Page 6 of The Triple Threat
“I do have a favor though,” he called after me as I walked through to the kitchen.
“Yeah, what?” I put the dishes on the counter and went to stand in the doorway that joined the kitchen to the dining room.
“Jim and Darcy Jackson have invited us over for dinner tomorrow night, with Henry and Melinda.”
“Who, me and you?”
“No, you idiot. Me and Jojo, the lady I’m seeing. I was wondering if you’d drive us over there so that I can kick back and have a drink. I don’t want to be worrying whether Sheriff Bennion or one of his goons is lurking in the bushes trying to catch someone out.”
I groaned inwardly. I knew it would take me almost two hours to do a round trip out to the Jackson’s place, but he was my dad and he’d done enough for me in the past.
“Yeah sure, no problem. Just let me know what time.”
“Thanks, son,” he said and got up from his chair. “I’m gonna go up, don’t forget to lock up when you come back in.”
“Will do. Night, Pop.”
“Night son, love you.”
“Love you too.”
I waited to hear his tread on the stairs and smiled thinking about the conversation we’d had earlier with my two aunts. As much as I missed Mom and knew that he did too, I didn’t want him to be lonely—yeah, he had a few hook-ups, but not one of the women seemed to have given him what he needed. I was worried that my mom was the only woman who would ever do that for him. That thought pulled me up short. They were married with me by the time that they were my age, yet I’d never met anyone I was remotely interested in settling down with. What if I was like Pop at forty-eight but had never experienced what he had with Mom? It was a sobering fucking thought as I remembered them laughing and joking in this very kitchen and Pop bending Mom backward over the table to kiss the breath out of her lungs.
Could I even imagine myself doing that; share my life, this home with one woman for the rest of my life?
I thought about it and looked through the window into the dark, and when the face of Ellie Maples popped into my head, I dropped one of Mom’s favorite plates.
I looked in the rear-view mirror at my folks sitting on the backseat of my 1982 Oldsmobile Omega. Okay so it was damn ugly and the color of baby poop, but it was reliable, and my parents were currently making out on the large back seat.
“Really?” I cried and looked back to the road as Dad gave Mom’s left tit a squeeze. “Child on board.”
“Oh honey, don’t be a spoilsport.” Mom giggled, already tight from the two large glasses of wine she’d had while she’d waited for Dad to get ready after he got home late from work.
“I’m not, but I don’t really want to see Dad getting to second base, thank you very much.”
“Well, I’m kinda hoping for a home run later,” Dad muttered, not particularly quietly.
Mom fluttered her eyelashes at him and snuggled closer to the big, broad, ex-cornerback who also happened to be her college sweetheart. According to Dad it was love at first sight when Mom walked into the gym wearing her tiny running shorts and tight tank. Mom however was only concerned with making the cross-country squad and didn’t give two hoots that Dad had the best burst of any cornerback in the college game. She finally gave in and went on a date with him after a whole week of him sending her a bouquet of flowers every day.
They’d been inseparable ever since and loved each other deeply. Although they liked to argue too, mainly because they were both bull-headed. Tonight’s kissing and petting in my car wasn’t unusual; they liked to make up and make out a hella lot.
Dad’s promising football career ended with an ACL injury in his last year at college. Mom had been the one who brought him back from the deep dark depths of depression. Apparently, she slapped him around the head with her sneaker as a last resort when he wouldn’t look away from the TV. Dad eventually got over the life changing disappointment and now ran his own insurance company, while Mom worked part-time in the town library. All in all I had a happy family life—well if you didn’t count Carter in that; he was the only fly in my bonhomie.
Thankfully, as Dad’s face disappeared into Mom’s neck, we pulled up outside the beautiful grey brick house. On a quiet tree-lined street, on the edge of Valley Park, which ran along almost the whole west side of town, Bronte and her folks had moved here over ten years before when they’d left the house next door to ours on the east side of town. Both Bronte and I had cried buckets even though we were going to see each other at school the very next week. Being a car ride away from each other seemed like the end of the world when we were fourteen years old.
“We’re here,” I announced, raising my voice to be heard over the giggling and kissing noises.
Mom extricated herself from Dad and pulled up the top of her dress to put her girls safely back inside.
“You not coming in to see Bronte, honey,” she asked as she leaned between the two front seats.
“Yeah, come in and see her,” Dad added. “I bet Jim and Darcy would like to see you too.”
I looked down at the black yoga pants and baggy white tee which I wore and sighed. I wasn’t really dressed to visit with people, especially as I had a huge stain right over my left boob. I’d dropped my chocolate ice cream as I tried to eat while I lay on my back on the sofa and watched TV. My hair was also a messy bird’s nest on top of my head, and at least a day past needing a wash – okay I was a slob, but I was on day two of my three off duty days.
“Oh, come on,” Mom urged. “You’ll get to see Jefferson’s new lady-friend when they arrive.”
“Another new lady-friend?” I blew out my cheeks. “Geez that man has some stamina for his age.”