Chapter 37

This chapter is respectfully dedicated to readers thegoat, silin14, addicted1, persecutor and quietwatchman for their wise counsel and encouragement in helping me get through some MAJOR storyline blunders that seriously messed up my posting. Thanks, guys.

The bedroom door handle rattled just after six; I’d been half-awake in the pre-dawn twilight for a while and expecting company.

Oh, I’d also been replaying in my mind the ‘Lanta session of a few hours before; the role-playing had been a whole lot of fun, and I could see quite a bit more of that in our future. With lovemaking, hot monkey sex, and roleplaying, we’d absolutely be varying our physical celebrations of our love.

Maybe I was semi-conscious because my internal alarm clock had compensated for the time zones, or maybe it was the unfamiliar setting that had me sleeping lightly.

Whatever, with the rattle, I was instantly wide awake, the pleasant erotic thoughts pushed straight to one side.

So was Mel.

Living with a dog kinda sharpens the early morning get up and go; ignoring them and rolling over can have messy consequences.

Or painful ones...

Early on in our companionship, Max had lost patience with the slow speed of my response to his urgent communications about needing to go RIGHT NOW, and had jumped up onto the bed, his back legs landing heavily on my lower belly, one of them scoring a glancing hit on my nutsack.

Oh, it had been bloodless, not nearly so dramatic as the high school locker room urban myth of the French nudist, ‘Claude Balls’, who’d been teasing his cat by dangling a toy just out of reach...

But memorable enough to learn to head off any demand for attention sooner rather than too late. I knew it could have been a whole lot worse – a direct full-on paw on a testicle would have hurt like hell, and having to apply antiseptic to a claw wound on my dick would have stung like crazy.

And, while small children may not have sharp teeth or claws, they can be just as careless and enthusiastically unthinking as any other young animal. Back at Thanksgiving, Ben had crawled across my lap as I sat on the couch, and his knee had gone exactly where I didn’t want it – and he was several pounds heavier now...

It was a matter of seconds – and another two impatient rattles of the handle – for us to pull on our shorts and sleep shirts and unlock the door to admit two over-excited pajama-clad kids, who were more than eager to see us again.

Mom was standing right behind them, saying she’d already done the first commode duty; now she needed us to keep them busy while she got herself dressed.

I had enough presence of mind to send my beloved off down the hallway for first crack at the bathroom while I gave my niece and nephew an arm’s length swing around my body; as usual it was greeted with squeals of delight.

Mel only took a couple of minutes and was then dragged into their bedroom to read them another book; I tapped a kidney and went in search of some early morning sustenance.

I could detect the aroma from the coffee maker as I went down the stairs. Took me back – for as long as I can remember, my folks always set the machine going as the very first task of the day.

Mom sometimes jokes that Dad wouldn’t function without his shot of joe – and Dad doesn’t deny it...

Dad was already in the kitchen, giving the barbecue ribs their third rub after a night in the refrigerator. The tang of smoked paprika instantly had my mouth watering, just from the memories that special blend of Southern spices brought back.

Somehow it never tastes quite the same when I recreate his recipe in Los Angeles; perhaps the Mason-Dixon Line has some protective influence to ensure only Dixie gets genuine barbecue?

I was snagging two mugs of nectar when Mom bustled in, instructing me to pour her a cup also, as she began preparations for breakfast.

“I settled Mel and the kids in our bed, asked her to read to them for a half hour or so, buy me some time. I meant to thaw out some more bacon last night; I had unexpected visitors for breakfast who ate up the whole pack!”

The grin told me she didn’t mind one little bit; was just a tad mad at herself for forgetting and not being prepared.

“Mel and I, we’ll be happy to clear up the tiramisu for breakfast? Make some space in the refrigerator?”

She chuckled, “No, honey, I won’t let you sacrifice your waistlines. You’ll get what we’re all having. Besides, I need you stone cold sober for church. EVERYONE is gonna want to meet Mel and congratulate you. So just you make sure you shave properly.”

I guess moms never change. Oh, she’d dropped the formal pre-church inspection when we graduated high school, but only to instigate the slightly less prescriptive visual check and brush-over that she gave herself and Dad whenever they were going into company.

Several times while I was at college, I’d failed the ‘clean-shaven’ part and been sent back upstairs.

It was part of the price of ‘The Mom-and-Pop Meals and Laundry Plan’, so I sucked it up. Strange how the freedom to spend the weekend unshaven and slovenly becomes so desirable when you reach your late teens!

I promised again to keep the kids occupied until Mom called up to let them loose, carried our two mugs back upstairs, and cautiously entered my parents’ bedroom, not wanting to collide with an excited and fast-moving child.

But there was no sudden movement from them. I guess the positive experience with ‘The Very Hungry Caterpillar’ had gotten them wanting even more of Auntie Mel’s reading to them.

Mom had settled Mel in the center of their bed, with one kid on each side, so they could see the pages as she turned them. They were avidly paying attention; I don’t think they even realized I was back.

I put the mugs down on a bookcase and went to fetch my phone. The domestic scene they presented was way too cute for me not to take a photo or three.

I sent the best one to Katelyn before snuggling in beside Abby, holding both mugs and passing one to Mel whenever she wanted a drink. Ben’s a little young yet to always remember to be careful around hot drinks.

Not that Abby really noticed I was there; she was raptly following the story. She must have heard Dr. Seuss’ ’The Cat in the Hat’ a thousand times already – her original copy had fallen apart and been replaced – but she was totally loving Mel’s interpretation.

Did I mention Mel’s really good at reading out aloud?

When my sister and her husband crept in a while later, with their smartphone cameras at the ready, Mel and I were sitting shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, each with a youngster on our lap as we took turns reading them ‘Slinky Malinki’.

I just love Lynley Dodd’s books; the rhymes are designed to be read out aloud. And her illustrations are so simple, so effective. Like the one on the page:

“He crept along fences,

he leaped over walls,

he poked into corners

and sneaked into halls.

What was he up to?

At night, to be brief,

Slinky Malinki

turned into a

THIEF.”

The silhouette of the cat slinking along the fence against the light of the moon is so incredible, though the one on the next page of him returning with a run of sausage links is maybe even better. Makes me grin every time.

Oh, and we had to read each page three times over. Once by Mel, once by me in an especially silly voice, and once with us alternating and the kids joining in.

Abby and Ben didn’t even notice their parents had returned until after we’d finished the book and the clapping started.

Then they climbed off the bed and ran to them.

The kids and their parents reunited, Mel and I were relieved from duty. We grabbed our clothes from our bedroom and returned to the bathroom to get properly washed and dressed.

And yes, I did shave thoroughly. I always do, but I took especial care, wanting to look my very best for Mel.

I warned her Mom was intending to parade her around the neighborhood like a trophy; she went for the ‘girl next door’ ponytail and minimal makeup.

She looked perfect. Cool and beautiful. Mom’s friends were gonna love her.

We arrived downstairs to find Mom just about to serve up bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast. She told us to sit – although she did allow me to grab two more mugs of coffee first – and passed the plates around.

There wasn’t a whole lot of conversation to start with; Mom takes a contented silence, broken only by sounds of munching and silverware on plates, as the greatest compliment to her cooking, and we all prefer to eat while it’s still hot.

Mel and I were on our third mug of coffee when Katelyn said to James, “Honey, you know that eleven-month around the world cruise we’re gonna take when the kids go to college? Why don’t we bring it forward to this year? Take leave of absence from work, rent the house out for a year? I mean, it’s not like the kids are gonna miss us for a moment, when they’ve got Grammy, Gramps, Auntie Mel and Uncle Mike?”