by Bijou Hunter
POET
I don’t know what to do with myself once Cricket disappears into her bedroom. This isn’t my house. Bianca Bella and I are strangers. I don’t even remember the dogs’ names. Well, the big one is Lobo, but the cocker spaniels are Thing 1 and Thing 2 as far as I’m concerned.
Bianca Bella glances at me over the back of the couch. “Cricket is prone to going off the rails when stressed, but it’s worth putting up with her shit.”
“I agree, but what do I do now that she’s off the rails?”
“Nothing. She craves a solitary life, which is weird since she’s a twin. Since we’re not Chipper, sometimes she acts like we’re invading her domain. It’s cool, though. She’ll chill and probably give you an extra amazing blowjob as an apology.”
“I just want to know how to calm her when she feels this way,” I grumble, hating my sense of uselessness in White Horse.
“Only Chipper can, and sometimes, they just end up throwing shit at each other.”
“So, no magic bullet to fix her bad mood?”
“Have you tried oral?” she asks, snickering at her question. “Of course, with her peeing every five minutes, that might not be as fun as it used to be.”
Sitting in a chair, I rest my head in my hands and think about how uncomfortable I am in this house. I want Cricket. I’m excited about the babies. Yet those feelings remain distant, hidden behind my homesickness. Nothing seems real right now. I’m a man with a family who isn’t around to share in these amazing moments. They ought to be teasing me for having super sperm or mocking me about how one of the kids probably isn’t mine. For so long, my life revolved around my family, and now they feel very fricking far away.
“It emerges,” Bianca Bella whispers dramatically.
Cricket’s door slowly opens, and I watch her shuffle out wearing one of my shirts. Lobo walks to her and nuzzles his head against her hand.
“Poet, can you go outside with me?”
“Dead man walking,” Bianca Bella whispers as I pass her to follow Cricket out the back door.
Lobo joins us before running into the manicured lawn and disappearing behind the lines of bushes. Cricket doesn’t pay him any attention. Her gaze only sees me.
“I think it’s time for you to go home,” she says, and I notice her hands cradling her stomach.
“I’ll be back soon.”
“I know. This isn’t the end of anything except your impromptu trip to White Horse.”
“I’m going to kiss you now. Bitch slap me if you must, but I need what I need.”
Wrapping an arm around her waist, I tug her against my body. She stares at me with her dark, tired eyes, and smiles with those plump, kissable lips. This is the face of the woman of my dreams, but our happily ever after hasn’t clicked yet.
I kiss Cricket with the knowledge that I won’t taste her again for an unknown amount of time. The uncertainty bothers me, making me reluctant to let her go.
She holds me tightly too even while whispering, “If you leave soon, you’ll beat evening traffic and get home before dark.”
“I will be back.”
“Of course. You have more than me waiting for you here,” she says and places my hand on her stomach. “By the time they arrive, we’ll be ready for everything we’re not currently ready for. Does that make sense?”
“More than you know.”
Cricket helps me round up my clothes before we walk out to my Harley. Lobo returns in time for me to say goodbye. I like knowing such a giant dog is around to protect her when I’m not.
Cricket promises to call me tonight, and I know she’s on edge between needing space and begging me to stay. I feel the same way, both wanting to sleep tonight in my bed while also needing her wrapped against me.
Unprepared to be inseparable just yet, I drive away before either of us says something that’ll prolong the painful inevitable.
Arriving on the highway, I know my exit from White Horse is temporary. This town might not be my home, but it’s where my heart lives.
CRICKET
The minute Poet leaves, I instantly feel the pressure ease off me. I’m me again— single selfish Cricket living her life without caring for anyone else. Well, except I have my twins who can’t have booze or raw fish or a kind of deli meat I’d never eat anyway. Plus, I’m responsible for three dogs who decide my bare legs mean they need to clean me.
“Here,” Bianca Bella says and throws sweatpants at me on the couch. “These are from my fat-ass phase. I keep them for when PMS bloating strikes. They ought to fit your baby gut.”
Setting aside my protective blanket, I hurry to slide on the sweats before my dogs descend on my legs again.
“I must be really salty,” I tell her. “They can’t get enough of my leg flavor.”
“You do eat a lot of salt. You might need to cut back on that.”
“Ugh, pregnancy is the worst. What’s next? I need to eat veggies and get a normal amount of sleep.”
“You already eat veggies and get a normal amount of sleep,” she says from the kitchen while pouring us orange juice.
“Yeah, but I couldn’t think of anything else annoying about pregnancy.”
“Are you still mad you couldn’t play tennis?”
I take the glass she hands me. “The tennis I can live without, but I did miss playing Marco Polo with Chip. The people at the club really hate when we yell those two words over and over and over,” I say, snickering at the memory. “I think I’m sad Poet isn’t here, but I can’t complain about that because I’m the one who drove him away like the townspeople drove away Frankenstein’s monster.”
“That’s weird that you’d phrase it that way. Earlier, when you drove him away, I was thinking, hmmm, what book does this remind me of? Now I know.”
Before I can whine more to Bianca Bella, she stands up and walks away. Feeling rejected, I consider whining to the dogs. Then I notice Bianca Bella is walking to my bedroom. Before I can get my fat ass up to follow her, she returns with my digital photo frame.
“I added pictures of Poet and the babies to your frame,” she says. “That way, when you’re freaking out in your bedroom, you’ll have more reminders of how spoiled you are.”
“I am spoiled,” I coo while taking the frame. “I have the absolute best, best friend.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty great,” she says, sitting next to me. “Poet will be back. He’s really into you. Even when you were acting like a stone-cold freak, he was worried about you rather than wondering how fast he could put distance between him and the crazy lady.”
“I get the feeling the women in his family are mentally ill, so dealing with me must feel pretty normal.”
Bianca Bella leans her head on my shoulder and looks at the photo of Baby A and Baby B in their weird cave-like sacs. “What are you thinking name-wise?”
“I don’t want normal names. Having a weird name was a bonus growing up.”
“I’d think it’d be a pain.”
“The way people reacted to hearing my name gave me a glimpse into their personalities. Like when you and I met. You thought I was fucking with you and started guessing my real name.”
“I thought you had an old lady name like Eunice.”
“Yeah, and you weren’t subtle about thinking my name was dumb. Then when you found out I was telling the truth, you didn’t just apologize, but pretended you were screwing with me the entire time.”
“Apologizing implies guilt,” she says, batting her dark lashes at me.
Laughing, I look at the babies. “I want them to have weird names. I assume Poet will agree since he was given an old man name and chooses to go by something sillier.”
“I prefer classier.”
“And long.”
“My parents didn’t name me Bianca. They named me Bianca Bella. It’d be disrespectful not to use my entire name every time.”
Patting her head, I smile. “Oh, I agree, but save your long-ass fancy-pants names for your kids. Mine will embrac
e their silly ones. Not at first maybe. I didn’t appreciate my name until I was around eight. Then I realized the power of being something besides Kylee, Kaylee, or Kaylyn.”
“I grew up thinking the name Heather was really cool.”
Snorting, I really shouldn’t laugh at her. “Your childhood stories make me want to cry.”
“No, you’re the nerd,” she says, standing up as if horrified. “I’m hip, nose hair bitch.”
“Hip to be square,” I say as she storms away.
From down the hall, she yells, “Never quote Huey Lewis and the News to me!”
After checking my nose hairs to ensure her insult wasn’t based on reality, I look at the frame again. The next picture is Poet. Man, oh, man, does that sexy fucker know how to take a great photo. I run my finger over his smiling lips and imagine him back in West Virginia with his family. I want him to be happy, and his home in Tumbling Rock completes him.
But he’ll come back to me. No matter how crazy I get, I believe with all my heart that Poet will return to me.
11—POET
Despite already missing Cricket, I wear a smile as I take the exit toward my little town of Tumbling Rock. I know every inch of this area, have eaten at every restaurant, met every person, and petted every dog. These facts would seem more remarkable if Tumbling Rock weren’t a tiny place.
After following a long road, I reach my family’s property where I spot Aunt Poppy and Uncle Emmett in the yard with their three wild children—West, Val, and Tuesday. They stop chasing each other with water pistols long enough to wave at me as I drive toward my trailer. I give them a wave, feeling both relieved to be home and regretful to have left Cricket. What I would fricking give to have her live closer. Being together shouldn’t mean leaving our families behind.
I head to my dad’s house despite knowing my sister and stepmom are sick. I’m halfway there when Jimmy spots me and comes running. I kneel down and wait for the dog to knock into me. He frantically licks my face, likely thinking I ditched him. I pet him until he settles down. Finally, we walk the rest of the way to my parents’ house where Dad sits on the porch.
“Perfect timing,” he says as I come up the steps. “The Puke Armageddon ended yesterday.”
“Just as I planned,” I lie, sitting next to him. “Are Justice and Henrietta doing okay?”
“Screw them. What about me? So much fricking puke, son. How such small women accumulated so much vomit, I will never understand.”
“It’s magic, I hear.”
“Did things turn to crap in Tennessee?” he asks and gives me a sympathetic smile.
“We decided to take a few days off.”
“Living together ain’t easy even with someone you know well.”
“Yeah, but she’s a great chick. Even when she went nuts and threatened to bitch slap me, I never found her sexier. That’s not a talent just any chick can pull off.”
“When are you bringing Cricket here to meet the family?” Dad asks again, and I sense he’ll keep asking until she’s standing a foot from him.
“Soon.”
“How soon?” Justice asks from inside the house. “I want to see the woman carrying my grandbabies.”
I smile at how she thinks of me as her kid even though she didn’t enter my life until I was eleven. My bio mom is a shithead, and I’d hate to imagine what she might think of Cricket. Shit, I have no interest in reliving the train wreck that is my birth mom.
“In a month,” I announce even though I have no idea.
“Not soon enough. Let’s all show up on her doorstep and demand to be sheltered while we get to know her.”
Glancing over my shoulder through the window screen, I spot Justice on the couch. Henrietta’s head rests on a pillow in her mother’s lap. They watch me with vague smiles on their faces.
“Wouldn’t be smart for you to show up in a threatening manner. The chick is packing heat.”
“I can pack heat too,” Justice says. “Right, Court?”
“Yeah, you’re great with a gun,” Dad replies before shaking his head at me.
“I saw that.”
“I know, but just focus on my words, baby.”
Justice laughs from inside the house and then falls silent. I assume the commercials are over on whatever show they’re watching, so my arrival can’t compete.
“Do you need me to handle anything?” I ask Dad.
“Yeah, everything. I’m exhausted and haven’t been off the property in days. Talk to Otto to see if we have problems.”
“Will do,” I say, standing up. “Do you think Grandma Christine has anything to eat at the house?”
“Oh, yeah, she was making chili.”
“I’ll head that way and eat. Then catch up with Otto.”
Dad smiles at me, clearly relieved to have me back. The man doesn’t need to get mushy about his feelings. They’re written all over his face.
These easy moments are what I missed in White Horse. Cricket is awesome. Her family is cool. Her home is comfy. There’s nothing wrong with anything there, but White Horse will never be Tumbling Rock, and I don’t know if it’ll ever feel like home.
CRICKET
After dinner with my family and Bianca Bella at The Glenn, I return home and take a long bath. The entire time I’m picturing Poet in his trailer with his dog. Finally, I dry off, get dressed, and cuddle up on the couch before dialing his number. Even if he can only speak for a few minutes, I need to hear his voice.
“What are you doing right now?” I ask as soon as he answers by saying my name.
“Sitting on my secondhand couch, watching ‘Gilligan’s Island.’”
I flip through the channels until I find the same show. “Want to watch the show together?”
“Sure, baby. Are you feeling better?”
“I’m wearing your shirt and a pair of Bianca Bella’s fat sweats, so my gut has plenty of room. Wheeler is snuggling my feet. Now I have your voice to keep me company. So, yeah, I’m feeling better. Are you glad to be home?”
Poet doesn’t answer immediately, and I half expect him to give me shit for sending him away.
“You can’t know how much,” he blurts out. “I mean I miss you, and I’ll miss you more tomorrow when I realize how far away you are, but, man, it feels good to be in my place.”
“See, that’s what I meant about needing space,” I say softly. “It’s not about not wanting you here. It’s about losing the comfort of my old life. I wasn’t ready for that. I never expected you to come here like you did, and I was so excited that you did, but then I got overwhelmed by the changes. Not just with you, but with my body and the idea of two babies. Since I can’t get rid of my body or the babies, I pushed you away.”
“It wasn’t personal, I know. I do get it. I felt such relief when I pulled down the road toward my family’s land. The sight of our homes and the kids out playing, everything made me so fricking happy. Now that it’s dark, and everything’s quieter, I do miss you. I’m glad you called.”
“We can watch TV together every night if you want. Your voice relaxes me, which seems dumb after I freaked out, but I really did feel better once you answered.”
“I’m a ‘Gilligan’s Island’ freak. I don’t know why I dig it so much, but I watch it whenever I’m bored. It instantly entertains me. I should warn you that I’ll want to watch it a lot.”
“That’s cool. I’ve never seen it, so it’ll be new for me,” I say, snuggling deeper into the couch. “Did Jimmy miss you?”
“He hasn’t left my side since I arrived.”
“Too bad you can’t get one of those sidecars so he can come with you to Tennessee.”
“Or, you know, I could drive a car.”
Laughing, I say, “Yeah, but the sidecar would be way cooler.”
“No doubt, but I’m not sure that’s legal.”
“And you and I are all about the laws of this fine country,” I tease.
“Very much so, lovey.”
“Did Jimmy ha
ve that name when you found him or did you choose it?”
“I chose it.”
“Why Jimmy?”
“Grandma Christine had two cats and a dog when I joined her family. The cats were Thelma and Louise, and the dog was Hal. I named Jimmy to fit with that.”
I take a minute to remember the movie, “Thelma & Louise.” “Oh, Jimmy was Louise’s boyfriend that gave her the money.”
“Yeah. I obviously hadn’t seen the movie when I met Justice’s family, but over the years, I was forced to watch it. Repeatedly. So many times.”
Giggling at his tragic tone, I sigh. “I want to meet everyone special to you.”
“You will. We have time.”
“Not that much time.”
“More than you think,” he says, refusing to let me pout.
“Yet less than you think.”
“Do you know what ‘Gilligan’s Island’ is about?”
“Sure. I just searched the info online. Done.”
“When I was an asshole teenager, I thought living on an island would be a huge boon to my life.”
“Who would you want to bang if you were on the island with these people?” I ask, seeing the question on the online forum I’m searching
“Ginger.”
“Huh, most guys in the forum choose Mary Ann.”
“Yeah, so I choose Ginger to be different. Besides, she looks great for being stuck on an island without access to a salon.”
“No doubt. I’d probably look like Gilligan after a few days on an island.”
“No, you’re never sexier than when you’re a mess,” he says in a seductively soft voice. “Your hair seems bouncier and your smiles bigger. Not that you don’t clean up well, but I prefer messy Cricket more.”
“Hmm... you’re never sexier than when you’re under me. I like how your eyes watch me while I ride your dick into submission.”
