The Virginia Chronicles

by Kayt Miller

  On Friday and Saturday, it was just dad and I. Tina decided to visit her sister for the weekend in another suburb of Chicago claiming she was going to Christmas shop. Since she wouldn’t be back before dad and I returned to Iowa, we said our goodbyes then. “I’ve loved having you here, Virginia. Your dad hasn’t been this happy in years. It fills my heart when he’s happy. I’d do anything for him, Virginia. I hope you know that.”

  “I do. I’m sorry.”

  “None of the past was your fault so let’s focus on the future, okay? No good will come of rehashing that old stuff.”

  “I agree.”

  Dad and I waved as Tina's car drove away. Back in the house, we drank wine and settled onto the couch to go through the box mom sent. It was awesome. Of course, we cried a lot, but we laughed a lot too.

  The ride back to Iowa was quiet until we started planning our Christmas together. “I invited Baker to come home with me, but that was before.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll plan on him coming unless I hear otherwise. Sound good, Peanut?”

  “Sounds good.”

  Chapter 50

  Virginia

  At five o’clock on Sunday night, I’ve somehow found myself standing on Baker’s front porch. There’s loud music playing inside which makes me nervous to ring the bell. Is he having a party?

  When dad dropped me off at my apartment, he suggested I ‘get settled and then head to Baker’s’. I’m not sure why I listened to him. Baker hasn’t tried to call or text. He doesn’t care about me. He’s obviously having a good time without me. Hesitating, I suck in a deep breath for courage and press his doorbell. “I doubt anyone will hear it over the music anyway.” I press it again, and just as I’m about to turn and walk down the steps, the door is wrenched open.

  Turning back to face the door I’m shocked at the sight before me. “Baker? What’s wrong?” Baker is standing in the doorway wearing only a pair of dirty sweatpants. Nothing else. His hair is sticking out in all different directions, and it looks like it hasn’t been washed––in days. The beard on his chin tells me he hasn’t bothered shaving either. “Baker?” I ask again.

  “What the fuck do you want?”

  “I, uh, I wanted to...”

  “You what? You wanted to pick up your shit? Well, I’ve boxed it up for you.” He turns away from me bending at the waist. When he stands, he’s holding a large cardboard box. Stepping over the threshold, he drops the box down unceremoniously onto the concrete step in front of me. “There. That’s everything.”

  There’s a bunch of stuff rolling around in my mind.

  I can tell he’s drunk.

  He’s been drunk for more than just today.

  He’s not showered or shaved for days and

  I think dad was right. Baker didn’t take anything that happened last weekend well.

  “Baker, I…”

  “I, I, I. It’s all about you,” he snaps. “Well, guess what? I don’t give a flying fuck about you. Now, just take your shit and go.”

  Slamming the door in my face, I blink a few times trying to get a grip on everything that just happened. “What do I do now? Take my stuff and leave or knock again?”

  Chapter 51

  Baker

  Sprawled face first in my couch; I hear the doorbell ring again. It’s chimed continually since I threw her shit on the front porch. “Jesus, leave me the fuck alone,” I yell at the top of my lungs.

  When the bell rings again, I know she must not have heard me. “Better just tell her to her face.” But, I don’t want to see her face. She looked so pretty. So soft. Shaking off the lovey-dovey bullshit that just ran through my head, I stomp to the front door yanking it so hard it nearly comes off its hinges. “I said, go away!”

  “No.”

  “No? Why the fuck not?”

  “Because.”

  “Because why?”

  “I think we need to talk, Baker Keith Stark.”

  Oh, no she didn’t. She said all three of my names. She’s just thrown down. “Well, you listen to me Virginia Melody Stark.”

  “Murray.”

  “Huh?”

  “Murray. Virginia Melody Murray. You called me Stark.”

  “No I didn’t.” I wobble on my feet a little bit, but I grab the doorframe before she notices. Confession. I’m still a little drunk from yesterday––and the day before––and the day before that. Sure. I’ve been on a little bender. I needed it to get through the fucking holiday, okay?

  “You did. I’ll show you. I recorded it.”

  “The fuck you did.” Did she? I didn’t even see her do it.

  “Let me in, and I’ll show it to you.”

  “Fuck! Fine!” I pull the door open holding it out with my arm creating an arch making it necessary for her to walk beneath my arm. Her box of shit is still sitting out on the porch. Shit! I’d better grab it and bring it inside. Not that anyone would steal it in this neighborhood, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

  With the box in my arms, I step back into my house and see Virginia sitting on my couch with her legs tucked underneath her plump little ass. Damn, I love that ass. No, Baker! I can’t let her get to me. I step over to my stereo equipment and hit ‘off’. Ah, quiet. “Don’t get comfortable. You’re just here to…” Oh, fuck. Why did I let her in again?

  “To show you the recording.”

  “Right. That.”

  Tripping on the edge of my rug, I fall onto the sofa but just a little. I’m able to recover quickly. Looking at her again, I see her attention isn’t on me. Instead, it’s on the mess all over my living room. There are beer cans, a whiskey bottle, several pizza boxes and lots and lots of empty potato chip bags. Yeah, I pigged out. So what?

  “Did you, uh, have a party or something?”

  “Or something.”

  Sighing, she pulls her phone out of her pocket. I lean in close and breathe in. She smells so fucking good, sweet. Like her sweetness is coming out of her pores. “Are you sniffing me?”

  “No.”

  “You were. You were sniffing me.”

  “I was not. Now, are you going to show me that, uh, thing?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “There’s nothing to show you. I just used it as a ploy to get into your house.”

  “You lied?” Again.

  “No. I didn’t lie. I just wasn’t truthful.”

  “Same difference.” Fucking semantics.

  “I wanted to come in because I missed you.”

  “Ha! I know you didn’t miss me.”

  “Yes, I did. I missed you a lot.”

  “If you had missed me, you would have called or something.”

  “Did you miss me?”

  “No.” God, yes, I missed the shit out of her.

  “Now who’s lying?”

  “I’m not a fucking liar.”

  “Neither am I. I’ve always been truthful with you, Baker.”

  “Whatever. I think you should go.”

  I watch her as she takes in a large gulp of air. “Okay. If you never want to see me again, I’ll leave.”

  Never want to see her again? Is she leaving? Forever? “I, uh, I didn’t say that.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “No, I didn’t. I’m just not in the mood to talk right now.”

  “Oh?” she leans into me until our lips are barely an inch apart. I breathe in again. “What are you in the mood for?”

  My dick is a fucking traitor. I want her so much right now. Hell, the second I saw her on my porch in her little winter coat and that stupid hat with the furry ball on the top. I wanted to rip it from her body and fuck her raw. I force myself to sit back getting as far away from her lips as I can.

  When I do, she stands up holding her hand out for me to what do what? Shake? “Alright. I guess this is goodbye.”

  I ignore her hand and her comment instead I choose to grab the bottle of Jack Daniels I’ve been nursing for a couple of days. “You know the way out.
”

  “I sure do.” Her boots make a cute clomping noise as she walks to the door. When it clicks open, it hits me. I can’t let her go. I won’t let her go. She came here to talk, to work things out and I’ve been nothing but a dick. In the past five days, all I’ve done is think about her. Out of the five days, it only took me the first hour to decide I’d have a fucking van full of kids with her because one, she’d be an amazing mother and two, she’d look beautiful all big and round with my children.

  I jump off the couch tripping on the same rug and shout, “Wait!”

  “What? You want to be sure I’ve got my box?” she says holding onto the large box. “Well, I’ve got it.”

  “No,” I say taking long strides to get to her before she steps out into the cold.

  “Then what?”

  “This.” I grab the box from her hands and toss it to the floor. Sliding my hands into her hair, I pull her to me. I kiss her like my life depends on it, because it does. I kiss her like she’s the only woman I’m ever going to kiss again, because she is. And I kiss her like I’m lost without her, because I am.

  I kiss her lips, her nose, and her cheek. I kiss her eyes and her neck all the while saying everything I wanted to say since Sunday. “I love you so much. I hate thinking of my life without you. I want babies with you––lots and lots of babies. Just not yet. After graduate school when we’re settled somewhere. I want you in my bed every fucking night, V. I want to grow old with you.”

  Virginia isn’t talking. She’s kissing me back with as much love and passion as me. “I love you too. I missed you so much. I wanted to call you, but you were so angry.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” I say into her ear before I bite her lobe. “I need to fuck you, V. I need you so much.”

  “I want you to, but I think we should talk first.”

  “What? Why?” I whine.

  “Because Baker. I want to understand your point of view on all of this. I wasn't fair to you when I gave you that ultimatum. My dad told me I needed to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

  “Can’t we talk after?”

  When I hear her giggle, I know I’m going to be okay. “No. Let’s sober you up, get some food in you, and talk. We’ve got all night to make love.”

  “Make love?”

  “Yeah, Baker. I want to make love to you.”

  Oh, fuck.

  “Do you want that too?”

  “I do.”

  When she kisses me softly and swipes her tongue over my bottom lip growl, “Jesus, V. You drive me so crazy.”

  She laughs as she walks into my living room grabbing empties and pizza boxes as she goes. Her laughter fills my house as much as it fills me up. Turning to me she winks, “I know, babe. I know.”

  Epilogue

  Six months later. Baker.

  “I did it, Baker!”

  “You finished it? Your amazing research study on kissing? Congratulations! I knew you could do it. Oh, and you’re welcome, by the way.”

  “Oh, Baker, thank you for being the inspiration behind my research,” she deadpans.

  “No problem, I was happy to be part of your in-depth study.”

  “Anyway, it’s finished, and Professor Kellogg is so pleased he plans to publish it.” In the end, she decided to call her senior thesis: Modern Love: A Millennial’s Guide to Kissing. It’s clever and insightful and all her.

  “That’s great, babe. That’ll look great on your grad school application.”

  “Dr. Kellogg already told me he’d help me with all of that. With you already accepted into the Physical Therapy program and working for the Iowa State athletic department, we’re pretty set for the next two years, aren’t we?”

  It’ll take both of us two years to get our graduate degrees. I wouldn’t mind going on to work on a Ph.D. after that, but we’ll see. I’ve got other things to think about for now. “Well, we’re almost set. There are a few loose ends.”

  “Loose ends? I’ve already told Peach I’m moving in with you at the end of the semester. She was happy for us but even happier for herself since that means Tig is going to move in and take my place. It forced his hand.”

  “Nah, he wanted to live with her. He was just playing hard to get.”

  “Why does he do that to her? He kept Peach hanging for weeks before he bedded her.”

  “Bedded her?” I chuckle. “You say the goofiest shit.”

  “Whatevs.”

  “Okay, back to the topic at hand.” I pull her by the hand until her legs hit the sofa. She plops down while I continue to stand in front of her.

  “What topic?” she asks peering up at me.

  “Loose ends.”

  “What loose ends?” she asks with her hands on her sassy hips.

  I kneel down in front of her pulling out Granna’s engagement ring. It’s a pretty sizeable rock. It’s probably going to dwarf Virginia’s little finger. Granna said it was over three karats and a bunch of other shit, but it was overwhelming. 'To be safe', she wrote out the description of the ring so I could show it to Virginia after I proposed.

  “B-B-Baker? What are you d-d-doing?”

  “Tying up our loose end.” Clearing my throat, I attempt to recite the proposal I’ve practiced in my head for a month. “Virginia, I love you. You drive me crazy. I want you to keep driving me crazy––for the rest of my life. Marry me? Please? After graduate school, if you want to wait or now?” Okay, so it wasn’t quite as eloquent as I rehearsed but I did it without passing out. Winner.

  Scooting up to the edge of the sofa she touches my face. “Yes, Baker. I’ll marry you… now if you want.”

  “I want.” I definitely want. “So, that’s a yes?” I ask again.

  “Absolutely! That’s a great big Yes!”

  She kisses me with tongue and everything. Hottest proposal ever. Damn, I love being engaged. Before she can take it to the next level, the door to my kitchen opens up, and our people start to flood into the living room.

  She must not notice our company. She’s too busy looking down at the ring that fits her little finger perfectly. “This ring is too much, Baker.”

  “It was Granna’s. She asked me if I’d like to give it to you and I said yes.

  “It’s amazing. If she’s sure.”

  “She’s positive,” says Granna from the doorway to the kitchen.

  “Oh, you’re here!” V squeaks.

  “So am I,” says Peach as she walks toward us. “Please tell me you said ‘yes’, Virginia.”

  “Peach! Of course, I did.”

  I look over and see smiling faces. Tig, Granna, and her boyfriend Tim are waiting for the all clear before they move into the room. “She said ‘yes’!”

  “I can’t wait to go dress shopping!” shouts Granna.

  “Me too!” shouts Peach. “I’ve got a million ideas for you!”

  “Of course you do,” Virginia smirks. Turning to me she says, “I can’t wait to tell my dad… and my mom.”

  “We will. We can call your dad and Tina later tonight.” Her dad already knows because I called to ask him permission for her hand. I’ll tell her over dinner. “…and when they come for commencement, we’ll go out and celebrate. We can go visit your mom and tell her next week if you want.” Things with Virginia and her mom are slowly improving. It’ll just take time. Virginia’s doing her best to work through all of her resentment, and her mom is giving her the time to do it.

  “That’s a good plan, Baker. Thanks.”

  “I’d like to propose a toast,” says Granna holding up a champagne flute. I had some bubbly chilling in the kitchen along with some finger food, and I’m taking her to dinner after our mini-celebration.

  With a whisper, Virginia asks, “You were pretty confident I’d say ‘yes’, weren’t you?”

  “I was, yes.”

  Rolling her eyes, she steps up onto her tiptoes, lips close enough to taste, “Baker Stark, you drive me crazy.”

  “Glad to hear it, babe. Glad to hear it.”
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