by Ali Parker
“I didn’t know it at the time, of course, but you and I, we were destined to be together,” he continued. “You gave me a reason for life, something I never deserved or expected. You pushed me to be a better man, a better lover, a better person, and eventually, a father to a little boy who I couldn’t imagine not having in my life. I love you more than anything in this world. So, I sat down with Mikey a week ago and talked to him about everything. He knows how much I care about both of you. And we both agreed that it was high time we make us a real family, something solid that we can hold onto.”
“We are a real family.” I smiled.
“We are, but I know it can be even better,” he said, looking up at the door.
I slowly turned around as Mikey walked back into the courtyard, carrying a shiny silver tray. He smiled big and walked over to Elon, nodding at him as Elon picked a small black box off the tray. It still, at that moment, hadn’t hit me what the two of them were doing. Mikey leaned over and kissed me on the cheek before setting the tray down on the bench behind him. He stood up and crossed his hands in front of him, looking over at Elon.
“What is—?” I stopped, looking over at Elon who was now on one knee. “Oh my gosh.”
“Nothing in my life made any sense to me until I met you,” Elon said. “You brought a clarity to my consciousness that I never imagined would come. You’re the woman of my dreams, and Mikey is the son I always wanted. Amanda, I love you more than anyone in my life, and I want to know if you would make me the luckiest man in the world and become my wife?”
“Yes,” I said, laughing and crying at the same time. “Yes, of course, I will. If it’s okay with Mikey, that is.”
“Of course, it’s okay with me.” He practically beamed. “I want nothing more.”
Elon opened the box and slid a huge diamond ring onto my finger. He stood up and pulled me in tightly, wrapping his arms around me and kissing me deeply. I leaned into him, feeling the excitement of the moment rushing over me. From the background, I could hear someone clapping, and I looked over to see Dalton walking out into the light.
“Congratulations, queen,” he said with a smile. “We’re going to have so much fun planning this shindig.”
“Oh, lord.” I laughed, turning and hugging Dalton.
“There is one more thing,” Elon said, pulling out a folder. “This is for both of you in a way, but it’s really for Mikey.”
“For me?”
“Yes,” he said. “After I marry your mom, I’ll be a legal guardian of you, your stepfather technically. But I don’t think of you as my stepson. I think of you as my son. This is a file that contains all the documents for me to legally adopt you. If it’s okay with your mom, and you want it to happen, I’ll make sure I’m legally your father for the rest of your life.”
Mikey took the folder and opened it up, looking at the papers inside. He stood there for a moment with no expression. He raised his hand up to his eyes and began to cry, nodding his head up and down.
“I already think of you as my dad,” he sobbed. “But this is awesome.”
Tears filled everyone’s eyes, and Dalton grabbed my hand, squeezing it as Mikey shut the folder and walked over to Elon, wrapping his arms around his waist. Elon pulled him into his arms and held him tightly, looking up at me with a tear running down his cheek. He pulled back and looked at Mikey in the face.
“I love you,” he said. “I want you to know that.”
“I love you too,” Mikey said with a smile.
“Then let’s celebrate.” Elon smiled, standing up and pulling me and Dalton into a group hug.
We all sat around the table, and Mikey shared his plate with Dalton. We talked and laughed like always, only this time, the conversation was around the future. Dalton talked about wedding plans, Mikey sat quietly reading over the paperwork, clutching it like it was the best gift he’d ever had, and Elon held my hand tightly under the table. This was my family, and none of us were perfect people. We all had our moments, but we were perfect for each other. Before Elon had come into my life, I could never have imagined having something this perfect. The thought of a future outside of that old apartment had seemed impossible in so many ways, but I was wrong. That man had walked into our lives, and he had changed everything for us.
Love and letting go had always been so difficult for me to swallow, but with Elon, it came easy. I relied on him in life, and I was okay with that. In fact, we relied on each other, and it was the happiest I had ever been. I thought my happily ever after was moving in together a year ago, but it had turned into so much more. I knew my mother was smiling down on us, knowing that we were happy, healthy, and so in love with our perfect little family.
The End
LONG RIDE HOME
By
Ali Parker
CHAPTER ONE
Although it was only mid-June, the summer heat had already started. A slow trickle of sweat ran down the full length of my back, the humidity stifling at best. The heat usually made me cranky, but it couldn't seem to dampen my spirits today.
Seated at the kitchen table, I enjoyed the twin smiles that lifted her parents' faces. They held in their hands my report card, the last one I would bring home from San Marcos High School. All A's again. Except for Advanced Calculus. There I'd gotten an A+.
"Your mother and I are sure proud of you, little lady." My father's voice was gruff, too many years smoking tobacco would do that, but even the cigarettes couldn't mask his delight.
Warmth filled my chest as I tried like hell to remain humble, but my daddy’s opinion always seemed to mean more than it should. Dad wasn't one to put his emotions on display very often.
I shrugged, trying to play off my accomplishments. "It's only high school."
"Christina. You know that you wouldn't have gotten that scholarship to UT Austin if you didn't have brains. Don't sell yourself short." Momma attempted to look stern, but she was the kind of woman who wouldn't say boo to a ghost. The look quickly morphed into a sweet smile, the one that had been part of my childhood as far back as I could remember.
"If that ain't a fact, God's a possum," daddy chimed in.
The phrase set me to giggling, like most of his silly phrases did. He was full of colorful phrases he'd learned from an uncle who'd done as much drinking as he had talking.
"He wasn't born," dad had once told me, "he was just squeezed out of a bartender's rag."
Momma rose from the table, carrying her empty plate to the sink and running water as she started to clean the dishes.
"It's haying time next week," she said, looking back over her shoulder at me. "Some of your cousins will be headed down to help with the cutting and baling."
"Cool." I gathered the remaining lunch dishes and carried them over to the sink before one of them got onto me to do it anyway. I’d been pitching in on the farm since I was old enough to hold a basket to collect eggs, but haymaking was a large task that required all hands on deck. My cousins often spent the summer on the farm, their family having moved to the nearby city of San Marcos after Dad's mother passed away.
I yanked my long blond hair up into a messy bun, dragging a strand of hair around it to tie it in place. Momma turned my way and poked me in the boob as she smiled.
“Ouch. What was that for?” I finished messing with my hair and sunk my hands into the soapy water.
“You’re just looking like a lady more and more. Baby… We might not ought to let all those boys come out here this summer. Your daughter has titties bigger than mine.”
“Mom. Really?” I glanced over at my mom and couldn’t help but smirk at the sound of my father laughing before grumbling about bringing out his damn guns.
Why they were worried was beyond me. It was just my cousins. I enjoyed spending time with those rowdy boys, but Christmastime was much better than the summer. The holiday’s allowed for games and staying up late to watch a few movies. Summers were all work.
There were three of them: Eddie, the oldest and tall
est who considering himself to be in charge of his brothers; Willy, the middle one who was always trying to prove himself better than his brothers; and Hank, the youngest and widest of the three. Hank was sensitive and not quite able to hide it, but I had to admit that I liked Hank best. He was too damn cute not to fall in love with.
Daddy moved up beside me and rubbed my back roughly as he leaned over to get momma’s and my attention. "Don’t let those boys near you, ya hear? I ain’t afraid to go back to jail.”
“Daddy you ain’t been to jail and it’s just family. Stop being perverted. It’s gross.” I flung soapy water at him as he popped my rear.
“It ain’t just family. One of the Thompson boys is coming with them to lend a hand. He'll be staying on the farm with us."
I froze at my father's words, a cold chill running down my spine.
The Thompson family used to live down the road until they'd moved closer to San Marcos. Mr. and Mrs. Thompson had raised five boys, although 'hellions' was probably a better descriptor. They use to tease and pull pranks on me and every other girl in school every damn chance they got. It might have just been me, but it seemed like they got a lot of chances.
I used to get so annoyed by their antics and teasing that I got branded with a nickname that I couldn’t seem to shake all the way up to my senior year.
"Pissy Chrissy," they'd dubbed me. I still remember the day I’d discovered the name. Those bastards sang it in an irritating sing-song voice until I forced the littlest one to the ground and threatened to punch their teeth down his throats.
Pissy Chrissy. I’ll show you Pissy Chrissy.
I started to wrap my arms around myself but realized I had soap all over them. The room was suddenly chilly despite the heat. Fear. It was the fear of having to come face to face with one of those Thompson boys. Not just one of them. Jeremy.
They had all grown older, and after the move, the Thompson boys had stopped harassing me as much, besides the occasional "Pissy Chrissy" shouted out when I passed one of them in the halls at school. I sure wish my story with the Thompson boys ended there.
But it didn't.
Please don't let it be Jeremy. I couldn't stand it if it was Jeremy. Anyone but him.
"Why are you dawdling, sugar?" momma asked me, drawing me out of my reverie. "Grab a towel and start drying these dishes."
I nodded and picked up the towel, ignoring the faint throb between my thighs every time I even thought of Jeremy Thompson. Why the hell did I have to fall in love with the one boy that would rather run me over than take me on a date?
Cause that was my damn luck. That’s why.
CHAPTER TWO
It was the Wednesday after graduation and it was hot. Like hotter than hell hot.
"Hotter than a billy goat in a pepper patch," my friend, Margie said, wiping the sweat off her brow.
"So hot the hens are laying hard-boiled eggs," I replied, as both of us cut up into laughter. It was a soft sound, as anything as strenuous as even laughing seemed too much effort in the damn heat.
It was afternoon, and we were sitting outside on the porch, paging through magazines and waving away the horseflies when they buzzed nearby.
"Here's a quiz that looks interesting." Margie was short and spunky, her curly red hair was currently frizzed up around her head like an orange cloud. "Are you good in bed, or are you great?"
I rolled my eyes. "These stupid magazines are more sex-crazed than a teenage boy who’s found out he can do more than pee out of his tally-wacker."
Margie closed the magazine and used it to fan herself off. "No kidding. Remember the way Brent Thompson used to chase us around, trying to corner us in the barn so he could feel us up?"
"He never caught me." I shook my head to make sure she heard me.
Brent Thompson was thirteen at the time, and had so many damn pimples, that we used to call him 'Connect the Dots' behind his back.
"I let him catch me once," Margie said.
"You never!" I moved back, shocked.
Margie had always said that she hated Brent Thompson. "I felt bad for him. He was always trying so hard and never succeeding."
I couldn’t help but laugh. Margie was far from generous with her favors, but I doubted the veracity of her friend's explanation. "What happened?"
"He grabbed my boobs like they were sacks of grain. I smacked him and he started crying.” She shrugged. “So, I did the only thing I could think to do - I ran home."
We dissolved into a fit of giggles, the feeling familiar and yet still good after years of doing it. I needed to share my news with Margie. She’d be crushed if I didn’t tell her what was happening. The Thompsons weren’t out of our lives yet and she needed to know.
"Speaking of the Thompson brothers," in what I hoped was a casual voice, "one of them is headed down here to help with the hay."
Margie turned to her, her green eyes wide. "Which one?"
"I don't know." I frowned and started to pick at my fingernails, needing something to do.
"You think it's Brent?" Margie ran her fingers through her riotous curls. It had little effect but to make them all fuzzier.
I cocked an eyebrow. "Dunno. You tired of Chuck already?"
Chuck was Margie's boyfriend. They'd been flirting for most of their senior year but only recently became serious.
"No!" Red blotches appeared on my friend's cheek. They most likely didn’t have anything to do with the heat, but I’d let her play it off if she wanted to. Her eyes narrowed as a smile lifted her lips. "It could be Jeremy."
I rolled my eyes as heat rose up my chest and covered my neck. I couldn’t help but paw at myself, suddenly uncomfortable as all get out. "I hope to hell it's not. Jeremy's a stupid jock. Besides… who cares? I haven’t seen him since I was a freshman. He’s all grown up and probably engaged to be married."
Margie pursed her lips, giving me a probing look. “I doubt it. Married men don’t come home to help with the neighbor’s farm.”
“And?” I glanced up at the sky and covered my brow. “I bet he’s fat and smells like cheese.”
She laughed and I smiled. “I doubt it, but one things for sure…”
“What’s that?”
“You look different. Your hairs all long and wavy now. You’ve lost all that baby weight and your boobs are so big that I’m damn near jealous and I like my boobs.” Margie pushed her shoulder against mine.
“I’m alright, I guess. It doesn’t matter. I’m not interested. Period.”
“You have always been interested in Jeremy Thompson. I’m going off to college soon and plan on finding me a boy there to experience a few things with.” I shrugged and brushed a lovebug off my thigh.
"I hope it's Jeremy.” Margie sat up and took in a big breath of air.
“I hope it’s not."
“Well, damn. Did you ask your momma which one was coming?"
"It would have been rude. If she'd said Jeremy, I might have started vomiting right then and there."
Margie chuckled. "It’s just nerves. You remember how good he looked in that football uniform? He's so damn big and strong.”
“Arrogant,” I muttered.
“That too, but the bulge at the front of his uniform. Can you imagine the size of his cock?”
I yelped and swatted at her. “Stop it. That’s just tacky.”
“I’m serious. Remember he used to always take his shirt off like he was saying 'Look at me, I’m so hot. I’ll melt yer panties off of you.’"
I laughed and snorted. He totally did that shit, but the sad part was that it was probably true. I lost quite a few pair of panties just looking at him.
The thought of him with his shirt off did strange things to me. It always had. Ever since I was twelve and he was sixteen. It only seemed to get worse as we got older too.
Margie eyed me closely, a little too close.
I'd never told her about the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to me in my short, uneventful life. I wasn’t about to now
either. To deflect the unwanted attention, I quickly shifted topics.
"Forget Jeremy, I wanna know more about Chuck. You hinted that something special happened after prom, but you haven't told me what yet. Did ya'll make out? Did he get to second base?"
Margie wrapped her arms around her waist. "We did it."
"Did it? Did what?"
"Went all the way."
My jaw dropped open as jealously roared to life inside of me. "Are you serious? You had sex?"
Margie nodded. "Yes. I have officially torn up my V-card."
"Oh. My. GOD. Details! I need details!"
Margie lifted her hand as her phone buzzed. “Just a minute and I’ll tell you everything. It’s my momma.”
Prom night. What a shitty memory. Margie and Chuck had gone with me and my date, Harold, in Chuck's dad's pickup. The prom had been enjoyable, but not very exciting. I was more than happy to leave after a couple hours of dancing.
Harold had been a boring date and I spent the whole damn night wondering why I had said yes. We were lab partners in Chemistry and the poor boy had a crush on me all semester long. Since I wasn't seeing anyone and didn't have a date, I agreed to go to prom with him after he'd finally worked up the courage to ask me.
Big mistake. Should’ve stayed home and repainted the barn with a toothbrush.
The poor boy seemed to spend most of his time playing multiplayer online games featuring swords and sorcerers and soul-stealing. He spent most of the night regaling me with stories of his character's feats of bravery. It wouldn’t have been so incredibly bad if he could have at least been a good dancer. He wasn’t.
Still, when the truck had pulled up in front of my house, he'd insisted on walking me up to the door. I was about to go inside when he grabbed my arm and pulled me up against him. He smelled like butterscotch and toilet cleaner. I had to work hard not to gag.
I no sooner opened my mouth to ask him what the hell he wanted and he slapped his lips down on mine and forced his big thick tongue in my mouth.
