a stone’s throw away from rocking backwards and forwards when Jasper sighs, standing in front of me.
“Baby, I’m—”
Shaking my head, I wave him off. “It’s fine, really. I’m just not feeling well.” Which is technically the truth, as this whole situation is making me feel sick.
Jasper’s head snaps up. “What’s the matter? Are you sick? Do you want to leave?”
As much as I would like nothing more, I can’t do that to him. “No, we’ll stay. I just feel a bit lightheaded because I had a small lunch,” which is true.
Jasper takes a step towards me and then stops. He spins around quickly, and grabs the photo of Indie and himself.
Looking up at him, curious as to what he’s going to do, he surprises me by opening up a cabinet drawer, and not so gently placing the frame inside. He then slams the drawer shut and dusts off his hands.
“The power of Jasper compels you,” he says, using the classic line out of The Exorcist.
I let out a tiny giggle and he rewards me with a big dimpled smile as he picks up my ice tea, handing it to me.
Damn, looks like the beer isn’t for me.
“Drink. There’s enough sugar in there to send you into a syrupy coma,” he says, sitting near me.
Taking a sip, he’s right, and I make an ‘I just sucked on a lemon’ face, putting the glass down on the stained coffee table.
“It’s not that bad,” I lie, as I feel my teeth disintegrating in my mouth.
“It so is.” Jasper lets out a deep throaty chuckle, which punches me straight below the belt. “I should really tell,” he says.
He then lowers his voice into a conspiratorial tone as he whispers into my ear. “My mom can’t cook to save her life. And I will apologize in advance if you choke on her Rubber Chicken, sorry, I meant Butter Chicken.”
I am so not listening to a word he is saying, as all I can smell is his unique scent, and feel his soft breath tickling my neck.
Jasper senses my desire and leans forward, kissing the side of my throat, just under my ear. I can’t stop myself as a barely audible whimper escapes me. But Jasper heeds it loud and clear as he nuzzles further into my neck.
“I was serious,” he breathes in between kisses.
“About… what?” I reply breathlessly, as his kisses are warming me from head to toe.
“About skipping dinner and heading straight for dessert.” He moves up to my chin, which he nips softly.
My eyes roll into the back of my head, as the feel of his wet mouth and rough stubble is driving me crazy.
“We… can’t,” I answer, only just getting the words out.
“Why not?” he questions, sucking on my earlobe.
“Be-because,” I stammer. But for the life of me, I can’t come up with a valid reason.
Suddenly I hear plates banging in the kitchen, and that is all the reminder I need.
“Because your mom has gone to a lot of trouble and I feel—”
Holy shit, he just totally tongued my ear.
“You feel what, baby?” he whispers.
At the moment I feel like I’m about to explode. “Bad,” I finally reply after finding my breath.
“After I’m done with you, you will feel anything but bad.”
He kisses the corner of my mouth, and I’m ready to blow this place and have my way with him in the backseat of his truck.
Sadly, he interrupts my plans of ravishing him. “You’re right.”
I almost pout. I don’t want to be right. I want to be sexually satisfied!
As I open my eyes, I witness his pupils are dilated with desire as he leans forward, his face inches from mine.
“But the only thing I’m hungry for… is you,” he says, wetting his bottom lip. “Dinner be damned.”
My breath catches in my throat and I claw into the edge of the sofa before I tear his shirt off.
I’m just about to reply when I hear a throat cleared quite loudly. I pull back quickly, slightly embarrassed to be caught almost riding Jasper’s lap.
Shyly sneaking a peek at him, Jasper looks anything but embarrassed. He looks mighty proud of himself, with a big mischievous smirk plastered across his rosy cheeks. He crosses his leg over his knee and leans back into the couch, pulling me with him, so I am snug into his side.
“What’s up, Mom?” he asks cheekily.
She looks at us, and I could swear she glances at the mantel for a fraction of a second. When she turns back, a deep scowl forms on her harsh face, and I shiver at the coldness behind her look. But it could be my imagination because Jasper doesn’t seem to notice it.
“Well, if I can interrupt you two lovebirds, dinner is ready,” she says. The scowl is readily replaced by a sickly sweet smile.
Jasper kisses my forehead quickly and stands up, pulling me up with him.
“Smells good.” He smiles walking past her, tightly holding onto my hand.
I, however, lower my eyes, totally embarrassed she caught us all but making out in her living room. As I pass her, I bravely peer up at her and am given serious stink eye.
What the?
It’s gone before I can analyze it any further, and again I question if I’m seeing things.
“I won’t be a minute. Jasper, show Ava into the dining room while I bring out dinner.”
Jasper nods and gives her a heartbreaking smile.
“Yes, Mom.” He happily leads me into the dining room.
I have never seen Jasper so content and relaxed, and I know the reason behind that is his mom. No matter what weird vibes I’m picking up from her, I have to try harder.
I have to do so for him.
However, as soon I look at the table settings, my resolve for trying harder plummets into a fiery ball of doggy doo.
Jasper’s mom has set the table quite oddly, and I know she has done so with intent.
There’s a setting at the head of the table with a beautiful goblet of Red, which I’m presuming is where Danielle will be sitting, judging by the lipstick stain on the rim of the glass. To the left of her china, is another setting which has a beer set in front of it—Jasper’s seat.
Now the oddity of this is where I am meant to sit.
No guessing where.
She has set my place at the other end of the table, facing her. Yes, I am at the head of the table. But I am at the other end of the table where I am far, far away from her and Jasper.
Me, against them. Well her. Okay, not at all awkward.
Jasper looks at the table arrangement and scoffs.
“What the hell? She’s probably had one too many wines,” he says, eying the table arrangements distastefully.
I chuckle uncomfor
tably because I know she did this deliberately. But I don’t say anything, as I’m contemplating escaping this train wreck of a scenario, like pronto.
He walks over to my setting and picks up my plate and cutlery, placing it down next to his. Giving him a sheepish smile, I take a seat, silently praying this will be over soon. He sits near me and rests his hand on my knee, giving it a light, reassuring squeeze.
Danielle comes out, hands full, and halts when her eyes fall to where I’m sitting. It’s only for a split second, but she quickly composes herself before Jasper notices anything is off.
Am I totally going crazy and imagining these looks, because Jasper looks none the wiser to her defiant stares.
“I hope you guys are hungry,” she says in a singsong voice which sends goose bumps down my arms.
She places the rice and chicken down in front of us, and then rushes back into the kitchen, claiming there’s more to come.
My eyes drift over what is sitting in front of me and I scrunch up my face.
It looks… interesting.
Jasper leans into me. “Told ya,” he whispers, referring to our conversation earlier.
Looking at the rice, I can see it’s stuck together in one big lump, and the butter chicken which is bright red in color, is sitting in no sauce, and looks like it could be used as a doorstop.
In this circumstance I have to agree with him, although I’ll give her points for trying.
“I bet it tastes amazing,” I whisper back.
Laughing lightly, Jasper reaches for his beer, taking a long sip. “I think I’ll stick to a liquid diet for this evening,” he teases, licking the beer from his wet lips.
Kicking him lightly, I reply, “You will not. She obviously went to a lot of trouble.”
Jasper smirks, his left dimple taunting me with its perfection. “Okay, but only because you said so.”
Raising my eyebrow, I ask, “Since when do you listen to me?”
A slow grin spreads from cheek to cheek. “The quicker I eat, the quicker I get you home and out of that dress.”
Seriously, he needs to stop this before I liquefy into a gooey mess.
“What are you two whispering about?” Danielle asks while setting more food down in front of us.
