Chapter 8

First Week in December

Sunday morning was starting out as another beautiful day. I considered paddling for about three seconds but warm air does not mean warm water. Instead, I needed a good run and some time to think so I went for a long one. Down Palm and across the connector before I decided to make the round trip out to Laurel Hill County Park and back. I knew the route that would make it a twenty-mile run, something I hadn’t done since the last race of the season in September. Staying hydrated on a long run is typically my biggest challenge and I hate carrying a water bottle. I knew a couple of places I could replenish. I needed to, twice on the way to the park, at the park and twice on the way back. I’d set a good pace on the way out but an onshore breeze slowed me down a just a bit on the connector. By then, I’d warmed up and I welcomed the breeze more than how it might hurt my time. Even so, I pushed hard into the wind. My watch hit twenty miles just as I crossed Palm Boulevard so I stopped the timer and turned left to jog home at an easy pace. I didn’t check my splits until I got back to the house and sat down on the front porch. I’d done it in 2:10, a 6:30 pace and I was pretty happy with that. Not my best time but not bad, either. A nice way to start the day.

I ran some laundry, cleaned up the house a bit and then cleaned me up a lot. I scrambled up some eggs and chased it with a protein drink for lunch and then sat down to do a little lesson planning. Two and a half weeks until Christmas break. I looked around the house to see if there was anything else I needed to do before they arrived. It seemed a bit stuffy so I opened every window to let the house air out. Done. Two hours left with no chores or responsibilities remaining.

I grabbed an Amstel Lite, sank into my chair and propped my feet up. I thought about putting on a game but didn’t have the interest. Instead, I opted for some music. Being in a Celtic mood, I put on Christy Moore, “Live at Vicar Street”. Perfect. I might have dozed a time or two because when I opened my eyes, the sun had moved and was now on my face. It felt good. I had about thirty minutes to spare. I texted Amanda.

“Why am I nervous? This is silly.”

She texted back, “If you weren’t nervous, you should call it off.” Huh.

“Are you nervous when you go out with your cowboy friend?”

“No.”

“No? That’s it? Just no?”

“Not serious. Just fun.”

“Nothing at risk.”

“Exactly.” Huh.

“The greater the risk, the more nervous?”

“Seems that way to me,” she fired back. We’d texted back and forth like this for hours before.

“Must be a lot at risk. I’m really frickin nervous.”

“Her daughter’s coming too, right?”

“Yup.”

“Double the risk. Two hats,” she reminded me. It’s a conversation we’d had about Kayla and her – how she wore two hats with her and it made sense.

The album was long over so I put on another Christy Moore favorite, “Smoke and Strong Whiskey”, then went to the kitchen and started on dinner. I heard the car pull up and kept working. The front was open, just the screen door closed. I slid the potatoes into the oven and pulled ingredients out for a salad.

“Hey, Mister J. Can we come in?”

“C’mon in, Marcia, and your mom, too,” I answered back.

The screen door banged open and Marcia came bounding around the corner with a smile on her face. As though she hadn’t seen me two days prior.

“Whacha makin? Salad? Can I help?”

That’s the kind of greeting I like. “You bet. I need a couple of tomatoes out of the fridge, please.”

“I’m only Marcia at school, you know. Everybody calls me Mars. It’s okay if you call me Mars. And my mom is Jan, not Janice. You should probably know that.” She was effervescent.

“Hey,” her mom said as she came around the corner to join us in the kitchen.

“Hey, Jan?” I answered.

“Jan is fine. Either. But Jan.”

“You look good,” I said, looking up from my work.

And she did, too. Dressed for second summer with a sleeveless, light blue, floral print sundress with a round neckline. With the faint remnants of her summer tan, she looked good.

She smiled back and held out a bottle of wine. “I didn’t know what you were cooking so I brought a bottle of Beaujolais. Nouveau Beaujolais. I’ve had this before and it’s really good this year.”

She took a breath. I took a breath. We both glanced at Mars and smiled at each other. I put down my knife.

“Mars, would you like to slice up some tomatoes and cucumbers for our salad? You can add radishes and carrots if you like. Really, anything in my vegetable drawer is fine. Can you do that?”

“Sure. Let me wash my hands and I’ll...” she turned to see her mom and me smiling at each other. “I’ll just finish the salad.”

“Thank you,” I said and led Janice, now Jan into the living room. “When were you going to tell me you prefer Jan,” I asked as I put my hands on her waist.

“It doesn’t matter ... You can call me Janice or you can call me Jan, so long as you call me,” she answered.

I pulled her to me and drew her close. “You smell good.”

“You feel good,” she replied. She stepped back and ran her hands over my upper body, my chest first, then stomach and finally up to my shoulders. “I’m glad I asked for a paddling picture. Dang.” She squeezed my shoulders and then ran her hands over my upper arms.

“I would have shown you earlier but I didn’t realize your taste in men was so superficial,” I joked.

“Yup. That’s me. Seriously, mister, you really fill that shirt nicely. Wrap me up,” she said and stepped in close again, resting her head on my chest. I flexed one muscle after another and she laughed.

“She won’t take long to finish the salad.”

She gave me a solid squeeze and stepped back and took my hand. She’s never seen me with a man before and doesn’t know how to act. She’s all excited.”

“Her father...” I started.

“He didn’t show a lot of affection in public. Plus, she was used to him. And, on top of all that, she already knows you and would probably like some credit in getting us together.”

“Gotcha. Before we go back into the kitchen...” I started.

“Yes?” She was prepared for something serious, I thought.

“I’m nervous. Really nervous. I forgot what that was like.”

“Why. Whatever you’re cooking, I’m sure it will be fine.”

“It’s not that. I talked to my cousin last night. Two hours. I told her everything and that I was nervous. She said that if I wasn’t nervous it was because I didn’t care. I’m really nervous.”

“That’s nice ... I think.”

I led Jan through the kitchen toward the patio and grill. “Going to start the grill, Mars. You almost done?” She nodded and we continued out.

I lifted the grill top and fired it up. I know charcoal is better but I grill too often to fool with it. After I fired it up, I turned and leaned back against the railing of my deck. Jan walked closer, straddling my legs as she moved in close. She leaned against me.

“You are really hot. Very desirable. And if you continue to lean against me like that, you might find out how desirable I think you are. Just a warning,” I said. I was so nervous.

She rubbed up against me and I started to come to life. Just a little but it wouldn’t take much of that.

“Desirable, huh.” She rubbed again. “I don’t believe it.” She rubbed again.

“Oh god. You have no idea how uncomfortable I am right now. Stop it.” I squeezed her to me to keep her from moving. “Are you the same person I saw blushing the other night?”

She could feel me through her thin dress and my slacks. She had me pinned to the rail, her daughter would come out at any minute and I was at a loss.

“Hmmm. It’s not just your chest and shoulders that are hard.” She smiled at me and tried to rub against me again but I squeezed her tightly.

“Stop it,” I hissed. “Really. Marcia comes out, you step away and I’m left with an obvious bulge in my pants. Then I show up for school tomorrow and try to act normal?”

“Tell me I’m desirable again,” she said.

I thrust at her once and her eyes opened wide when she felt what she’d done to me. “You’re desirable. Really, really desirable ... and way out of my league.”

I heard the back door start to open so I took a step to the left and sat down at the table, trying to adjust as I did. “I hope it’s not going to be like this all night,” I whispered as Mars stepped out onto the deck.

“Like what,” Mars asked.

I looked up at Jan, raised my eyebrows, imploring her to answer.

But Mars didn’t really need one. She’d forgotten the question as soon as she asked it. She crossed the deck and sat across from me at the table. She tried hard to put on a very serious face. She scrunched it up and tried to furrow her brow then leaned forward toward me.

“Just what, exactly, are your intentions with my mother,” she asked in the deepest voice she could manage. “I certainly hope they’re honorable. That’s all I ask.”

I leaned forward toward her. “Very honorable,” I managed before I bust out laughing and the two of them right behind me.

“So, Mars,” I said, “is it okay with you if I date your mom? Does it seem weird to you?”

“Yes, and yes. I like you Mister J, and I think it’s great that you like my mom but it’s still weird.”

“Why’s that.”

“Well, you aren’t dating anyone else’s mom, for one thing.”

“That’s a really good point. And that’s why you and I have to be able to wear two different hats, one at school and another one when we’re not at school.”

“I get it. But we’re the same as when we’re at school. Just at your house and it’s a lot like ours so I don’t think the hats would be very different.”

I thought about it for a moment and saw that Jan was waiting for me to explain the difference. I thought about it some more and couldn’t come up with a good way to explain it. They both waited. My pants had regained some degree of normalcy and I thought I might be able to convey the difference better with an illustration.

I stood up, took Jan in my arms and kissed her softly and then it turned into something much more. She kissed back and we let the passion run and when we broke the kiss, Jan gasped for air.

I turned to a wide-eyed Mars. “That doesn’t happen at school,” I said.

“No kidding. Dang, Mister J. Dang, mom. Wow. Just, dang.”

We both smiled, me broadly and Jan a bit sheepishly. She brushed her dress down, smoothing imaginary wrinkles.

I sat back down across from Mars and waited for her to take her eyes off her mom. I think she was in shock. I waited. Jan brushed her hair and smiled at her daughter and it was a very nice smile. The normal kind of smile that begs the question, “what?” as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

Finally, Mars looked at me. “You might need a second hat,” I said, smiling, actually enjoying her shock.

“I don’t think so. I’ll wear one hat to school but I think I might need a helmet for around here. Dang.” She looked back and forth between her mom and me a couple of times. “I’m glad you like my mom,” she said to me. “But dang, mom. You French kissed, didn’t you? Dang.”

“And that’s why it stays here. I’m glad you’re glad. But this has to stay out of the classroom. Your classmates don’t need to know so you shouldn’t be talking about it with them. At school, I can’t treat you any differently than I did before you watched your mom force herself on me and kiss me like that.” She laughed. “I won’t treat you special at school but it’s important that your friends don’t think you’re getting special treatment either. Understand?”

“Yes. I get it. My mom sure gets special treatment here though, that’s for sure.”

“Your mom has already graduated from seventh grade,” I replied.

“Obviously. Not going to see a kiss like that in seventh grade, that’s for sure. I think Bobby Nicholson wants to, though.”

“You stay away from Bobby Nicholson,” Jan said.

“You probably won’t see that until eighth grade or maybe even ninth,” I kidded her.

“I’m pretty sure that’s college stuff.”

Her mom finally chipped in. “That’s post graduate stuff right there. When you’re old enough and a man kisses you, you’ll know. Just not Bobby Nicholson.”

“Dang. I wish I had my camera out. Dang.”

“You’re in shock, sweetheart. Go inside and lie down. I’ll bring some ice,” her mom said.

Mars got up to go in, walked to the door and stopped. “Tell me if you two are going to do that again. That was awesome.”

“I thought so too, honey. Now go in and we’ll put steaks on in a minute,” her mom said and looked at me. “You’ve got a very direct teaching style.”

“I didn’t know how else to convey the contrast,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

“I think she gets it. Convey it some more, please.” We kissed again, this time with no audience. I kissed her nice and easy. Loving her. The hunger was still there but we kept it on simmer. In the middle of our kiss, I heard the back door open and then slowly close again. I squeezed her tightly and then released and our kiss was over.

“That was nice. I liked it a lot. I like you a lot.”

“Me too. I don’t think your daughter can unsee that.”

“No. I don’t either. Good. I think she needs a hug from me and a little reassurance. Grill looks hot enough and I missed lunch.”

I stayed outside to give them some time. I was thankful for my experience with Amanda and Kayla. I would ask Amanda later about this. I thought I knew what she’d say but ... feminine mind and all that. She’d already given me some great advice and I knew she’d have more for me. When I stepped back into the house, I could hear them talking in the living room. Jan was quiet but I could hear Mars. She was fairly excited. I needed to have Amanda talking to me in an earbud like cop shows always do.

I stepped into the living room to see them seated across from each other, knees practically touching as they leaned toward each other.

I took a risk and asked, “Have I traumatized you forever?”

“No. Heck no. That was really cool. I just ... I just wasn’t expecting it. That’s all.” Jan nodded behind her that she was fine.

“Good.” I continued out into the living room and sat on the edge of the ottoman. “I’m glad. I like your mom a lot and I thought it was important for you to have some idea.”

“You like her,” she asked. “Do you love her?” Ah, the mind of the innocent.

“You don’t waste time, do you? Love is a dangerous word, Mars. I can say I love a good steak and mean it. I could say I love you and mean it. I do, you know. I love my kids. All of them, except for Bobby Nicholson. But when you use the word to describe how a man and woman feel about each other, you have to be really careful. Love is pretty certain and you can’t toss it around lightly. It’s much more than a fondness or some sort of emotional connection. It’s a willingness to subjugate your own welfare for theirs. Do you know what subjugate means?” She nodded. “When a man loves a woman, it means he will sacrifice his own wants, desires and even his life for her. It’s a total and complete surrender to the other person. It’s consuming. Love drives you to become a better person just so that you can present that better person to your lover. When you truly love someone, you become someone new. You become someone better than you could have imagined.”

“Wow,” Mars said.

“Yeah. Wow,” Jan said and looked at me a little differently than she had.

Taking a different approach, I asked Mars, “Have you ever listened to the blues.”

“I don’t think so,” she said, looking at her mom who must have shook her head.

“There’s an old Etta James song that a lot of musicians have covered. In the lyrics it says, ‘I would rather go blind than watch you walk away’. It speaks of the pain of losing someone you love. The pain of losing someone you love is not just emotional. It’s physical. Real love is all-consuming. Can you imagine loving someone so much that you would rather go blind than watch them walk away?”

“That sounds pretty serious.” She paused to think. “You sure didn’t kiss my mom lightly. That wasn’t one of your lightly kisses was it?”

“No. That was pretty much an all-in sort of kiss.”

“So, do you love her? You kissed her like you did.” Jan was eager to hear this answer too.

“Well, sweetheart, I’ve known your mom since registration at the end of last year. We spent a lot of honest time together and I know that I like her a lot. I know that I could love her. Maybe I already do but it’s something each of us has to figure out in our own time. Like I said, it’s a dangerous word and if you use it wrong it can really hurt.”