A Special Obsession

by A. M. Hargrove

  “I love rides. I’ll go with him.”

  I pat him on the shoulder and say, “You’re a great guy, Weston.”

  I decide now is a good time to give him his Christmas gift. I don’t want to do it tomorrow in front of everyone else.

  Standing up, I hold out my hand. “Come with me.”

  “Where?”

  “It’s a surprise. But first, we have to hide that letter in case Cody wakes up.” I stick it in the drawer with the paper. Then I take his hand again and he follows me out to the barn. I’m pretty sure he’s thinking we’re headed out for another roll in the hay—literally. It makes me laugh.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  We get to the barn and I turn on the light. It’s one of those strings that you pull that hangs from the light bulb.

  Weston automatically heads for the ladder, but I stop him. “Where you headed?”

  “To our little fuck palace.”

  I swear to God, the things that man says. “Fuck palace?”

  “Yeah. Come on, Spike.”

  “Hang on a second. That’s not what I brought you out here for. I have a surprise.”

  “A surprise?”

  The expression he wears is somewhere between bewilderment and disappointment.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll get to that fuck palace eventually. Now, close your eyes.”

  When his eyes are shut, I take his hand and walk him to the side of the barn. “Hang tight a sec.” Then I uncover the old doors and tell him he can look. “Merry Christmas.”

  For a moment he doesn’t get it. Then the light bulb clicks and you’d think I just handed him the world. “Holy shit.” He walks over to them and closely inspects the grain. “Special, where did you find these?”

  “Around. Are they okay?”

  “They’re better than okay. They’re absolutely perfect. Do you know what wormy chestnut is?”

  “No idea.”

  “The chestnut tree was wiped out because of a blight that hit in the early 1900s. Wormy chestnut is wood that is milled from the trees that were harvested after they were infected. It has the characteristic little holes in it that the worm bored into the wood. There is only a limited amount of wormy chestnut out there. It’s not easy to come by, and it’s valued for its rustic appearance. These doors are wormy chestnut.”

  He glides his hand over each door, appreciating the aged surface.

  “Thank you for these. You know how much I love reclaimed wood. These are amazing. This is the greatest gift I’ve ever received.”

  His gratefulness touches me more than I can say. Speech is lost as I’m choked on the thickness in my throat. I open my arms wide and he walks into them, wrapping his arms around me in response.

  He nuzzles my neck with his nose, then whispers, “You gave me wood. And I’m going to give you some in return.” I let out a squeak of laughter and I can hear him rumbling too.

  “You ready to go to the fuck palace now?” I ask.

  We scurry up the ladder and after another quick and steamy roll in the hay, we lie in each other’s arms talking. He opens up more about his childhood and how his parents sent him off to boarding school.

  “They didn’t want to deal with me acting out, I suppose. So they let someone else do it. At first I was so pissed off and the fighting escalated. But then I met my friends.”

  “Prescott and Harrison?”

  “Yeah. The thing is, I disliked my parents so much by then, I would’ve rebelled anywhere. I wanted attention—any kind, good or bad. Eventually I fought the right kid—Prescott Beckham. Even though he busted my ass and I found my match, it turned out to be the best thing for me.”

  Apparently, Weston and Prescott got into it a lot. Prescott handed Weston his ass on a silver platter more than once, which was how the friendship began between the three of them.

  “After the recent ordeal with my father, I had a three-way call with them. They know how he gets to me. But they agreed I handled it the only way possible. Prescott, the more crass of the two, said to cunt punt the motherfucker. Harrison, who’s a little more refined, said it was time to cut ties with them. They both agreed that Dad had a vagina instead of a penis and he never acted like a man. Anyway, it’s done.”

  I’ve been playing with a chunk of his hair as he talks. I say, “They sound like great guys, more like brothers.”

  “Yeah, they’re great friends, but they weren’t always the best influence. At first we were just a bunch of little shits, egging each other on, but as we got older, things changed. Harrison was probably the best of us, although he pulled some shenanigans of his own. I can’t make excuses for any of us, other than we were fuck ups when we were young. I’m glad those days are behind me.” He shakes his head and adds, “They were especially bad when it came to girls. You would’ve hated them.”

  “Did they do stuff like Joseph Carmichael did to me?”

  “Oh, hell no! They used girls, but weren’t criminals. They were terrible flirts. Used girls for sex, homework, and other typical teenage boy stuff. They weren’t the kiss-and-tell type and were always upfront. The girls knew what they were getting into. Same with me. I never made any false promises to anyone. Prescott was the worst, though. He had a fucked-up home life, like I did.”

  “High school is a giant torture chamber, where some survive and some don’t.” Thinking back, I shudder.

  “Yeah. I’d like to get my fists on Carmichael.”

  I take his hand, squeezing it. “He’s not worth it. So, what made you stop fighting?”

  “Harrison and Prescott double-teamed me one day. They beat the shit out of me.” When I go to interrupt him, he stops me with his hand. “I deserved it. Even though they were assholes, they weren’t ones to pick fights. I was. They sat me down and we started talking. Things just started spilling out of my mouth.”

  “You were that bad?” He doesn’t seem the type.

  “I was looking for attention in all the wrong places.”

  “I’m glad I met you at this stage of your life.”

  “Had I met you then, I would’ve changed. I would’ve recognized something in you, even then.”

  “Oh, because I’m ‘Special,’ huh?” I bring out my fingers for the air quotes.

  “Definitely.”

  We talk long into the night, and sometime much later, I wake up in his arms. We’re wrapped in the quilt, spooning, his front to my back, and the thick pipe of his erection presses into my butt cheek. He rocks against me and I bring my knees as far to my chest as I can, reaching between my legs to slide him inside.

  His breath warms the back of my neck as his arm comes around to pull me closer into him. His hips take over the rhythm, rocking in and out, as his fingers seek out my clit.

  He presses kisses to my neck as the fullness inside me escalates, and then he murmurs, “Squeeze your nipples for me, Special. I want to feel you writhe. Tug on them, hard.”

  His thumb, or finger, I’m not sure which, bears down in a small circular motion on my nub, and the overwhelming combination of all sensations throws me off the edge as I cry out his name. His warmth pulsates inside me as he comes.

  He spreads his hand across my lower belly and says, “I love having you without a condom.”

  I turn my head to kiss him. “Do you know what time it is?”

  He looks at his watch and says, “Yeah, it’s six thirty.”

  “What! Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Cody is up already. Fuck me sideways.”

  “I just did that, babe.”

  “No, I gotta go.”

  Jumping up, I run to the ladder, but then I stop and sprint back. Pulling on my clothes haphazardly, I say, “Do I look okay? Any hay in my hair?”

  He sits up and says, “You’re fine.”

  Then I go to leave, but turn back around. “What are you doing? Get up! We have to go!”

  He gets up, but at a leisurely pace.

  I grab his hand and tug on it. “Come on.” />
  “Spike, they’ve figured us out already. No sense in rushing out now.”

  “You don’t know Cody. He may be out here any second, and what will I say if he finds you naked of all things?”

  Weston stands and, my God, I just want to tackle the man. But there’s no time. He gets dressed and the whole time I pace.

  By the time we get inside, Cody is zooming around, and when he spots us he says, “Where have you been? Santa has been here and didn’t even leave me a letter, Honey B.”

  34

  Weston

  Damn, if I don’t feel like the biggest shit that walks the Earth. How did I let this happen? And it’s all my fault—me and the damn one-eyed monster.

  Special shoots a look at me that amounts to distract Cody. I know exactly what she’s going to do.

  “Hey, kiddo. You know something? I’ve never seen your room, and Honey B tells me it’s pretty awesome. Why don’t you show it to me now?”

  “Okay.” His arms extend, airplane fashion, and he swoops across the room and down the hallway that leads to his bedroom.

  Special better move fast. I keep him in his room for as long as I can, asking him silly things about the footballs on his comforter, who his favorite team is, and so forth. When there is nothing further that can distract him, the airplane wings come out again and he takes flight.

  When he gets to the living room, he dives in for a landing and slides to his knees, stopping at all his presents under the tree.

  “Honey B, Mimi, is it time? Is it time?”

  “It’s time,” Special says, coming into the room. Mimi follows. Then Special adds, “Are you sure there’s not a letter? Have you checked everywhere?”

  He stares at her for a second and says, “He always puts it over there,” pointing to the desk where the plate of cookies and potatoes are, which we failed to eat.

  “Maybe he wanted to put it somewhere else this year,” Mimi says.

  So Cody scrambles around on the floor, hunting. And then he looks up to the tree and his eyes light up. “There it is!” There’s the folded piece of paper stuck in the branches. Special pulls it out and reads it. She added a P.S., saying that Santa was so stuffed from all the food he’d already eaten he didn’t have room for another bite. Cody already figured out there wouldn’t be snow, but when he hears why, he grins. I’m glad Special’s letter satisfies him. When she finishes, Cody yells out he wants his presents.

  One by one she hands them to him, and seeing his eyes light up is a gift itself. My parents would give us things, but we never had a Christmas morning. Our nanny would bring us downstairs, we’d gather up our presents, and carry them up to the playroom. Mom and Dad were nowhere in sight. Christmas had no family meaning whatsoever.

  When she gives him the Six Flags gift, his arms flap so fast, I worry he’s going to take flight like a bird.

  “Six Flags! I get to go to Six Flags. Do you think I can ride Thunder River and Superman Tower of Power?”

  “We’ll go when it’s warm enough so you can.” She explains to me that they’re water rides and we don’t want to get wet when it’s still cool outside. Good point. Although seeing her with her nipples hard wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” she murmurs into my ear.

  “Mmhmm.”

  “More presents,” Cody demands.

  “Cody O’Malley, where are your manners?” Special scolds him. The poor kid wilts.

  And then I wonder at his last name. Special must’ve adopted Cody when she gained custody of him. I’ll have to ask her about that.

  Cody calms down so Special hands him another gift. It’s a Falcons sweatshirt. He wants to put it on so she helps him. Finally, Mimi gives him her gift. It’s the registration for a soccer team that starts up in January. If that kid’s eyes opened any further, they’d roll out across the carpet.

  The next gift, which couldn’t be given until after Mimi’s, is a huge box which contains everything he’ll need for soccer—cleats, shin guards, shorts, jerseys, socks, and a note. It says there are a brand new ball and a goal already assembled in the barn waiting for him.

  “Yes!” He jumps up and down, pumping his small fists in the air.

  “You need to thank Mr. Jeb for putting it together for you.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I will. Can I go out and play?”

  “Not quite yet. Mimi has gifts to open and so does Mr. Weston,” Special says.

  Cody’s face splits into a wide grin, and I see one of his front teeth coming in. It looks like half a Chiclet hanging down. “I forgot. Can I give Mr. Western his present?”

  “Yes, you may,” answers Special.

  He darts to the tree and pulls out a package he obviously wrapped. The paper is crumpled, and no amount of tape was spared. Whatever it is, it’s about three inches high and oddly shaped.

  “Go on, Mr. Western. Open it.”

  Ripping through all the tape is easier said than done. When I finally break through I discover a small plastic figurine of an Atlanta Falcon football player. Cody beams as I hold it in my hand.

  “Why, thank you, Cody. This is awesome. I love it.” He steps up and hugs me. For some reason, feeling those little arms hugging me puts a big lump in my throat, and my heart seems to double in size. “I’m going to put it on my desk where I work so I can see it every day.”

  He stares at me and asks, “You mean you’re not going to play with it? I have the whole team, and this is just to get you started.”

  I didn’t know that was the plan, but I snap my fingers and say, “That’s a great idea. I haven’t had a whole team in a long time. Maybe you can help me buy the rest.”

  His happy face instantly disappears. “But I only had enough money for one.”

  “No, I’ll pay for them. I just want you to come with me and help pick them out.”

  Clearly I demonstrate how much of a moron I am when it comes to kids’ toys. “Why would you need my help? All you gotta do, Mr. Western, is go to Target online and buy the set. I couldn’t do that ’cause I didn’t have enough money.”

  Lifting my eyes to Special, she’s having a really tough time containing her laughter.

  “Okay, how about this? Maybe later, you can show me how to order the rest online.”

  “Sure.” Cody eyes me like the idiot I am. I stick out my hand and he slaps it. “Deal, buddy.”

  Before I can recover, Mimi lays a perfectly wrapped box in my hands.

  “Mimi, you didn’t have to do this.”

  She says, “Of course, I didn’t, but I wanted to. Merry Christmas, Weston.”

  I open the package, and inside is a very nice chambray shirt. It appears to be the right size too. Special must’ve helped her with this.

  “Thank you. I love it. It’s exactly the kind of shirt I wear, and the right size too.”

  Mimi beams. How kind of her to do this. “You’re welcome. I thought it would look very nice with those beautiful gray eyes of yours.” I stand and walk over to hug her. Why is it that I’ve felt more love from this woman I barely know than I’ve ever felt from my own mother? She returns my embrace, and I hope she understands how much this means to me. When she releases me, she pats me on the cheek and nods.

  Now it’s my turn. “I’ll be back in a minute.” I jog out to the truck. It takes a couple of trips for me to bring in my things. First, I hand Cody his gift.

  He tears into it and his mouth sags opens. Pulling the three tickets out of the envelope I stuck in the wrapped box, he starts screaming. They’re Falcons playoff tickets I was able to snag through a business connection.

  “Mr. Western got me Falcons tickets.”

  “Um, how’d you get those?” Special asks.

  “Connections,” I answer.

  “Evidently.” That’s all she says as she smiles at Cody.

  “There are three of them,” I say to Special. Then I glance over at Mimi and add, “I didn’t think you’d be interested in going, Mimi.”

  “
You were right, young man.”

  “Cody, here’s something else.” I hand him a gift bag. He reaches inside and pulls out a Falcons jersey with the quarterback’s number on it. He must have springs in his feet with the way he jumps around.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he shouts.

  Next, I give Mimi her gift. I’m more than a little nervous. Handing her the box, I crouch before her and watch. She opens it up to a brand new set of very expensive kitchen cutlery.

  “Well, my goodness. This is too much, Weston. I don’t need these.”

  “Yes, you do. You spend all that time in the kitchen, cutting and prepping food. You should have the best,” I say.

  “I don’t know what to say,” she says, tearing up.

  “You’ve already said it. You’ve made me feel welcome in your home, and that’s more than I could ever ask for. Merry Christmas.”

  “Thank you.” She sets the box down and leans over to hug me.

  After she releases me, I say to Special, “I’m sorry. We have to wait for Jeb to get here for yours.”

  She shrugs and says, “That’s fine. It gives me a chance to get breakfast started.”

  Following her into the kitchen, I lend her a hand. Mimi comes in to help too. Not much later, Jeb arrives. We all sit down to enjoy eggs, bacon, grits, homemade biscuits, some casseroles Special made, and even sausage patties, which I’m sure to comment over.

  When everything is cleaned up, Jeb helps me bring in Special’s gift. Cody makes sure she’s seated on the couch with her eyes closed when we come in.

  “Okay, open them now,” I say.

  She blinks, once, twice, and then her fingers cover her mouth as she stares.

  “Do you like it, Honey B?” Cody asks.

  She’s speechless as she stares at the giant painting of A Special Place. But this one is unique because the top scene is “Before” and the bottom is “After.” Jeb helped me find a suitable “Before” picture because I didn’t have one. Then I had to bribe the artist heavily to have it completed on time. He almost didn’t. I about had to threaten him—not really, but I wanted to.