by Jay McLean
“Becca…” I warn.
“I know. I’ll shut up.”
“Good.”
“Just one more thing. I promise,” she rushes out, her eyes wide. “When Tommy’s older and he somehow finds out about your skating— because he will—what are you going to tell him? That he’s the reason you quit? I mean the fact that you’re going to have to admit you’re a quitter is one thing, but then you’re going to make him feel guilty that it’s his fault.” She cringes as soon as the last word leaves her.
“Are you trying to guilt me?” I ask, unable to contain my smile.
She shrugs. “Is it working?”
I stare at her, right into her emerald eyes, and my heart has never felt so full of promise. “Fine.”
She covers her squeal—or at least her version of a squeal—with her hand. “Because I guilted you into it?”
“No.” I move beneath her to get more comfortable. “Because you asked me and I’m pretty sure I’d do absolutely anything you asked.” I grasp her waist and shift her higher slightly. She’s still in my shirt and I’m still shirtless and she looks… she looks like Becca. Perfect.
“Thank you, Josh. I know it doesn’t really involve me but I feel like I’m part of it.”
“Of course it involves you, Becca. You’re giving me the courage to coast.” I lean in and kiss her softly. “Thank you for caring about me. And I’m sorry for not telling you about Natalie’s parents. I should have. I’m just dumb with stuff like that.”
“You’re not dumb. Stop it. It’s not like it changes anything.”
“I never thought I’d find someone like you. Someone who’d put up with me having a son and wanting to be part of both our lives. Why do you do it, Becca?” I ask, my heart pounding against my chest.
“Because, Josh. You and Tommy…” She places my hand over her heart. “…you own me in here.” And even as I feel her heart beat against my palm, I wonder if she knows that she just made mine stop.
All my words anchor somewhere between my heart and my throat. Maybe it’s because deep down, I know nothing I can ever tell her will be worthy of how I feel—that even though she thought my love and my passion were skating—she has it wrong.
It’s her.
She must sense what I’m feeling, because a slow smile spreads across her lips. “I know,” she whispers. But she doesn’t. She has no fucking clue. She can’t possibly.
I press my lips to hers, trying, hoping, that it’s enough, that somehow, through a single kiss she’ll be able to feel it: how much she means to me. How much I appreciate her. How much I love that she didn’t just want me. She wanted us. All three of us.
Her fingers tighten in my hair and she presses firmer, rocking her hips into me. We break the kiss just long enough for me to remove her top, and when her hand covers my heart and she breathes out my name, I know what’ll happen next… I know we’ll give each other a piece of ourselves. Not just physically, but in every way possible. And when I flip us over; her lying on her back with me on top of her and I push into her for the first time, watching her eyes roll back and feeling her fingers dig into my back—I know it.
I feel it.
She’s disintegrated my armor with her existence, and now she has all of me.
Every single part.
I let her see me.
I let her love me.
And I let myself believe, just for a moment, I understood why.
19
-Becca-
“Wow.” I clutch the covers to my chest and try to catch my breath.
“Sorry,” he murmurs kissing my shoulder. I face him just as he smiles against my skin.
Turning to my side, I run my finger across his forehead to move the hair caught in the sweat across his brow. “Why are you sorry?”
“About the first time.”
A giggle bubbles out of me. “You made up for it the second and third.”
“Yeah?” he asks, his cheeks darkening with his blush. “I hope so.”
“You did. Trust me.”
He moans from deep in his throat and places his hand on my waist, drawing me closer to him until our bare chests meet. His mouth connects with my neck and moves down to my collarbone. “This is going to sound so weird,” he mumbles, lifting his gaze a little. “I really wish I had people around to show you off to.”
“Like a prize?”
He nods through a laugh and holds me tighter. “Exactly like a prize.”
“What would you say?”
“I don’t know.” He moves back slightly and rests his head on my pillow. “I’d probably just shout that this really hot girl let me have sex with her.”
I shake my head. “You’re such a dork.”
“I’m kidding.” He rolls over onto his back and holds his arm out, indicating for me to rest my head on it—which I do. “You know there’s never been a time since my parents disowned me that I’d ever wished it were different. I never wanted them to change their minds or to come knocking on my door begging for forgiveness. But right now, I wish it were different.”
I lace my fingers with his and kiss his hand. “Why?”
“Because I’d want them to meet you. I’d want them to know that even though I’ve made mistakes in the past, that I’m still loveable. That if you can find a way to care about me—then they should be able to, too.” His voice cracks and after clearing his throat he adds, “It’s not just that, though. I think they’d really like you, Becca.”
“Yeah?” I ask, unable to control my smile. “You don’t talk about them often.”
“I don’t really have anything to say.”
“But you have to be mad at them, or at least like—”
“I was,” he admits. “I used to be really angry and bitter and when that faded, I was just confused. It’s not like I came from a bad family. They were both active in my life. They supported my skating, encouraged it even. I don’t know… it’s like out of all the things I could do to fuck up; getting a girl pregnant was where they drew the line. The point of no return, you know? Yeah, they went to church and it was against their beliefs, but really? To not even try? It doesn’t make sense. And it’s not like they sat down and tried to talk to me about it, they just shut me out completely. The worst part is I still see her—my mom. I see her around town and at the store or whatever and she looks at me like I’m some kind of disease. I mean, I get that she’s disappointed and hates me… but her own grandson? She won’t even look at him. I doubt she’d even know his name, and if she does, she didn’t hear it from me. She won’t look at Tommy. Won’t even acknowledge his existence. Who does that, Becca? Who the hell can turn away their own grandchild?”
The same ones who turn away their own children, I want to tell him. But I don’t. Instead I say, “I’m sorry.”
He shrugs, but his mind’s elsewhere.
“What’s your dad like?”
“He’s… proud, I guess.”
“Of you?”
“No. Of himself and his life. He was a good dad, don’t get me wrong, but he’s always been stubborn and hated being wrong. Like, my uncle Robby and he are stepbrothers. My grandma remarried and treated Robby like her own. Robby’s dad was successful and came from a line of wealth. That’s where Robby got the funding to start his business. But my dad? He won’t take a cent of it. Even when dad went to college and it was all set up and paid for, he worked to pay it back as soon as possible. He’d never pay for anyone to come to the house to fix things—he’d always spend hours on weekends trying to do it himself. Even though there was trust fund money for dad, he wouldn’t touch it… as if it was dirty money or something.” He shrugs. “I don’t know. He’s just stubborn and stupid.”
“Do you miss them at all?”
“It’s kind of irrelevant, right?” he says, kissing the tip of my nose. “It won’t change anything.”
★★★
I wake up before he does and I watch him sleep. With his eyes closed and his mouth parted slightly—his bo
ttom lip quivering with each exhale of breath—I’ve never seen him so at peace, and even though the permanent lines between his eyebrows can’t hide the constant worry that falls on his shoulders—he’s never looked so weightless before. When every single part of me aches to kiss him, I creep to the bathroom, brush my teeth, and then silently sneak back in his arms. “Wake up,” I whisper, lightly kissing his bottom lip.
His mouth forms into a smile against mine—his hand finding my waist and gently pulling me to him. One eye opens and then closes quickly. He groans quietly—his voice hoarse from sleep, and rests his head on my chest. Holding me tighter, he mumbles, “Please tell me this isn’t a dream.”
I run my fingers through his hair. “It’s not a dream, baby.”
“Sure?”
“Positive.”
He’s silent a moment, and just when I’d assumed he’s fallen asleep, he mumbles, “Good, because I have to tell you something…”
“Yeah?”
“Yep.” He moves up a little and presses his lips to my bare shoulder. “I’m kind of crazy in love with you, Becca.” Then he jumps out of bed before I can respond. “And I need to go potty.”
“What kind of jerk declares their love for someone and then announces a potty break!” He just laughs as he closes the bathroom door behind him, all while I sit there, my heart pounding and my emotions forming a puddle in the pit of my stomach. I open my mouth, the words I love you too on the tip of my tongue.
I wait for minutes that feel like hours and when he finally reemerges from the bathroom—his hair and lips wet and his entire body still drunk from sleep—I sit up and pull the covers over my bare chest.
He smirks, his eyes focused on mine and I self-consciously tighten my hold on the sheets. “So…” I say, shrinking under his gaze. “Did you want to order breakfast… or…”
He settles his palms flat on the bed, his arms outstretched as he leans forward, his face less than an inch from mine. The muscles in his forearms and shoulders flex with his movements—movements that intimidate me and cause my breath to catch. “Or…” he answers, taking my bottom lip between his. He pulls back slightly. “Definitely ‘or.’”
We “or”ed until we we’re forced to stop and when we’re satisfied, he holds me to him, his thumb grazing up and down my arm. “When I was a kid,” he says, pausing to kiss the top of my head, “my dad made me this skate grind rail. I had no idea he was doing it but the look on his face when he saw my face was just… it’s how I try to remember him, you know? Anyway, that weekend Hunter came around and we spent every second messing around on it. His dad kept calling on the Sunday afternoon telling him he had to go home. I stayed out there until my mom made me go inside for dinner. I couldn’t sleep that night. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And I hated that I had to go to school the next day and be away from it. I remember thinking that I wished I lived two lives. The skating and the reality, and I wished I could live them both at the same time. I hated school for so many reasons but mainly because it took me away from something that made me so happy… something I loved.
“I have that feeling now, Becca, with you in my arms. You’re the reality I want and now I have to go back to real life where I’m going to be away from you. And even though I miss Tommy and I know that I see you every day, it’s not the same. In this room, within these walls, you’ve given me a better reality. A greater existence.”
“Josh?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m so deeply, insanely, desperately in love with you.”
“Yeah?” he says again, neither of us looking at each other.
I nod against his chest.
He reaches to the nightstand and grabs my camera, then proceeds to take a shot of us lying exactly how we are. “There’s absolutely nothing to question about what I just captured. It’s perfect. This is perfect.”
20
-Joshua-
Sometimes the most basic of moments become your most treasured memories. Like the time Tommy got on a skateboard for the first time and just stood there, not knowing what to do. He looked up at me with those clear blue eyes and said, “What now, daddy?”
I showed him where to place his feet and how to kick off the ground. He rolled for two feet before stopping and throwing his arms in the air. He shouted, “I just like Daddy!” And I laughed at the time, but now I look back on it and wish I’d paid more attention to every detail of that moment—what he was wearing, what the weather was like, what time of day it was.
So now, as I wait for Becca and Tommy who are getting ready to perform some kind of show they’ve apparently been working on for me, I try to remember everything. I look at the time; look at the orange of the sky outside. I try to memorize the sounds of their loud unrestricted laughter coming from Tommy’s room. But most of all, I try to bottle my emotions, not to contain them, but to savor them. I try to remember the excitement and the acceptance I feel and the love. There’s so much love. Not just the love I have for them, but the love I feel from them.
His bedroom door opens and Becca sticks her head out. “Babe! Can you move the coffee table to the side?”
After a nod, I do as she asks.
“Ready, Daddy?”
I sit on the couch and clap my hands together. “I can’t wait!”
A moment later they charge out of his room and my head throws back with laughter. “You guys look ridiculous!” And it’s not a lie. They’re both wearing bed sheets around their necks as capes. Becca has a pile of my hats on her head and Tommy has a metal strainer on his. Tommy’s in the brightest clothes he owns, but they’re on backwards and inside out and in the wrong order—he’s wearing his underwear on the outside of his pants, but the absolute best part, is that Becca’s the same. Only she’s in my clothes. My boxer shorts on the outside of her leggings and close to ten different layers of the ugliest items she would’ve found in my closet. And they’re holding spoons. “What’s with the spoons?” I laugh.
Becca shakes her head at me trying to contain her own cackle. “We are The Spoon Loving League,” she announces, and indicates to Tommy, letting me know it was his idea.
Tommy puts one hand on his hip, the other holding the spoon in the air and as loud as he can, he yells, “I am Captain LoonySpoon!”
I wipe the tears from my eyes, caused by my laughter and look at Becca. “And who are you supposed to be?”
Her gaze drops and her shoulders lift, then she mumbles something incoherent.
“What was that?” I ask her.
Tommy answers, his voice just as loud as earlier. “I am her leader. She is Officer PoopSniffer.”
I contain my laughter, just long enough to get out, “I’d like to hear Becca say it.”
She looks up, her glare in place, which just makes me smile wider. “I am Officer PoopSniffer,” she murmurs.
“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”
She huffs out a breath. “I wanted to be DesertSpoon but Tommy—”
“Captain LoonySpoon!” he cuts in.
She smiles. “Captain LoonySpoon wouldn’t let me.”
“And what are your powers?” I ask.
Tommy hits his helmet/metal strainer with the spoon and Becca goes flying back, pretending to fall on the ground.
“Did you feel it, Daddy?” Tommy asks, his eyes wide with excitement.
My eyes move from Becca to him. “Feel what?”
“The force field.”
“Oh!”
He does it again, and this time I pretend to be affected by it. “Those are some awesome powers,” I tell him. “What are Becca’s powers?”
“She can smell poop from far away.”
Becca starts to get up but before she can there’s a knock the door. Her eyes widen.
“Open the door, PoopSniffer,” I say.
She stands up and looks down at her clothes, then crosses her arms. “No way.”
Tommy chimes in. “I am your leader so open the door, PoopSniffer!”
I get up and squee
ze Tommy’s shoulder as I pass him. “I was just kidding, Tommy.” I open the door, my eyes still on him. “We shouldn’t talk to Becca like that.” Then I turn around and come face to face with Robby and Kim. “Hey. I didn’t know you guys were coming over.” I open the door wider. “Tommy, Uncle Robby and Aunt Kim are here.”
He sidles up next me. “I am Captain LoonySpoon,” he shouts.
But they don’t react. They just stand there, their expressions identical. There’s no hint of smile, no form of happiness to see us. “What’s going on?”
Kim’s eyes move from me to Tommy and I can tell right away that something’s wrong because her eyes cloud with tears but behind that, I can see the pity.
I suck in a breath and hold it, my mind racing with a thousand scenarios. Then I hear it—my name—coming from a voice I hadn’t heard since just after Tommy was born. I square my shoulders, my glare formed and directed at Robby. “Why?” I whisper.
“Sorry,” he says, stepping to the side.
Time hasn’t changed her. She looks exactly like she did the last time I saw her; with tears in her eyes and a pleading look on her face, and instantly, I’m pissed—at Robby for bringing her to my home, and at her for looking at me the way she is… for coming here and ruining a perfectly perfect moment.
After three years of no contact, I do my best to not let the anger show. “What the hell are you doing here?”
But it’s Robby who answers. “Your mom and I—we need to talk to you.”
“You see me every day, Robby. If you needed to say something you could have,” I clip. “You didn’t need to bring her here. This is my house. My home.” I look over at my mom. “This is where I’ve set up a life with my son. Your grandson—just in case you forgot he existed.”
Becca’s hand brushes against my back as she squeezes past me and picks up Tommy. My gaze drops and I wait until Becca’s carried Tommy down the stairs, my heart thumping hard against my chest, and when I hear her front door close and I know she’s taken him away from the destruction I know is about to occur, I look back up at my mother, my jaw tense and every single muscle in my body aching to slam the door in all their faces. I cross my arms and ball my fists. “I’ll ask you again. One last time. What the fuck are you doing here?”
