Wet

by Ruth Clampett

  “Well I’m determined to be a do-the-right-thing kind of guy.”

  “Indeed.”

  “So when do you see her again?”

  “In four weeks. It’s the appointment after that we hear the heartbeat.”

  I look up at her expectantly. I wonder if she’d feel weird about me coming along. “That’s really cool,” I say as I glance down and take a bite of the salad she’s just put in front of me.

  “Would you like to come?”

  My head pops up and I can’t stop myself from grinning ear to ear. “Yeah! That’d be great.” After taking another bite of my salad I ask, “So what else did she say?”

  “We talked about the challenges of being a single working mom. So she talked about building a support circle. It takes a village, and all that . . .”

  “Right,” I say, nodding.

  “I’m still scared out of my mind, but she reminded me that women all over the world do it every day. There are some good daycare places around here and with my flexible schedule I’ll have more quality time than a lot of working parents.”

  “There you go,” I say encouragingly.

  She takes a long sip of her water. “And we talked about sex.”

  My mouth falls open and I set my fork down. I thought we were done with that subject for quite a while. “What about sex?”

  “Why I want it all the time now.”

  I feel the blood drain out of my face. “But you wanted it all the time before. You mean you want it even more now?”

  “I do. She says it’s the hormones, but how am I going to manage all of this raging physical need?”

  Oh dear God.

  “Please tell me you aren’t going to start up Tinder again.”

  “Oh no!” She looks alarmed. “That would be crazy.”

  “Good. You were scaring me.”

  She pulls her shoulders back and straightens up. “And look. My boobs are bigger. I guess they’re going to be huge by the time I deliver.”

  “They were already pretty big.”

  “And they’re really sensitive, but in a good way.”

  In order to know this, she must be touching them a lot.

  I can imagine her touching herself way too vividly in my head. I’m sure I’ll be imagining her skimming her fingertips over her breasts and softly pinching her nipples while I’m in the shower tonight.

  “Um, wow, that must be cool.”

  “Except that I want to touch them all the time.”

  “Even now?”

  “Especially now . . . well, you know, since we’re talking about it.”

  I lean back in the chair to adjust myself. My jeans are too damn tight right now. “Well, don’t let me stop you. Be my guest.”

  She cups her hands over her breasts and squeezes a few times with her eyes closed. A huge smile spreads across her face as she lets out a satisfied sigh. “Oh, that feels so good.”

  This woman . . . Am I in in a dream—like one of my dreams when I was twelve and obsessed with breasts?

  I feel kind of drugged watching her, like the walls in the room are wavy and her large, amazing breasts are all I can see. My hard-on is getting painful. “You know you’re making me crazy, right?”

  She drops her hands down and bites her lip. “Sorry about that.”

  “You should be. You know about my issues,” I say with a mock stern voice.

  “I got carried away. It’s just all so fascinating how different my body feels.”

  “So how are you going to manage this? It’s not like you can be touching yourself in public.”

  “I went sexual relief shopping after the appointment.”

  She carries over from the desk a bag from a bookstore and starts lifting out the contents. Each new book looks smuttier than the last.

  I nod. “Impressive.” Frankly I’m just so relieved she won’t be looking for real sex in the world at large that I’m in full support of her lack of regard for fine literature. “Well, you’ve got hours of fun ahead of you with that selection.”

  “Wait, I’m not done. I also went to the Pleasure Chest.”

  “The dildo place?”

  “Oh they’ve got everything.”

  “But I thought you already had a vibrator.”

  “I do, but I’m afraid my deluxe rabbit has to be put out to pasture for a while. It’s just too intense and I’m ultra-sensitive right now.”

  “Back in the day one of my hook-ups showed me her rabbit. That thing is crazy! Is what you usually use?”

  She winks. “I like it intense, but now it’s just too much.”

  I lean back in my chair. “Wow.”

  For a moment I allow myself to imagine what it would have been like if we’d met during my wild days and before she was married. Without a doubt the sex would’ve been mind-blowing.

  I watch her open up the package for the simple vibrator, unscrew the back and slide the batteries inside. She turns it on and strokes it, then gives it a nod of approval. “Much less intense.”

  “Are you going to demonstrate it for me?”

  “You wish,” she says with a teasing tone while glancing down at my plate. “Hey eat up. Your Stroganoff is getting cold.”

  Chapter Ten

  AGAINST THE WALL

  The following Thursday as I drive to my parents it hits me that I should’ve planned out better how I’m going to break the news to them about Elle. I really have no idea how they’re going to handle it. I work on the breakdown of how I imagine their thoughts will run:

  Strike one: she’s a divorcee

  Plus one: she baked an apple pie and brought it to our house for dinner

  Plus two: she went out with Patrick

  Strike two: she rejected Patrick

  Strike three: she got knocked up out of wedlock

  Plus three: she’s having a baby and Ma says babies are gifts from God

  As for the issue that I’m going to be Uncle Paul? I have no idea how they’ll rank that surprise.

  My head is spinning. So instead of creating a strategy of how to tell them, I down a beer soon after arrival and have another before dessert is served. It’s loosened me up enough to bolster me with a false bravado.

  During a rare quiet pause in the conversation I share my big news rather nonchalantly.

  “Hey, guess what?”

  Dad takes the bait. “What, son?”

  “I’m going to be an uncle.”

  My parents push their chairs back in unison with such force that the table pitches forward. They almost knock Trisha over trying to hug her and I instantly realize that being spontaneous was a sucky idea. I have given them the completely wrong idea and Trisha is giving me the “you will pay for this asshole” look in a profoundly convincing way.

  “Paddy, Paddy . . . We’re going to be a grandparents!” Ma yells, even though we are all within feet of her.

  I leap to my feet. “Wait! Wait a minute! It’s not Trisha!”

  In unison their gazes move to Patrick and back to me.

  “What are you talking about, Paul?” my father asks. He’s not amused with my shenanigans, and obviously he wants some answers.

  “It’s Elle.”

  Patrick gasps and Trisha snorts.

  “Elle?” Ma says. “What does that have to do with you being an uncle?”

  “The guy she was seeing wants no part of it so I told her I’d help.”

  “Help how?” my sister asks.

  “Yes, what exactly do you mean by help?” My dad asks with a scowl on his face.

  “I bet he’s in charge of diapers because he’s so full of shit,” Trisha says.

  “Shut it, Trisha,” I growl.

  She points at me. “Don’t even . . .”

  “Paul? Help how?” my mother says in a stern tone that I recognize. If I don’t start making sense soon I’m going to be in the doghouse for sure.

  “You know . . . just being supportive. We’re good friends so I calmed her down after the guy was an ass about it.”r />
  My father shakes his head. “Ass indeed. What kind of man can he be?”

  My fingers instinctively curl into fists. “Don’t get me started. I want to beat the shit out of him.”

  “Goodness. You are supportive,” Ma says as she studies me.

  “I am. I did some research online and bought her pre-natal vitamins.”

  Patrick jumps in. “Those are very important.”

  “How do you know that?” Trisha asks with an arched brow.

  He shrugs. “Doesn’t everyone?”

  I glance over at Mom and her expression has softened. She looks at my dad, and then back at me. “You bought vitamins for her baby?”

  I nod. “It wasn’t a big deal. I’m happy to help her. She’s a good woman, Ma.”

  Patrick nods.

  “She is,” Ma agrees. “Poor lass to be in such a situation. It’s a lot for one woman to manage—too much really.”

  “And a baby needs a father,” Dad says.

  His words sting because no matter how supportive I am, being an uncle is nothing compared to being a dad.

  Ma turns to Patrick and Trisha. “You two, we need a word alone with Paul.”

  “Why can’t we hear?” Trisha asks.

  “Do you really need to ask that? You and your agitating comments . . .”

  “It’s part of my charm,” Trisha remarks with a grin.

  Patrick stands up. “Come on, Trisha, let’s go do the dishes.”

  Ma waits until she hears the water running in the kitchen before she turns to me. “Paul, we want to know, is there something going on between you and Elle that you aren’t telling us?”

  I can’t help but squirm in my seat. “No. Why do you ask?”

  “I just can’t imagine why you would take this on if you aren’t involved. Saying you are going to be an uncle is a serious business. You can’t just flitter in and out of the wee one’s life.”

  “I’m not the flittering type, Ma.”

  Dad rests his hands on the table. “We know that, son, but you haven’t known Elle long. Do you really know what you are getting into? She’s embarking on the biggest job and responsibility of her life. And although I’m very sympathetic, how will you handle it if she asks too much from you?”

  “That’s not her style. If anything she tries to do too much on her own, when she should ask for help.”

  Ma twists her hands together.

  “Do you think badly of her for this unplanned pregnancy?”

  “No,” she scoffs. “That’s life—mistakes happen, but a baby is a gift regardless.

  And Elle is a lovely woman who’s been married . . . she’s not a sixteen year old girl who was careless.”

  “And we’ve always liked her,” Dad chimes in.

  Ma nods. “She just needs to make the best of it, and it sounds like she’s trying.”

  “She is,” I agree.

  Ma gives me a stern look. “Okay, but how are you going to meet a girl and have your own family if you’re so busy being uncle to Elle’s baby?”

  “And what if the father changes his mind and decides to be with Elle after all?”

  “Believe me, he’s a whack-job . . . I really don’t think that’s going to happen.”

  “But you can’t know that for sure,” Dad says.

  I stand up and push my chair back. “Look, I appreciate your concern for me, really I do . . . but the bottom line is that I truly care about her and she really needs my support. I figure the rest will be worked out in time.”

  “Please be careful, son,” Dad says.

  I nod and then Ma steps up and hugs me tightly. I can’t read the hug: is it tinged with worry, protective urges, pride or disappointment? Perhaps it’s a mix of them all.

  The following week we’re back at In-N-Out because Elle has a craving. She must be very brave to eat another Double-Double so soon after the last one’s untimely ending. With each bite she moans, closes her eyes, and smiles so it seems like things are going well. Honestly, watching her eat that burger is the closest thing to watching porn but everyone’s clothes are still on.

  When she finishes it she elaborately licks each finger, and I keep having to look away.

  “What?” she asks before pressing a napkin over her lips to blot the ketchup that remains.

  “Oh nothing.”

  “Then why do you look uncomfortable?”

  “Do you always moan that much when you eat?”

  Her cheeks immediately blush pink. “Was I that loud?”

  “Uh huh. That would have made a great sex scene soundtrack.”

  “Oh no! I’m horrified.”

  “Don’t be. It was hot. I’m sure every man within hearing distance of our table has a hard-on right now.”

  Her eyes grow wide. “Do you?”

  “What do you think?”

  She sits back in her seat. “Well, at least I’ve still got it. I thought men didn’t find pregnant woman sexy.”

  “Oh, that’s so 1950. I’ve seen some very sexy pregnant women. ”

  “Like who?”

  “Well, you for one.”

  “Really? Be honest now, you just lust after my big boobs. Besides, I don’t even look pregnant yet. Let’s see how you feel when my belly gets round.”

  “Will you let me touch it?”

  “My voluptuous chest?”

  “No. Your round belly.”

  “Sure. Anytime.” She pats her tummy gently and smiles.

  “Paul?”

  I glance over to see my sister’s friend, Holly, holding a tray and standing at the edge of our table.

  Awkward. I wonder how much of that conversation she overheard.

  “Hey, Holly. Long time no see.”

  She glances at Elle. “Is this your girlfriend?”

  While I’m thinking of an equally rude and invasive retort, Elle jumps in. “No, we’re just good friends. I’m Elle by the way.” She gives Holly a little wave.

  “Hi there. I was just wondering because Paul never returned my call about coming with me to the reunion next month.”

  “But you weren’t even in my class. Why would I go to that reunion?”

  “Because you promised me when you wouldn’t go to the prom with me that you’d make it up to me one day.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t laugh out loud. “Surely you didn’t think I meant that?”

  “So you were lying?”

  “Absolutely. I really didn’t want to go to the prom.”

  I leave out the ‘with you’ part.

  I see Elle’s eyes twinkle as she takes a sip of her shake. She’s enjoying this way too much.

  “I think you should go to the reunion with Holly,” Elle says.

  Traitor!

  How could she do this to me after I volunteer to be her baby’s uncle?

  Holly lets out a little “Woo-hoo!” and with the way that the other patrons are staring at us, I’m feeling like our booth has become the center of the In-N-Out universe. Can we leave now? Don’t get me wrong, Holly is actually quite attractive, but the girl never shuts up and I’m pretty sure I’ve never heard her discuss a single thing that was of interest to me.

  “Hollyeee,” we hear some chick screech from across the bright white expanse of booths and mini-tables.

  Holly waves at her Neanderthal friend who yells across restaurants. “I’ve got to scooch. I’ll call you, Paul. And great to meet you, Elle!”

  And a second later she’s gone.

  I squint my eyes and shake my head. “Scooch?”

  Elle shrugs. “Does that mean to go somewhere?”

  “It sounds like that thing dogs do when they drag their butts along the ground. I actually could see her doing that.”

  She nods. “It’s such an ugly word.”

  “And can you tell me what I did to you to make you do something so hateful to me?”

  Her expression falls instantly from amused to mournful. “Hateful?”

  “Enlisting me in reunion hell.�
�

  “Oh, listen to you! You make it sound like torture.”

  “I promise you, it would be if I went. And I’m not going.”

  “I know you aren’t going.” She has a sly grin that makes me smile.

  “So you were lying to her.”

  “Of course, what else would get her to shut up and leave us alone? You’re with me, and she has a lot of nerve coming over here and fawning all over you.”

  She’s jealous. The idea of this makes me unbelievable happy.

  “Oh man, I love you!” I say, and then grit my teeth. Did I really just use the big L word like some lovestruck pussy boy? “I mean, I love that you did that,” I correct quickly.

  She takes a sip of her shake and nods. “She is pretty in a ‘trying way too hard’ kind of way, but she’s not for you.”

  “Who is for me?”

  You, you, you . . . my brain whispers on autopilot.

  She gets a faraway look in her eyes. “We’ll see.”

  We’re at Elle’s house curled up on the couch in our third attempt for her to stay awake long enough to watch Baby Boom with Dianne Keaton. My sister shocked me by loaning me the DVD two Thursdays ago after family dinner night. She shoved it at me while I was leaving.

  “Here, watch this with Elle.”

  I held up the DVD case and studied it. “What’s it about?” Although with the name Baby Boom, I was pretty sure it wasn’t a Star Wars kind of flick.

  “She’s a career woman who suddenly has to take care of a baby. And you remind me a lot of the Sam Shepard character.”

  “Is he an asshole, or something?” I ask since she always seems to have the lowest opinion of me.

  “Nah. The opposite really. He’s calm and steady and just naturally looks out for her . . . like you’re trying to do for Elle. I really like his character.”

  I stop and turn around, realizing this is a moment I need to pay attention to. They come so few and far between. “So are you saying I’m a good guy, Trisha?”

  “Maybe,” she mutters, glancing down and twisting her watch around her wrist.

  “And are you saying that you like me?”

  She looks like she’s holding a hot plate in her hands and has nowhere to set it down. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.”

  I nod and open the front door.