“Baby, are you home?” The smell of fresh flowers greeted me. I looked around the downstairs and found it to be empty and then ran as fast as my heels would allow me to the stairs.
“Andrew?”
I found him in the large master bathroom, relaxing in the Jacuzzi-style bathtub. “Hey, there you are.”
“Here I am,” he said with a boyish grin. “You just got home?”
“Yeah, I stopped and saw my grandmother.”
“Is she doing any better?”
“Not really.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked as he swept a hand over the tub.
“There’s not really much to talk about. I thanked her for everything concerning my childhood.”
“Ah yes, this childhood that you don’t like to talk about; that was very considerate of you,” he said.
“Oh, don’t talk to me like that,” I said.
“Like what?”
Like a child. Also, I don’t see you volunteering any information about your childhood.”
“I’m sorry if it came out like that, you’re right. You don’t have to talk about it.”
The truth is that I thought about it so much in my mind that I couldn't muster the mental strength to discuss it with another person. When I think about it now, all it does is cause a headache. I want to save myself the trouble.
I undressed and stepped into the tub, slinking over to him, where he draped his arm across my shoulders. He kissed me sensually, sucking on my bottom lip.
“How was your day?”
“Mercifully short.” He ran a wet hand through his graying hair. “They really didn’t need me much today.” Andrew was the CFO of a company.
“You mean they didn’t need the money man today?”
He laughed at our inside joke. “No, they didn’t need the money man today.” He started stroking my breasts. “I want to watch you bathe.”
I grabbed a loofah and made it extra soapy with some pomegranate scented body wash — Andrew liked the smell of it; some of the suds ran down my arms. He leaned back and I moved in front of him, getting to my feet as I bathed myself slowly. His mouth formed an O as the suds ran down my torso, splitting into a familiar V shape past my hips. I squeezed the loofah over my breasts, coating them in suds. I saw Andrew’s dick poke upward underneath the water.
When I finish bathing, I dipped back down into the water and gave him a kiss on the lips. He enveloped me in his arms and took me under the water with him before lifting us up and stepping out of the tub. He carried me to the bedroom and put me on the bed, where he jumped on top of me like a ravenous animal, nipping at my neck and sucking on my lips. He split my legs apart and rested there.
“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” He pushed my wet hair way from my face.
“Awww, thank you,” I said. I’m never ungrateful when he tells me this.
He kissed me a lot slower, more passionately, our wet bodies sliding against one another until the water left our bodies. He rose up on his arms and positioned himself to enter me, doing so with all of the ease and experience that a 47-year old man has. I held on to his neck as he thrust into me. My legs molded around his lower body; I locked my feet together to trap him.
Here we were, engaged in the horizontal dance that so many before us had done. He kissed me all over my neck and breathed heavily in my ear. I encouraged him with my moans and the gentle rocking of my hips. I watched as a sly lusty grin formed on his face. I knew what that meant.
He quickened his pace. One of my legs went up onto his shoulders. His voice turned into a low gravely growl, betraying his past smoking addiction. His rough thumb found my clit and began rubbing it in circles. “Does that feel good? Do you like that shit?”
I cried out loudly, shuddering underneath his touch. He pounded into me harder and a sheen of sweat began to cover his body. I writhed underneath him, sweat forming on me as well. He grabbed my other leg and started to fuck me silly. I whimpered like a child underneath him until he stiffened up and groaned into my hair. His thumb hovered over my clit until he finished coming. He rubbed me slowly and kissed me until I came as well, and held on to me, saying, “You’re so pretty when you come,” as I came down from the heavens.
Sleep overtook me, and when I woke up, he was still asleep, his arm over my body. I climbed from underneath him and went to the bathroom. I took a shower and put on some workout clothing to go for a run.
The sun had not yet set, but it was still very warm outside. I slipped my ear buds into my ear and let the sound of my music wash over me as I broke into a light sprint. I ran to the beat of the song that was playing before I stopped paying attention to the sound. Kids were outside playing — a rare site in these times, as most kids would rather spend the day inside with their video games.
I took my usual route, a three mile trek that ran along a little creek, a park and an open field before circling back around to the house that I lived in.
During the run I thought about how fortunate I am to live in a house at my age. My parents didn’t. They still don’t.
***
March, 2001
My mother drove up in a battered Toyota Tercel; we had no idea where they got it from and no desire to ask them. I was sitting at the dining room table doing my homework and I heard her before she even got to the door. “Where are my children?” she yelled, followed by the sound of the car door slamming shut. I inhaled sharply. My grandmother met her at the door, “What do you want Sarah?”
“I came to see my children,” she said.
“The twins aren’t here and Christina is doing her homework.” Grandma folded her arms across her chest.
“Can I say hello to Christina then?”
Grandma called for me and I reluctantly went to the door. I put on the best smile I could and hugged her and let her fuss over me like a mother who hasn’t seen their child in a few weeks should.
“How’s school, how’s middle school treating you, kid?”
“It’s fine,” I said.
“That’s good. Any cute boys?”
“Sarah!” Grandma grew protective.
“No, no boys,” I said while shaking my head.
“That’s okay. Well, um, I guess I’ll be heading back home then. We got a place on the west side now.”
“Bye mom. I’ll tell Matthew and Marcia you were here.”
“And I’ll tell your father you all said hello.” I saw sadness in my mother’s eyes as she turned to leave in the beat up old car. And for the first time, I felt a little sorry for her.
***
What happened with my parents is that they were madly in love with one another and got addicted to that love. Addiction, even to something as intangible and abstract as love, can lead you to do crazy things. My parents needed to fight, needed to yell and break stuff and have their entire families disavow them to keep the spark that so often dies alive. Matthew once told me that he walked in on them arguing one day, and went to his room only to find them in theirs fucking ten minutes later.
They wanted to be normal like everyone else, but they couldn’t, not even to the children that depended on them the most.
It was that type of upbringing that made my stance on love so hard. I never wanted anyone to do that to me. I never wanted to find a person that would drive me to such insanity. I resolved from an early age never to fall in love.
I went through adolescence hiding myself and my budding body from the eyes of little boys and grown men who promised me a world they didn’t have if I would just love them (whether for an eternity or three minutes under the bleachers). I would have none of it. I couldn’t relate to any of my girlfriends because while they talked of kissing boys and all of the fun that they had on their Saturday night dates, I had no stories of my own, lest I took the risk and fell in love with someone.
I didn’t want to lose such a big part of me. Not to love and not to another person.