The Firework Exploded

by Tara Sivec

  It’s fine. It’s totally fine. We can just wait until after the wedding to try again. At this point, my vagina might rip itself from my body and stab me if Sam and I attempt to have sex again, so it’s all good. I’ll be able to reassure my father that we’re waiting until the wedding night while keeping a straight face, and Sam won’t have an aneurism or take my father up on his suggestion of running. Everybody wins.

  Especially my dead vagina, may she rest in peace.

  Chapter 6

  Chicks with Dicks

  Sam

  “I just need you to put your arm around me and smile. We don’t have to kiss or anything, just put on a good show. We need to start practicing so it’s believable the next time I see her.”

  I shake my head at Alex as we stand by the bathrooms at Target and wait for Noel and Aunt Bobbie to finish returning a bunch of things Bev bought during her wedding shopping spree. Thankfully, Noel was able to convince her that seventy-five candles that smell like ocean mist were overkill and unnecessary for an outdoor wedding. I still have no idea why Alex felt the need to tag along, other than to annoy the hell out of me.

  “How is pretending to be gay going to win Scheva back?” I ask in a low voice, glancing over at the customer service desk to see how much longer this is going to take. “I told you, she freaked out because you got all serious on her too quickly. You need to just back off a little, give her some space and then ease your way back in.”

  He made me repeat exactly what Scheva said the other night all day at work for the last few days, coming up with one stupid plan after another to get her back, including sending her a bouquet of Vagisil boxes along with an apology card. I don’t know why I’m even shocked anymore at the things he says and does.

  “I’m pretty sure I’m not going to take advice from a dude who has nightmares about elbows,” he laughs.

  “It was horrifying! You have no idea the things I saw,” I argue, trying to block out the images from the video Noel played for me the other night after we had dinner with her parents.

  Instead of sitting down and talking to my fiancée like a normal person, I ran away into the bathroom and took a cold shower to try and erase all that I saw from my mind. It didn’t work. I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing all of that disappearing elbow, and I didn’t sit down and talk about it with Noel because I honestly wasn’t sure if I’d be able to speak of it without throwing up.

  She seems to be on the same page as me, both of us completely avoiding the subject ever since it happened. She also informed me that she was handing over all the wedding planning reigns to her family and that we had nothing to do for the next few weeks but relax. She’s really starting to worry me with all the “relaxing” talk and I’m beginning to think she really is freaking out about my dick malfunction. If she hadn’t asked me to drive her and Aunt Bobbie to Target to return the candles so her mother could use the money toward the wedding cake, I was almost on the verge of thinking Noel only told me she was handing everything over to them so she didn’t have to come right out and say she didn’t want to marry me. No matter how many orgasms I give her, it can’t erase this issue and it’s clearly made her lose her mind. More so than normal.

  Thankfully, I went in to see my doctor the morning after the elbow incident, and he agreed that it would be best for everyone if he switched me back to my old prescription without so many side effects. It probably helped that I made him watch the video and explain to me in scientific, medical terms, how something like that was humanly possible.

  “Anyway, as I was trying to explain to you,” Alex continues, leaning against the wall next to the water fountain. “Chicks always seem to fall for the gay guys they can’t have. Have you never seen an episode of Will and Grace? If we pretend to be gay, Scheva will realize the mistake she made and want me back. All of our problems will be solved.”

  “How in the hell does that solve my problem?” I ask.

  “Oh, it doesn’t. When I said our, I meant me. I was just trying to be nice and include you,” he replies with a shrug.

  “Okay, we’re all set. Now Bev can spend this money on an obscene, twenty-five tier wedding cake!” Aunt Bobbie announces happily, shoving the wad of cash into her purse as her and Noel walk up to us.

  “Twenty-five tiers? Tell me you’re kidding,” Noel demands. “We do not need a monstrosity of a cake for fifty people!”

  Aunt Bobbie gives Noel some kind of look which has her immediately closing her mouth and turning to me with a smile.

  “You know what, it’s fine. Everything is fine. Whatever cake she gets will be fine, right Sam? How are you doing? Everything fine? You don’t care about a silly cake, do you?”

  Noel moves to stand in front of me and rubs her hands up and down my arms, causing me to break out in a cold sweat. What woman doesn’t care about her own wedding cake? Probably a woman who is two seconds away from cancelling the wedding because her fiancé can’t get his dick to finish the job it started, that’s who.

  “Of course Sam doesn’t care!” Aunt Bobbie reassures her. “And I’m sure you’ll both be happy to know my ladies from Drag Queen Bingo night are positively thrilled about being invited to the wedding!”

  Oh, this I know will make Noel’s head spin. She’s been complaining about the huge guest list for weeks. There’s no way she’s going to let Aunt Bobbie invite a bunch of drag queens she’s never even met.

  Noel’s smile never falters and she just nods. “I’m so happy they’re coming!”

  Her voice is entirely too enthusiastic and now I’m two seconds away from shitting my pants.

  “Drag queens, you say?” Alex pipes up. “Would any of them care to help me out with a little something? Maybe a chick with a dick is what I need. Sorry, Sam. You’re fired.”

  Noel whips her head around to look at Alex, and going by the way his eyes widen in fear as I stare at him over Noel’s shoulder, I’m guessing she still has the crazy smile firmly in place.

  “You can’t fire Sam! No one can fire Sam. He’s fine, and I’m sure he’d be much happier if you let him help out with whatever you need,” Noel tells him. “As long as it’s nice and relaxing and calm. We like calm, don’t we, Sam?”

  Yep, I’m full on freaking out when she turns her crazy eyes and smile in my direction. I want to ask her what the hell is going on, tell her to stop talking in such a Stepford Wife voice, but I’m not about to do anything that will piss her off. She’s clearly losing her shit, and it’s all my stupid dick’s fault. I don’t want her to call off the wedding. Whatever Noel wants, Noel gets.

  “All of this calmness is making me have to tinkle,” Aunt Bobbie suddenly announces, moving around us and stopping right in front of Alex. “Here, hold my purse. You can practice being a chick with a dick.”

  She drapes the strap over his arm and moves back to look him up and down appraisingly. “Yep, it’s totally working for you. That bag perfectly matches your eyes. You’d make a very pretty woman.”

  Alex’s cheeks flush in embarrassment as he hefts the giant Coach bag up higher on his shoulder, glancing around nervously before leaning in closer to Aunt Bobbie.

  “Do you really think so? I mean, I’ve gotten compliments on my high cheekbones before and I do have slim hips…” he trails off.

  “I’ll invite some of the girls over this week and we’ll give you a make-over. We can do pedicures and facials and try on each other’s clothes. We’ll make a whole night of it, and you’ll see I’m right,” Aunt Bobbie reassures him. “Now, move out of my way before I start peeing all over your leg.”

  Alex moves out of the way and holds his arm out for her to pass. Aunt Bobbie pats him on the cheek and heads toward the ladies’ room.

  A guy who had been standing outside the doors waiting for someone and listening in on this entire exchange, pushes away from the wall and holds up his hands in front of Aunt Bobbie, stopping her from going any further.

  “You can’t go in there,” he informs her in a haughty, stick-u
p-his-ass-voice.

  There’s a moment of silence between all of us while this guy drops his hands to cross them over his chest, spreading his legs into a wider stance to block Aunt Bobbie from going in the women’s bathroom. I think we’re all too shocked to say anything immediately, unable to believe that this stranger has appointed himself as the Target bathroom patrol. It only takes a minute for me to shake off the surprise and find my voice.

  “She has to go to the bathroom. Why can’t she go in there?” I ask, hoping to God he doesn’t say what I think he’s about to say. Noel’s crazy need for calm is going to be shot to shit because I’m pretty sure things getting ugly in Target is the exact opposite of relaxing.

  “My daughter is in there,” the guy growls, not taking his eyes off of Aunt Bobbie.

  “And?” Noel prompts him, clearly forgetting about staying calm herself as she takes a step toward him and mirrors his pose, crossing her arms in front of her and glaring at him.

  I’m not going to lie, seeing her all angry and protective of her aunt makes me want to drag her out to the parking lot, shove her in the backseat of her car, and screw the hell out of her. You know, after we put this guy in his place and Aunt Bobbie can finally take a piss.

  “AND, she’s only twelve,” the guy adds, rolling his eyes at Noel before they fly back to Aunt Bobbie when she lets out a huge sigh.

  “Oh, wow. Twelve, you say? There’s no way I can go in there NOW,” she tells him with a shake of her head.

  “That’s what I thought,” the guy replies with a nod.

  I take a step forward myself, but Aunt Bobbie lifts her arm and presses her hand against my chest to stop me from moving any closer to the guy. When she’s sure I’m not going to tackle him to the ground, she drops her hand from my chest and presses it against her heart.

  “I mean, thank God you warned me. Twelve-year-old girls are the spawns of Satan. All of that PMS and hating everyone and everything…” Aunt Bobbie trails off with a shudder. “Seriously, I’m so glad you warned me. That would have been a NIGHTMARE if I went in there and had to face a she-devil before I’ve had my evening cocktail. Whew! I can’t believe I dodged THAT bullet!”

  Noel and Alex both laugh at the shocked look on the asshole’s face as Aunt Bobbie turns with a flip of the long red locks of her wig, and walks away with her head held high. I have so much respect for her right now, and I wish I could let this go that easily, but I can’t. The guy’s eyes narrow angrily and he opens his mouth to most likely shout another stupid comment to Aunt Bobbie’s back.

  Before anyone can stop me, and before he utters one more word, I quickly close the distance between us and punch him in the nose.

  Noel screams, Alex lets out a whooping cheer, and Aunt Bobbie comes running back to us as the guy bends forward, holding his hands over his bloody nose and letting out a string of curse words that even make me blush.

  “You should worry more about your daughter turning into a giant asshole just like you, instead of who she’s in the bathroom with,” I mutter, taking a step back and shaking out my hand.

  “Don’t worry, folks! I am completely calm!” I shout as a few of the Target workers start running over to us to see what happened and Noel grabs my hand and starts examining my knuckles. “Did you see how calm I was? That felt great. I should punch people more often!”

  “And that’s how you get Mister Ed back in the saddle,” Aunt Bobbie adds, leaning in to give me a kiss on the cheek.

  “Mister Ed can go fuck himself!” I shout happily.

  “Well, that’s one way to fix the problem,” she whispers loudly to Noel.

  Honestly, I should probably be ashamed that I just assaulted a stranger in Target, but I’m not. I’m more relaxed than I’ve been in weeks. And with Noel staring up at me with so much love and appreciation on her face, I’m also hornier than I’ve been in weeks. I know it’s only been a few days since I stopped taking those other pills, but my dick feels like it could pound nails right now. Noel is so fucking sexy that I grab her hand and start tugging her toward the doors so I can show her there’s no need to even think about canceling the wedding.

  Sadly, the arrival of a few police officers puts a damper on testing out my dick.

  * * *

  Noel didn’t say a word on the ride home from Target. We dropped off Alex and she didn’t even crack a joke when Aunt Bobbie reminded him about their plans to girly him up later this week. As soon as we pulled into Reggie and Bev’s driveway, Aunt Bobbie jumped out of my truck and ran inside to call all her friends and tell them about what happened. We’ve been sitting here in the driveway with the truck idling, not saying a word.

  “Hey, at least I didn’t get arrested right before the wedding,” I finally speak, trying to crack a joke in the hopes that it will get Noel to say something. “Your mom didn’t have to use that cake money to bail me out of jail. She’d have been forced to serve the guests a plate of Twinkies and Ho-Hos instead. I mean, if you look at it that way, I’m kind of a hero. A cake hero.”

  The word vomit just flies right out of my mouth, and still, Noel doesn’t say anything.

  Thankfully, Bev really didn’t have to bail me out of jail. There were enough witnesses to give statements to the two police officers, confirming that the asshole I punched was indeed being an asshole and deserved what he got. Another thankful moment was when Aunt Bobbie realized one of the police officers was one of her fellow drag queens from bingo night. The asshole with the bloody nose wasn’t too happy when no one paid attention to his bitching and moaning because the officer was too busy talking about how excited he was to come to our wedding.

  Sadly, even with a drag queen police officer on our side, it was still considered an unprovoked attack and it was still up to the asshole if he wanted to press charges. Luckily, in the middle of his tirade about suing all of us and making sure I rot in jail for all of eternity, his daughter came out of the bathroom.

  Aunt Bobbie was one-hundred-percent correct. Twelve-year-old girls are the devil incarnate. When her father tried to explain what happened, she clenched her hands into fists and screamed at the top of her lungs. She stomped her foot, rolled her eyes and continued screaming for a full ten minutes about how he was “soooooo embarrassing” and how she’d “never set foot in public with him again,” finishing with an ear-piercing, “HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!”

  Then she dissolved into a fit of sobbing tears, telling him she was sorry and that she just wanted to go home. He promised to not press charges and to buy her an outfit, as long as she stopped crying. She bartered for a new iPhone instead, the asshole quickly agreed, and then she kissed him on the cheek and smiled at all of us before grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the exit.

  I can now confirm that watching a preteen lose her shit all over Target was much more horrifying than disappearing elbow porn. If Noel and I have a daughter one day, I will be crushing up Midol and putting it in her bottle from day one, just to nip that shit in the bud.

  “I can’t believe you did that,” Noel finally speaks, sniffling and wiping a stray tear from her cheek when she finally turns in her seat to face me.

  “I’m sorry. I know I made things worse, but I couldn’t just stand there and-”

  Noel cuts me off, pressing her hand against my mouth and shaking her head.

  “You have absolutely nothing to apologize for. That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen, watching you stand up for Aunt Bobbie like that. I don’t think it’s possible for me to love you any more right now,” she tells me softly. “I just want you to be happy and calm, and fighting with some loser in Target is not helping with that. My family is seriously ruining your life. Maybe we should just go to Vegas and elope. Or maybe you should take my father’s advice and run. I don’t want you to die and all of this stress is going to kill you!”

  She starts crying harder and I quickly lean over the center console, wrap my arms around her and pull her against me.

  “What in the world are you ta
lking about? We’re not eloping, I don’t want to run, and I’m not going to die from stress,” I reassure her, holding her head against my chest with one hand and rubbing soothing circles against her back with the other. “I think it’s time we go home and talk, okay?”

  She nods against my chest before pulling her head back. Wiping the tears from her cheeks, I give her a smile. “Everything’s going to be fine. We’ll go home, I’ll pour you a glass of wine, and we can curl up on the couch and just talk. I think we’ve both been going a little crazy lately and a nice, quiet evening at home is just what we need. No fights, no arguments about guest lists, no weird comments about Mister Ed…just you and me.”

  Shifting the truck into reverse, I press on the gas to back out of the driveway. I don’t make it more than a few feet before we hear a loud thump that makes me slam on the breaks.

  “What the hell was that?” I mutter, turning off the engine.

  Noel shrugs and we both get out to take a look. I squat down to look behind the front tire, muttering a curse just as Aunt Bobbie comes flying back out of the house, screaming her head off.

  So much for a relaxing evening with Noel so we can talk.

  Chapter 7

  Turd Ferguson

  Noel

  “I can’t believe he’s really gone. He was my best friend,” Aunt Bobbie cries, as we all stand around my parents’ backyard and quietly watch Sam dig a hole in the ground at the back of the property.

  After what happened at Target and the moment in the car when Sam finally admitted that we needed to talk, I thought we were finished with our excitement for the day, but I should have known better. I knew it was time for me to come clean to Sam that I saw his prescription and knew about the high blood pressure that my family caused, and I was ready. Trying to keep his blood pressure down on my own so he could forego the pills was obviously the dumbest idea in the world, since this family seems to be a magnet for drama and stupid shit. I could tell he was getting suspicious every time I suggested keeping calm, and there’s no way I’d be able to make him believe for much longer that I am perfectly fine letting my mother Shabby Chic the shit out of our wedding. Of course, right when I convince myself it’s time to suck it up and be an adult, Sam has to go and kill something.