AFTER KISSING THE CROWN OF Averie’s head, Thomas smiles into her hair as he credits her with, “I’m proud of you, Averie. You worked hard. You’ve earned this. And it’s a big deal.”
Averie’s academic record hasn’t always been something to admire. My gorgeous daughter tends to be more of a social butterfly, rather than an idyllic, dedicated student.
“Thanks, Dad,” Averie replies smugly, certainly proud of herself. She studies the paper in front of her again and fights a grin before looking to her older sister with lying eyes. “I’m thinking because of all my hard work, I deserve the new iPhone that just came out.”
“What?” Amelia shrieks in response, glaring down to the report card in disbelief. “You’re not getting the new iPhone ‘cause you got good grades, Averie. We’re expected to get those.”
“I can have whatever I want,” Averie throws back, another chastising grin crossing her lips. She’s agitating her sister on purpose. “And for this….” She holds the paper close to her face to examine. “I want that new iPhone. In gold.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Amelia scolds, clearly in another mood.
“Maybe silver,” Averie goes on, absentmindedly torturing her sibling.
Trying to hold her composure, but still suffering, Amelia spits, “You’re such a juvenile.”
I open my mouth to say something, anything to clip the impending argument, but Thomas finds my gaze and shakes his head.
I tighten my lips as Averie asserts, “Wake up, Amelia. If I get the new phone, then you get the new phone. Stop being dramatic. Sheesh!”
“Mom!” Amelia cries.
“Both of you stop,” I declare, coming to rest at Thomas’ side.
When his arm wraps around my shoulders, I relax and move in. He positions me closer before touching his lips to my temple.
Connie, clutching her purse as she stands near the kitchen sink, offers a quiet, knowing smile. But it’s not needed.
Agreeable intimacies between Thomas and I do happen. And often. Not to say this is only for the sake of those in witness. There are nights when my husband holds me as I sleep. There are times I search for him in his. The instances are few and far between, yes, but they do happen.
No matter the state of our relationship, there’s always been a delicate sense of belonging, which helps hold us together. A committed understanding those outside of ourselves may not grasp.
“Mom!” Averie calls, pointing her index finger across the kitchen. “There’s that cop I was tellin’ you about.”
Furrowing my brow, I look to Averie’s focus, the small television on the counter. The screen is roaming back and forth through a crowd of kids playing basketball on the playground.
Connie gasps, coming to stand at my side.
Amelia stands next to Averie, she too taking in the screen.
Thomas remains standing across the room.
“I told you about him, remember?” Averie reminds. “That super hot cop came to our school. He’s volunteering to coach the fourth grade basketball team, since Mr. Zelner is out the rest of the year.”
Averie did tell me this. When she came home from school a couple of weeks ago, explaining she saw a cop on the playground who was ‘really old, but still hot,’ I blew her off, not giving it a second thought to which police officer she’d be rattling on about.
I should have known.
“Oh my,” Connie breaths, seeing what I do.
The camera zooms in on Mason standing in the center of a group of kids. At least ten boys, all no older than ten, are staring up at his towering frame. He’s holding a basketball in the crook of his arm, bracing it at his hip. Thick veins of raw power run through his arms. His shirt is tight, wet with sweat. His shorts are gray, long, and also sweaty.
My mouth falls open.
A familiar faced reporter, a man not near Mason’s height stands in front of him. The camera closes in on them both as he asks Mason questions we can’t hear. Mason smiles, answers, all while rubbing the top of one boy’s head.
“See? Told you he was hot,” Averie says again, pulling me from thought.
“What did you say?” I question.
“I believe your daughter just said Cole is ‘hot’,” Connie murmurs, barely hiding her satisfaction.
Oh, I heard. But I was hoping the ‘hot’ she was talking about was one of the older boys standing in the background. Not him.
This isn’t the first time Mason’s been on television. With the local news being slow, and consequently their stories small, the local PD is interviewed a lot. Reasons usually include their efforts to raise money for improvements in our town, helping the elderly when needed, or briefing the viewers on the occasional crime that’s been committed.
I’d like to say I try not to watch, but that’d be a lie.
“That’s what our tax dollars are paying for?” Thomas enters, his tone terse. “How about he teaches them how to treat their elders? Or how to apply for college?”
“Dad,” Averie calls. “The kids who are there get free lunches. They don’t have any money. Officer Cole helps because he’s nice.”
I blink my eyes slowly as the story wraps and leads to another.
Mason volunteers to help kids in need. This doesn’t surprise me at all, considering he was once a child the people in this city had all but forgotten.
“More reason then,” Thomas utters. “Maybe he should be teaching them how to work.”
“Dad!” Averie grouses.
“Jesus,” Connie hisses under her breath. “Your husband,” she adds, shaking her head.
Shutting off the television, I set about getting on with the evening. “Dinner’s almost ready. Take your books and backpacks to your rooms. Wash up and come right back down.”
“Yes, my sweet, sweet babies,” Connie urges, now moving to the dining room table. “I have to go, but I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
“You’re not staying for dinner?” Averie questions, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Mom’s pot pie is her best.”
“Not tonight,” Connie returns. “But you enjoy.”
“All right, Aunt Connie. But I’m sorry for you,” Averie concedes, wrapping her arms around my friend and squeezing her tight. Connie’s scowl is trained on Thomas as he wanders off into the next room.
My husband and Connie don’t speak. Thomas knows how Connie feels about him, and she doesn’t care what he thinks about her. And knowing Connie’s sole reason to stop by was to gossip, he’s all the happier to be as far as he can get.
“Go on, girls,” I urge. “Or dinner will be cold.”
Amelia side hugs Connie but does so with duty, not affection. She’s still pissed about Averie’s insistence for a new phone.
Averie grabs her things and does as I’ve asked. Once both the girls are out of sight, my focus turns to Connie.
Leaning against my counter and folding a random dish towel, I assume, “You came here to tell me you’ve met someone.”
Connie’s eyes dance as she claps her hands in front of her face to confirm. “I did!”
I knew it.
“His name is Charles Murdock,” she goes on. “He’s a lawyer in Belton County.”
“And where did you meet this lawyer from Belton County?” I query.
Connie falters briefly, then says, “The gym.”
“The gym?” I press in disbelief. “Seriously?”
“Shut up,” she clips. “I go to the gym.”
“You do not go to the gym,” I deny.
“I do now. Sam’s Gym on Broadway just installed tanning beds.”
Laughing, I agree, “Then of course you go to the gym.”
“So tomorrow night, I’m meeting him for drinks.”
“Drinks?” I challenge. “How about dinner?”
Connie’s nose scrunches and she waves her hand in front of her face.
“Dinner takes too long. And I have to talk about myself.”
“Yeah, honey,” I return. “That’s how dates usually work.”
Raising her eyebrows, she shakes her head. “You haven’t seen Charles, Kat. He looks delicious in gym clothes. I can hardly imagine what he’ll look like dressed for drinks.”
“Right,” I goad. “And?”
“And I really can’t wait to find out what he looks like without any clothes at all.”
“Connie.” I smile. “You’re crazy.”
Leaning forward to close the gap between us, she says, “Four months dry, my friend. Four months without having the deliciously heavy weight of a man on top of me.”
I understand what she’s saying. I do.
Earlier this week, after coming home from the bar where I saw Mason up close, I wanted what Connie described. Seeing him again, I’d been reminded of how Mason’s touch would drive me wild.
So, good idea or not, I knew exactly what I was doing.
I’d marched to our bedroom where Thomas had been sleeping. I stripped my clothes, not bothering with my usual night routine. I drew down the covers and touched my husband in ways I thought he was sure to wake. His chest, his shoulders, his neck. His lips, his ear, his cock.
As I suspected, Thomas woke. But he didn’t wake up with sex on his mind. He woke startled and confused. Then he brushed me away, grabbing my hands and giving them back. He told me he was tired and had an early morning.
I didn’t bother taking care of myself. Not only was I embarrassed. My feelings were hurt.
Thomas hasn’t said a word about what happened since. He either doesn’t remember or doesn’t care to discuss.
“Shave your legs,” I tell her, giving in to her plan of seeing Charles without clothes. “And wear something he’ll want to rip off you.”
“Red dress with no back?” she suggests.
“Black dress with very low front,” I up one better.
Connie smiles her movie star smile and agrees, “Done!”
As she makes her way to the back door, which also leads to the driveway, I insist, “Call me soon and tell me if he wears date clothes as well as gym clothes.”
Connie laughs. “I’ll call you and tell you how he wears his birthday suit. How’s that?”
“That works too. Talk to you soon.”
“Love you,” she tells me, opening the door and walking through it.
As it closes, I stare at the spot she left then turn my gaze to the television. The now blank screen highlights my reflection.
For the life of me, I can’t focus on it. My mind is still lost to the previous program.
Mason looks good after all these years.
He looks beautiful.
He looks content.
He looks almost happy.