by Stella James
“Stop it,” I laugh, shooing her down the hall. “Start on the guest bathroom and I’ll start in the office.”
“You’re really okay, just flying by the seat of your pants?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes! Now get to work,” I say.
“Goddamn sex wizard,” she mutters with wonder, as she heads down the hallway. “I need to get my own sex wizard.”
Amen
Chapter Seventeen
You’ve Got Mail
3 weeks Post-Maui…
From: Will Edwards
To: Poppy Kramer
Date: October 23, 2016
Subject: Regarding cat videos
Dear Poppy,
I thought you might like to know that the cat video you sent me the other day was accidentally opened during a meeting with two potential new clients. The sound of Mr. Jigglesworth hissing at a cucumber managed to project from the confines of my pocket, with a lot more aggression than I would have thought.
Just thought you might like to know.
-Will
P.S. What’s your favourite colour? How’s tap class?
From: Poppy Kramer
To: Will Edwards
Date: October 23, 2016
RE: Regarding cat videos
Dear Will,
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Okay, that was excessive. I’m sorry that you don’t know how to properly turn your phone off. I’m not sorry that I sent you the Mr. Jigglesworth video, because it’s hilarious. Mimi loved it, she posted it on Instagram three times to make sure everyone saw it. I told her she only needed to post it once but she told me to shush and let me do what I want.
My favourite colour is turquoise and tap class is going very well, thank you. Remember Ruth? I told you about her the other day. Anyways, she invited me over for supper. It was fun. Her husband Paul played the saw for me while we had dessert. Just to be clear – an actual saw, like that you saw wood with. I’ll attach a link for a YouTube video so that you can get the full effect.
I had coffee with Kyle and George this morning and I told him that we’ve been emailing. He asked me if anything happened between us in Maui. I said we enjoyed each other’s company. I hope that’s okay.
What’s your favourite movie? Pepsi or coke?
-Poppy
P.S. Did they hire you?
From: Will Edwards
To: Poppy Kramer
Date: October 23, 2016
RE: Regarding cat videos
Dear Poppy,
Of course, I don’t mind. That would also explain the text message I got from him an hour ago.
Poppy is one of a kind.
That video is impressive. I had no idea a person could play the saw. What did Ruth make for supper? I hope it wasn’t spicy. When I was seven my mother forced me to take piano lessons. My teacher, Mrs. Crawley told me I was tone deaf. She said it was pointless to teach me but she still wanted to get paid so she’d make us popcorn and we’d sit in her den and watch The Price is Right instead. My mother had no idea until six months later when she wanted me to play at one of her luncheons. I played chopsticks. She was not pleased.
My favourite movie is Indiana Jones (the first three). And neither. I like root beer.
-Will
P.S. Yes they did. After I showed them the Mr. Jigglesworth video.
From: Poppy Kramer
To: Will Edwards
Date: October 23, 2016
RE: Regarding cat videos
Dear Will,
Aww, that’s sweet of Kyle to say. Although I’m sure a large part of that has to do with the fact that I manage to clean his glass shower without leaving streaks. Never underestimate the power of a good squeegee. Ruth made spaghetti. ☺
I would love to hear you play chopsticks sometime. I don’t know how to play anything; Bluebell got the musical talent in this family. Hey, did I tell you that she and Scott (the fish guy) are totally exclusive? They each maintain they are casual but I’ve seen the way they look at each other. She’s never been this smitten before, I think it’s the real deal <3.
When I was thirteen, I invented a specially folded envelope for storing maxi pads. I sold them in the bathroom at lunchtime for $2 each. I made over $100 and used the money for a ticket to a Backstreet Boys concert. My dad took me. We waited for three hours in line after the concert to get my poster signed and when we finally got our turn, my dad told Nick Carter that after a line like that, they should at least have free hot dogs waiting for us.
Anyways, I should probably sign off. I’m going over to Tully and Dan’s to carve pumpkins. Oh! Before I forget, good luck at that wedding this weekend! I know you said it was just a favour for a colleague but this is a big deal and, I’m happy for you. Let me know how it goes, although I’m sure you’ll be great!
-Poppy
P.S. Indiana Jones is great. But Pirates of the Caribbean is better ;)
Chapter Eighteen
Toilet Bombs and Happily Ever Afters
(In that exact order)
4 weeks post-Maui…
I towel dry my wet hair as I bounce into the kitchen and start the coffee maker. I unplug my laptop from the charger and set it on the sofa, giving it a minute to start up while I head back into the kitchen. For two weeks Will and I have been emailing back and forth in an effort to get to know each other. I’m heading to Kyle’s later this morning but I’m going to check my inbox quickly before I finish getting ready. The thought that there might be something from Will makes me totally, nauseatingly happy. I settle on the sofa with my favourite blue mug and click on the browser. I’m about to open my email when my phone begins to chime. I absentmindedly pick it up and swipe the screen to answer.
“Hello?”
“Poppy, it’s me,” Tully says. “I can’t explain right now but I need you to come get us.”
“Okay, where are you?”
“The precinct on 63rd”, she cringes.
“This better be good,” I say.
I hang up and close my laptop with a sigh. I dump the rest of my coffee in a ceramic travel mug and toss my hair up into a bun.
When I walk into the precinct, I give Tully’s name to the young woman sitting at the front desk.
“Are you here for the boyfriend too?”
“The boyfriend?”
“A Mr. Daniel Fuller,” she says, nodding down at her paperwork.
I can’t help but grin when I reply, “Yeah, I’ll take him too.”
“Have a seat, they’ll be out shortly,” she says.
“Can I ask what they’re in for?”
She leans forward, her voice low. “Indecent exposure,” she says. “Not to worry, they’ll probably get off with a fine.”
I sit down, prepared to immediately text Bell and give her the news of our older sister’s public indiscretion when Tully and Dan emerge, strolling towards me hand in hand. They look a bit rumpled, probably from spending the night in jail, but they also look really, really, happy.
“Hey,” I say, slipping my phone back into my bag. “Indecent exposure? Really guys?”
“It’s all Renalda Spitz’s fault,” Tully says.
“It really is,” Dan says, smiling at my sister.
“Okay, well I’m parked out front, so we should probably get going.”
“Thanks for coming,” Tully says. “Mom and Dad are at our place with the kids, but it was late by the time they finished booking us, so we figured we’d save our phone call for the morning.”
The three of us head for the front door and on the way, I ask my sister, “Who’s Renalda Spitz?”
“I’ll tell you later,” she says with a smile.
After I drop Tully and Dan off, I head across town to Kyle’s condo. He and George are spending the day with George’s family, celebrating his nephew’s birthday. I let myself in with the spare key and head straight for the master bedroom. I pop in my earbuds and listen to Megan Trainor as I strip the bed and remake it with fresh sheets.
>
I wash the windows and head for the en suite next, tossing a couple of toilet bombs into the bowl to dissolve while I start on the shower. I spray down the glass wall and drag my squeegee down in a firm line, only to see a large shadow standing behind me. I jump around and throw my bottle of cleaner at the intruder hitting him right in the crotch. When he bends down in agony, I pull the buds from my ears and hold my squeegee up like a weapon.
“Oh shit, that hurts,” he groans.
Oh. My. God.
“Will?”
“Yeah.”
“Holy shit, I’m so sorry,” I say, bending down beside him. I rub soothing circles over his back. “You scared me, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he breathes out. “I should have made more noise.”
He stands, slowly unfolding his body with a noticeable twinge of pain.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m good,” he says.
“Are you sure? I can get some ice,” I offer lamely.
“I’m okay,” he says.
We continue to watch each other, my breath held tightly in my lungs. A hundred tiny butterflies do the tango in my stomach before I finally find my words again. “What are you doing here?”
“I was going to ask you to dinner,” he says.
“You flew all the way here just to ask me to dinner? At ten a.m.?”
“It sounded better in my head,” he says.
“I like the way it sounds,” I tell him softly.
“I know we said we were going to get to know each other, but I wanted to see you,” he confesses.
He takes a step forward and suddenly the walls around us seem to close in until there’s nothing but me and him. He inhales deeply, his eyes turning just a bit dark.
“God, you smell good,” he says.
“It’s the lavender toilet bomb I just used,” I say. “I make them myself, I found the recipe on Pinter- “
“Poppy?”
“Yes?”
“Let me kiss you?” he asks.
“Okay.”
In the middle of Kyle’s obscenely large bathroom, with the scent of my homemade toilet bombs surrounding us, Will’s lips find mine. Firmly and without hesitation.
*
A missed dinner date and several orgasms later, I slip quietly from my bedroom, leaving Will to rest up for round four. I slip his shirt on and pad quietly to the kitchen, my stomach grumbling. I dig through the fridge and pull out a bowl of strawberries and a jug of orange juice, setting them on the counter while I grab my phone from the kitchen table. I have one message, a text from an unknown number. I tap the screen and bring up the attached picture.
A pretty, young woman with vibrant red hair stands beside a handsome young man in a tuxedo. She’s holding a bouquet of lilies and they’re standing in front of a judge. They’re both flushed and smiling. The dress fits her perfectly. I look down at the caption underneath the photo.
One photo, as requested.
Thank you, whoever you are.
This dress is perfect <3
“Everything okay?”
I look up and see Will, standing in the hallway wearing nothing but a pale pink sheet around his waist. I set my phone down and grab the food from the counter.
I close the space between us and lean up, pressing my lips to his. “Yes,” I say, tilting my head back. “It is.”
The End
(But wait! There’s two Kramer Sister bonus short stories, keep reading!)
The Book
A Tulip Kramer Short Story
You know when you first meet someone and everything is new and sexy and you conveniently forget about all the unattractive things that human beings are capable of? Fast forward twenty-one years and the sexiest thing you do is ram each other with your private parts in the dark while one of you constantly watches the door, waiting for it to unceremoniously swing open.
Young, sexy you pretended that neither one of you shit out of your respective assholes. Now you keep a communal supply of Charmin wet wipes under the bathroom sink because let’s face it, you need the cold comfort of aloe vera after you speed shit while your kids wait outside the door demanding snacks and iPhones.
I remember when I first met Dan. His family had just moved here from Ohio and he sat next to me in biology. We were fifteen. I love Dan, I always have. And he loves me. But something is missing. The spark, the fire, the…passion. We have this wonderful life, with these mostly wonderful children. But what about us? The us, before all of this?
I glance down at the book sitting on my dresser as I pull my sweater up and over my head.
Water Your Marriage
By Renalda Spitz
A step by step guide to aid you in reinventing your relationship
Two days ago I was mindlessly roaming the aisles at Target when I spotted it sitting on the shelf near the checkout. I picked it up without thinking and read it cover to cover that night while Dan was sleeping beside me, two of our kids wedged between us. According to Renalda Spitz, you need to be the change in order to see the change. I look up in the mirror, at my full coverage, extra wide banded bra and visibly shudder. Be the change, Tulip.
*
“You look really nice,” Dan says, putting the car in reverse and backing out of the driveway.
I look down at the ridiculously overpriced black cocktail dress that I bought this morning. My feet are already killing me in these sky high monstrosities, but I am determined to make tonight’s date night different.
“Thanks, you too,” I say. Dan always looks good. He’s one of those men who has always been cute but also handsome. We are both nearing forty but he still wears his thick brown hair in the same short, unruly way he did when we were kids. His blue eyes still twinkle with mischief on a daily basis and despite the fact that he’s one of the best chefs in the city, he still maintains his lean, muscular frame thanks to daily jogs around the park.
“Are you sure your parents are okay with spending the night?”
“Yes,” I say. “My dad will have them sugared up and passed out within the hour. If that doesn’t work, I’m pretty sure he brought over his DVD collection of Matlock.
We don’t usually spend the night away on date nights, but since I want tonight to be special, I booked us a room at the Silversmith downtown. As we make our way to the restaurant, I feel a surge of spontaneity.
Be the change.
“Pull over!”
“What? Why, are you gonna be sick? Were you eating that jar of Nutella in the cupboard because I think it went bad like a week ago.”
“No, Dan, just pull over,” I insist. “Over there, into that parking lot.
Once he puts the car in park, I glance around at the open lot. The only light in the abandoned space is coming from a rusted old lamppost and the twinkling lights of the cityscape around us.
“We should make this quick,” Dan says. “This neighborhood is pretty sketchy and we don’t want to miss our reservation.”
I unclip my seat belt and pull the keys from the ignition. “Fuck the reservation,” I say.
“Fuck the reservation?”
“Yes, Dan, fuck it.”
“Are you feeling okay? Seriously, did you eat that Nutel- “
“No, Dan! I did not eat the Nutella,” I say, hurling my body towards him.
I spear my fingers through his thick hair and press my mouth to his, pouring every ounce of frustration that I have into a kiss that makes him moan against my lips. His hands grip my shoulders roughly while I snake my hand down and unbuckle his seatbelt.
“In the car? Here?” he asks with a groan.
“Yes,” I breathe against his lips. “In the car, right here. Backseat, now.”
“Holy shit,” he mumbles.
I lift myself off of him enough so that he can crawl into the backseat but he fumbles backwards, landing on an empty bottle in the cup holder.
“Ahhh,” he shimmies forward. “Did you just ram your fist into my asshole?”
&nb
sp; “No, you fell on a bottle of apple juice.”
I tumble into the backseat behind him and nudge him onto his back so that he’s laying down. I reach for his belt buckle and lean down, trailing my lips along his neck.
“Oh shit, this is so hot,” he says.
“So hot,” I moan against his neck. “I’m not wearing any underwear.”
He reaches his hand down while I shove my dress up and just as he’s about to feel my newly groomed swimsuit area, a bright beam shines in through the window. Tap, tap, tap.
“Excuse me, but I’m gonna need you to pull your dress down and step out of the vehicle.”
*
Almost four hours later we’re sitting side by side in a holding cell. I thought about calling my parents but it’s late and I figure at this point, we might as well wait until morning. We haven’t spoken a word since Officer Ted Miller knocked on the passenger side window of our Dodge Caravan.
“So,” Dan says. “Are we gonna talk about this?”
“What’s to talk about? We’re probably going to end up on the registered sex offenders list.”
“Nah, we’ll probably just get a fine or maybe some community service,” he says.
“How can you be so calm all the time?”
“What do you mean?”
“God, don’t you feel it, Dan? This whole shift between us? Tonight was supposed to be about reinventing our relationship and getting back the spark. Not sitting in a jail cell,” I half yell. “This place smells like stale cigarettes and bad choices.”
“What do you mean reinventing our relationship? Where is this coming from?”
“Renalda Spitz,” I say with a sigh. “She says that in order to see change, you need to be the change. I was just trying to, I don’t know,” I say. “I was trying to make things new again.”
“Are you not happy?”
“Of course I’m happy,” I say. “But I worry sometimes that if we don’t work on this stuff now, we’ll end up miserable and bored later on. I just want to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
He’s quiet for a moment, with nothing but the old vent rattling above us before he takes my hand in his.
“I could never be bored with you,” he says. “You’re my best friend, Tulip.”
“It doesn’t bother you that we seem to be in a constant state of routine?”
