by Hadley Quinn
“Do you get enough sleep?”
Interesting question. Probably not if I were to consider what’s supposed to be a “normal” amount of sleep. Eight hours was a lot of fucking time. But I seemed to get by with four or five. I’d trained myself to push on even if fatigue set in. After Aubrey left, I’d drink myself to sleep on one too many occasions. It was the most sleep I’d gotten in ages. But once that phase had passed, I was back to restless nights. It wasn’t even because I had lyrics running through my head constantly and needed to write them down like usual; it was because I constantly took myself to places that did me no good. I was always contemplating my life, things with Aubrey, where I went wrong…
“I manage,” I finally smiled. “No, I don’t sleep a lot but…I never really have.”
“How come?”
I shrugged. “Too many things on my mind.”
“Music?”
I slowly nodded, deciding to just keep it at that. “Yeah, plenty of music,” I stood.
Clare slid off the bed and stood next to me, but it seemed like she didn’t quite accept that answer. However, she grabbed her pants from the floor and slipped them on. “I’ll walk you out.”
As I kissed her goodbye that night and made my way down to my house, I considered all the reasons why I should stay. The only thing I really came up with was that I wanted to, but it was just easier not to. I had work in the morning, Clare had her family to tend to, and after banging each other for the first time, I’m guessing we both could use the space.
Not the most eloquent description of the experience, but it was all I had.
***
My alarm went off at five-thirty that morning like a usual workday, but I just laid there for another ten minutes wondering what the fuck had just changed in my life.
I slept with my neighbor.
Now, I’m not a prude when it comes to casual dating and casual sex—I’ve certainly seen way worse in my life because of the music scene—but I was not your typical “guy” personality and I knew this. I hadn’t allowed myself to bang anything that moved or for the purpose of putting another notch on my belt anytime I got some pussy. Nope, that had never been me and I knew it never would be. I could count on one hand and a thumb how many girls I’d slept with, and it wasn’t because the opportunity hadn’t been there. Oh God, it certainly had. But I think my heart had a lot more to give than the average guy. I didn’t like the idea of making a woman feel like a cheap whore, and I didn’t like making someone feel like they were only good enough to screw. I really was a relationship kind of guy because my heart always wanted to give what it could. If there was sex, I wanted the option for more if it were possible.
Sure, I’d made some hookup mistakes—three to be exact—but the other three women I’d slept with had actually turned into girlfriends. Two before Aubrey, and even though they weren’t serious, I tried to allow for it. I think I’m just a lover. I appreciate things easily. I see the best in people, feel that they have a lot to offer, and I’m willing to see where it goes. Generally two people don’t connect equally, as was the case with numbers one through five, but then you come across the one you feel brings more meaning to your life, the one that just seems to mesh with you easily, the one that fits your personality and your plans…
The ONE.
That had been Aubrey. I won’t say it was love at first sight or anything, but when we first met I felt she was beautiful and charming, and she just had a light about her that said I’m worth your time. And she was, so much that I couldn’t get enough of her; so much that I saw myself with her and no one else, and it just made sense that we’d get married and have kids. It was easy. I didn’t have to try hard to impress her, she didn’t play games, and our attraction to one another was pretty obvious.
Maybe it had been too easy. Was that possible?
“Man, I swear you smoke twice as much these days,” I heard Vinnie say.
I looked up from where I sat on the tailgate of my truck, puffing away, and realized he was probably right. So much for gradually cutting back like I’d promised myself. Lately I had reverted my ways and was smoking more often. The anxiety was getting to me again. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt jittery and unsettled like I did the first couple of months after Aubrey left.
I crushed the cigarette in the ground as I stood. “Yeah, thanks for the reminder.”
“What’s going on?” Vinnie asked, taking a huge bite of his sandwich. He leaned up against my truck and waited for an answer.
Shrugging, I replied, “Dunno, I guess. Just feel off lately.”
“You seem off,” he agreed. “Your mind seems to be wandering again.”
I wasn’t sure of his tone. This was my boss, even though we were the same age. His father owned the company but Vinnie was usually the foreman on whatever house we were building. Big Vinnie—his dad, Vincent Sr.—would only drop by now and then to inspect the project and I rarely ever saw him.
“Yeah, got a lot on my mind,” I finally answered.
“Aubrey again? Come on, man, you can’t keep doing this. When are you going to move the fuck on?”
I couldn’t blame him for his blunt approach. I was seriously a fucking mess a year ago. More than once the guy had had to send me home because I almost killed myself from not paying attention.
“It’s not exactly the same issue,” I admitted. “I kind of met someone else and I’m just…not comfortable with it, I guess.”
“You feel like you’re cheating on her?”
I wasn’t exactly sure which “her” he was referring to, but I assumed he meant Aubrey. The guy knew I’d been waiting for her to come back.
“Matt, listen to me, man. If you got some tail, good for you. I’m fucking serious, okay? It doesn’t make you a bad person. But more importantly, you don’t owe that bitch a single bit of your guilt, okay? Is that it? You feel guilty? Jesus, Matt. She left you, you remember that? You did more than any normal guy would have done to forgive her and try again, but she didn’t want it. I hate to be a prick, but you’re holding on too long. I admire you for your loyalty and heart, but it’s over, man. Over.”
He squeezed my shoulder and walked away when Doug hollered at him, but I was thankful I didn’t have to respond. I couldn’t explain why all of this shit was going on again. Was it seriously because I slept with Clare? I didn’t regret it, but I also didn’t understand why I felt so disconcerted from it. I still kept thinking about her; I wanted to see her again. Her smile and laugh had been with me all day; I seriously got a half boner when I thought of the way she felt against me the night before.
Those weren’t the thoughts a guy would have if he’d regretted what he’d done, were they?
10
“Thanks, beautiful,” Trent winked at the waitress when she set his beer down. She returned the flirtatious smile before she turned away. He looked at me again and said, “Well I don’t understand any of it,” he shook his head. “Feelings and worry and questions and all that shit… God, you’re a woman.”
It wasn’t the first time my brother had said that to me. Be poetic or romantic, or have some common courtesy or awareness of someone else’s feelings, and suddenly you’re not a man?
He had some fucked up views on the human race, and was most likely of the majority that had given men the stereotypes they had.
“Better than being a chauvinistic asshole,” I shrugged, tipping my beer to my lips.
Trent teetered his head back and forth in thought. “Hm, I suppose. But what good is it doing you? You’ve got a filthy mouth, but a good heart. Seriously. Sometimes I wonder how we’re even related.”
The smirk on his face was classic but I couldn’t disagree. Even people that knew us both felt the same way.
“Just keep banging her,” he concluded, taking another drink. “What’s the harm? It will either end one way or the other, so if you plan for both, no surprises. Is she good in bed?”
I tried not to smile, but I couldn’t help it and it made my
brother laugh.
“Good, then definitely keep banging her,” he added. “I may want some details after tonight.”
It’s true that I had a date planned for Clare that night. David was coming over to watch the girls at seven. I’d only seen Clare twice since we’d hooked up last week. Once was when I got home from work one day and she’d been outside getting the mail. I came down the sidewalk and we had a brief conversation since she needed to get back inside to her kids playing in their room.
The second time was yesterday when all three of them came down to bring me some chocolate chip cookies. I’d been changing the oil in my truck and they didn’t stay long, but that’s when she’d informed me that she could get away Friday night if I was still interested. Of course I was. But to be honest, I wasn’t quite sure what it was going to be like. The two times we came across each other it was so casual and so hey, neighbor that I wondered if she was indifferent to what we’d done. I’d never had a casual relationship with someone, so I wasn’t sure if that’s what we were doing, or if things were just overall awkward and undefined.
When I headed home after having drinks with my brother, Clare was outside washing her car. The playpen was out at the edge of the open garage and I could see two little heads sitting in it. I wondered what was keeping them entertained enough that they’d stay there.
After parking my truck, I walked down the street. Clare smiled at me and paused, her hair up in a messy bun and her clothes partially wet. Her hand and arm were sudsy after dipping the sponge into the bucket of soapy water. She had on a pair of cutoff shorts, and the amount of tan leg that traveled out of them made my mouth go dry. I liked her legs and I was now imagining them wrapped around me.
“Hey, you,” she greeted me as she continued to wash the back quarter panel of her car. “How was your day?”
I brought my attention back to her face as she eyed me for a second and then focused on what she was washing. “It was decent. Had to wait around for some trusses to be delivered this morning, so it was a bit irritating. Get up early because they want to deliver them right at six in the morning, but then had to wait three-and-a-half hours. How ‘bout you? What have you girls been up to?”
I wandered over to Mia and Sadie, interested in what was keeping them so content. When I peeked in on them sitting in the playpen, I was a bit surprised. They were covered in paint. Red, yellow, blue, green…all colors just smeared everywhere: clothes, faces, and all over the playpen.
“Um, figured we could have an art day,” Clare smiled when she joined me. “Right girls?”
Both of them looked up at her and grinned, and one of even stuck her green fingers in her mouth and sucked.
“It’s edible,” Clare informed me when she noticed the look on my face. “Don’t worry, I only feed them actual paint when I’m feeling evil.”
Amused by her humor, I left the girls with their edible fun and helped Clare finish washing the second half of her car. Once it was rinsed, she pulled Mia and Sadie out of the playpen and gave them each a bucket of clean water to play in while she hosed the playpen out. The colors channeled down the driveway into the street and it was actually a cool site.
Yep, I liked hanging with these ladies.
I knelt down to play in the water with the toddlers, attempting to be “fun” while I was actually helping them clean off. Clare joined us after a few minutes and made a comment about the horrible ideas parents have for their kids that end up biting them in the ass later on.
“I’m sure I’ll find them in the kitchen one of these days painting themselves with syrup. Or worse, trying to eat real paint. But jeez, I had to clean my car out and get some yard work done.”
“Well, my mom used to say ‘damned if you do, damned if you don’t’ quite a lot. She always felt that the only rules in parenting were to just love your kids and make sure they’re safe and happy. She also believed the only one she didn’t fail at was the love aspect of it. We didn’t grow up in privileged circumstances, and she had to leave us home alone now and then to work, but yeah…we knew she loved us.”
Clare tilted her head in thought. “She sounds great, Matt. I’m sorry you had to lose her so soon. And I agree with that logic. I’ll never be Mother of the Year, but hopefully my kids know how much I love them.”
“Well you’re giving them joy and memories. Nothing else can compete with that.”
She seemed to consider that for a second and then nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”
“I am very right,” I winked, causing her to smile more. “So hey, I’m gonna head home and shower, get ready to take you out… Can I help you with anything before I leave?”
She stared at me for a few seconds and then blinked.
“Um…did you forget…?” I asked carefully.
“What? No, not at all,” she smiled, shaking her head. She leaned down and picked up one of the girls, then dumped the buckets of water out. Holding her hand out for the other child, she said, “Come on, Sadie, it’s bath time sweat pea.”
I collected the buckets and brought them into the garage for her. I had no idea where they went but Clare was now in a hurry to get inside and said she didn’t care where I put them. After saying she’d see me in a bit, she gave me a big smile and disappeared into the house. The playpen was still out, so I pulled it into the garage and shut the rollup door, letting myself out the side. It’d been kind of a hasty departure on her part, so I wasn’t sure what I said wrong.
It only took me twenty minutes to shower and throw some clothes on, so I sat on the couch and watched the pre-show for the Giants/Rockies game. I’ll admit I was a bit nervous to take Clare out on a date. It wasn’t anything fancy, just dinner and a movie. It was her suggestion since she said she hadn’t watched a movie in an actual theatre for almost three years. It didn’t matter to me what we did, but I was pleased she’d been so excited to go out.
Then I started thinking about where that excitement was, in fact, directed. Had she been excited to go out with me or just ecstatic to finally be without kids for a few hours? I guess it didn’t really matter if she was happy either way, but I was a bit curious, I guess. And then the look she’d given me in her driveway when I mentioned heading home… I still didn’t know what that meant.
I knocked on her door promptly at seven. I could hear a toddler screeching inside but couldn’t tell if it was happy or distressed. Clare opened the door a minute later in just a bathrobe with wet hair.
“I’m sorry,” she exhaled breathlessly. “I’m not ready yet and David is stuck in traffic because of an accident.”
“No worries,” I shrugged. Depending on how long this was going to be, we might not make it to the restaurant I wanted to take her to, but I could make changes on the fly. “Go get ready, I’ll, uh… What do you want me to do?”
A naked two-year-old came streaking into the front room, stopped, and started giggling. When her naked twin sister did the same, they both squealed even more and then ran back down the hall.
“Um, yeah, a house full of naked girls,” Clare said. “I’m sure that’s not what you were expecting.”
Laughing (because it really was a funny sight) I answered, “Meh, I’ve seen worse.”
“I don’t even want to know,” Clare replied dryly, but I could tell she was amused. “Well, uh, let me go throw some clothes on them and then—”
“You go ahead and get ready, I’ll take care of them if you want. Pajamas on ‘em?”
She eyed me for a few seconds and then nodded. “Yeah, bottom drawer. Um, can you stick a Pull-Up on them both?”
“Sure thing,” I nodded resolutely.
Was I confident? Hell no. But I followed Clare down the hall and stopped off in the girls’ room while she headed for her own. They were each holding a doll, but one was talking and laying hers in a toy crib. I assumed that was Sadie, so I kept an eye on her so I didn’t get them mixed up while I found two pairs of pajamas in the dresser. Mia was watching me as I removed two Pull-Ups from th
e package and sat down on the floor of their room.
“Pajama time!” I said as enthusiastically as I could. “Come here, Sadie. Look, I have…” I glanced at what was on the set in my hand and added, “Strawberries! How ‘bout we get some strawberry jammies on you?”
She barely glanced my way and then turned her naked buns to me again. “No I don’t wanna.” I slid closer to her and tried encouraging her to step into the Pull-Up but she resisted and let out a squeal.
I’m a failure. I can’t even dress a two-year-old. She hates me, I hate myself, and I don’t have enough tricks up my sleeve to battle her. I really wasn’t comfortable forcing this kid to get dressed, so I had no idea what my options were.
Mia had quietly inched her way toward me, so I directed my attention to her. “Hey, princess. How ‘bout you? Want to make this easier on me?” She was eyeing me dubiously but didn’t object. I held the Pull-Up open and said, “Step in.” Fat chance it would be that simple, but what do you know, she stepped closer to me, used my shoulder to hold onto, and stepped into the diaper. “Good girl! What about the jammies? You wanna put these on too?”
I was pressing my luck, but that little angel saved my life and let me put them on her. It also struck a nerve in Sadie because she started to throw a fit, demanding the “stawberry jams” that were now on Mia. I had no idea if they belonged to one girl or the other, but I wasn’t about to go round-and-round with them on the subject.
“Hey Sadie, go pick out some pajamas, okay? Then we can put your dollies night-night.” She stared/glared at me but didn’t move.
Mia touched my arm. “Seen?”
“Seen?” I repeated, looking into her big blue eyes.
“Seen?” she said again. She glanced behind me and around the room like she’d lost something. “Seen?” Her fingers were flexing open and closed and I finally realized what she meant.
“You mean ‘sing’? Oh, I don’t have my guitar, baby girl. It’s at home.” I slid across the floor to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer. “Sadie? Come pick out some pajamas, okay?” Looking at Mia again as I haphazardly searched through pj’s, I asked, “Do you have something here that plays music?” I was sure they had some kind of toy—a plastic piano or learning game or something—and that could do.
