As Elliot takes a phone call I venture into the kitchen with Janine, as she tells me all about Elliot’s childhood. There are pictures on the wall of children drawings, one story after the other reminiscing about his childhood.
“Does Elliot have siblings?” I’m curious.
“He has a younger sister, she’s doing an exchange year in France currently, Aliza,” she smiles beaming with pride for her children.
“What a beautiful name,” we sit at the table waiting for Elliot.
I’m not going to lie, I’m wondering what the secrecy with the phone call was, it looked like something serious, but I can’t really pry on someone that I had just met. Not like Elliot and I are exclusive, I never even questioned if perhaps he had a girlfriend back home.
“I should probably go,” I tire of waiting on Elliot who seems to be on the phone forever.
“You sure? I’m sure Elliot is almost finished,” she’s a genuine and sweet lady.
“I’m sure I’ll see you again,” I nod as I say goodbye and start heading for the front door.
“Wait, where you going?” Elliot grabs me by the arm.
Staring at his hand on my arm, “I have to check on my dad.”
“Will I see you later?” there’s a pleading look on his face, as if he’s demanding some distraction.
“I don’t know.”
“Let me rephrase that, I want to see you later,” he gets in front of me and slightly presses me against the door.
“Okay,” I whisper as I find his lips on mine taking all thoughts from my brain.
“Good,” he smiles biting on his bottom lip.
I didn’t have the nerve to tell Elliot I was leaving to go back to the city tomorrow. My father is doing much better and there’s no reason to waste any more vacation days from work. I have only a few more weeks left of Julliard before I graduate and then life begins, I’m just not sure where or what. I’ve considered teaching, I thought of starting a solo career, or maybe I’ll start up my own studio, the possibilities are endless.
“How are you, dad?” I ask entering the living room where I find him lying on the couch with his favorite Stephen King novel.
“Getting much better,” he smiles, “How was your date?”
“It wasn’t really a date,” I sit at the edge of the couch.
“Yes, it was. I heard you two playing,” he’s beaming.
“It was magical, wasn’t it?”
“You two make quite the impeccable sound.”
“We kissed,” I’ve always confided in my father.
“I knew you did, you had it written all over your face,” he smiles putting his book down.
“His mom is really nice, you’d like her,” to this day, it’s been over twenty years, he can finally move forward, so I still try to get him to go out.
“We’ve talked about this,” his voice is stern.
“I told you she was nice,” Rosa interrupts us.
“I know you don’t listen to me, but you know you can listen to Rosa,” I remind him.
“You two are always trying to get me to go out with women.”
“Only if they are good women,” Rosa grins.
“And Janine is a good woman, how about we have them over for dinner?”
“Her name is Janine?” my father shows a bit of curiosity.
“You didn’t know your neighbors name?”
“Not until now, no,” he admits.
“Janine Harper. Elliot’s father left her for a younger woman a few years back, knocked her up and it was a big mess I guess. Elliot doesn’t have anything to do with his father. It’s kind of sad if you think about it. He’s got a brother or sister out there he knows nothing of because he hates his father,” I start to ramble.
“You like this boy,” Rosa points out the obvious.
“Doesn’t matter, I’m going back to school tomorrow and won’t have time to really pursue a relationship, not a long distance one either.”
“How about you invite them over for dinner tonight, I’ll prepare something delicious for you four to enjoy?”
“I don’t know about that,” my father answers before I get a chance, “You’ve done enough for today you don’t need to stay after,” he’s adamant.
“Actually, it would be good, dad. You could get to know Janine so you won’t be so lonely while I’m gone and I could spend the last night with Elliot. Please?” I beg.
“She’s right,” Rosa interrupts.
“Stop it. You two know I can’t say no when you both beg,” he rolls his eyes, “Fine.”
Always have a good little black dress and pearls. I love the very modern loose fit black dress I own with thin straps and lace cleavage revealing a little but not too much. It’s sexy and short, but elegant and considered non-slutty with its elegance.
When I told Elliot about dinner and his mom coming over with him he was over the moon filled with excitement. He sounded giddier than I did. We’ve exchanged numbers and have been texting all afternoon while I was getting ready. His mother is nervous reading too much into it and Elliot has been making fun of her trying to remind her it’s just a dinner, we’re not trying to set the two up but trying to get them out and into the world of dating again.
Nervously I walk through the house with my golden stilettos driving my dad bat shit crazy, “Would you sit down with those damn things,” he suggests, but I can’t. I shake my head no and continue to pace. I’m a wreck. “Melody,” Rosa tries to sound stern but I just laugh at her, right at that moment, the doorbell rings and I’m stuck to the floor.
“Open it,” my father says, but Rosa tries to beat me to it. “Stop,” I say, “I got it,” I smile as I walk towards the door.
As I open the door, my heart races about a mile a minute, I don’t’ know why I’m so nervous. This isn’t the first time we have hung out together, but this is the first time it felt real. Real because we’re introducing families. It might be harmless because we’re neighbors, they’re neighbors, but it still feels awkward and serious.
“Hi Janine,” I smile as I stare at how gorgeous she is.
Dressed in a plain grey slate dress with a covered cleavage, his mom looks stunning and elegant, simple, yet stylish. She’s a beautiful woman. When I met her earlier, she looked comfortable, now she looks like she’s a Hollywood actress on the red carpet, very pretty, I would hope when I’m in my forties, I look this great. Her hair is up in a ponytail showing off her long neck. She reminded me of my friends’ mothers that I always envied.
“Come in,” I smile as I introduce my father to Janine.
“Nice to meet you,” they both greet each other with a firm handshake.
“About time you meet your neighbor,” Elliot teases.
“Shhh,” I roll my eyes at him.
“Hey beautiful,” he hugs me and kisses my forehead, “You look amazing.”
“You clean up pretty good yourself,” I grin enjoying his khakis and blue button shirt, looking fresh with his converse.
Rosa had outdone herself with a three-course meal, and out of those three, the Tiramisu she made has to be by far my favorite. The conversations were rolling and no one skipped a beat. We all had something to talk about, in fact at times Elliot and I had to interrupt our parent in order to speak and maybe even disagree with what they were saying. When the old generation and the new generation get together, not always is everyone in agreement, especially when it comes to social media.
“Yeah, but without YouTube I wouldn’t have been found to even audition for the Phil harmonica, mom,” Elliot gets defensive.
“I know, but back then they didn’t have YouTube and look how far they made it,” Janine argues back.
“These are the times and we have to go with them now, if we want to be recognized we have to stay with the times, whether we agree on them or not,” I try to sound rational.
“She’s right, we just have to learn to accept it and try to go along with it,” my father always seems to see the positive in everything.
Our conversations have moved out into the living room. Sitting next to Elliot on the couch I’m starting to get fidgety about wanting to leave the two alone for a little while, “Let me show you my tree house,” I whisper into Elliot’s ear.
“Do you two have secrets?” my father stops his conversation and focuses on me.
“Actually, I’m going to show Elliot the tree house, we’ll be right back,” I grab Elliot’s hand and we disappear out of the room before he gets a chance to refuse to be alone with Janine.
My father is very difficult to please at times, it’ll take a special kind of woman to ever be able to be around him for more than a couple of hours. He loves his work. Music. The history of music. Not just the tunes. Every song he listens to has a story to tell and most likely he will know that story. For me it can get boring after a while because I’m more of the type that wants to enjoy the music and not talk about it. I want it to speak to me and in a way I feel it and not the history behind it. My mother was the woman that would enjoy listening to him for hours and try to find history of songs on her own; they shared a special bond. And to even remotely get closed to that, it’ll be hard.
“Couldn’t handle it anymore?” Elliot laughs as we make our way through the yard.
“No, it’s not that, I wanted to give them two some privacy,” I admit, but also stretch the truth a bit, because honestly, I wanted to spend my last night here alone with him.
As we climb the stairs to the tree house, Elliot is a little beside himself, “is this really yours?” he’s surprised by the greatness of my tree house.
“Yes,” I say as we make it to the porch of the tree house, big enough for a small chair to sit next to the door.
“It’s not girly at all,” he states the obvious.
The tree house is kept to its natural colors, wood grain, and the only décor in sight that might be considered girly are the blue curtains covering the window, only to be able to shut them in the summer to keep some of the light out as I would play the violin.
“This is my sacred place,” I smile as we sit on the most eighty’s flower power couch you can imagine.
“Nice couch,” he grins.
“Don’t hate on the couch, it was free fifteen years ago. All this furniture and the instruments were free,” I reminisce about searching for each item listed on the Internet and if it was free and salvageable or fixable, I would want to have it here. My little retro corner is what I would call it.
“Not hating, just saying I like,” he lies and you can see it in his eyes.
“So,” I grab his hand to feel him close to me, “I have to tell you something.”
“Oh shit,” he inches closer to me, “don’t tell me you’re breaking up with me,” his words resonating to a fifteen-year-old girl in love for the first time.
“It’s not you, it’s me,” I joke along.
“That’s what they all say,” his girly voice squeaks as he rolls his eyes looking away, “Hmpf.”
“No, but seriously. I’m headed back to the city tomorrow. I have to get back to work and I’m graduating soon so I have a shit ton of stuff still going on. I’m sorry.”
“I knew we wouldn’t have forever. I actually have to leave in a couple days as well to pack all my things in Rochester, so I get it.”
Silence falls between us. I’m not sure if we’re together. I’m not sure what this weekend was. I’m not sure of anything at the moment. I’d like to be with Elliot, but it’s impossible when we both live different lives.
“Wanna try the long-distance thing?” he catches me off guard.
“What?”
“Long distance. Melody, I like you. I just got out of a serious relationship, I told you all about that, so it’s not like I’m trying to be with someone every day of my life just yet, but I like you a lot and I would love it if we stayed in touch.”
“Boyfriend/Girlfriend in touch?”
“Well I mean, we shouldn’t be going out meeting someone new but if it happens, so be it, I can’t stop you. But I’ll be thinking about you. I think about you when we’re together, I think about you when we’re not together, and I just met you four days ago, so I have no idea what any of that means,” he’s flabbergasted.
“I like you too, Elliot.”
“So, what do you say?” he leans in and kisses me to make my decision even harder, “did that kiss convince you?”
“Not really, you’d have to try harder,” I tease.
Kissing and making out on my old hippy couch was never in my future. So, I thought. I’m not a teenager anymore trying to hide a boy from my father. I’m a grown woman that lives on her own, but it feels like I’m doing something in this tree house I shouldn’t and that adrenaline kicks in as I make sure he doesn’t stop kissing me.
It’s hot. It’s intense. It’s magical. And it’s had me cum a few times. His touch. His hand caressing my tits. His tongue and lips pressed against my neck. We’re making out like teenagers on the couch. It’s hot, it’s heavy, but it’s not what I want.
“Not here, not yet,” I whisper.
“Of course not,” he agrees.
But why do I want to so badly?