Daniel shrugs and turns on the television to a documentary about the history of firearms. "It's Friday and they're having fun. Let's give them a little more time before we insist on slumber and have to endure their screams of protest."
*
Aaron lies on his side, an elbow down on the mattress, his head propped up on his hand, facing Janice as she pages through the book. "I thought, you know…" he says, "if you'd just point to the position you wanted, it would be a hell of a lot easier than me guessing. I don't want another supply closet style blunder."
She chortles. They had a book something like this when they were first married. It was given to Janice by a college friend at their engagement party. Aaron was mortified when Janice opened the gift. Their friends took great pleasure in his discomfort, and the book eventually disappeared in one of their moves. Neither rushed out to replace it, since over half of the positions they'd attempted had proved to be physically impractical anyway.
She points to an illustration just below a description on page 67. "You remember this? We tried this when we moved into our first apartment."
"And snapped the kitchen chair."
"The wood was so thin on those things. They must have been from the early 70's. We got them from my mom, remember? I don't think they were meant to withstand…" she laughs. "And you tried to break my fall and got that goose egg. Remember?"
"Hard to forget."
She flips a page. "This requires a dresser. So maybe when we're not in the basement."
He turns and glances back at the shelves. "No," she said. "Too far from the fireplace."
She settles on the next page for a moment. "Missionary style. Do they really needed to illustrate that?" she asks. "And why is it in the middle of the book?"
"It's a very underrated position. I'm told it's the most efficient way for a woman to achieve orgasm. Or is that when she's on top of the man? When is it most efficient?"
"Honey, frankly, it's most efficient when we're alone."
"Thanks. It's good to feel useful."
"Well, fortunately for you, there are things I value more than efficiency." She turns another page. "We tried this one when we moved into our first real house in Georgia."
He cranes his neck. She turns the book around to give him a better view. He shakes his head. "I don't remember that."
"It hurt," she says. "We stopped halfway and you hopped around the bedroom cursing and trying to work out a charlie horse. You've probably blocked it out of your mind."
She flicks through the pages, shaking her head, laughing, and then, "Oh God!" She flips the book around towards him.
"I was a soccer player, Janice. Never a gymnast."
She turns the book back towards herself. "I'm beginning to think maybe there's a reason we've settled into the habit of relying on just two or three positions."
"Oh, come on. We rotate through at least four or five."
She laughs. "Rotate? Is that what you do, Coach? Rotate through the plays?" She knows all of his smiles well - the fake ones, the sardonic ones, the happy ones, the nervous ones – but this one, the self-deprecating smile that curves his lips now – is among her favorites. She leans in and kisses the tip of his nose.
When she draws back, he nods toward the book. "Tell me how best to please you tonight."
She returns her attention to the book. She can feel him watching her as she turns the pages. Sometimes she smiles; sometimes she shakes her head with disapproval, and sometimes she murmurs with interest, but the whole time he watches her.
"Janice?" he asks.
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
"I love you too," she replies instinctively.
"And I'm still in love with you."
She stops looking at the book and looks instead at him. This is not a routine exchange of I love you's.
"It surprises me sometimes," he says. "I mean, I knew I'd love you and stay married to you, I just didn't think that after all these years, I'd still so often feel …like this. This way you make me feel."
She closes the book.
"I've always done well enough at whatever I've tried," he says, "because I've been determined to. Because I've worked at it. And I was determined to work at this marriage too. And I have. We both have. And marriage can be hard work, and sometimes ours has been. But there's also a part of it…a part of it that's always come easy. A part of it that's just so…natural. A part of it that's just dumb luck. I don't know how else to put it. I'm so damn lucky to have you. It could have happened some other way…with some other woman…and it might have worked out okay…but it wouldn't be like this. I got you. Somehow…I'm with you."
She puts a hand on his cheek. "We are good together," she says. "Aren't we?" She kisses him and then draws back. Her hand falls on the closed book. "You know what I want tonight?"
"What?"
"I just want you to make love to me. Face to face, side by side, as slowly as you can. And I want you to whisper sweet nothings and tell me how much you love me. And I don't give a damn how conventional that is." She picks up the book and tosses it dramatically away.
She doesn’t mean for it to land in the fireplace, but it does. It lands with a thud and a quick whoosh of fire. The flame dampens for a moment, but then the fire begins to lick at the book and grow again, to curl the pages as they turned to ash. "Oh, Lord." Janice, her chest heaving with laughter, covers her mouth.
"I paid good money for that book, woman."
"I didn't mean…I just wanted to toss it aside and say we don't need it tonight. I didn't mean to completely burn it up…"
He laughs and slides closer and kisses her repeatedly. One of her hands finds its way into his hair, and one of her legs hooks over his hip. "Face to face?" he asks. "Side by side? Slowly?" She nods. "I think I can manage that." He lightly takes hold of the edge of the tie on her robe and begins to pull it loose, little by little.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Janice awakes shivering. The fire has gone out. She puts her hand on Aaron's shoulder and jostles him. "Hon, I think we better go sleep in our own bed."
He grunts and stirs and then rises. "Get your pillow," he says. They make their way up the basement stairs. He flicks on the hall light, and they walk past the office on the way to their bedroom. She glances in and observes the empty frame of the futon, from which he’s removed the mattress.
"Thinking about trying out that thing in that office chair?" he asks with a smile. "It's sturdier than those old kitchen chairs were."
Janice chuckles. "It's the middle of the night, hon." She turns and kissed him. "But thank you for tonight. It was perfect."
Aaron kisses her in return, and as their kiss deepens, she drops her pillow. He drops his and puts his hands on her hips.
She breaks away, breathing hard. He presses his forehead against hers and says, "You want me."
"That's bold of you."
"But it's true, isn't it?" Still holding her by the hips, he pulls her into the office as he walks backward. They stumbled into the chair. She laughs, but when Aaron begins assaulting her neck with kisses and slipping his hands inside her robe, her laughter soon fades to moans.
Her breath warm in his ear, she whispers, "This would be a good time to talk dirty to me."
*
"Ewwww. No. Backtrack," Janice insists.
"I'm not very good at this. Just tell me what you want me to say."
Janice sighs and slides off of Aaron and the chair. She leans back against the desk opposite him, her robe fallen open. "It doesn't work that way."
"Then write me a script and I'll use it next time. Come on, Janice! You keep changing the rules!"
She smiles affectionately. "I guess I should be grateful you're not a natural at this. I think it's because you're so sweet at heart."
"No I'm not," he insists, "I'm not at all sweet. I'm bad. And I'm dirty. I'm very dirty."
She laughs. She steps forward, takes his hand, and tugs. "Come on, let's go to our own bed."
"I didn't say that. I just said let's go to our own bed. That chair keeps swiveling all over the place. You're going to get another goose egg."
As they leave the study, she pauses in the living room and glances at the recliner, and then at him.
"We could make that work," he says.
*
In the morning, Janice awakes gradually, stretches, and then lies on her side and watches Aaron sleep. She know he’ll eventually sense himself being watched and awake, which he does, saying, "That's a little creepy, honey."
Janice rolls onto her stomach and kisses his forehead. "I want breakfast," she says. "Did you plan breakfast too?"
"Janice, there's no Sophie this morning. There's no school. You don’t have a catering gig today. There's no reason for us to get out of this bed at 8 AM."
"Except that I'm hungry." She pats him. "I'll go fix us something and let you sleep a little more. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't ruining any romantic breakfast plan of yours."
"Romantic breakfast? Is that even possible?"
"It's very possible."
He puts the pillow over his head to block out the sunlight streaming in through the window. "I have no plans," comes his muted voice. "But we're kid-free until 6 PM, so think about what you want to do this afternoon."
"I want to see an adult movie," she says.
He slides the pillow off of his face and looks at her with one open eye and one raised eyebrow. "An adult movie?"
She rolls her eyes. "You know adult movie doesn't mean what it used to mean before we had kids. I want to see something that's not for families. You know, sort of like when you say, 'When we were single,' and you really mean when we were already a couple but we didn't have kids yet." Emily and Sophie haven’t just changed their lives. Those girls have changed their lexicon. "Maybe something at the Cinema de Arte," Janice concludes.
"As long as it doesn't have subtitles." He puts the pillow back over his head and mutters, "I don't like to read my movies."
*
"Okay, Sophie, first thing," Daniel says, pointing to the BB gun he's lain down on a wooden table erected on a field of grass stretching a few yards to a series of posts on which sit several aluminum soda cans. "The gun is always loaded."
"No it's not."
"I mean for safety purposes you have to treat the gun as though it's always loaded, because you can never be sure."
"Yes you can."
Othello and Cory stand a few feet off, the younger twin shaking his head and the older one whistling.
"Sophie!" Daniel demands. "Repeat after me—the gun is always loaded."
"Except when it's not."
*
Aaron leans over to Janice in his movie theatre seat and whispers, "This is subtitled."
"I know, but after what you pulled this morning, you deserve subtitles. You're going to sit through this entire poignant French drama."
Currently, they are one of only three couples in the theatre, and there’s no one in the row either directly in front of them or directly behind them. He reaches into the popcorn bucket, takes out a single kernel, tosses it into the air, and catches it in his mouth. "Stop that!" Janice hisses.
Just then the camera begins to scan upwards over the body of a woman, beginning with her bright red high heels, up over her shapely legs. "Good night!" Aaron says. Up, up the camera shot spans. "Oh, she has a face."
Janice slaps him on the shoulder.
"You picked the movie," he reminds her.
"No commentary from the peanut gallery."
*
Daniel sighs. "Okay. Now I've shown how to put the BB's in." He pats the gun that lies on its side on the wooden bench. "When you're transporting your gun, though, you want to take the ammunition out and carry them separately in the case because state and local laws vary, and you don't want a loaded gun in your car."
Sophie puts one little hand on her hip and cocks her head at him. "I thought you said a gun was always loaded."
Daniel closes his eyes. "Cory!" he shouts. "You're up, son."
*
Another piece of popcorn goes up in the air and comes down in Aaron's mouth. Janice sighs. "Fine, if you're going to be like this, let's just go."
"I'm watching," he says. "I'm being quiet. I'm just eating my popcorn."
"No. Fine. Let's go."
"No, I've stopped." Aaron put the popcorn on the floor and sits on his hands. "I'll be a very good boy for the rest of the movie."
"You're bored. We might as well go."
"You want to see the movie, I'll watch the movie."
"I don't want to force you—"
Aaron chuckles. "Wait a minute. You want to go. You want to go! You're bored to tears by this pretentious swill and you just don't want to admit it!"
Janice bites her bottom lip and shakes her head. "I just really don't want to force you."
"Uh-huh. Then we're staying. Besides, I kind of like the lady in red. When she's not discussing French politics with that communist priest."
*
"We call this prone position," Daniel says, showing Sophie how to lie face down on the ground and grasp the rifle. He moves the stand-alone posts a little closer for Sophie's first try, but he still doesn’t expect her to hit anything. "It's the easiest and most accurate position. The ground provides extra stability. Now what you want to do is put your finger lightly on that trigger, don't shoot yet, because you're going to want to pull slowly and smooth – wait!"
There’s a woosh sound and a plink as a can wobbles and then falls off the post.
"Good shot, Sophie!" Cory yells. "She got one her first time! It took me two trips to the range before I got my first can down!"
"I think she just got lucky," Daniel says. "Although girls do tend to be better shots on average than boys. They just don't show as much interest and don't practice as often, so…Good God, Sophie!" There’s a clunk as a BB hits another can and it, too, falls. "If you Mitchells are still living here in nine years, I'm going to have to talk your father into sending you to Grant High. Because Franklin doesn't have a good enough rifle team for you."
*
"Oh, fine!" Janice exclaims. "I'm bored. Let's go."
"You know what would be more interesting?" Aaron ask on the way out of the theatre.
"A quickie?"
"You're suggesting it?"
"Three hours of freedom left before we have to pick up Sophie," she says, taking his hand and laying her head on his shoulder as they walk back to the car.
"Then there's no reason to be quick about it." He opens the car door for her.
"Why thank you, Coach Mitchell." She knows the transition this past year has been a challenge, and she likes to remind him that he’s more than the caterer’s husband, that he’s his own man, a man she admires.
As she slides in, he bends down and says, "This has been the best weekend I can remember having in years."
When he gets into his side of the car, she says, "It has been great. It's almost worth having to coral Cory and Othello next weekend."
"What?"
"Oh, didn't I tell you? I agreed we'd take them off Daniel and Eden's hands. Friday evening is laser tag, and Saturday you’re all going to Chuck E Cheese together. I won’t be able to help because I have to cater a party."
Aaron turns the key in the ignition. "This better be a damn good last three hours."
She lays a warm hand on his thigh and squeezes. He’s taken awhile to come around to their new life, but he has a good friend now in Daniel, Cory and Othello are about to become his godsons, and Janice knows that whenever she does find the time to go back to college, she’ll have his support.
“Best three hours of your life,” she promises him with a wicked a smile, and he throws the car quickly into reverse.
THE END
Author’s Note: Aaron and Janice Mitchell are minor characters in the full-length novel Off Target, which jumps twelve years into the future to f
ocus on their daughter Sophie. Off Target is a humorous coming-of-age story and a tender romance that can appeal to any adult, young or old, who has ever learned through love.
Off Target
by Molly Taggart
Sophie Mitchell may be the top marksman on her high school rifle team, but she has bad aim when it comes to boys. Her best friend Cory tells her that she doesn't have to date, but how else is she supposed to fit in? Even her own mother thinks she's eccentric. What eighteen-year-old girl isn't interested in romance? So Sophie resolves to date even while she remains bullet-proofed from love. As Cory observes her amorous adventures from downrange, he worries that, these days, Cupid might be making armor-piercing bullets.
Roots that Clutch (a novel)
by Molly Taggart
Jeb Anderson is entranced by his brother's lively sister-in-law, but he can’t act on that. His ex-wife wants him back, and they have children. Life isn’t like the simple country love songs he writes to turn a quick buck. It’s thorny and it’s tangled, like family roots, like the poetry that haunts his soul. Jeb recently managed to reconcile with his estranged brother over their father’s coffin, so maybe he can rebuild a marriage with his cheating ex. Or maybe he’s making the worst mistake of his life.
Roots that Clutch is a contemporary tale of family, reconciliation, and the obstacles we must overcome on the path to mature love.
"When I find myself reading a book at ten o'clock at night, glancing at the clock and thinking, 'one more chapter,' then I am enjoying the book. That is what happened with Roots that Clutch." - David Burnett, The Kindle Book Review
"Molly Taggart, in Roots That Clutch, writes a sweet love story...the characters in this tale have more depth than many romance characters of today. The story is smart, and deep, while being easy to read." - Obviously Opinionated Review Blog
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