Nineteen
Gavin
I waited until the fifth alarm to finally roll out of bed and grab my phone. I turned off the alarm and sat on my bed, forehead in my hands, as I attempted to massage a light headache away. Maybe I was dehydrated, and possibly drinking too much whiskey for my own good. The headache would be gone with two painkillers, but that meant walking down the stairs and toward the kitchen, and I didn’t have the energy for it yet.
I took my time getting ready. A long shower, followed by staring at my reflection as I routinely brushed my teeth for several minutes longer than normal, and another ten minutes of shaving. The razor cut along the edge of my skin, just below my neck, as I considered the day.
Maddie would be coming over in the evening, followed by a dinner with Mom and then maybe another night spent releasing some frustration. It was a decent arrangement, and my cock twitched at the memory of Maddie climbing on top of me and proposing a no-strings relationship. It had been somewhat of a surprise; after all, I hadn’t known Maddie to be so vocal about what she wanted, but I wasn’t going to complain.
She wasn’t so difficult to please, and in a way, I supposed I actually enjoyed our time together. But she was still shaking money out of me, and despite all of her other positive attributes, I was still pissed at her.
I finished getting ready and started cooking up a simple breakfast. I was used to protein shakes in the morning, but I had a craving for a greasy, unhealthy breakfast with a plate full of bacon and a side of dollar pancakes smothered in thick maple syrup. I sent a quick text to Mom, knowing full and well that she wouldn’t respond until much later in the day when her energy was at a decent level. I would most likely visit before then, but I knew that she liked receiving messages during a time that almost no one bothered with talking to her.
I could tell that it bothered her, how three-fourths of the attendees from the party had practically ghosted her after the reveal. It made me want to scream at each of them. Was their time too precious to talk to a dying woman? Mom said they just didn’t know what to say, and that there was no reason to feel any animosity toward them. But fuck that.
A loud sizzle interrupted my thoughts, and I turned just in time to avoid getting a bubble of hot oil popped in my face. The bacon was blackened to a crisp on the pan, and I quickly turned the stove off before the fire alarm could be notified. The last time the alarm went off I had spent nearly ten minutes hitting it with a broomstick before I thought to restart it.
I hadn’t considered the funeral. I knew in a logical mindset I would be the one planning it, or more likely throwing a shit ton of cash at some poor man, but I hadn’t truly processed the idea. Would Mom want a certain type of flowers? Did she expect sad music or fun, upbeat songs that celebrated her life? Was I supposed to ask her these questions?
I forced myself to scarf down the burnt bacon; I wasn’t the type to let food go to waste. I pushed the soaked pancakes around until they were a soft mush swimming in butter and syrup. I winced slightly; it didn’t look appetizing in the least, but I was a man of honor and finished the pancakes in record time.
I figured I should probably make a list of things to discuss with Mom eventually, but there was little motivation in that, so I decided I would deal with it at a later time. There was no reason to worry about funerals, not when she was alive and breathing.
I didn’t bother telling Ron about spending the afternoon on the boat. I knew that he would fill the conversation with topics of Maddie and Mom, and I wanted to spend just a few hours not thinking about either. I leaned against my chair as the gray clouds in the sky moved at a slow pace and opened a book that I hadn’t read in nearly a month. It was the middle of an older story of the origins of literature and science, but while I enjoyed it before Mom’s prognosis, I was finding it impossible to focus on anything afterward.
I kept the boat docked and waved at several people as they passed mine toward theirs or the end of the dock. A few stopped to make casual conversation, and I quickly regretted trying to find quiet time on a boat.
“I haven’t seen you by yourself on here in a while,” a woman said as she leaned against a light pole. Her name was Betty, a regular at the bar that Ron and I frequented, and always seemed much kinder to me than anyone else.
“Wanted some peace and quiet,” I said and gestured at my book. She smiled and invited herself onto the boat. I gritted my teeth and offered her a chair.
“Oh, no need, I just wanted to ask how you were doing,” she said. “I heard about your mother.”
Despite the cold temperature, she was wearing a short skirt that revealed long, smooth legs and a tight polo shirt. She looked like she was on her way to a tennis match at the Golden Oaks.
“I’m good, thanks,” I said. Betty flipped a perfectly curled strand of blonde hair behind her shoulder and stood closer.
“If there’s ever anything you need, sweetie, you know where to find me,” she smiled and glanced toward my trousers. I had a faint memory of Ron drunk-telling a group of women one night in the bar that his best friend was a billionaire who would offer him his private jet if any of them was interested. Most of the women rolled their eyes and ignored him, but Betty had some sort of gleam in her eye as she looked past him toward me.
I frowned. Maybe it was because of my recent dealing with Maddie, but Betty could have at least made it less obvious that all she wanted was to get cozy with any rich guy that looked her way.
“Thanks, Betty,” I said and stashed the book beneath my chair. I dumped a half-empty beer can in the trash and forced her off of my boat. “But I already sold my soul to another devil.”
“What?” If she was going to pretend to play dumb, the least she could have done was wipe the stupid grin off of her face. “Gavin, I just want to be there for you.”
“We’ve said three sentences total before this,” I said. “And now you want to bond over my dying mother?” My voice was much harsher than normal, but I didn’t regret one word. “Fuck off, Betty, you’ll have better luck seducing the bartender that throws you out on the weekends.”
“Fuck you, Gavin,” she snarled and walked off. I didn’t bother watching her sway her hips as she stormed away. The afternoon was slowly coming to a close, and I needed to be home to greet Maddie, the first devil that trapped me.
wasn’t long until Maddie’s car pulled into the driveway. I watched as she closed the car behind her and casually strolled up to my door as if she lived here. It dawned on me that Mom would probably expect us to live together before getting married, at least for a month or two, and I would have to take that step soon. I wasn’t particularly excited for that.
I waited until her hand was raised to knock on the door before opening it.
“You’re late,” I said, knowing full and well she was nearly 10 minutes early. She didn’t bother arguing, opting to roll her eyes and walk past me toward the living room. Her legs were covered in a flowing skirt that draped onto the floor, and her torso in a tight-fitting shirt that hugged her chest in a way that I couldn’t stop noticing. Her hair was down, full of volume and as shiny as a freshly waxed wooden furniture, and the highlights of cherry red didn’t help the wood similarity. “We’re having dinner with my mother.”
“I know,” she said and took a seat on the couch. She checked a thin watch on her wrist, more jewelry than functional, and glanced at me. “We leave here exactly at six. I know the drill.”
So she did. We’d had dinner with Mom the other night, followed by another instance of Maddie attacking me nearly the minute we crossed into the home. She was comfortable with our arrangement, and never asked to sleep over or spend any more time with me than necessary. In fact, most of our time together was spent either naked or planning our next dinner with Mom.
“Don’t bring up my stories again,” I said. After nearly an hour of conversation about why I stopped writing, Mom had taken it upon herself to drag Maddie into convincing me to write again. “I don’t have the time.”
“You don’t have the time to write?” she asked. “What else are you doing with your time? Going on fake dates with other women?”
“That depends,” I said. “Are you spending your time blackmailing any other men?”
The edge of her mouth tilted downward, the only thing that revealed how uncomfortable she was talking about what she’d done. I knew she hadn’t blackmailed me, of course, but I loved getting a reaction out of her nonetheless. Plus, if I could save some other poor asshole from her scheme, then so be it.
“Would that make you jealous?” she asked after a moment's hesitation. I leaned against the door as the clock struck six. Time for dinner.
“If you’re trying to make me jealous, I think you’re going to have a difficult time,” I said. “Come on; it’s time to go.”
She pouted and draped her purse over her shoulders. “Time to go,” she repeated.
Karen met us at the door with a polite smile. I wasn’t sure how she felt about Maddie, the two barely spoke during our dinners, but I did notice her hesitate as she greeted us. Karen shot me a speculative glance, and I shrugged.
There was no way that my mother’s nurse was the only woman who saw through the charade.
“Maddie!” Mom’s smile was genuine as we met her at the dinner table. “How are you, darling?”
“Well, I’m fine, thanks for asking,” I said with a forced laugh. Mom had gotten in the habit of throwing all of her attention onto Maddie during our dinners.
“I know how you’re doing,” Mom said. “You see me three times a day. Really, Maddie, can’t you distract him more than just two nights a week? He needs to get out more.”
I pulled back Maddie’s chair and waited for her to take a seat. She slipped into it, and I sat beside her.
“I guess I could try and take him out to more places,” Maddie said. “Where do you think we should go?”
Once again, I was cast to the side as Mom and Maddie planned my life.
“There’s the ice museum,” Mom suggested. “Or you two can go kayaking. We went once when he was younger, and he loved it until his kayak tipped over and he thought he was going to die.”
Maddie burst out laughing.
“I was 10,” I said. “Of course I thought I was going to die.”
“Have you gone kayaking since then?” Maddie asked. I shook my head.
“It hasn’t appealed to me.”
Her hand inched toward mine, and I recognized the suggestion in her eyes. She wanted me to grab her hand. I settled for lying mine on top of hers.
“Then maybe that’ll be our next date,” she said with a gleam in her eye. “A nice kayaking date.”
“You’ll have to take a ton of pictures,” Mom said as Karen sat out our dinner. Oven roasted salmon with a salad and scalloped potatoes.
“Yes,” I said through gritted teeth. “Lots of pictures.”
I reminded myself to later drill it into Maddie’s head that we weren’t going on a kayaking date, nor the ice museum.
Mom asked Maddie about her modeling career, and my date went into a detailed explanation of how a photo shoot worked.
“Do you prefer that to acting?” she asked. “I’ve seen you in a few commercials. It’s always nice seeing a familiar face on the TV.”
“Oh, acting is my one true calling,” Maddie said. I recognized the same faraway, dazed look cross onto Maddie’s face as she shared her passion. “I decided to start auditioning for more commercials, without my agent. I’m starting to think that I’m going to need to get it done on my own.”
“That sounds like a very hard career,” Mom said. “A lot of people would give up by now.”
“Maddie’s determined to get what she wants,” I said without a second thought. My fork paused in mid-air, a piece of salmon stuck on it, as Maddie shot me a betrayed look. I returned it with a hardened stare, but thankfully Mom remained oblivious.
“A woman after my own heart,” Mom said and returned to her meal. She opened her mouth to continue, but she was caught in a hard cough and grabbed onto the table as she bent over abruptly and choked on her food.
“Mom!” I yelled and rushed to her side. “Mom, breathe!”
She forced herself to breathe deeply, but the coughing had taken its toll, and her face grew pale. I checked her plate to find that she had only eaten a single bite of potatoes. Karen returned just as Mom threw up dark bile onto the table. Maddie gasped and kneeled on the other side of Mom as I held onto Mom’s upper arm and tried helping her stand.
“I can’t—” she tried speaking, but a clear liquid was spilling from her mouth and dripping down her chest. She tried covering her mouth with her elbow, but her legs collapsed as I lifted her and she fell onto the floor into her puke.
“Here,” Maddie said gently and pressed a thick napkin to Mom’s lips. She wiped off puke that clung to her face and took her other arm. Together we lifted her up and into the bathroom, over the toilet.
“I’ll get her medicine,” Karen said and left. Maddie stayed near Mom’s side through most of the night, gently rubbing her back as Mom grew sicker over the toilet, and repeating kind and gentle words even though we both knew that Mom wasn’t listening to either of us.
It wasn’t until later, when I was putting Mom to bed and saying goodnight, that I fully realized how caring Maddie had been with her. There was nothing forcing her to take care of Mom like that, she could have easily walked away and not dealt with her illness, but she had stayed without a second thought.
We walked back to my home in silence.
“I’m sorry,” I said after closing the front door behind us. “I can pay you a little extra for everything you did.”
“What?” She turned toward me and frowned. “Pay me? Why would you do that?”
“You acted like her nurse,” I said. “You don’t want any compensation?”
“Why would I?” she asked. “Gavin, I wasn’t going to just leave a sick woman like that.”
I held my tongue. Maybe Maddie did have a heart after all.
“I’m going to get some sleep,” she said and lied down on the couch. “I’ll leave before you’re up.”
The night had taken a toll on the both of us, it seemed. I left her on the couch and stood in the kitchen as I took two long gulps of whiskey. I waited until a buzz helped sooth my nerves, and went over the night’s events. Maddie was quick to help and had seemed beyond worried about Mom, even after I had acted like an ass to her. She deserved some respect, at least.
I walked back to the living room with the intention of inviting her to sleep on my bed, it would be a much more comfortable night for her this way, but I froze when I saw her.
Her mouth was parted as she slept, her breathing long and even, and an arm draped over her forehead. I watched her for a moment and decided against bothering such a comfortable sleep.
I opened a chest on the side of the couch and pulled out a thick, plush blanket and draped it over her. I’d apologize to her and thank her tomorrow.