Memoir in the Making: A May-December Romance

by Adrian J. Smith

  “Yes. Now, go try this one on.” He handed her a pair of tight jeans, an even tighter shirt she’d had in high school that barely fit her anymore, and a thong.

  Ainsley wrinkled her nose at the thong. “I thought this wasn’t supposed to be encouraging. This—” she held up the tiny piece of underwear “—is encouraging.”

  “You need it.”

  “I need it? What the hell do I need it for?”

  “Power. To give yourself confidence. To make you feel sexy.”

  “Why do I need to feel sexy if I’m trying to avoid her?”

  Adam bit his lip and sat down next to her on the bed. “You need to avoid the Hot One. It doesn’t mean you can’t feel good about yourself.”

  Ainsley growled in the back of her throat but took the clothes and went to the bathroom to put them on. As much as she trusted Adam, she didn’t want to change in front of him when she was frustrated. She changed, thankful for the new underwear even though it was something she would rather not be wearing, and went back into her bedroom.

  Spinning in a circle, she waited while Adam judged her. The jeans were tight on her ass, but made her feel like her figure was put out there well. The shirt, however, was probably going to be an issue. It certainly was too small. Not only had her hips grown since high school, her breasts had grown. It stretched over her chest, making it difficult for her to breathe.

  “New shirt,” he muttered

  “Thank God,” she said and stripped it off before the fabric split in two. “Things keep on growing. I need to throw this shirt out.”

  “Keep it. May come in handy on Halloween.”

  Adam handed her another shirt, and Ainsley slipped it over her head. The brown coloring off-set her dark-brown eyes beautifully. She looked at herself in the mirror, Adam behind her, studying. It was low cut enough in the front to show some cleavage, but it wasn’t obsessive.

  “This is it!” he said. “Just need a belt, a jacket to match and then we have to do something with your hair. Ainsley rolled her eyes, but let him do whatever he wanted, knowing she would look and feel all that much better for it.

  #

  Meredith was on her hands and her knees, scrubbing her floor with a washcloth. Her mop had decided to take a permanent vacation and was now in three pieces in the garbage can out the back of her house. The wine glass next to her was her only company, and frankly, Meredith didn’t know how she would make it through the night without it. Everything was already in complete disarray.

  She’d taken the day off work to prepare for the influx of people her tiny house was going to be forced to hold. She’d been cleaning since early that morning, scrubbing all the dishes, getting the wine together, getting the food together. Sure it was a potluck and all, but she was still expected to make food on top of everything else she had to do.

  The papers she needed to grade that weekend were tossed in her office in a stack she wouldn’t be able to touch or look at until at least halfway through the next day. No doubt she would be cleaning up the mess in her house for all of the next morning. Meredith pursed her lips and wondered briefly what the point of cleaning for guests to come over if she would only have to clean after they left was, but she stopped herself from the morose answer and drank down the rest of her glass of wine.

  Leaning against the cabinet on the floor, Meredith wished her bottle of red would magically float down to her. Instead, since she wasn’t about to get up and then back down just for a simple glass of wine, she reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out her phone. Sam would be hearing about this. She dialed his number and waited until he answered.

  “Hello, lovely,” he said, his sing-song tone grating on her nerves.

  “I hate you,” she answered. “You left me all by myself to clean, take care of the house, do all of this work, and for what? A man? It’s inexcusable.”

  “I love you too, doll. That rough?”

  “My house is a mess. I don’t think I’ve cleaned it this thoroughly since the last time I hosted this damn thing.”

  Sam laughed. “It was really messy that time too. What are you cleaning now?”

  “The floor.” Meredith pouted. She looked up again at her kitchen table with the taunting bottle of red sitting close enough to the edge. If she inched her way over on the ground and reached up, maybe she could get it then.

  “You’re on your hands and knees?”

  “Broke my mop.”

  “You did not.”

  “I did,” she said and narrowed her eyes, still trying to determine the fastest way to get the bottle of wine. One more glass wouldn’t hurt. She still had hours before guests would arrive, and by then, she would be able to open a new bottle and start all over again.

  “What else do you have to do?”

  Meredith sighed. She wasn’t going to get the wine unless she really wanted to stand up and then get back down on her hands and knees. “I need to finish the floor in here and then clean the bathroom. After that I’m done with cleaning. Just have set up left to do.”

  “Good progress.”

  “Thanks for the encouragement,” she said sardonically. “It’s really appreciated.”

  “Why’d you call?” he asked with a laugh.

  “To bitch to you about you not being here to help me. How am I supposed to handle them all without you? You know I don’t like them.”

  “Mer, it’s just one night. I think you’ll survive.”

  “What if Hopkins gets drunk again?”

  “Then someone will drive him home.”

  Meredith sighed and bounced her head against the cabinet. Every potluck she’d been to since being tenured had a disaster attached to it. Of course the students never knew, and of course, it was all covered up so they could have the next one the following semester. Each time, Sam and she had taken bets on who it would be—occasionally it was them.

  She groaned and closed her eyes. “I hate that you can’t be here. I get it, but I still hate it.”

  “Me too.”

  The somber tone of the conversation made her want to chase it away with the wine again. Meredith set the phone down next to her knee and turned it on speaker, figuring the sooner she finished the floor the sooner she would be able to drink the wine.

  “You know what else sucks?” she asked between scrubs against the tile.

  “What?” his voice echoed in her nearly clean kitchen.

  “She’s going to be here. And you have no idea how hard it’s getting.”

  “Oh, if only you were a man.”

  “Well, I’m not,” she shot back at him. “I’m serious, though. It’s harder each week. And it’s only getting harder.”

  “You have ten more weeks of the semester. You’re a third of the way done. I think you can do it.”

  “I’m not sure I can,” she muttered.

  There was silence for a few seconds while she slid the phone farther back along with her body and continued to scrub away on her floor. She didn’t really want to hear what Sam had to say, but at the same time, she did. If anything, he would be reasonable and put her back in her place.

  “Do you really like her, Mer? Like beyond just want to get her in bed.”

  “Yes. She’s intelligent, she’s an excellent writer, she makes me laugh—”

  “Yeesh, how much time have you spent with this girl?”

  Meredith bit her tongue. She hadn’t told him about the other night over a week ago. Hadn’t let him in that she’d gone home from his place a complete mess and had let Ainsley pick her up and drive her home. She’d snuck back early in the morning to get her car, so he probably hadn’t even seen it still sitting in front of his place.

  “Anyway, she came into class the other day, all uppity, and told me she was sorry she’s been making advances and that she didn’t think about some things. What does that even mean? I’m so lost on it.”

  “I don’t know.” Sam sighed. “PMS?”

  “You did not—”

  “It was a joke. I p
romise. Honestly, maybe someone pointed something out to her—like the age difference. Maybe that’s what she was talking about.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” Meredith scooted back again until she was in the doorway. She was so happy to be close to finishing with her floor. “Or maybe she just realized she wasn’t interested anymore.”

  “Really?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “How am I supposed to know? She didn’t explain it.”

  “Ask her tonight.”

  “Not happening,” she answered and sat back on her butt, setting the washcloth to the side. She was done. Picking up her phone, Meredith turned off the speaker and held it to her ear. “I’ll let whatever happens with that happen, but I’m not going to pry if she’s suddenly decided to drop it. It’ll make my life easier if she really has actually decided that.”

  “I’m sure it will.”

  Meredith pushed up off the floor and groaned as she moved. “My aching bones. This is why I don’t clean my floor that often.”

  “That and you don’t make a mess,” he said.

  “True. What about Hopkins? Should I keep the wine away from him?”

  “Meredith, just relax. What’s going to happen is going to happen, and you’re not going to be able to control it.”

  “I want to control it.” She dumped out her bucket of water in the sink and washed down the sides of it. Grabbing her wine glass from where she had left it, she refilled it and went to sit on her couch. She stretched out her legs and leaned back, sipping at the red and savoring each flavor.

  “You can’t. So stop.”

  “Fine. But if he pukes all over my floor or driveway or something, you better be here bright and early Saturday morning to clean it up.”

  Sam’s laughter rang in her ear. “I doubt that’s going to happen.”

  “What? Him puking or you being here?”

  “If he loses his dinner, I’ll be there. He’s not going to though. I promise.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Trust me, I do. Just keep yourself busy during the whole thing. There’s no need to worry about what’s going to happen or what’s not going to happen. Just keep to yourself and in the kitchen as much as possible, and you’ll be fine. It’s not as big of a deal as you think it is.”

  “That’s what you think. I don’t do these things.”

  “Parties?”

  “Yeah. I don’t like people, remember?”

  “Yes, I remember,” he said. “Hey, I gotta go. Jeremy needs a bath.”

  “You have fun with that. Talk to you later.” Meredith waited for him to respond before hanging up the phone and sipping at her wine again. She took a deep breath and then gave up. She couldn’t relax just yet; there was too much work to be done.

  Chapter Eleven

  Meredith had just poured her third glass of wine for the day when there was a knock at her door. She glanced quickly to the clock on her oven and shook her head. She still had an hour before everyone was supposed to arrive—it couldn’t be a guest. Licking her lips and setting her wine down, she went to the door with curiosity swirling in her chest.

  She caught a glance through the glass at the side of her door of a beautiful chestnut-haired woman in tight jeans with a dark red jacket on. Meredith stopped in her tracks at her door and took a deep steadying breath. She pressed her forehead to the cool wood and continued to even out her breathing, not caring that she was making Ainsley wait outside in the chill—she couldn’t let her in just yet.

  Sam. She would need to call Sam the first second she got; he would be able to calm her down. Taking a deep breath in, Meredith stepped back from the door and put her hand on the knob. I can do this, she thought. I can make it through this night, I can make it through next week, and I can certainly make it through the semester.

  Letting the air out of her lungs, Meredith opened the door and pasted on a smile. Ainsley shivered on the other side of her screen door, her hands stuffed into her pockets and her shoulders raised to ward herself against the cold.

  “Ainsley, what are you doing here?” Meredith asked, questioning if it really was her who spoke. Her voice was breathy and filled with something she couldn’t quite name. She swallowed and waited for an answer, not wanting to repeat herself.

  “I thought you could use some help, since Sam isn’t around.”

  Meredith’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. She stepped back from the door to let Ainsley in, still stunned by the thoughtfulness and the audacity of the young woman. Not only had she thought to come help and took time out of her day to help, and she’d done it without asking.

  “Yeah, that’d be nice,” Meredith finally said after watching Ainsley shed her cute jacket. Ainsley hung it up on the hook by the door and rubbed her hands together.

  “It’s chilly outside.”

  “It’s fall.”

  Ainsley grinned. “My favorite time of year.”

  “It’s supposed to be even colder next week.”

  “But warmer tomorrow,” Ainsley countered. “We have the parade tomorrow, so it’s a good thing. I don’t want to stand out there when it’s freezing.”

  “Parade?” Meredith gave her a funny look before leading Ainsley back to the kitchen. She grabbed her glass of wine and sipped at it, trying to give her hands something to do other than touching Ainsley.

  Ainsley nodded. “Pride Parade. A bunch of us students go to it every year.”

  “Oh. I’ve been! Sam, Jeremy and I used to go almost every year. Loads of fun. Love seeing all the floats.”

  “That’s my favorite part,” Ainsley said, smiling sweetly. “Anyway, since I’m here, put me to work.”

  “Right. Do you want wine? I have lots of it.”

  “Yeah. I’ll pour myself a glass.”

  Ainsley didn’t hesitate as she went to the cabinet with wine glasses. Meredith had bought plastic cups for the wine for everyone else when they got there, and she bit her lip to not tell Ainsley what to do and use a plastic one. She would be doing dishes later that night or the next morning anyway, so what did one more glass matter.

  After she had her own glass of red poured and sipped at it, Ainsley turned to stare at Meredith. Her gaze dropped down and then back up, making Meredith’s heart rap in her chest and then in her throat, her cheeks flushing from desire rather than insecurity. She drank her own wine to try and hide the effects Ainsley was having on her.

  “Was there something that needed to be done still? It looks like you have most of it ready.”

  “Didn’t go into work today,” Meredith answered and looked around her beautifully clean kitchen that was about to become a mess. “You can set out the crackers and cheese, I guess. They’re over on the counter. Plates are right next to them. I just need to run to the bathroom real quick.”

  Ainsley nodded, and Meredith didn’t wait as she ran out of the room and down the hall to her bedroom. She grabbed the clothes she wanted to wear that evening and sat on her bed, whipping out her phone. Sam had to answer. She held her breath as it rang, once and then twice, and then three times.

  He’s not going to answer. That bastard. Sure enough, it went to voice mail. Meredith cleared her throat and tapped her bare foot against the ground, waiting impatiently for the voicemail to pick up. Once the beep hit, she took a deep breath and started in.

  “Sam. She’s here. She’s here early. I’m not fucking kidding you. What am I supposed to do with that? What happened to avoiding her? What happened to this no advances thing? Doesn’t she know what she does to me? You definitely need to be around to answer your phone more often. I know you’re probably doing something, but I needed to talk to you. Well, give me a call back if you get this before the party. I’m going to need it—and tea. I expect tea sometime this week.”

  Hanging up, she stared at the phone in her hands before glancing at her closed bedroom door. Sighing, she wished she could just leave the house and the party all together. It was far more stress than she ever wanted anyway. She stood
up and changed into her clean clothes, smoothing her hands over the simple dress. It was a deep blue, bringing out the blues in her eyes rather than the greens. She’d worn it on purpose. It was her power outfit. It made her feel good and want to feel even better, and it boosted her confidence.

  Hanging the gold necklace around her neck and then putting in the matching earrings, Meredith was almost ready to go. She slipped into her beige heels and headed down to the bathroom to futz with her hair and makeup for a few minutes before going back out to what she was deeming the hellhole. People would be arriving soon. There were always some who arrived early, but the majority arrived late, not wanting to be the first guest there.

  Well, she already had her first guest. Meredith glanced at her reflection in the mirror, checking her eye makeup and smiled. Ainsley was her first guest, and no matter the reason behind why she was there, it was nice to have someone willing to help. She touched up her blush and her mascara and then walked out of the bathroom ready to face the world.

  No matter what Ainsley threw at her, she would be ready. When she walked back into her kitchen, she was far from ready. Ainsley had her music playing on her phone, and she was dancing and singing along with whatever song it was. Meredith’s heart skipped a beat, and she had to swallow just to be able to form words.

  “Hey,” Meredith said. “Having fun?”

  “Absolutely,” Ainsley replied, setting more crackers onto a plate while swinging her hips to the beat.

  Meredith wanted desperately to walk up behind Ainsley and press both her hands to Ainsley’s hips, tugging Ainsley’s ass back into her front. Meredith shook the image from her head and walked to the counter, picking up another plate. She went to the kitchen table and put together the chips and salsa, trying to ignore Ainsley who was still dancing away behind her.

  They had all the crackers and chips done by the time the thirty-minute mark hit. Meredith picked up a corkscrew from her drawer and moved in closer to Ainsley. Their eyes locked, and Meredith licked her lips, noticing Ainsley’s neck muscles tightened as she got closer.

  “Want to open the wine? The reds at least. They need to breathe.”