Chapter 5: Flowers Flower From Shit

Rebecca’s father’s hand held my breast like a bra, lifeless but present. His fingers didn’t move. My nipple pressed into his palm. I couldn’t move. I wanted to push it away, but didn’t want to wake him. At the moment, he just held me, but once I did something, it meant that we cuddled, and he groped me. Did he grope me? No, likely just slipped there during the night. At least, I hope he didn’t mean for it to happen. Would Rebecca think that I seduced her father or that he groped her girlfriend? Either way, Rebecca would hate me.

Slow, gentle, I slipped out of his embrace. His hand squeezed my breast once, but he didn’t wake up. An accident then. Just sleep. Rebecca lay on the other side of him, her left hand on his hip, her right arm under his head. They appeared so peaceful. He wheezed and drooled while she had a tiny smile on her calm, radiant face. The clock claimed six a.m., but it felt earlier. The sun shone around the edges of the curtain to give the room a surreal appearance, with deep shadows but also bright, highlighted sections, Rebecca’s hair, the table with a half-empty plastic cup, the cowboy on a horse artwork, and the pile of Mark’s blue and grey clothes.

My stomach clenched from lack of food and her father. I slipped into the washroom with my phone. Tired, I wanted to return to bed, but I didn’t want to sleep beside Mark; instead, I pulled out my phone and played a silly game, flicking boxes around the screen. I stayed in the washroom until I heard muffled voices from the room.

Rebecca and her father had dressed and sat at the table with egg sandwiches and coffee from the room’s coffee maker. I should have changed. I still wore the too-small shirt that would not cover my ass, no matter how much I pulled it down. Rebecca smiled at me with too much energy. I felt like her father looked, with disheveled hair, black and red rimmed eyes, and hunched over the table.

My stomach clenched at the smell of coffee, but I didn’t want to leave the safety of the washroom. Mark mumbled something about a shit, stood, and with a downcast gaze, shuffled towards me. I rushed from the washroom to the bed and jumped under the covers before he could see. He shuffled into the bathroom with a partial grin and slammed the door, which caused me to jump and whimper.

“Coffee, babe,” Rebecca said, handed me a cup of black coffee, and kissed me on the cheek. The coffee smelled great, but tasted horrible, lukewarm, and weak. When did I turn into a coffee snob? And worse, a black coffee snob?

“I slept great,” Rebecca said as she tied her cleats. She looked great. Hair in a high ponytail, blue tank top jersey over a black sports bra, and black short shorts with black knee-high socks. Her bright orange shoes shone in the sunlight. So pro. I can’t believe she liked me, a high-level soccer player with her shit together. I took a photo of the perfect female soccer player, my perfect soccer player soulmate, and replaced the image of Dad, Mom, and me on my phone’s lock screen. I kept the photo of Dad’s arms around me on my home screen.

“You can watch our morning drills with Dad, but you must find something to do in the afternoon,” Rebecca said. I felt sick and wanted to curl up in bed. I didn’t want to spend the day with her dad. My mind raced to find an excuse to stay in the room, but I didn’t want to stay with him alone in the room either. With her father in the washroom, I put on yesterday’s clothes. I wish I had worn something that better covered me. I had worn this outfit for Rebecca, to highlight my perky breasts and cute ass, but I hated the idea that Mark would ogle me all day.

Lightheaded, I followed Rebecca and her father to the car. The sun warmed the world, but the night air lingered and kept everything fresh. I paused at the back seat door and took a few deep breaths. My mind calmed, my body relaxed, and I vowed to have a good day for Rebecca. She sat in the front with her father, and I massaged her shoulders on the short ride to the massive, six-field soccer complex.

The walk from the parking lot took longer than the car drive, especially since I hobbled the whole way. Rebecca and her father could have rushed ahead, but they stayed with me, and Rebecca held my hand. Colorful jerseyed teenagers with parents covered the fields. Her dad and I took seats with a few other parents next to Rebecca’s training pitch. The coaches screamed, directed, and explained as the athletes repeated the same drills. All the girls moved like Rebecca, but she had an extra step, a little quicker, slightly more agile, and learned the drills faster than the other girls. I don’t think Tess could have kept up with the girls. Two fields contained over fifty girls; the other four had twice as many guys.

Her father explained that only local area athletes came, not even the best girls; he called it a C-level camp. Rebecca wouldn’t attend a camp of this level, but a rumor of a female National Team coach in attendance caused them to make the trip. Rebecca dreamed and directed all her energy to snag a spot on the team.

I enjoyed my morning in the stands with her father. Soft-spoken and pleasant, he knew the purpose of all the drills and what the coaches wanted to see. He pointed out small mistakes that the other girls made. Rebecca didn’t make many, but he grumbled that she looked nervous. The coaches looked bored or angry.

Rebecca joined us for a ten-minute break at noon. She didn’t eat because they had a special meal before her individual testing or strength or something. I only understood that we could not watch. Even with the pill, my mind had a fog around it. The sun and the blue sky appeared too vivid, but the people and conversations had a dullness that didn’t make sense.

Mark and I had lunch at a local restaurant. The single hamburger meal he ordered came with a side salad that I couldn’t finish. He finished the burger, bigger than my hands, and half the mound of fries. He waved to fellow parents as they sat at other tables. A bleached blonde lady, with pink lipstick, pink eye shadow, and too high and firm breasts, stopped at the table. “Is this Rebecca’s sister? I didn’t know she had a sister,” she said as she sat and stole a fry from Mark’s plate.

“Margot, this is Karen. Margot is Rebecca’s girlfriend. She joined us on the trip,” Mark said with a large smile. The two locked gazes. Karen offered her pink, jeweled nail-polished hand to shake or kiss, but she didn’t look at me. I shook her limp fingers as she stared at Mark. She smelled of rose and cigarette smoke, a foul combination that almost made me gag.

“Oh, Jessica said that Leon said that Rebecca was back with her ex. Margot’s much prettier,” Karen said, and broke her gaze to steal another fry. Her white, almost clear white, teeth nibbled on the crispy stick. Images of her mouth around Mark’s dick flashed through my mind; unfortunately, I knew what his dick looked like. I hated that fact.

Another man called out to Karen. She left the half-eaten fry on the white tablecloth and disappeared into the back of the restaurant. Everyone around us looked like soccer parents, which came in three varieties. The plastic people like Karen, with perfect hair, perfect tans, and perfect teeth. The soccer fanatics like Mark, dressed in their kids’ team jerseys, with Dad or Mom or Grandpa on the back, whistles around their necks, and clipboards beside their food. The last group sat away from the other two groups. Massive bodies, with multiple rolls of fat on their arms and necks. They talked nonstop about how great their son or daughter played soccer, and how their kid would turn pro. I appreciated their positive conversations, rather than the soccer know-it-all and plastic people’s criticism.

“Karen is such a gossip,” Mark said and returned to his food. I pushed a tomato around my plate; the over-ripe vegetable didn’t taste fresh, and I wished for a fry—the grease and salt triggered glorious memories of dinners with Dad and my friends in New York. I needed to call Charlotte or Tasha; they would understand Mom’s stupidity about Rebecca.

“I won’t tell, have a few,” Mark said and pointed to his fries. He had finished most of them, but did I dare have one? Rebecca would yell at me if she found out. But he promised not to tell. Before I decided, my fingers grabbed a fry and popped it into my mouth—greasy, salty, crispy, heaven on earth. I finished the remaining five fries before I could stop myself. Best meal. Perfect. My head spun and my stomach grumbled, but worth it, so worth it.

I needed more of Rebecca’s magic pills and more of Rebecca, but those fries helped ease the pain. Mark and I had a pleasant lunch, enjoyable even, hard to believe that he groped me this morning, or masturbated to me.

We walked, well, he walked while I hobbled in my air cast to the local park. The fresh air smelled wonderful, sweet with flowers. Birds sang and children laughed. People rode by on bikes and walked past arm in arm, lovers and families, the grass so green, the sun so bright, the sky so blue, if Rebecca walked beside me instead of Mark, heaven on earth. He talked, and I enjoyed the breeze that muted his words.

We sat on a bench and watched children play on the playground. The memory of Abigail and her video almost broke my heart. I missed the girls. They hated and betrayed me, but I still miss all the fun times we shared. Hard to believe everything that happened over the summer. In silence, I replayed the crazy things we had done, until Mark interrupted with stories about when Rebecca first started soccer.

She fought a little boy who took the ball from her in her first game. The boy’s dad screamed at little Rebecca, who stood a head shorter than the blonde boy. The other parents rallied to Rebecca’s support, and when the boy’s father quit the team, Mark became the coach. He has coached Rebecca on every team. Intense, she didn’t get along with her teammates and frequently moved between teams, but Mark always coached, so she always had a team.

He grew so comfortable that he told me about when Rebecca’s mother left. Rebecca and Mark had flown to Florida for a massive tournament with the multi-city all-star team. Their mother had stayed behind for work, but instead, she packed her stuff and disappeared. Father and daughter returned triumphant from a second place in the tournament to find a note on the kitchen table. Mark didn’t remember what it said, but they have done everything together since. He even restructured his job to work from home, something about computers, special websites, and niche videos. They didn’t have much money, especially considering how much soccer cost, but Rebecca worked odd jobs, and they made it work. Mark sounded happy that his wife had left.

Near the end of the day, just before we had to walk back to get Rebecca, Mark bought us ice cream - a cone of maple walnut, my favorite. I hadn’t had this favor since my dad bought it for me during our visit to Montreal. The creamy ice cream turned my stomach, but I loved it. Perfect to sit with a cone on the beach while the birds sang, the butterflies flew, and the ants crawled around the ground. Mark sat beside me on the bench, but left a space between us. He acted like a gentleman. Maybe my fears and fuzzy mind invented everything. That happened at the party, so why not now?

My foot didn’t hurt much, though I couldn’t stop the spasms in my legs. The sugar rushed around my body and caused my fingers to twitch and my gaze to dart. Each lick tasted divine. The maple reminded me of Quebec, and the walnut like the walnut cake that Charlotte’s mom made for birthdays. Mark didn’t look or act like my dad, but if I squinted and pretended enough, he could pass, at this moment, for this afternoon, as my pretend dad.

Rebecca ordered a special, super expensive pizza with fancy dough, special cheese, organic meat, and local veggies. Rebecca and Mark argued. Rebecca insisted that I could pay my share, while her father claimed that, as their guest, I shouldn’t pay. To keep the peace, I transferred most of my savings to pay for a third, after all, Mark had paid for lunch and ice cream, and I didn’t need the calories - a good thing, because the pizza tasted horrible, nothing like New York’s pizza. I nibbled on a slice before I gave it to Rebecca to finish.

We cuddled on the bed, Rebecca between her father and me. I couldn’t follow the stupid comedy movie, but my heart still soared beside Rebecca; the world made sense, secure, safe, perfect. We didn’t do much more than exchange tiny caresses, as Rebecca had a big day tomorrow and had worked extra hard today. She talked with her father about when the national coach would arrive. They discussed how to catch the coach’s eye, and I missed the movie’s plot.

Her father didn’t fall asleep during it, and we didn’t do anything too bad. Just small kisses, and she rubbed my breasts a few times over my shirt. Maybe I just needed to get to know him.

I dozed near the movie’s end and awoke to a blank screen and Mark’s snores from the other side of Rebecca. She helped me change into her father’s extra shirt, which went to my knees. She pinched and nibbled on my breasts, her fingers rubbed my slit, but too tired, she laid down and fell asleep. I kissed her forehead and stared at the ceiling. My body still vibrated with energy. Too much food, but it tasted so good. My mind raced with everything I wanted to do to her, to make her scream. My juices flowed at the idea while my body refused to lie still. I stared at the wall, then the ceiling, then her perfect lips, in a pout, her perfect nose, cheeks, and hair. I worried about her father in the same bed, but he had acted like a perfect gentleman this afternoon. Besides, with her by my side, I could handle anything.

I finally fell asleep.

At some time during the night, Rebecca must have gotten up or moved, because they sandwiched me. I held Rebecca with my hand between her legs. She rubbed her moist crotch into it. Even asleep, she wanted me. So lucky.

I thought her hand rubbed my kitty, until I realized her father had wrapped his arms around me. His other hand squeezed my left breast and pinched the nipple. He kissed my neck, soft, but fuck, so gross. He must have woken; no way he could have done this in his sleep.

His erect penis rubbed up and down my ass cheek. I pretended to sleep but wanted to scream or yell at him. Rebecca turned over, grabbed my head, and kissed me. Her tongue explored my mouth. She tasted wonderful, but her dad groped me. Did she know? No way, she would ever let something like that happen. Thankfully, her father wore underwear. Otherwise, he would have had his dick in my ass, but instead, his cloth-covered penis pushed on my asshole.

I tried to scream, but Rebecca’s tongue stopped me. I needed to get up and away, so I tried to move my hand from her pussy, but she held it in place while she humped it. Her dad pinched my right nipple, which sent shivers up and down my body. While I loved the touch, my mind hated it. My girlfriend’s father groped me while she kissed and rubbed me. While he and I alone would not make things better, my hand on her pussy and my lips on hers made everything infinitely worse.