by Bri Stone
“Yeah, I did.” I pull my hand from her stomach and squeeze her hand before I roll out of bed and stretch.
“Whoa, the bed just rose like five inches.” Melinda sits up as she grins. I smile back at her, loving to see her carefree like this. I give it two hours before she says she has to study.
“What can I say? I’m a big guy,” I say, walking backward with my arms outstretched before I go to the bathroom.
Once I finish I walk back out, “All yours.” I find Melinda by the bed checking her phone, but I know there isn’t much on her flip phone.
“Thanks.”
I head downstairs and start on breakfast. I ignore the guys in the living room and make pancakes for us, separating the ones I mix with protein for myself. The phone rings and I pick up the landline hanging off the wall old-fashioned.
“Hey.”
“Honey, what are you doing?” My Momma’s voice floods through.
“Cooking—how did you know it was me?”
“You’re my son,” She deadpans. “And I hope you aren’t strutting around the hot stove without your shirt on.”
I look down at myself and then look out the window thinking I’ll see her here.
“Of course not.”
She laughs, “Well, I was calling to check on you. You didn’t answer your cell. Hope you didn’t get too crazy after the game.”
“You know I didn’t. My phone died. And I’m here with Melinda.”
“She stayed over? Was your room clean?”
I laugh and lean across the counter to flip bacon. “Yeah, clean enough. I might come by later today after I drop her off, I know dad needs help with the tally.”
“Hmph. Maybe. When do I get to meet this young lady? And I hope you were Christian about—”
“Momma,” I cut her off before I shudder, “if you must know, we just slept.”
She sighs, “Okay. Well, maybe she can come for Thanksgiving? Since she doesn’t have any family of her own. You can bribe her with my apple pie.”
I laugh to myself. “Maybe. Don’t get your hopes up.” I see Melinda come down the stairs and get ambushed by the guys. “I’ll call you later, Momma. I gotta go.”
“Okay honey, I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I hang the phone up and go to save Melinda from my friends.
“Breakfast is almost done.” I walk between her and the couch with Jim and Daniel perched on it, smiling down at her.
“Okay. We were just talking about their video game.” Melinda says. I roll my eyes for her and stare pointedly at the guys.
“Were you really.”
They snicker and stand. “I heard there was breakfast.” Daniel makes his way to the kitchen and I tug his shirt to drag him back comically.
“Nuh-uh, a private breakfast. For Melinda and I.” I pat his shoulder and straighten out his shirt with a fake smile as he frowns.
I turn to Melinda and tug her into the kitchen. She sits at the counter as I add on the pancakes to the wide skillet and watch them bubble up.
“You want chocolate chips?”
“Sure. But they can eat with us. Daniel looked so sad.”
“He’s a good actor.” I turn to find her munching on croutons. Melinda calls me odd, yet she eats croutons like they are their own meal with macros and everything.
“Maybe.” She giggled.
Once I plate the food I meet her at the breakfast nook. I pour her juice from the jug.
“How can you eat so much this early?” Melinda eyes my five-stack of pancakes and plate of bacon.
“It’s almost noon, sweetness. And I need like five thousand calories a day.”
She blinks twice and then just starts eating in response. We get three bites in before the guys barge through the kitchen door. The poor swinging door will fall off one day.
“Did you save some for us?” Jim looks around the stove as if the food isn’t right there.
Melinda scoots closer to me and licks syrup from her fork, effectively distracting me. I offer her bacon from my plate. Once Jim and Daniel join us in the breakfast booth, it’s packed full.
“I appreciate when you cook for me, honey.” Daniel nudges me under the table and I feign playing along with his joke as I laugh.
“You keep us so well taken care of.” Jim agrees, with a mouthful of bacon.
I glance at a laughing Melinda before I laugh once, and accidentally-on-purpose tip the juice carafe over on their side of the table. The guys erupt in ‘come on’s and ‘oh my god that’s cold’ as they pat themselves with napkins. Melinda nudges me with her disapproval and I continue to laugh in response.
“Jeez, Pete if you wanted us to have a wet t-shirt contest you could have just asked.” Daniel and Jim, in turn, take off their shirts and pat the table and bench dry.
“Yeah right.” I eat more of my pancakes as they banter back and forth.
“Do your tattoos mean something or are they just for decoration?” Melinda asks Daniel.
I have just known him so long I forget to notice them. The black ink rides across his entire wingspan, with a kissing symbol in bright pink on his Adonis belt.
“Mostly for decoration.” He snickers.
I watch Melinda pick at her chocolate chips and then lick her fingers afterward. If we were having breakfast alone, it would be a completely different story.
“Pete has a tattoo,” Daniel adds.
“No, he doesn’t,” Melinda says, and I’m happy she knows me so well.
We finish up breakfast and the guys offer to help clean up, and I’m surprised when they actually do.
“Are you two always shirtless?” Melinda looks at the guys standing by the main counter.
Jim shrugs, “Only on the days I eat. Why? Do you like it?” He makes his pecs dance and I glare at him.
They go back to washing and drying, Melinda gladly watches instead of helping. I put everything away and listen in on their friendly conversation with Melinda. It makes me happy to see my friends getting along with her, it makes life easier. I look at Melinda laughing with them, and when her eyes meet mine as she smiles I ignore the sun shining through the window and focus on the sun right here in my kitchen.
“Hey Pete, something is going on with the drain here,” Daniel says as he hands a plate to Jim to dry.
I walk over and peer inside the perfectly soapy, working drain. “Don’t see anything.” I turn to Jim and he grins before I am doused with water. I hear Melinda cackling as I silently fume in my puddle of water. I nod slowly and wring my hands out as I step out of the puddle. My shirt clings uncomfortably and I shuck it off as everyone continues laughing. If Sanders were here he’d be having a field day. The kid loves water.
“That’s hilarious.” I see Melinda laughing and I walk towards her with my wet shirt, “You think it’s funny?”
She nods as she laughs even harder and I can’t keep myself from smiling either. I turn to the guys still amidst their laughter and toss my shirt at them, “Clean this up.” Then I take Melinda, as I’m sopping wet, and she tries to pull away as she squeals but I’m stronger than her and don’t let her escape before I lay one on her.
Her lips part easily as I kiss her and hold her tightly to me. And I realize I want to spend every Sunday morning with her, just like this… minus the water. But otherwise, just like this.
PETE
* * *
For the next few weeks, I imagine a scenario that will work in my favor, when I ask Melinda to meet my family over Thanksgiving. It’s complicated—because I’d have to get into talk about her family and she hates that. Treats it like the plague. It hasn’t come up since our last taco Tuesday and here we sit on another.
The air is chilly, typical November in Waco. Melinda and I are in long-sleeved shirts, but her olive-green cotton fits her better than my old black athletics shirt fits me. I like how she has been wearing her hair, the curls tighter and wilder. She doesn’t wear makeup often, in fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her
wear it but I never agreed with it anyway. I like being able to touch her face whenever I want—well, she doesn’t like that.
We are both coming off of midterms but mine were easy. Calculus almost made her pull her hair out, but I helped her one day in the library more than I distracted her for a change, and she got a damned near perfect score. I always knew she was super smart, but I still felt proud of her when she got As on everything. All she had to say was that her transcripts would look as good as possible for the admissions committee. I never think about the future like that, or us being apart at any time. It doesn’t strike me as important because I’ll always make things work with her—I made a promise.
“I’m getting more looks today than normal.” Melinda leans on the table with her elbow, smiling softly at me.
I look back into her brown eyes and find my way back to. “Are you?” I grin.
She giggles once and takes a scoop of guac up in a chip. “We should order something new.” She eyes the menu we never look at.
“You’re up for trying new things?”
“Recently.” She shrugs.
“Okay. Order whatever you want.”
We smile at each other and she goes back to swinging her legs under the table and peering down at the menu. I shift nervously as I look at her soft features, not tense at all.
“What do you usually do for Thanksgiving?” And the tension floods her shoulders.
“Nothing. I think I usually just study and forget.” Melinda shrugs and my eyes dart to hers.
“… Well, I always have the game and then dinner at the farm with my family. All forty-seven of us.” I chuckle once. Her brows draw slightly and her lips curl inwards as she stares down at me.
“That’s nice. Forty-seven, really?”
I chuckle, “Yeah. You got paper?” I ask, and she digs in her bag to bring out her spiral notebook and pen.
“So, here’s how it goes.” I start with great grandpa Jack on Dad’s side because it’s what I remember better and go all the way down to my sibling and their kids. It takes about three sheets of paper before I finish.
“See?” I smirk and watch her go over the table like a set of flashcards.
“What’s ‘s’?”
“What?”
“Here.” Melinda points at the fifth tier, my parents’ siblings—aunts and uncles.
“That’s a five.” I clear my throat nervously and hope she drops it. I feel her look at me, blinking down at the paper.
“And this isn’t an ‘l’, it’s seven?” Melinda looks at me with soft eyes and I swallow down the nervous lump I always got in my throat when I had to take special instruction all through grade school.
“Yeah. Seven.”
She smiles softly, “Okay. That’s a big family. It must be nice.” The subject is easily changed, and I scratch behind my ear in relief.
“Uh yeah,” I laugh nervously, “but it’s sometimes annoying.”
We fix our eyes on each other for a short moment, and I sum up the courage to ask her and prepare to catch her before she ducks and runs.
“I want you to meet my family over Thanksgiving and come home with me for the holiday week,” I say with a silly grin.
In surprise, she freezes and turns her lips in as her eyes dance around my head. She doesn’t say anything yet and doesn’t have a chance to before the waiter comes. I recognize him because we always sit at this table in this section.
“Usual for you tonight?”
“Um,” Melinda squeaks, “I actually want the six-taco platter with rice and refried beans on the side. And more chips and queso. And more sweet tea.” Her smile is staged and her eyes wide as she hands back the menu.
“What about you, Pete?”
I huff, “The same.” I say quickly. I guess we are both nervous eaters. When Melinda has a lot on her mind, she settles in with a bag of croutons or white cheddar popcorn, her staple foods. Her sweet tea turns into liquid diabetes before every one of her exams.
This doesn’t seem to be any different. The waiter leaves us alone and I whoosh as I look at Melinda again, her appearance less shocked.
“Everyone would love to meet you, and my Momma always asks about you.”
“Your whole family? What if they don’t like me?” Her top teeth show as she chews her bottom lip.
“They’ll love you”
“Okay, but they might not.”
“Yeah, and the sky might fall but that didn’t stop Chicken Little from going outside.”
She tries to hold back laughter and rubs her eyes in turn. “Wow, Pete… I don’t know.”
Our food comes and she goes for the tacos and queso at the same time, when I get nervous about her answer I eat too. We get about halfway through, and I wonder how she can fit so much food in her tiny little frame—before I try and get at her again.
“You have nothing to be worried about. My family is a little crazy, but they’re family. I say you’re my girl, and I bring you home, they won’t have a damned thing to say about it.” I lean across the table to her, using my pointer finger to tilt her chin up to me. She swallows down a bite and licks her lips softly.
“You’re my girlfriend, and I want you to spend the Thanksgiving holiday with me, and my family.”
She holds my gaze for a few seconds before she starts to giggle. Her hand closes over mine as she holds my fingers, the small size of her hand only fits over three of my fingers.
“What?” I start to laugh.
“Nothing, just—hearing you say that out loud.” Both her hands fold over mine but she doesn’t answer me. I can’t force her to do it, and I know she needs space to think things over. She goes at more food before she falls back in the booth with a sigh.
“I like hearing you say it out loud, is all. And I have thought about meeting your family a few times.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. But I’ve never done that before—met someone else’s family, especially not someone I care a lot about. It scares me more than the MCAT did.” She sighs, her forehead creasing and her throat bobbing as she swallows. “But a lot of things with us scared me and I got through them fine. So, I guess I could meet them.”
I’m elated as I smile at her. I lean on my forearms on the table and smile. “Yeah?”
Melinda nods slowly, scratching an invisible itch on her arm. “Yeah. And there’s food, right?”
I laugh. “Yeah, there’s food. There’s a whole lot of stuff we do together. And it will be fun. The night of the football game, you can just come down and watch with the family. It’s on Wednesday this year instead of Thanksgiving Day.”
“Okay. That sounds fun.” I can’t tell if she is being sarcastic.
“It will be. Trust me.”
We leave, and I drop her at her apartment, with her to go box to last her two days. I always walk her to her door and what not, so when we stop in front of it, the feeling is routine.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, after practice.”
“Okay. Thanks for dinner.” She says that every time and I always say the same thing.
“No problem, sweetness.” I wink at her. My hand cups her elbow as I pull her close to me, smile at her once before I kiss her softly. She always lets out this little sigh when I kiss her, a sign that she’s relaxed.
I know she feels safe with me and it makes me want to kiss her harder. Her back is pressed up to the door as I lean down, my arm snaking around her waist as I deepen the kiss. Her lips part and her nimble tongue flicks my lip before ours cross and it’s my turn to sigh into her. A big guy like me, sighing.
My other hand curls into her soft, thick curls and I tilt her head back and almost crush her foam box between us. Her free hand cups my face softly and it sends sparks through my bare skin. Everything with her is like magic, I don’t know how to contain it.
But we break away, catching ourselves our breaths with sheepish grins.
“I’ll call you later tonight.” I step back and lick my lips.
She lau
ghs as she unlocks her door, “With a bedtime story?”
I chuckle, “Why not?”
She throws a laugh over her shoulder as she walks inside and shuts the door behind her. I stare at the blank door for a second before I walk off and head home. When I walk in the door, the guys are making dinner for themselves and it’s weird that I’m not shocked. The two are a George Milton and Lennie Small, but I haven’t figured out who would shoot who yet. Of Mice and Men is the only book I finished back in grade school.
“Oh, what’s this smile for? Did you finally get laid?” Daniel throws a lemon at me.
“No, I told you—never mind. Enjoy your date.” I throw the lemon back and grab some juice from the fridge.
“Oh, come on. Don’t start keeping secrets, it’s bad for our relationship.” Jim says.
I laugh and take the cranberry juice down. As I toss it in the trash by the pantry I explain, “Melinda said she’d meet my family over the break.”
“No shit—that’s real shit man.” Daniel raises his voice.
“Yeah, lots of shit going on here.” Jim flips a steak. “Did you tell her there’s like fifty of you?” Daniel asks.
“Yep. She still said yes. And I already told my mom, the whole family will know by night’s end.” I shake my head, suddenly sympathizing with my sisters when they brought their partners home for the holidays.
“Uh huh. You tell them she’s black?” Jim asks.
“They won’t care.” I shrug confidently. I never did, but I wonder a few times if it played any part in attracting me to her.
“Right. So, since you’re re-making ‘Who’s Coming Home for Dinner’ I should at least get to come to the premiere.” Jim laughs with Daniel.
“Are you done?” I can’t hold back my own laugh.
“Sure. But you know how your grandparents are. Hell, I met them once and I don’t plan on meeting them again, man. No offense.” Jim walks by me and claps my shoulder as he goes to the fridge.
I look at Daniel and he only shrugs, no help there.
“I guess I didn’t think of that. But it will be different.”
“And if it’s not?”
