“Well, I just think it’s important to understand such things early on. Wouldn’t want to get in too deep, if you know what I mean, just to be heartbroken later.”
And that’s when Jordan hits his boiling point. “Adeline and I are leaving. Thank you for dinner. I guess I’ll see you in another few years.” I stand too as his parents stare with slack jaws and mouths hanging open. As we turn, Jordan squeezes my hand gently and then turns to them once again. “Adeline knows me better than either of you have ever cared to. She’s well aware I’m not perfect and I’m divorced, and for the better part of a decade I chose to indulge in shallow, meaningless dalliances that fed my physical needs far more than anything else. I’m ashamed of you, and quite frankly, I hold you responsible for every last emotional shortcoming I now have the pleasure of trying to undo. Good night.” We turn and walk out of the restaurant hand in hand.
When we reach the valet, he hands them his ticket, and as we wait, we stand side by side. He’s not spoken to me, and while his words may have been protective and warm, he’s cold right now. It isn’t me. He is fighting a long-waged battle in his mind that revives itself every time he’s forced to speak to them, and so I give him space.
He tips the valet and holds my hand as I climb in before he returns to the driver’s side door and pulls out into traffic.
We’re silent as he drives, and I watch him. He’s distant, and I imagine him a small boy, being subjected to their tortures. They are cruel, and oddly, I doubt they even realize it. My heart cries for the little boy inside him who was so neglected by them, abandoned to survive alone in a mansion of loneliness. No child deserves such treatment, especially not the one who would grow to be the man I fall in love with. I want to fight his battle, but of course there is no real battle to fight. The war is long over and the damage is done, and yet looking to his hardened face and cold eyes, clearly the pain is not laid to rest.
When he heads toward my apartment, I’m surprised. He pulls in, opens the car door for me, and walks me to my front door. But as I unlock the door and step within, he doesn’t follow, and my heart falls. For all the torture they caused him, I thought I would at least be able to ease it in some small way with my touch, my presence, but apparently that isn’t at all what he is wanting.
“You could come in?” I’m hopeful, but the coolness of his demeanor sends a very clear message.
“I wouldn’t be good company tonight. I’m sorry.” He barely holds my eyes as he turns me down, and as he mumbles his good-bye under his breath, he turns and leaves me standing looking after him.
I retreat, alone, inside my apartment and spend the next hour cleaning. I throw on my best grimy cleaning clothes and clean every last closet my small little oasis has. It pushes him out of my mind to some small degree, and it keeps the pain of his rejection from eating at me. I’m moving soon enough, and while I own little and am no packrat, I’ve still accumulated junk that has managed to find homes within the darkest recesses of my moldy old closets.
When Kelli shows up unannounced and with a couple bottles of wine, I decide I’m lucky for such a friend. This is what I need—wine and company. Half a bottle of wine later, we’re cleaning while trying on bits and pieces of my past three Halloween costumes and bopping around to some old Bell Biv DeVoe, using a spatula as a microphone. Oh the things you find when you go closet diving and the things you do after half a bottle of wine. And then there’s a knock at my door, and Kell runs to get it.
***
I actually made it home, into the house, and onto my couch before I couldn’t bear being apart from her and abandoned my loneliness for her. I feel awful for the torment she endured on my behalf, and while she handled their personal brand of lunacy and torture perfectly, I didn’t. I more than feel bad; I’m humiliated. I’ve met her parents. I know what real people are supposed to behave like, and it sure as hell isn’t the way my fine folks do. She’s lucky to have her family, and while I’m happy she never had to deal with parents like mine, I’m oddly jealous. I envy what she has, and while I would never want her to suffer anything such as my parents, I sure wish I could share hers.
When I mount her steps, there’s a warm glow of her space through the closed blinds of her front windows, and the pounding of some obscure music from within. But it’s the image that greets me when her door is pulled open that shocks me the most.
“Hi, Kelli. I didn’t realize Adeline would have company.” And why the hell does she look straight out of a nineties hip-hop music video? The ponytail is high and off to the side with the perfect oversize scrunchie, and the blue eye shadow could likely be seen from a mile away. If this isn’t enough, Adeline rounds the corner from her bedroom, and I nearly choke.
She’s standing in the hallway, wearing shorts, very short shorts, and a midriff tank top that leaves little to the imagination. Were that the only surprise, I’d probably tackle her to the ground and pull the skimpy fabric from her body and ravish her. But somehow, and for some reason, she just didn’t stop at the hot pants and tank top. “Why’s your hair orange?” It’s an innocent question, and as the nineties hip-hop scene pounds away on her cheap speakers, I enter.
“Oh … hiya. Uh… Well this probably looks odd, but … we were … uh … cleaning.” Cleaning? The muscles of my mouth relax for the first time all evening, and as she walks toward me a smirk pulls at my lips.
“I see… Is that glitter on your…” and as I reach for her shimmering cheek, I continue, “Oh, yes … it is glitter… That’s … odd.” Now my muscles are really relaxed, and a smile I really didn’t expect to show up today spreads across my face.
She’s blushing, or at least I think she is under all of that makeup. And as Kelli regards us, she laughs and grabs her purse. “Okay, lovelies. I’m out.”
Adeline is polite. “You don’t have to leave, Kell.” Oh hell yes she does.
“Nope, I’m gonna go find me a nineties cover band tonight if it kills me. It’s been a blast … from the past… Get it? Ahh. Cause the mus… Oh that’s good.” And then she ducks out the door, shaking her head in self-amusement.” Quirky character that one.
I’m left staring at my orange-haired, glitter-faced angel and her ridiculously short shorts and tank top. God, I want to fuck her.
“I didn’t think I’d see you tonight,” she remarks sheepishly.
“I gather. Hope I’m not messing up your plans.” She skirts to the stereo, quickly turning it off, and when she returns to me she looks self-conscious; who wouldn’t with orange hair?
“A shower. I’m going to take a shower,” she replies with a convicted nod.
“Good idea. I’ll watch you. I’d say join you, but I wouldn’t want to flood the place.” Now her smile is less shy and far more intrigued. And once she’s in the bathroom, I slowly peel her out of her clothing, tormenting her nipples by skirting around the tight, pink areolas. I’m rewarded for my efforts with a sigh and a shudder that courses through her. When it’s time for her ever-short shorts, I grip her buttocks forcefully before pulling upward to slip the center seam between her legs. That earns a loud exhale of breath as the fabric invades her body and parts the lips of her sex. I kiss her while I hold the fabric firmly in place, and when I’ve explored her mouth I loosen my hold and pull the shorts down her legs, dropping to my knees in front of her.
Before the release of tension between her legs even has a chance to sink in, I latch myself to her sex, sliding my tongue between her lips. Now she lets loose an incredible moan, and as I pull her to sit on the side of the tub in front of me, she opens her legs with no coaxing. She’s so incredibly beautiful. She’s pink and smooth, glistening in want, and her thighs are slightly quivering in anticipation. Even with hair sprayed orange and glitter painting her cheeks, she’s amazing.