impatient.
My eyes are closed. I smell remnants of deodorant and good clean sweat, all coated in male. It’s turning me on. His nearness is turning me on. Maybe it’s leftovers from being hot and bothered last night. I’m starting to believe I’ll die if I don’t sleep with one of these men soon.
“Thanks for the pet, pet.” He pulls back to smile at his joke, and he must see how much I want him, because he looks dazed for a second before he comes in for a kiss. It’s quick and sweet, and my lips are still puckered toward him after he’s moved away and opened his door, cueing me to exit.
I know why he’s in such a rush; it looks like his shorts are fuller now than when I came in. When I look back at him from my vehicle, his body is hidden behind the door, only his head peeking around it, and he winks.
* * * *
The kids get home right after me, and I make a lunch date with my big brother for next week. While Rachel is off playing in her room, Ben approaches me in the kitchen, where I’m baking cookies to give as gifts.
“Mom?” he asks timidly.
“Yeah, Bean?” He likes me, and only me, to call him that. The nickname came from when he was a toddler and I called him Jumping Bean.
“What did Dad do wrong?”
I drop the bottle of vanilla extract. Luckily, it’s not open. “What do you mean?” I force my voice to stay light.
“He’s been trying to make up with you since Thanksgiving and I know you’re still mad because he’s still buying you presents.” Ben looks disdainfully at the newest roses. Dr. Phil says kids always blame themselves when their parents fight, so I’d better clear this obstacle right away.
“Sometimes grown-ups fight about things that don’t have anything to do with kids, honey. I don’t want you to worry about it.”
“I’m not really a kid, Mom. I’m almost a teenager, in only nine more months.”
I crack a smile at his age-stretching. “Your dad and I both love you, honey, and Rachel, too. This is something we have to work through on our own. Something, um, private.”
“Mom, just tell me. Did Dad have sex with another lady?”
This time I drop the measuring cup full of brown sugar. “Goddammit,” I swear quietly. While I scoop up the mess, I’m trying to think how to answer. Ben is so perceptive, especially with me. We’ve always been close. I remember feeling lonely after he was born, missing my physical connection with him. Rachel and I are close too, but it’s not quite the same. I’ve never known if it’s because she’s the second child, or a girl, or if it’s a personality thing.
“He did!” Ben breathes, crestfallen.
I’ve taken too long to reply, an answer in itself. If I had denied it immediately, I might have gotten away with it. Damn.
“It was Lana, wasn’t it?”
This time I’m not holding anything to drop, so I simply stare wordlessly out the kitchen window, my hands braced on the counter.
Ben tells me, “She’s always putting her hands all over him, and whenever there aren’t any other grown-ups around, he puts his hands on her, too.”
Disgusting. They’re stupid enough to behave that way in front of a twelve-year-old? I long to pluck those images from my son’s mind and selectively erase those parts of his memory.
“It’s called flirting, Benny,” I say, hoping to reassure him. “Most adults do it. Lana does it with all men.”
“I’ve never seen you flirting. And I don’t like them touching each other.”
I don’t either, baby . And from the way Ben is talking, they’ve been carrying on for a while. Tears start running from my eyes, and no matter what I think of, I can’t make them stop. “Honey, please, this is for grown-ups. Just remember your dad loves you. And he loves me. We’re working this out the best we can, okay?”
“You should divorce him.”
“Ben!”
“We’ll be all right, Mom. I’ll take care of you, okay? And you can take care of me and Rach just fine. I’m behind you a hundred
My eyes are closed. I smell remnants of deodorant and good clean sweat, all coated in male. It’s turning me on. His nearness is turning me on. Maybe it’s leftovers from being hot and bothered last night. I’m starting to believe I’ll die if I don’t sleep with one of these men soon.
“Thanks for the pet, pet.” He pulls back to smile at his joke, and he must see how much I want him, because he looks dazed for a second before he comes in for a kiss. It’s quick and sweet, and my lips are still puckered toward him after he’s moved away and opened his door, cueing me to exit.
I know why he’s in such a rush; it looks like his shorts are fuller now than when I came in. When I look back at him from my vehicle, his body is hidden behind the door, only his head peeking around it, and he winks.
* * * *
The kids get home right after me, and I make a lunch date with my big brother for next week. While Rachel is off playing in her room, Ben approaches me in the kitchen, where I’m baking cookies to give as gifts.
“Mom?” he asks timidly.
“Yeah, Bean?” He likes me, and only me, to call him that. The nickname came from when he was a toddler and I called him Jumping Bean.
“What did Dad do wrong?”
I drop the bottle of vanilla extract. Luckily, it’s not open. “What do you mean?” I force my voice to stay light.
“He’s been trying to make up with you since Thanksgiving and I know you’re still mad because he’s still buying you presents.” Ben looks disdainfully at the newest roses. Dr. Phil says kids always blame themselves when their parents fight, so I’d better clear this obstacle right away.
“Sometimes grown-ups fight about things that don’t have anything to do with kids, honey. I don’t want you to worry about it.”
“I’m not really a kid, Mom. I’m almost a teenager, in only nine more months.”
I crack a smile at his age-stretching. “Your dad and I both love you, honey, and Rachel, too. This is something we have to work through on our own. Something, um, private.”
“Mom, just tell me. Did Dad have sex with another lady?”
This time I drop the measuring cup full of brown sugar. “Goddammit,” I swear quietly. While I scoop up the mess, I’m trying to think how to answer. Ben is so perceptive, especially with me. We’ve always been close. I remember feeling lonely after he was born, missing my physical connection with him. Rachel and I are close too, but it’s not quite the same. I’ve never known if it’s because she’s the second child, or a girl, or if it’s a personality thing.
“He did!” Ben breathes, crestfallen.
I’ve taken too long to reply, an answer in itself. If I had denied it immediately, I might have gotten away with it. Damn.
“It was Lana, wasn’t it?”
This time I’m not holding anything to drop, so I simply stare wordlessly out the kitchen window, my hands braced on the counter.
Ben tells me, “She’s always putting her hands all over him, and whenever there aren’t any other grown-ups around, he puts his hands on her, too.”
Disgusting. They’re stupid enough to behave that way in front of a twelve-year-old? I long to pluck those images from my son’s mind and selectively erase those parts of his memory.
“It’s called flirting, Benny,” I say, hoping to reassure him. “Most adults do it. Lana does it with all men.”
“I’ve never seen you flirting. And I don’t like them touching each other.”
I don’t either, baby . And from the way Ben is talking, they’ve been carrying on for a while. Tears start running from my eyes, and no matter what I think of, I can’t make them stop. “Honey, please, this is for grown-ups. Just remember your dad loves you. And he loves me. We’re working this out the best we can, okay?”
“You should divorce him.”
“Ben!”
“We’ll be all right, Mom. I’ll take care of you, okay? And you can take care of me and Rach just fine. I’m behind you a hundred
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