by Kira Barker
“This is all your fault,” I mouthed to Simon as I waited for the connection to establish, then turned my back on him and walked into the kitchen as I waited for my father to pick up. I almost wished he didn’t, but then that would solve absolutely nothing.
“Hey, pumpkin,” he greeted me, sounding slightly surprised and only a tad reserved—as usual. We likely had a better relationship than most father-daughter teams with an evil stepmother intruding, but neither of us was a phone person, really.
“Hey, Dad,” I replied, even my anxiety incapable from keeping the beginning smile off my face. I really should call more. “How are things in your neck of the woods?”
“The usual,” he grumbled, clearing his throat. Yup, my dad, man of many words.
“Simon told me you called earlier?” I offered, trying to ease myself into this. How exchanging pleasantries could suddenly feel so painful was beyond me.
“Yeah. Emily wants to know for how many people she should plan,” he explained, as usual speaking just a little faster when he had to refer to his wife. “Malory’s of course coming over, but we still don’t know if you and Jack are bringing someone.”
I doubted that he had any idea how loaded the question was, but I forced myself to remain calm, even when my pulse wanted to increase in turn with the churning in the pit of my stomach.
“Just Simon,” I offered, trying to make it as offhand a remark as possible, because I was a dork.
“Ah,” my father replied eloquently, and at least to me, the following pause was deafeningly loud. “He’s not celebrating with his folks?”
“No, his parents already left to… I don’t know where. Some retreat thing. They’re not really your average family holiday folks,” I explained, then screwed my eyes shut as I could practically feel Simon’s gaze on my back. Smooth, real smooth.
“Sure, no problem.” Another pause. “He eats normal food, right? He’s not some weird vegetarian or something. I already have the ribs marinating.”
“No issues there, Simon loves meat.” I cut myself off before I could say anything along the lines of “sausage,” or “packing,” but it was hard. Screwing my eyes shut, I counted to ten in my head, while my father gave an affirmative grunt.
“When will you be over?” he asked next, because we were clearly both laboring our way down mental checklists.
“About ten, eleven-ish. We’ll try to get up early and leave the city before everyone else gets the same idea.”
Another grunt followed, this one decidedly dismissive. Everything was said. There was no reason to prolong this torment. I was so tempted to just leave it at that and wish him a good night—but I didn’t need to look over into the den to know that Simon was oozing disdain at my stellar communication tactics.
“Look, Dad, there’s something else I need to tell you,” I managed to get out, then took a deep breath to try to calm my nerves.
“You’re not pregnant, are you?” my dad joked, almost scaring me out of my skin for a moment. How had that suddenly become like the easier to explain circumstance, if it had been the case?
“No, still not making you a grandpa,” I replied, then exhaled just as slowly. “The reason why we’re bringing Simon is, well, he’s my boyfriend.”
Just saying that sentence made my skin crawl in the weirdest kind of way, and not just because it was the most immature denominator possible for what was going on between us. Realizing that it actually irked me how that term alone excluded Jack made what I had to say next somewhat easier.
“Okay,” my dad replied very neutrally. I wondered if it was just because it was a first happenstance, or because he was holding his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Although that likely was entirely me, projecting.
“And not just that. Jack’s too.” Oh, great, because that clarified nothing. “The three of us. We’re kind of a thing.”
Eloquence, thy name is Erin.
Deafening silence answered me, but that didn’t really come as much of a surprise. Leaning my forehead against the fridge door, I counted to five, then forced myself to go on.
“I know that this is likely coming out of the blue, and it’s a little controversial, but, you know, it works for us. We’re three consenting adults, and what we do with each other isn’t really anyone’s business.” Because getting defensive was so the solution for awkward moments.
More silence followed, until I just couldn’t take it anymore and checked the display. The call was still active, and I hadn’t heard any suspicious dropping noises, either.
“Dad? Are you still there?”
“I am,” he replied, his voice almost toneless before he cleared his throat. Repeatedly. “So you’re sleeping with two men at the same time.”
Not a question, but one I really wanted to reply to with “literally, sometimes,” but swallowed that.
“Essentially, yes.”
One second, two, five, ten…
“Do they know? I mean… ahh…”
Even strung out as I was, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes and snort at that question. “Duh. We’re living in the same house and sleeping in the same bed. I think it would be almost impossible to hide that.” Then something else registered. “And it’s not just me, with them. They’re also… with each other, you know?” Because nothing says, “I’m comfortable in my own skin,” like not being able to articulate anything.
Shifting my stance, I leaned heavier against the fridge, letting it support my weight.
“We can talk about this tomorrow. Or not, if you prefer. But it would be great if you could, you know, prime Emily, or something. We’re not going to do anything weird, like make out in front of everyone.” Just the thought of that gave me hives. “Didn’t do that when I was sixteen, not going to start now. But we’re also not going to hide the fact that we’re together, and that we love each other.” And that we’re screwing each others’ brains out, but that really didn’t need to be said.
Silence continued to stretch. I didn’t even hear my own breathing, and through the walls I could lightly hear Jack’s voice, if not what he was saying. It sounded a lot more animated than the conversation I was having, though.
“Anyway, thought I should let you know,” I went on, feeling my stomach sink further. “We’ll be there around ten. Love you.” No answer came, and I couldn’t quite hold in a sigh. “I’m going to hang up now.”
“You, too,” came his—very belated—answer, just as my thumb pressed the “end call” button.
Exhaling loudly, I continued to stare straight ahead at nothing, before I forced myself to push away from the fridge and saunter over to the sofa.
“That went well,” Simon said, a slightly sarcastic twist coming to his mouth.
“You think?”
He shrugged. “You didn’t yell, you didn’t even curse, and, God forbid, you only said ‘sex’ once.”
I glared at him, then let myself fall heavily into the soft couch cushions beside him. “Like that makes a difference. And, just so you know, you heard about ninety percent of that conversation. Just fantastic.”
Unlike me, Simon didn’t really look fazed, but then he hadn’t just had the most uncomfortable conversation of his life. Not even that time when Dad had told me about Emily had been this bad.
“Give him some time. He’ll get over it. And, if not, I’m sure that you won’t be the one who’ll bear the brunt of his ire. Sometimes it’s good to live a five-hour drive away.”
There was that, of course, but neither option made me feel particularly better about the situation.
Neither of us seemed to mind not saying anything, so we waited in silence until Jack joined us—dead white in the face, holding his phone out to me as if it was going to explode any second now unless I took it from him. I couldn’t help but snort at him, even if my stomach did another very uncomfortable barrel roll.
“Hey,” I greeted Malory, hoping that this conversation would be a little less one-sided than the one I’d just ended.
/> “Erin, honey,” Jack’s mom greeted me—and then stalled, making me want to jump right out of my skin. But thankfully, she only needed a couple of seconds before she went on, not the hours my dad would now likely spend in silence. “Do you know what you’re doing? I really don’t want to come across as dismissive, and I hate how this must sound to you, but, really. Jack?”
With my dad, it would have felt like he was deliberately ignoring the fact that there was another party involved in this, but with her I was pretty certain that Simon really wasn’t her main concern here.
“I think I do. And if I hadn’t, I think the past couple of months kind of served as a reality check.”
My voice still sounded odd but was regaining a little of its normal lilt, making me feel a little less like a dork. Malory laughed, and while it was a shaky laugh, it was a real one, already soothing me tremendously.
“Well, at least you don’t harbor any illusions about him. Which, I guess, would have been troubling to start with, seeing as we are the two women in his life who know him the best. Except maybe that friend of yours. What’s her name, Kara?” Then a brief pause followed. “Is she also involved in this?”
“Nope. Just the three of us.” I couldn’t help but smile. “And that’s already more than complicated enough.”
“I bet,” she admitted, followed by a brief chuckle. “Can’t say I expected this kind of news, but considering that I’ve been fretting for years that one day my dear boy would call me and let me know that he’d managed to knock up one of his flighty girls he didn’t even know the last name of and I’m going to be a grandma in name only, I think I can rest a little easier tonight. But it does take some time getting used to, you know?”
That she sounded apologetic broke my heart, but in the best of ways. “Don’t worry, you’re not alone in that.”
I could practically hear her nod over the phone.
“What did your dad say? You told him, right?” That there was a slightly chiding quality to her question let me know, once again, that she was well aware of my tendency to avoid conflict there if possible. And how could she not, seeing as she’d practically raised me.
“Yes, I did. We called you at the same time. And he didn’t really react. At all, actually.”
Her sigh had a comforting quality to it.
“He’ll come around, you’ll see. But this is news. And kind of hard to swallow. You know how I mean that? It’s really none of my business. Not that I don’t approve. But it’s so…”
“Sudden?” I proposed. “Different?”
She sighed. “That, too. And it probably shouldn’t be, but you likely know better than I do that we’re not living in a world where everyone’s decisions are just accepted by the majority of people, even when it’s none of their business.”
“Right now that’s not even my main concern,” I replied, then thought better of talking on because the guys were not even trying to pretend like they weren’t listening to my every word. “But it is what it is. And we thought we should tell you.”
I heard her exhale slowly.
“Did you call Emily, too? No, of course you didn’t. Do you want me to talk to her?”
“No, let my dad do that. You shouldn’t have to bear her without-a-doubt stupid, narrow-minded response.”
Malory made a sound that was nothing if not gently chiding. “I know that you love to hold a grudge, but it hurts you a lot more than her if you continue to view her as the evil stepmother she really isn’t.”
“She’s evil enough,” I huffed, but chose not to continue this conversation, more than a decade and a half long as it already was. “Anyway, that’s the good news!”
“And it is good news. I’m so happy for you,” she insisted, even if I could tell that she had yet to completely convince herself of it. “I just hope that you know what you’re doing. All three of you. I know you well enough to trust you, but I also know my son, and him I don’t trust not to behave like an ass.” Another reason why I loved her—no illusions were harbored about her offspring, even if, of course, that didn’t matter where how much she loved him was concerned. “And I don’t really know Simon, we’ve only met on a few occasions, but the fact that both of you hold him so dear is more than enough for me. Just… be careful, Erin, promise me that? I’d hate to see either of you hurt.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I replied, not really sure what else to say.
Malory laughed, now almost sounding like her usual self. “And there’s another positive side to this, besides your combined happiness, of course. With dropping this bomb into my lap out of the blue, my dearest son could hardly make a fuss when I told him that I have a boyfriend.” I could practically hear her grin through the phone, the light thrill in her voice making me smile even more. “His name is Allen. We go dancing twice a week. Which is also where I met him, at my Tuesday and Friday Latin dance class. He is very nice, even more so as he’s a used car salesman. And we have sex, a fact that seems to be scandalizing Jack greatly, but I’m sure you will be able to handle this fact of life a lot better. Particularly as both of you have absolutely no claim to a moral high ground at the moment, considering what I can only imagine is what you are doing incessantly, when you’re not scaring us into an early grave.”
The increasing indignation in her voice made my grin turn into a smile, and a look at Jack’s stony face finally did the trick and made me laugh out loud.
“Well, good for you,” I agreed with her. “Feel free to tell me all the details, particularly when Jack’s still in earshot.”
He made a wringing gesture with his hands in my direction, making me jut up my chin at him to display my well-out-of-reach throat. Yeah, he so deserved this, and a lot more.
“Tempting, but I probably won’t. I wouldn’t want to scandalize Simon with the idea of old people having sex.”
That made me grin again and glance sidelong at Simon.
“I wouldn’t worry about that. He’s pretty open about things. Realistic, too. A couple of years ago, his mother asked us if we’d take nude pictures of her because she wanted to paint nudes of herself but she couldn’t possibly capture her exuberance if she tried to do that via a mirror. That attitude pretty much runs in the family.”
Simon grinned at the mention, while Jack looked a step away from having a heart attack. His mother’s answering laugh was a little uncertain—while she’d always tried to raise us to be open and comfortable with our sexuality, she wasn’t exactly responsible for anything we’d gotten up to since, recent or long past—but it helped to ease the last of the tension between my shoulders.
“We’ll talk more about it tomorrow, if you want. Us, I mean, not Linda’s escapades. Although I’m sure that Simon hasn’t even told us half of the stories.”
“We’ll do that,” she agreed, then quickly repeated, “I’m really happy for you. All three of you. Even if I feel like I should tell you and Simon both to be wary of Jack, because he’s a mischievous little scoundrel sometimes.”
“Yeah, we know,” I admitted, and did we ever. “But I think we pretty much scared him into toning it down. So far he’s only ever had to deal with disapproval from one of us. I think he’s too afraid to find out what happens if we gang up on him.”
“Good. Because I’m sure you never actually do that.” She laughed. “And I can’t believe I just said that! Never mind. Drive carefully tomorrow.”
“Will do,” I promised.
“I know,” she said. Then we said our goodbyes and hung up, making me feel just a little less weirded out.
Turning to Jack, I held out his phone to him. “You’re such a damn hypocrite, you know that?”
“Did she tell you the part where he’s a used car salesman? Like that instills confidence in his character in anyone. And he’s a dancer. Do you know how that works at these old people dance courses?” he asked, already talking himself into a rage. “There are like five to ten times more women there than men. He’s likely banging half of them, and she’s to
o naive to even think of that—“
“Don’t you think that after listening to a decade of recounts of your exploits she’s a little more realistic than that?” Simon interjected, pretty much stealing the argument right from my tongue.
Jack glared at him, making me smile, but the overall exhaustion the last few minutes had brought with them was quickly catching up with me.
“Or maybe it’s really just a job and he’s a nice guy who’s happy to have found a like-minded soul in the midst of all the harpies who are slobbering over the perky ass of their twenty-year-old instructor? You haven’t even met him. And you should give the woman who brought you into this world a little more credit.”
“She did marry my father, didn’t she?” he offered as a riposte, but already his temper was deflating.
“And aren’t we all glad that she did,” I told him with a toothy smile, then sagged back into the sofa and hid my face in my hands. “Tomorrow’s going to be grueling, I just know it. This is so not over yet.”
Jack gave an affirmative grunt as he slid from the armrest onto the sofa next to me, and when I glanced at Simon, I saw a hint of worry on his face that shouldn’t have been so reassuring, but kind of was.
“Worse comes to worst, we’ll just drive home early,” he proposed. “Give them some time. We didn’t come to grips with this overnight, so how should they?”
“Not sure if we have already come to grips with this,” I grumbled, then flashed Simon a bright, fake grin when he scowled at me. “Anyway. I think that after this, I need a distraction.”
“Hungry?” Simon asked, although he himself didn’t sound particularly interested in food just then.
“Not really. And considering our parents already think that this is a den of iniquity now, there’s no reason not to, you know. Fuck.”
Simon’s grin widened. “Upstairs?”
Sometimes, it was just so convenient that he seemed to be able to read my mind.
