by Claire Adams
I was halfway up the walk when Remy whipped open the front door and started in on me.
“You were supposed to be here 45 minutes ago, Blake,” she said, in the disapproving tone that made me simultaneously cringe and want to tell her where to shove her superiority complex.
“It was the last game of the season,” I said, knowing that this would not be enough to ward off her disapproval.
“Oh, I see; so a touch football game is more important than spending quality time with your 16-year-old daughter?” she asked. Her know-it-all tone made me grind my teeth as I tried to look past her to see if Nina was ready.
“No, Remy, it’s not more important than Nina,” I sighed. “It’s a commitment I made to the guys I play ball with, and I was following through on it.”
“Unlike you do with other things…” she muttered under her breath, but still loud enough for me to hear what she’d said.
“Remy, I’m not going to fight with you tonight,” I said wearily. “I’m tired, and I just want to get Nina and go home and shower.”
“Why? Do you have a hot date or something?” she sneered. “I don’t know why you’d pick Nina up on a Saturday night if you already have other plans.”
“Yes, Remy, I have a hot date planned,” I said, knowing I was baiting her, but unable to stop myself from doing it. That was one of our biggest problems; she’d accuse me of something I hadn’t done, and I’d take responsibility for doing it in a way that taunted her for accusing me. We were on a collision course with divorce from the day we got married.
“Who is she, Blake? Someone from the department?” Remy demanded. “Who is your hot date?”
“Hey, Punkin!” I called, as Nina emerged from behind her mother carrying a purple backpack and dragging a rolling suitcase that looked like it was filled with enough stuff for a month-long trip.
“Dad, don’t call me that,” Nina said, rolling her eyes almost all the way into the back of her head. I often forgot that she was a teenager now, and not the sweet little girl I’d carried around on my shoulders or helped bait a hook on summer fishing trips out at the Cambridge Reservoir.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize we were in teenager land today,” I said, grabbing her bags and quickly kissing her head before she ducked away and climbed up into the passenger seat of my truck.
“Who is your hot date, Blake?” Remy persisted.
“My hot date is a pizza and the most recent episode of The Walking Dead,” I said with a shit-eating grin on my face, knowing that it would piss Remy off. “I hope you’re satisfied.”
“You’re such a smart-ass, Blake,” Remy shot back, as I waved goodbye and gunned the truck’s engine just to piss her neighbors off.
I drove back toward home, stopping to pick up the two large pizzas I’d ordered on my way to pick Nina up. She didn’t say much as we drove, and that worried me.
“You okay, kiddo?” I asked, trying to play it cool and not dig too hard or too deep and cause her to clam up. Navigating the landscape of a teenage girl from the inside was a whole new world for me, and I’d learned from experience that it was better not to wield a heavy hand or ask too many questions.
“Yeah, fine,” she said unenthusiastically, as she stared out the window.
“How’s school?”
“It’s fine,” she said unenthusiastically.
“Did your old man do something wrong besides calling you by the hated nickname?” I asked. “If I did, I’m sure I could apologize and then do penance.”
“Dad, don’t be ridiculous,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You didn’t do anything. I just don’t feel like talking.”
“Well, can you at least tell me what’s going on in school so that your mother can’t accuse me of being uninformed and uninterested?” I asked, feeling less guilty than I normally did about playing the “Mom’s bad” card tonight. Remy was a good mother, but even after the divorce, she remained a pain in my ass.
“I don’t know; my grades aren’t great, but I’m working on getting them up before the end of the term,” she said, looking over at me apprehensively. “I’m doing okay in Chemistry, but Trig and History are giving me a hard time.”
“Do I need to hire a tutor to help you?” I asked.
“Oh God, Dad, please stop,” she said, rolling her eyes again. “I can’t take this from both you and Mom. I’ll get my grades up. I swear. Can we just let it go?”
“Are you having boy trouble?” I asked tentatively.
“DAD!” Nina shouted. “Do not even go there. I can’t even with you!”
“Okay, okay!” I said, backpedaling hard. “I won’t go there. I’m just saying I’m here if you need to talk about anything.”
“Anything?” she asked, as we pulled into the driveway. “You’d really talk about anything? Like sex and birth control and how to put a condom on a boy’s penis?”
“Okay! Okay! Stop! Just stop!” I said, holding up a hand. “Yes, I will talk about anything, but I’m not going to talk about that last thing until after I’ve had a shower, some dinner, and a beer…or two.”
“Don’t worry, Dad,” she laughed. “I have zero need to discuss any of those things tonight. Can we watch Saw 2 during dinner?”
“Do we have to?” I asked.
“Fine, My Little Pony it is,” she teased, as she danced up the walk holding the pizzas, leaving me to follow in her wake carrying her bags.
Chapter Two
Emily
Saturday afternoon I was in the kitchen chopping celery and onions to mix with the can of tuna I’d opened for lunch. I’d spent the morning grading papers from my sophomore History class, and was in desperate need of a break after reading one too many essays that started with “Back in the day.” I’d turned on the radio and was bopping to the sound of Van Morrison’s “Domino” when I felt a head bump my lower leg.
“Oh, Howard, not again!” I cried, as I turned to see my fat orange tabby cat drop yet another stunned mouse at my feet. Howard sat looking up at me expectantly before looking down and giving his prey a light pat with his big paw. He mewed at it, then at me, and when I didn’t immediately respond with a treat, he hauled himself to his feet and walked out of the kitchen, stopping to throw an irritated look at me over his shoulder. “Don’t give me that look, mister! I’m not the one who can’t always finish the deed!”
The mouse wasn’t dead, but there was no way I was going to kill it, so I grabbed a paper towel off the roll and reached down to grab the creature’s tail. Howard returned to the kitchen and wound himself around my legs as I walked to the back door.
“Stop that!” I scolded, as the mouse wriggled a little and then went limp again. Howard looked up at me, blinked once, and began vigorously licking his paw and cleaning his head before he stopped and followed me. I stepped out onto the back porch, walked down the stairs, and across the yard, where I flung the now-squirming rodent over the back fence into the woods behind my house.
“You’re impossible; you know that, right?” I said, as I looked at the round cat sitting on the top step of the porch. Howard blinked and mewed in protest as I climbed the stairs.
“I supposed you want lunch now, eh?” I asked, as he watched me make my way up the steps.
Howard blinked once and turned toward the door, waiting for me to let him inside. I shook my head and held the door open as he regally entered the house. He was an odd cat, and had been since I’d found him as a kitten crying outside the back door of the run-down house I’d been living in while going to college. It had rained that night, and he was soaking wet. I’d taken one look at the tiny little face and dripping whiskers and then became the sucker of the century. I’d named him after my favorite historian at Boston University, Howard Zinn, and had done my best to keep his presence on the down low since the lady I rented from didn’t like cats. With his mellow personality, Howard had proved to be a bit standoffish and, except for the fact that half the time he refused to kill the prey he presented me with, I found him to be an ideal
companion.
“Couldn’t you just kill it before you bring it to me?” I asked, as I scooped the dry food into his bowl and pulled the water bowl off the floor so I could wash and refill it. “I mean, there’s plenty of them to catch, and how much trouble would it be to just bite their heads off?”
Howard didn’t look up from his food, and when I replaced the water bowl, he simply gave me the old side eye. I loved his grumpy-yet-superior attitude, and the fact that he was more than happy to stretch himself across my lap at night while I graded papers, watched a documentary, or caught up on the latest historical nonfiction book I’d ordered. Together we shared a quiet, but comfortable, life.
“Hey, Em, you home?” a voice called from the front room. “Em?”
“Back here in the kitchen, KO!” I called as my best friend, Kendra Ornish, came bounding into the kitchen. She was the exact opposite of me in almost every way. She was tall and thin with olive skin and a mop of thick black curls that she often tried to tame with a pair of chopsticks. She dressed like a biker, in jeans and long sleeve T-shirts with sayings on them like “Fuck Authority. I AM the Authority.” Unlike my own, KO spent her childhood being bounced around from family member to family member until her grandparents, Memaw and Pop, had finally taken her in for good when she was in her teens. She was outgoing and brutally honest, and it came in handy in her line of work as a bartender at The Lucky Clover. I also loved the way she embraced life and the way she swept me up with her. I said, “I’m making lunch; you hungry?”
“I hadn’t seen you in a few days, and I wanted to make sure those high schoolers hadn’t plowed you under,” Kendra said, as she walked toward the island, leaned across it, and grabbed half of the tuna sandwich I’d put on a plate and took a huge bite. She mumbled with a full mouth, “You know me, I could eat a bit.”
Laughing, I pushed the plate across the counter and went to the fridge to get her something to drink. “Soda?” I asked.
She nodded and took another huge bite out of the sandwich. I slid a cold can across the counter and began making a second sandwich for myself.
“Damn girl, you’re like one of my 10th graders!” I laughed as Kendra made quick work of the first half of the sandwich and most of the chips.
“The benefits and drawbacks of spending my childhood as a ping pong ball,” she shrugged, after taking a long drink from the can. “Eat or be eaten! Speaking of 10th graders, how are classes going?”
“Not bad,” I said, as I spread mayo on a slice of bread and then added lettuce and a spoonful of tuna. “They’re antsy with the holidays coming up, but they’re doing their best.”
“You could not pay me enough to be a high school teacher,” Kendra muttered, as Howard hopped up on the stool next to her and sat silently staring at her as she ate the second half of her sandwich. When she looked down at him, he looked away.
“You’d be good at it, KO,” I laughed, as I added a handful of chips to my plate and walked around to sit on the third stool at the counter. Howard sat between us staring straight ahead, but I could tell he was simply trying to gauge which one of us was most likely to give him a bite of our tuna sandwich. I sat down and added, “You’ve got a wealth of experience talking to people who don’t always want to listen.”
“God, isn’t that the truth?” she sighed, as she reached over and gave Howard a pat on the head. He responded by maintaining his thousand-yard stare and ignoring her. “Speaking of the bar and unruly customers, you want to come have a drink tonight? It’s two-for-one from 5 to 7, and it’s never very crowded.”
“Sounds tempting, but I still got a stack of papers left to grade,” I said, thinking about the 30 essays on early 20th century immigration sitting on the coffee table waiting for me to evaluate.
“You can’t keep hiding, Em,” Kendra said, as she petted Howard, who suddenly turned and swatted her with his big fat paw. She pulled her hand back as she said, “Hey, buster! Don’t swat me! You know this cat is anti-social don’t you? You’re not helping matters by emulating him, Em.”
“I’m not anti-social,” I protested weakly.
“Well, you’re certainly not social,” she replied. “You need to get out and live a little, Em. You can’t stay locked up forever.”
“I know, I know,” I said, waving my hand at her as I picked up my sandwich and took a bite. I chewed slowly as Howard bumped his head against my arm. I ignored him and said, “Maybe once I get this stack done, I can come out and play?”
“Now that’s more like it!” Kendra smiled. She tipped the soda can up and drank the last of what was in it and then belched loudly. I laughed and shook my head as she stood up and grabbed her keys. “I gotta go. It’s my night to set up the happy hour bar and pick out the music!”
“What are you spinning?” I asked.
“Probably some Dropkick Murphys and a buttload of Tommy Clancy drinking songs,” she said. “The guys like the authentic flair, you know?”
“Sounds like a loud night,” I laughed. “I’m sure you’ll have the night of your life and earn a fortune in tips.”
“Eh, it’s post-flag football night, so it’ll be mainly FD and PD guys,” she shrugged. “They’re a bunch of cheap bastards.”
“I’m sorry I’ll miss the fun,” I said, wondering if I should push the grading aside and go down to the bar.
“You can always change your mind!” Kendra shouted, as she pulled open the front door and headed out to her Mustang. I could hear her revving the engine in the driveway as I reconsidered my choice to stay home and grade.
“I could go for an hour or two,” I said, looking over at Howard, who was still perched on the bar stool. He blinked once and looked away. I sighed, “Yeah, you’re right. That’s not very responsible of me, is it?”
I finished my lunch and returned to grading. Curled up on the couch, I read paper after paper, marking them up and wondering where I’d gone wrong in the lesson to end up with such poorly supported thesis statements and lack of primary source evidence. I sighed as I wrote a C- on the paper I’d just read.
Howard hopped up onto the edge of the couch and gently patted my arm until I moved the stack of papers out of his way. He curled up in my lap and promptly fell asleep purring contentedly with his nose buried between his paws.
“A nap sounds good right about now,” I said, as I slowly stroked his soft fur. He stretched a little in response and rested his head on my stomach. I pulled the quilt draped over the back of the couch over my legs and slid down so that I could rest my head on the pillow I’d been leaning on. With an arm over Howard, I drifted off to sleep.
BRRRRING! BRRRING! BRRRING!
“Huh? What?” I mumbled, as I was jolted out of my sleep by the sound of my phone. By the sound of the ring, I knew who it was, but I reached over and grabbed the phone from the coffee table to check the screen. It was my mother. I stared at the phone as the ringing continued and then reached up and hit “Send to voicemail” before setting the phone back down again.
Howard stretched lazily on my lap and flipped over so that his soft, furry belly was fully exposed. I pulled myself up into a sitting position as I continued petting him. He mewed softly and put a fat paw on my hand before rolling over and going right back to sleep.
“Must be really nice to be you, eh?” I chuckled softly, as I reached up and turned on the lamp next to the sofa and grabbed the remaining papers.
I had work to finish.
Chapter Three
Blake
Sunday morning I was up bright and early, despite the fact that Nina and I had stayed up late watching all three Saw movies. I peeked into her room and found her buried beneath the purple comforter still sound asleep, so I closed the door and went into the kitchen to make some coffee. I turned on the local news and heard the meteorologist predicting that a major snowstorm was headed our way in the next few days.
Snow meant that we’d most likely be busy dealing with small fires caused by space heaters and fireplaces that hadn’t been
properly cleaned since last winter. I poured myself a cup of coffee and stood looking out the kitchen window into the front yard. The last storm had knocked loose some branches, and I could see that I needed to get out there and cut them down before the weight of the coming snow caused them to break. I finished up my coffee and tossed on some sweats and a jacket before heading out to grab a ladder and the saw.
“Hey Blake! How’s it going, man?” a voice called from the sidewalk. I lowered the saw and turned to see Jake and Kathy Baker staring up at me. I hadn’t made up my mind about whether or not I wanted to go down the swingers road, and as a result, they made it clear how they felt every time they saw me.
“Good, good. How are you two doing?” I asked, as I decided not to come down off the ladder.
“I see Nina’s here for the weekend,” Kathy said, as they crossed the lawn and stood staring up at me from below.
“Yeah, it’s my weekend to deal with all the teenage angst and then crack down on the homework,” I smiled. Kathy was a gorgeous woman with long brown hair, big brown eyes, and a body that was built to do some amazing things, or at least that’s what I imagined. The thought of her naked caused me to have to reach down and readjust myself. Her eyes followed and she gave me a seductive smile.
“Too bad,” she said, laying a hand on my lower leg. “I was in the mood for some action this weekend. I’ve been thinking about it for days.”
“Yeah, she really has been,” Jake echoed. He was an odd man whose kink was voyeurism, and it was the main reason I was hesitant to have sex with Kathy. He’d explained how the two of them would often have a marathon sex session as a result of how turned on he got by her having sex with another man. Despite the fact that I wasn’t judgmental about other peoples’ kinks, I couldn’t quite get past my own discomfort.
“Sorry to disappoint,” I said, only partly sorry. Sometimes the pressure was more than I cared for, so I was glad that I had Nina’s presence as an excuse. “Maybe next time.”
