by K. S. Adkins
“You’re their daughter –”
“My mom only calls when she wants money,” she says, resting her cheek on her palm. “And I haven’t talked to my dad since I was in fourth grade.”
“Taylor, shit… I’m sorry.”
“Which is why meeting your parents and lying to them…bothers me.”
“Which bothers you the most? Meeting them or lying to them?”
“Lying to them,” she whispers. “They had you, Van. No way they can be anything less than perfect.”
Ask her, you idiot. Ask her to marry you in truth.
But I don’t get the chance because when she asked, “Why aren’t you close with them?” I have to start with this truth.
“They’ve tried everything to be close to me,” I sigh. “But I haven’t made it easy for them. My parents are fun, loving, affectionate, slightly crazy, and live life loud. Very much like you do. As far back as I can remember, I was always too serious for my own good. You’ll like this one,” I say, pulling her closer. “I was nine when I asked to join the scouts. My father was ecstatic. He, of course, signed on as a den dad which pissed me off. At our first meeting, the parents had to introduce themselves to the kids and tell us an outdoor skill they would pass on to us. When it was his turn, he got up there and said, my name is Evander Church, and I can teach you how to find the right plant plus the leaf to roll it in.” Breaking into giggles, she looks up and whispers, “I love him already, Van.”
“He’s a great father,” I agree. “I wish I would have seen it sooner.”
“So how was he as a den dad?”
“When he was denied the role, he pulled me out, declaring his son wouldn’t be a part of an organization which doesn’t recognize marijuana as nature’s medicine.”
“So, your dad is a hippie, who went into law?”
“He’s fun, loving, and outgoing unless he’s arguing a case. My father believes he was born to challenge the law.”
“What do you believe you were born to do?”
Rolling Taylor onto her back, I kiss her cheek and tell her, “I was born to love you.”
I find myself wishing she’d say the words and am beyond disheartened when she doesn’t. And I have no chance to delve deeper either because fucking Hillary calls.
At some point, I have fallen asleep and wake to Taylor sucking my balls into her mouth.
Wanting to take care of her first, I try sitting up when she promptly shoves me back down.
“Stay,” she orders.
“I want –”
“I’ve let you take the lead, albeit happily, but this is about you, Van. You and your cock. I’m going to suck it and you’re going to come in my mouth. We clear?”
Crystal. “Then I only have one thing to say.”
“And that is?” she asks blandly while fondling my balls.
“Stop talking.”
Grinning like a kitten who got her cream, she lowers her head. “Game on.”
If I thought Taylor was talented in her movements, it doesn’t hold a candle to her mouth.
Sadly, I am not able to hold out as long as I’d have liked.
However, I do come in her mouth as requested and my kitten gets her cream.
And she doesn’t waste a drop.
Because I love India, I agreed to go in with her for her first official pregnancy checkup. After what I saw and heard, I am going on the record as officially stating, I don’t ever want kids. Not that I begrudge her choice to reproduce because hell no, I’m thrilled for her. It’s just not for me. None of it. Zero. Hard pass.
Even now at lunch, I can’t bring myself to order a drink. I’m that grossed out.
Do you know what happens to your love canal when it’s time to push?
It expands.
Stretches.
Sometimes it even tears.
So fuck that.
Internally shuddering, I listen to India explain her birthing plan when Scott joins us. Kissing his wife, he takes the seat next to her with his hand finding her belly. The two of them are truly happy and starting a family.
Bless their hearts and her vagina. There is no coming back from childbirth. I don’t care what anyone says.
“The big day is coming up,” Scott smiles. “Evander can’t hide his excitement.”
I know this to be true because he’s sent me at least fifty texts messages saying so. He also says things like I can’t wait to show you off, Making everyone envy me, wishing they could be so lucky, etc.
“What’s wrong?” India asks.
“Nothing in particular,” I admit. “It will either go very well or very badly.”
“Why do you say that?”
“His parents aren’t stupid. I don’t see them buying it. And there is no way Whitney didn’t already ring that bell.”
“His parents will surprise you,” Scott adds. “Evander is the opposite of them. I’m not kidding, Taylor, his parents are hilariously nutty. Drives him bat shit that they refuse to take life seriously.”
“He told me a little about them last night.”
“From what I’ve seen, Evander has been the adult since he was a kid. His dad is as carefree as they come unless he’s in court,” Scott provides. “His mom is the life of the party. And while they have a shit ton of money, neither cares much about the image that comes with it. Evander is the serious one, the workaholic. Believe me, they ride him constantly about loosening up.”
“What if –”
“They will love you,” he insists. “You will love them, too.”
That right there scares the shit out of me. I’m meeting his parents and lying to their faces. Not the best way to introduce yourself into the family. A family who may not be so welcoming if they truly knew me.
“Taylor,” India says softly. “It’s going to be fine.”
“It’s one day,” I sigh. “I can do one day.”
“Just one?” she asks.
“You know what I mean.”
“Did you guys discuss what happens after?” Scott asks.
“Sorta,” I hedge.
“You’re nervous,” India smiles. “Don’t be. You two are great together and anyone looking at you sees it. You see it, don’t you?”
“I do,” I confess, twirling my ring.
“Then what’s the matter?” Scott pushes.
“What if we give this a real shot and he doesn’t like what he sees?”
“That’s any relationship, Taylor,” he adds.
“Hence, why I don’t do them, Scott.”
“Quit being a pussy,” India rolls her eyes. “He knows you love him, right?”
Stunned and mute, I watch Scott whisper to her and I see her wince.
“Sorry,” she says, biting her lip. “I shouldn’t have –”
“It’s okay,” I assure her. “He’s said the words, I haven’t.”
“Do you plan to?” A fair question. I just don’t have an answer. Because I thought he and I were on the same level. That he knows how I feel. But I am beginning to think he has no idea. But as always, India does.
“You’re different with Evander. You’re you. You know he loves everything about you, don’t you, Taylor?”
Feeling overwhelmed, I announce that I have shit to do, kissing India on the cheek and hugging Scott before I bolt.
Grabbing a bottle of wine from the party store, I make my way home and plant my ass on my bed with a drink in my hand.
Settling my thoughts, I stare at the couch Van has slept on, wishing he was here.
I’m also glad he isn’t because I am feeling things that are unfamiliar to me.
Before Van, the second a man started his territorial bullshit with me, I bailed. No one owns me, has a say in what I do or the choices I make. The problem is, I feel territorial when it comes to Van. All these years, I’ve stood by the rule that being territorial and possessive is wrong. I’ve seen it as a sign of insecurity and emotional slavery. I am the biggest kind of asshole for feeling this way about him when I kn
ow full fucking well I wouldn’t allow him the right in return. Or would I?
Forgoing the glass, I drink straight from the bottle, wishing I can work this out. Thoughts come and go, but it all comes down to this; I am myself with Van. I never have to pretend. And he let go with me, too.
I look at him and think mine. No one else’s, just mine.
I never want to lose him.
Since he loves me, Van owning me, making a claim to me on an emotional level wouldn’t be the same as owning me as a person, right? If this holds true, I might not mind it so much. He’s responsible, levelheaded, and fair. Perhaps Van owning me in the emotional sense would be good for me? He could be the protector of my heart, keeper of my feelings, and all that other shit.
I want to tell him I have fallen. That I love him with a passion that scares me. But I’ve never said the words to anyone, not in that way. Though, it’s clear he never got my meaning when I went around I love you by saying something else, I truly am working up to it in my own way. Being in love is a big deal. The words are a big deal.
When I say them, I want the timing to be perfect, unforgettable.
At the party.
Just before he announces our engagement.
Yes!
Seriously, I am so good at problem-solving.
And then I finish the bottle on an empty stomach.
Stupid idea.
Later that night when he lets himself into my place, I am on the couch with a damp cloth over my mouth. It’s a thing I do. Headache, stomachache, heartache, or too much wine, I soak a cloth and covered my mouth with it.
Kneeling beside me, he looks at me with concern. “Are you all right?”
“I’m recoverating.”
“I’m sorry?”
Tossing the cloth, I repeat, “I’m recoverating.”
“Is that what happens when you recover and recuperate at the same time?”
Smiling huge, I loop my arms around his neck and whisper, “You get me, Van Wilder.”
“I get you, Taylor.”
And for the next couple hours we watch The Princess Bride together.
Or rather, I watch Van watch it.
When it ends and I ask if he would stay, the words as you wish mean more now than ever.
And then Scott calls an emergency meeting.
Evander Church is a good man. He is also a good friend, and it doesn’t take a genius to see he is in love with Taylor. Unfortunately, he’s fought it for what felt like forever. Meanwhile, Taylor has dated, dumped, repeated while never considering love for herself. For some fucking reason, the woman doesn’t think she is meant for it. So, this emergency meeting has been two years in the making. And it will be the first one called where someone outside of the Shit’s group is invited to join. Nolan has never been a candidate and wouldn’t have come anyway. Sugar never stays in a relationship long enough to even offer and Evander? Well, India and I have decided to test him.
It’s a rite of passage.
It is also a way for us to gauge the progression of the relationship.
Because we love Taylor, do not want to see either of them hurt, we’ve chosen the Golden Greek Bar for our challenge.
While Taylor is herself with Evander, he’s never truly seen her…full throttle.
And nothing brings out the juggernaut like karaoke.
This morning, while cuddling with my wife, I’ve shared my idea and though she balked at first, concerned Evander wasn’t ready, I was certain he was. And should he handle it poorly, we’ll be there to walk him through it.
Now, we are all seated with Evander checking the bathroom door constantly and seeing him brim with excitement is not only new but hilarious. When Taylor saunters through a few minutes later, he is up and heading toward her in record time.
“Miss me, Van Wilder?” she asks, throwing herself in his arms.
Smiling at her, he says, “Reach down and feel how much.”
“I may never get used to Evander being all smiley,” Hillary says while reaching for her drink.
“The same could be said of you,” I point out.
“Yeah, well, I have a drinking problem. He doesn’t.”
“Since when do you have a drinking problem?” I inquire.
Grinning, Hillary says, “As long as I’m drinking, I have no problems.”
“She drinks a lot,” Sugar winks.
“Amen,” Hillary snorts.
“I miss rum,” my wife sighs. “And vodka. And Jäger.”
“All right, Sinclair,” Taylor says while pointing at me. “What’s the emergency?”
“We needed a night out as a group,” I shrug casually.
“Does the group do karaoke?” Evander asks.
“Nope,” Sugar smiles wide. “Just Taylor.”
Facing her, I watch Evander’s eyes light up. “You like karaoke?”
“No,” she leans into him. “I happen to love it.”
“Are you a good singer?” he asks and the whole table, minus the two of them, fight laughter.
“I’m pretty much amazing, ask anyone,” she assures him and reaches over to the next table to snag the booklet.
Satisfied with her choices, Taylor hands her ballot in and proceeds to drink until her name is called.
Twenty minutes later she’s up and heading toward the stage. “Here we go,” India whispers.
During her first performance Sugar explained “Hold my Hand” is by Jess Glynne. Right away, my wife and I go out of our way to steal his attention. Evander does not hide his annoyance with this.
Because he only has eyes for Taylor.
So when Hillary clips, “Her voice. Seriously, my ears are bleeding,” Evander’s glare should have shut her down, but it doesn’t. Adding to the fun, Sugar says, “Uh, Hillary, maybe avoid insulting his woman when he’s sitting right here.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Hillary asks.
“So, Evander,” I prompt.
“I am not missing this Scott, so stop interrupting.”
“She’s really getting into it,” India bites her lip.
“Isn’t she magnificent?” Evander praises. “Where did she learn to move like that?”
“That would be –” Hillary starts, but Sugar nails her under the table so she doesn’t finish.
“So, Evander,” Hillary says, leaning on the table. “When making your future wife checklist, was having a woman who could force a room into mass suicide on the pros side or the cons?”
“Why, Hillary,” he says, facing her. “Your jealousy is showing. Do us a favor and tuck it back so I can enjoy my woman enthralling the room.”
Just then Taylor dances her way across the floor; Evander is memorizing every move. Singing directly to him, Evander isn’t even aware he is sitting on the edge of his seat.
Elbowing Hillary, Sugar says, “What’d I tell you?”
Grinning wide, she says, “Yeah, yeah, I know. Never trust a big butt and a smile.”
“Her voice is poison,” Sugar laughs on Hillary’s shoulder.
“Evander doesn’t mind the slow death either,” India chuckles.
When the song ended (thank God) Evander is the only one offering a standing ovation. The rest of the room looks like they’ve been stabbed.
Glancing at my wife, I casually slide my arm under the table where we share a fist bump.
Evander, as I have hoped, exceeds every expectation we had.
By God, he has to love her to think the woman could sing…
This is hilariously awful, yet adorable.
Fact: Taylor could not sing
Fact: Evander thinks she’s Alicia Keys
After his standing ovation, Taylor stays where she is and that’s when it happened.
Too $hort.
“Uh, guys,” Sugar whispers. “Is this a good idea?”
“Fuck no,” Hillary smiles. “It’s a great idea. Evander might stroke out.”
“Just shh and watch,” I say, adjusting my seat because I am not missing this.
Say hoe…yeah you.
Can I ask you a question?
Pointing at Evander, Taylor, as always, gets way into her freestyle. By that I mean she gets dirty, and I’m not talking lyrics either. The things she can make her body do…
Surprising all of us is Evander yelling out, “Woman, wait for me!” and joining her.
“What’s happening?” Hillary asks horrified.
“Two Taylors?” Sugar chokes. “Fuck. I did not see this coming.”
“Oh God, this is priceless,” Scott says wiping his eyes.
“It’s like a bad car wreck and though it’ll give me nightmares, I can’t look away,” Hillary says.
“Did they practice for this?” Sugar asks us.
“Practice being horrible rappers who slow dance?” Hillary counters. “God, I fucking hope not.”
As for Scott and I, we watch Taylor and Evander take turns sharing the mic, twirling each other, and oh shit…Evander starts spanking her ass while she twerks.
“I can’t swallow,” Sugar shakes her head. “My mouth is utterly dry right now.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Hillary gags.
“Don’t worry, it’s just our nervous systems shutting down,” Sugar adds.
“Oh, come on,” I smile in joy. “They suck, but you have to admit they’re adorable.”
“How long is this song?” Sugar says, plugging her ears. “Shit, is this the remix?”
“This is fucking awesome,” my husband laughs while he records.
Neither can sing, only one can dance, but the other got down just the same. As far as tests go, Evander Church aced it. I haven’t shared it with Scott that I was testing Taylor too, but I suspect he knows.
I never want her to hold back with Evander, and I need to see for myself what she would do when her juggernaut is triggered. Tonight is proof I needn’t have worried. It’s also proof Evander wouldn’t have her any other way.
Leaning into Scott, I smile. “They passed with flying colors.”
“And they’ve never been happier,” he finishes.
As for the rest of us, we can’t wait for someone else to come up and sing…
Draft beer and Taylor do not mix.
But I was drinking whatever Van handed me which happened to be beer.
