by Tara Sivec
I made her sign a waiver that stated that in the event of an emergency or the death of Claire Donna Morgan, she was required to remove the suitcase from the premises within fifteen minutes of said emergency and/or death. It was always a good idea to have a plan like this in place. God forbid your dad or your grandmother got to the scene first and found your stash. You just couldn't allow that to happen. It’s also probably a good idea to have them delete your internet history. No one really needs to wonder why you Googled “turtle having orgasm” or were closely watching an EBay auction of a Jesus candle with a penis.
Don’t judge me. Google is my enemy after a few glasses of wine.
I was under similar contractual obligations to get to Liz and Jim’s house and erase the web history on their computer within fifteen minutes and dispose of any and all pornographic movies in their nightstand, under their bed, on the top shelf of their closet, saved on their DVR, packed in the third box from the left in the garage and in the cupboard in the kitchen where the cutting boards are.
I'm not kidding. She made me a list.
As I dipped a potato chip into the big silver bowl of melted white chocolate, I looked out to the front of the store and smiled. Gavin was lying on his stomach by the windows coloring a picture. When I walked out there a little while ago, he covered it up and told me I wasn't allowed to see it. I held the chip above the bowl to let the excess chocolate drip off and then set it down on the sheet of wax paper next to me just as I heard the door connecting mine and Liz’s store open.
"You can just turn right back around and go back to your side. For the last time, I am not going to tell you on a scale of one to “holy shit” how good my orgasm was last night with the butterfly vibrator."
"Well that sucks. Can I at least watch next time?"
My head jerked up and my mouth hung open at the sound of Carters baritone voice.
Why the fuck am I always talking out of my ass around him? And why the hell is he standing there looking so God dammed hot that I want to mount his face.
"Um, you're dripping," he said.
"I know," I muttered, staring at his lips.
He laughed and I blinked myself back to reality as he pointed at the bowl.
"I meant the bowl is tipped. The chocolate is dripping out."
My head flew down and I muttered profanities as I righted the bowl and used my fingers to wipe the drips off of the lip of the bowl and the counter.
Carter walked over to stand next to me and just like our last few encounters, his close proximity forced my pulse into overdrive.
"I’m sorry I snuck up on you like that. Liz caught me as I was getting out of my car and dragged me into her side so she could hand me my ass,” he explained as I concentrated on wiping up the chocolate and tried to ignore the heat from his body. “I hope you don't mind me dropping by like this. I feel like such a dick that it's taken me this long to talk to you"
I stood there like an idiot, trying not to touch anything since my fingers were full of chocolate. I turned my head to the side and found his face inches from my own. I saw the sincerity in his eyes, and I knew I could never be mad at him about this.
"It's okay, believe me. I've had a lot of time to get used to the idea. I'm sorry that it was sprung on you like that out of the blue. I swear that I fully intended to tell you. I don't want you to think I intentionally kept this from you. I planned on telling you from the start. I was just trying to figure out how. And then it all blew up before I could do anything about it," I explained.
I realized right then that I didn't want him to be mad at me. I wanted more than anything for him to be able to handle this and to stick around. Spending the last week going to bed without hearing his voice was sad and depressing. Having him here right now made me realize just how much I missed him.
"We have a lot of things to talk about I guess. You have no idea how many questions are swirling around in my head right now," he said.
I nodded my head and before I could say anything, he changed the subject.
"But for right now, I am in a kitchen with a beautiful woman who has melted chocolate all over her fingers," he said with a smirk.
Before I could grab a towel, he reached over and wrapped his hand around one of my wrists and pulled my hand towards him. I held my breath as he opened his mouth and slid my chocolate coated index finger into his mouth. The pad of my finger slid along the roughness of his tongue as he sucked all of the chocolate off while he slowly pulled my finger back out through his warm, wet lips.
Check please!
"Mommy, I finished coloring my picture!"
The excited yell and pounding footsteps of Gavin as he barreled into the kitchen doused a bucket of cold water all over my vagina. For once, I was glad I had a built-in cock-blocker in the form of a four-year-old. I was one more finger suck away from dropping Carter down on the floor and showing him that I was quite bendy.
Quickly wiping my hands on the apron I wore, I turned away from Carter and bent down to my son's level.
"Can I see your picture now?"
Gavin held it tight to his chest and shook his head no.
"Sorry, Mommy. I maded this picture for the little maggot," he said earnestly.
I heard Carter laugh behind me.
"Um, did you say 'little maggot'?" I asked.
"Yup," he said, popping the 'p'.
"Do I even want to know who you're talking about?"
Gavin pointed behind me to Carter.
"Him. Papa called him dat the day we met him."
I groaned in embarrassment. One of these days my father was going to have to realize that Gavin is a parrot.
"I don't like your name. It's weird. And you don't look so little to me," Gavin said to Carter. "But I still drewed you a picture."
He reached around me and handed the paper to Carter. I took a quick glance at it and realized it was a picture of a big stick figure being punched in the junk by a little stick figure.
"Well, at least now I have a photo to commemorate our first meeting," Carter deadpanned quietly.
"Gavin, how about you just call him Carter," I said, looking to Carter with my eyebrows raised in question to make sure he was okay with that.
He nodded his head at me and smiled, then squatted down so we were both eye-level with Gavin.
"Thank you very much for my picture," he said with a smile.
Gavin wasn't big on strangers, mostly because I put the fear of God into him when we had the discussion about stranger-danger. In hind sight, telling him all strangers wanted to eat him wasn’t my finest hour. Having to explain to a bunch of crying children in line to see Santa why my kid was screaming “DON’T GO NEAR HIM! HE’LL EAT YOUR FINGERS!” was no picnic. Liz had to talk me out of taking him to the vet and getting a GPS chip put in his neck. Something told me though that anyone who took my kid would bring him back within the hour. They wouldn't be able to take the kicks to the nuts and the cursing.
Gavin didn't usually talk to strangers unless I prompted him to do so. The ease with which he talked to Carter surprised me.
"You're welcome, Carter. My papa is coming to get me so Mommy can give beer to people. Papa lets me watch movies that Mommy don't let me watch and I get to have pop and I wanna get a dog but my friend Luke has a jeep that he rides in the yard and I hurted my knee and it got cut and Mommy put a band-aid on it and told me to 'shake it off' so I wouldn't cry and did you know vampires suck?"
"Gavin!" my dad bellowed before I got a chance to.
He had walked into the store during Gavin's run-on-sentence and was almost to the kitchen when he heard him drop that bomb. I quickly stood up and faced him with my hands on my hips.
"Dad, I told you he wasn't allowed to watch that movie."
"Hey, Carter, I'm team Jacob, bitch!" Gavin yelled.
"Gavin Allen! Do you want me to put soap in your mouth?" I asked him sternly.
Gavin shrugged. "Soap tastes like Fruity Pebbles.”
My dad came around the
counter and picked up Gavin before I could punt him like a football.
"Sorry, Claire, “Vampires Suck” was on cable the other night and there was nothing else on. You'll be happy to know that he covered his eyes during the s-e-x stuff," he explained.
"Super," I muttered.
"I saw boobs!" Gavin yelled happily.
"Okay, he may have peeked a few times," my dad admitted after Gavin's announcement.
Of all the times for Gavin to act completely like…well, Gavin, of course it had to be when Carter showed up. No wonder he hadn't said a peep in the last few minutes. He was probably stunned stupid.
I glanced behind me and saw Carter standing completely still, staring over my shoulder at my dad. I turned back around in time to catch my dad doing the whole two-finger eye-point to Carter that Gavin and Liz did the other day.
Oh for fuck's sake. It’s like we suddenly have a family salute.
"Dad, quit it. Carter, you haven't been formally introduced. This is my dad, George."
Carter stuck his hand out towards him, "It's a pleasure to…"
"Cut the s-h-i-t," my dad cut him off."
Somehow he didn't sound as threatening when he had to spell everything. This could work as long as Gavin was here as a buffer.
"I've got my eye on you. I was in Nam and still have shrapnel in my skin from the b-o-m-b-s. You like the smell of napalm in the morning son?"
"DAD! Enough!" I scolded.
I leaned over and gave Gavin a kiss on the cheek.
"I'll see you later, baby. You be good for Papa okay?"
He slyly reached over and tried to pull the front of my shirt down.
"Lemme see your boobs."
I grabbed his hand before he could give everyone a peep show and shot a dirty look to my dad who was just standing there laughing.
"Hey, I did not teach him that. He must be a boob man."
Carter laughed but quickly stopped when my dad looked over at him.
"Are you a boob man Carter?" he asked menacingly.
"I…well…um…I…don't."
I rolled my eyes at my dad and rescued Carter from him.
"Say goodbye to Carter," I told Gavin.
"Bye, Carter!" Gavin said with a smile and a wave as my dad turned and headed out of the kitchen.
"Papa, what's Nam? Is it a park? Can we go there?" I heard Gavin ask as they walked out the front door. With a big sigh I turned to face Carter.
"Sorry about that," I said sheepishly. "I will completely understand if you turn around right now and run far, far away. Really, I won't hold it against you."
"Claire?"
I stopped fidgeting with my apron and finally looked up at him.
"Shut up," he said with a smile.
***
After my dad and Gavin left, Carter helped me clean up the kitchen and put everything away. We talked more in depth than we had on the phone now that I wasn’t so worried about slipping up. I finally found out that Carter was crashing the frat party that night and didn't even go to The University of Ohio. He felt awful about all the time I spent with Liz and Jim trying to find him, and I felt guilty all over again about leaving him that morning. Especially right now, when he was being so nice and amazingly understanding about everything.
For the time being, Carter was sticking around. I wasn't going to hold my breath though. He said he wanted to spend time with us and do this the right way, but he also hasn't spent time alone with Gavin yet.
As Gavin so nicely put it, I had to give beer to people tonight, so after we finished cleaning Carter walked me down the street to the bar so we could continue talking. I remembered how easy it was to talk to him five years ago and how he seemed to get me and my humor when no one else did. He made me feel comfortable and he made me laugh. All of those things happened when we talked on the phone but sometimes it was harder to duplicate that level of comfort when you were face to face. In all honesty, it almost seemed easier to be with him like this, to be able to gauge his face for reactions to things I said and to see his expressions when I told him something about Gavin. It made me wish I'd done so many things differently. I was sad that he had missed out on the beginning of Gavin's life. He saw him now as a walking, talking, mouthy little boy, but he didn't get to experience the best parts, the parts that made his attitude and temper tantrums and bad habits all worth while-the first smile, the first words, the first steps, the first bear hug, and the first, "I love you."
Those were all the things that kept me from selling my child at a garage sale on a daily basis, and Carter didn't have those things. It worried me that his expectations might be too high. What if he just couldn't form a connection with Gavin? I felt connected to Carter in a way I never had with anyone else. He made me feel things I'd only dreamed about. But I didn't have just myself to consider anymore. I had to think about my son and how all of this was going to affect him.
For now, I suppose I needed to just let Carter into our lives and see where it took us.
When we got to the bar, I changed quickly into my black shorts and Fosters Bar and Grill t-shirt and was surprised to see Carter making himself comfortable at the bar when I came out of the bathroom.
I got behind the counter and walked over to stand in front of him.
"I thought you were going home," I said as I leaned onto my elbows.
He shrugged at me and smiled. "I figured, why go home to an empty house when I can sit here and stare at a hot chick all night."
I felt myself blushing and tried to suppress the giddy smile I felt coming on.
"Well, you're outta luck. It's just me here tonight."
No, I am absolutely not fishing for compliments.
"Then I guess it's a good thing that you are the hottest, sexiest woman I have ever seen."
Here, fishy, fishy, fishy.
I leaned over the bar a little to bring myself closer to him and he did the same. I didn't care if I was at work, I wanted to kiss him. And there were hardly any people here right now anyway. It was still early.
I licked my lips as I stared at his mouth and I heard him groan quietly. One more inch and I could run my tongue across his top lip.
"OUCH!"
I jerked away from Carter and yelled when something smacked against the back of my head.
Rubbing my hand against the spot, I turned around to see T.J. with both his arms in the air doing a victory dance.
"Direct hit, Morgan! That's another point for me!" he yelled as he ran over to the chalkboard behind the bar at the opposite end from me and put a tally mark under his name.
"Son of a bitch," I muttered as I turned back around to Carter.
"Um, what the hell was that about?" he asked with a laugh.
Before I could tell him it was just T.J. being a dick, the man in question ran up and stood next to me behind the bar. He slapped a ping pong ball down on the top right in front of Carter.
"That, my man, is a little something we like to call P.O.R.N."
"Wow, your idea of porn and mine are slightly different," Carter said as he picked up the ping pong ball and rolled it around in his hands.
"No, no, no. Not porn. P.O.R.N.," T.J. spelled out.
Carter looked completely lost.
"It's just this little game we play when it's slow in here," I said.
T.J. rested one hand on the bar and the other on his hip.
"Claire, don't underestimate the awesomeness that is P.O.R.N. You are completely devaluing the one thing that makes me not want to kill myself every time I come to work. A little more respect for P.O.R.N. please."
T.J. turned his attention to Carter. "Claire made up the rules," T.J. said excitedly as he pulled a piece of paper out from under the bar.
"Rules?" Carter questioned. "Don't you just throw the ball at someone?"
T.J. pushed the paper across the top of the bar and Carter picked it up to read through it.
"Au contraire my friend. There always need to be rules in P.O.R.N. Otherwise, he'll throw a ball, she'll
throw a ball, they'll all throw a ball…it'll be anarchy."
"Alright there, Breakfast Club, walk away before I break the ten-foot distance rule and chuck one at your face," I told him.
T.J. walked away and Carter laughed as he read the rules out loud.
"Rule number one: P.O.R.N. is more fun with friends, invite them. Otherwise, you just look pitiful engaging in P.O.R.N. alone. Rule number two: Sharp objects should never be used in P.O.R.N. Poking someone's eye out will ruin the moment. Rule number three: Sneak attacks or "back door action" must come with advanced warnings or have prior approval. Rule number four: Only two balls allowed in play at all times to avoid ball-confusion, unless approved by the judges. Rule number five: P.O.R.N. is over when the other player(s) say it's over. Otherwise, someone is left holding useless balls."
Yes, sometimes I act like a twelve-year-old boy. Don't judge me.
"So what exactly does P.O.R.N. stand for and how do I get in on this action?" Carter asked with wag of his eyebrows.
"Well, the official title is Pong Organization Rules and Notices. But sometimes we shorten it to 'throwing shit at each other.' Frankly, I'm not sure you can handle P.O.R.N., Carter. It's an intense game of skill, determination and craftiness," I explained with a grin as I took the ball from his hand, turned quickly and whipped it across the bar to hit T.J. square in the ass as he was wiping down one of the tables.
"MOTHER FUCK!" T.J. yelled.
"It's all about being talented with your hands really," I said as I turned back around to face Carter.
I have absolutely no idea where this boldness shit was coming from. I felt like I was channeling Liz.
"Don't worry, Claire, I'm pretty good with my hands. I have a feeling I'd be excellent at P.O.R.N. It's all about how you angle your fingers and the stroke you use…when throwing the ball. Sometimes you have to do it slow and gentle, and other times you have to do it hard and fast."
