“Ugh you’re disgusting get away,” I replied, smacking him with a pillow. I was finally starting to calm down.
“Why do you hate love so much?” he asked, batting away my throw pillow attacks.
“I’m scared of things I don’t understand. It’s the American way,” I laughed. Cash scooted closer to me and took my hand in his. He kissed the back of my hand.
“Just… just be advised that I am near my bullshit limit. No more bullshit?” I asked, hopefully.
“No more bullshit,” he promised.
Chapter Seventeen
Every day I waited for Claire to pop back into our lives. Every time Cash went out with friends from work, I was terrified he was actually with her. That we had reached that level of monotony over the past few months that she warned me about. We definitely had the “what do you want to do for dinner, I don’t care whatever you want, well fuck I don’t care either just pick something,” conversation at least two nights a week. As soon as I noticed it, I immediately started being the decisive one when it came to our culinary indulgences. I don’t give a fuck if I was so sick of pad thai that I was having nightmares about it, I was still going to insist it was what I wanted if it was the first thing that came to mind. I’m not letting Claire win.
Cash and I started practically living together. I still maintained my apartment because I didn’t want to break my lease, and because I liked having my own space to retreat to when I needed it. Sometimes I just need to get into my own head. The leaves were changing colors, and the air was getting crisp. Come October, I was madly, deeply in love with Cash. The evening rays of the sun filtering through the dusty autumn air on my drive home from work were the same color as his eyes. Gag, right? That’s what love does to you. You start thinking in poetry. We were back to spending most nights together, and aside from awkwardly running into Madison while we were out to dinner; there’s been no more bullshit. We had just been seated and were teasing each other about awkward couples Halloween costumes when our server introduced herself.
“Hey guys I’m Maddie and I’ll be your… Holy shit! Cash! Hey! How are you!” she exclaimed, pulling Cash into an awkward hug.
“You’re a fucking waitress now?” Cash scoffed.
“Just evenings and a couple weekends a month, I got a DUI so, kind fucked shit up for me, ya know, financially,” she explained. Cash raised his eyebrows judgmentally. I kicked him under the table. He glared at me.
“So are you guys ready to order or-“
“We need a few minutes,” I interrupted, smiling.
“Okay, great! So nice to see you Cash. We need to get together! Catch up,” she smiled.
“That’s not going to happen, Madison,” he said sternly. I kicked him again.
“Okay, well just holler when you guys are ready,” she mumbled. When she was out of earshot, I laid into Cash.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Just smile and fucking nod. You don’t insult the wait staff. That’s how you end up with pasta prima pubic hair,” I scolded.
“Chicken con cockjuice,” he smiled.
“It’s not funny. Seriously. Don’t be a dick; we have to go somewhere else now. She’s going to spit in our food,” I cautioned. He agreed. I caught Madison’s eye as we left the restaurant. She looked disappointed. I wondered how things were going for her and Yoga Pants.
“Really hope that’s my last interaction with women you’ve been inside of. Watching them fawn over you is really gross,” I teased as we walked back to the car.
“Yeah, I hope so too. You act like it’s my fault. I didn’t know she worked here. She was a damn paralegal when we dated,” he said, shaking his head. Madison was not what I had expected. I expected another girl like Claire. Madison was beautiful, but she didn’t have the presence I expected her to have. She looked like a kindergarten teacher. She didn’t make me nervous. I felt like I made her nervous. I’d built her up into this ethereal goddess, and for once, I was relieved. I wasn’t worried that Cash was going to have a change of heart and decide to meet her for drinks to ‘catch up.’ It was nice to have faith in him for once.
We didn’t feel like waiting for a table at another restaurant. Cash ran through the drive through on the way back to the complex. Once there, he parked the car and popped the trunk.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Let’s do down to the beach,” he suggested, throwing a blanket over his shoulder. I followed him down to the edge of the water. He spread the blanket out on the rocky sand. I sat down next to him and dug into my cheeseburger. It was kind of cold outside, but it felt fresh and clean. Like the chill of fall had sanitized the stale air of summer. Cash stared out over the lake.
“Are you okay?” I asked, reaching out to stroke his shoulder.
“Yeah, I just hate fucking running into her. I’m sorry,” he said, turning to look at me.
“Why are you still thinking about it? She’s obviously like, not doing that great at life. Laugh on the inside at her misery and move on like the rest of us,” I offered.
“I’m trying,” he sighed, pulling me into a kiss. I pulled away.
“What are you feeling? Is she going to be a problem?” I asked.
“No. Jesus. Absolutely not,” he replied.
“Good. I’ll cut a bitch,” I teased, climbing into his lap. It was dark on the beach; the only light was from the moon and the screens of our cellphones. He laid back, pulling me with him. I reached down the waistband of his pants.
“Fuck, your hands are cold,” he laughed. I stood up and pulled off one leg of my jeans while he fumbled with the button on his pants. I pushed my panties to the side and let him slide inside of me as I lowered myself back onto him. His fingertips felt like they were burning my exposed skin as he helped me rock my hips. I let the top half of my body fall into his, and he moved his hands to my shoulders to guide my motions. I came gently and quietly. He rolled us over, throwing my leg over his shoulder, supporting himself with his other arm. I stroked his face and whispered his name. I felt him pulse as he came. He collapsed into me.
“We probably shouldn’t stay here like this, what if someone saw us?” I cautioned.
“Yeah, let’s go inside,” he agreed. We pulled our clothes back into place and headed back to the building. Mark that off my bucket list. Sex on a beach. Boom. Done.
The next few months flew buy. When you’re an activities coordinator, October, November, and December all blur together into Hallogivingmas. It’s a whirlwind of trick or treat events and costume contests and decorating bullshit and meals and family days. It was now December, and I was desperate for an excuse to get out of going home with Cash for Christmas to meet his family. It’s not that I don’t want to meet his family; I just think that meeting family for the first time on a major national holiday puts way to much pressure on the relationship to be successful. You bring this person into their lives and they feed them and house them for the weekend and they expect them to be there forever. Then there is all this disappointment and awkwardness when they aren’t with you the next time you go home. “Oh, what happened to that nice boy, the veterinary assistant? Why can’t you keep a boyfriend, Lilly? Are you a lesbian?” I might have holiday PTSD. I had already dodged Thanksgiving because Regan and I have a long-standing tradition of getting black out drunk and burning a turducken. He tried to talk me into coming to his mom’s with him. It was only a four-hour drive. “But babe… Our turducken.” I could probably just be honest. Yo dude, I don’t want to do that yet. Let’s wait until there’s not intimate family only shit going on. I usually go see my parents for Christmas, and I really didn’t want to skip that fun backhanded compliment marathon, either. They retired to Florida after my sister left for college. He probably wouldn’t want to pay for that plane ticket, anyway.
Tuesday afternoon, I walked in the door after work to find Cash on the couch, scrolling on his laptop.
“Hey babe, glad you’re home. Who’s parents are we going to for Christmas? I’m l
ooking at airfare and if we’re going to yours we probably need to buy now. We probably need to buy like two months ago, actually,” he said.
“Yeah, I kind of don’t want you to meet my parents yet. They’re kind of exhausting, I don’t think I’m ready for that,” I cringed.
“Not ready for that? Ouch. We’ve been together for nine months, Lilly,” Cash replied, with a twinge of hurt.
“You cannot count from the first time we fucked,” I teased.
“Sure I can,” he quipped back.
“Not that I’m not like, not taking our relationship seriously. I just don’t… I don’t know. I don’t like introducing guys to my parents. They think I should be married and have three kids by now, and I don’t want to get their hopes up,” I laughed.
“Then let’s go to my mom’s,” he suggested, shutting his laptop.
“Well, I kind of don’t want to do that either. And I kind of already have my ticket for Florida,” I admitted.
“That’s fucked up. So you’ll shave your legs with my razor and brush your teeth with my toothbrush but you won’t come eat my momma’s Christmas ham,” he teased.
“I’m sorry. Christmas is just… super fucking… I don’t know. I’m not a cheerful person; you know this. I don’t like invading into someone’s family space when I’m not family,” I replied.
“That’s how you become family. If you don’t want to come I won’t push you. But, do you plan on meeting them, ever? Or are we just going to keep pretending that we exist in our own little bubble without annoying, prodding questions and embarrassing childhood stories? Because that’s a part of life, Lilly. If that’s what you’re trying to hide from, it’s ok,” he asserted.
“Yes, I will meet your family. I will let you meet my family. Just not for Christmas. There’s too much pressure,” I replied.
“Okay. I love you,” Cash called after me as I walked to the kitchen. I still hadn’t said it back. I don’t have a reason other than the fact that it annoys him, and because it’s too built up at this point. I’ll say it on my terms.
“I know,” I call back.
“Don’t Han Solo me, motherfucker!” Cash chuckled.
“Why? He’s the smoothest motherfucker in the universe,” I teased.
“Do you love me, Lilly?” Cash asked, sincerely.
“You have no chill,” I said, rolling my eyes. Yes, I fucking love you. I am so in love with you that the thought of not being with you causes me physical pain. I don’t want to leave your side, ever. I want to put you in my pocket and take you with me everywhere I go. But the minute I tell you that, you’ll stop trying.
“I just want to make sure I’m not reading into things wrong. I just want to make sure you’re as happy as you’re pretending. I don’t want to float along blissfully just to get kicked in the teeth if you’re just waiting for an out. I’m just asking for a little communication,” he prodded.
“You’re not reading anything wrong, and I’m not going anywhere. They’re just words. You’re giving them too much significance,” I argued.
“You can’t give those words too much significance. They’re the most important words in spoken language. Love topples empires, inspires art, motivates change, people around the world have been living and dying for love since the beginning of time. You can’t say that’s not significant,” Cash insisted with a flourish of his hands.
“You should write greeting cards,” I suggested.
“I think I saw that on a greeting card, actually,” he laughed.
“What, besides making sounds with my mouth in a particular pattern and cadence, do you need me to do to show you I’m serious about us?” I asked.
“Come meet my mom, come spend an awkward holiday with me,” he begged. I groaned and rolled my eyes.
“Fine,” I said, defeated.
“Seriously?” he asked, surprised.
“Yeah. I guess,” I said.
“What about your plane ticket to Florida?” He queried.
“Well, I already had my parents promise to buy my ticket. It’s not actually physically technically purchased yet. I just really didn’t want to go,” I admitted.
“Well you already said you were coming. It’s too late to back out now!” Cash teased.
“I won’t back out. Just promise me your mom won’t ask when we are getting married, or what church we go to, or if I plan on having children, and that you will keep your hands off me the entire weekend and won’t try to fuck me in your high school bedroom,” I pleaded.
“I cannot make any of those promises,” Cash replied, “in fact, I can almost one hundred percent guarantee that she is going to ask all of those things, and I will definitely try to at least get a blowjob, but, too late! Pack a bag!”
“On a scale of one to ten, how much Jesus shit should I expect to see?” I teased.
“All of it,” he replied, “Just… all of it.”
Chapter Eighteen
I got home from work and finished up packing. Cash had already given me my Christmas present out of necessity, luggage. He had apparently seen me on moving day, toting up garbage bags and grocery bags full of clothes and belongings. It was thoughtful and useful and made me feel terrible for waiting until the last minute to buy him a bourbon gift set from the liquor store that I was already at. I decided I needed to give him something important. I adjusted his real gift so the part I wanted him to see first was facing outwards, snapped the box shut, and shoved it in my suitcase. I think he’s going to love it.
Cash texts me that he’s loading up the car. I hurry downstairs to meet him. He met me at the entrance to the building and grabbed my bags.
“Are you excited?” Cash asked.
“I have literally never been more excited in my life,” I drone.
“Get excited. This is important to me. My mom is going to love you. I can’t wait for you guys to meet,” Cash went on.
I’m bursting with anticipation and sheer joy. On the inside, where emotions belong,” I chided, sliding into the passenger seat. Cash tossed my bags in the trunk and hopped behind the wheel. He fiddled with his phone and Led Zeppelin started pouring through the speakers.
“Seriously?” I asked, shaking my head.
“What?” he asked, smiling, “It’s a road trip playlist. Classic rock was written for the highway.”
“Ok, well, while I do have an appreciation for musical greats, I’m going to be insufferably snotty and generational and listen to something written in the last century,” I say, pulling my headphones out of my pocket.
“It was written in the last century that’s not how time works. Do you mean this century? You’re not just exclusively part of a whole different century just because we’re in the two thousand’s now. You were born in the 80’s, you’re from the last century but… wait… No! No headphones,” Cash whined, trying to grab them from my hand, “you can’t put your headphones in. Who will partake in the witty banter with underlying sexual attraction with me?”
“I don’t hear any of that. All I hear is you trying to mansplain ordinal numbering to me,” I groaned.
“Fine, I’ll put something else on. I’m sorry, I don’t have any Taylor Swift,” he jabbed.
“Hey. Don’t hate on my T. Swift,” I defended.
“I’m sorry, I’m allergic to terrible music,” he laughed.
“Now that’s… no. We have to break up. I can’t believe you would say something that hurtful, just, just give me your fucking phone,” I quipped, grabbing his phone from his hand. We bickered about music for the first hundred miles. Which post-hardcore pop punk bands were tolerable and which were mass produced bullshit, which 80’s hair bands made music that was still palatable today, how far down the rabbit hole of consumerism modern pop has fallen. I fell asleep listening to Cash ramble on about how no one can actually hate Coldplay; it’s just cool to make people think you hate Coldplay.
“Lilly, hey, Lilly,” I woke up to Cash saying, unbuckling my seat belt and sitting my seat up right.
>
“What the fuck,” I mumbled.
“We’re here. I know this is going to be difficult for you but please try to keep the fuck words to a minimum,” Cash whispered, kissing me on the forehead. He grabbed our bags out of the trunk as I stumbled out of the car and stretched. It was a little after nine p.m. I wanted to go back to sleep. I followed him up the porch step and into a warm, glowing home.
“Cash! You made it in! Oh it’s so good to see you! And this must be Lilly! Oh, I’ve heard so much about you!” Cash’s mother, (Linda? Susan? Sharon? Some popular midcentury name like that,) said as she pulled me into an embrace. I really hoped he would introduce her by name, and that I wasn’t expected to remember it from the one time he mentioned it in passing.
“Is that so?” I asked, glancing at Cash.
“Mom, could you just, like, not embarrass me yet. I just walked through the door. Lilly, this is my mom, Nancy,” Cash blushed.
“It’s so great to finally meet you! I’ve heard a lot about you too,” I lied. Cash and I mostly talked about shitty horror movies, first person shooters, and Star Wars. While I’m sure we’d talked about our families at some point, I couldn’t recall anything he’d said about her. I know his father took off when he was a child and she had never remarried, but that was as much as I could recall.
“Well, come in. Come in. Your brother is here. And that thing he calls a wife. Lord help me,” Nancy whispered. I looked at Cash with wide eyes. Yay! Family tension! Cannot wait. She ushered us into the living room.
“Hey man! Good to see you,” Cash’s brother said, rising to his feet and pulling him into a hug. He looked a lot like Cash, older, more weathered. He had a neater hair cut, and blue eyes instead of brown. He extended his hand to me. “Hey, I’m Hank,” he introduced himself. Of course that’s his name. Somebody listened to a lot of classic country during her pregnancies.
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