For Life (11 page)
And your happy little wakeup this morning?
the sly voice in my head reminds me. But that, too was a fluke. My body had biological needs, and that’s all it was. I’ve been too long without a man.
Masturbation is nothing to be ashamed of
, I remind myself,
and neither is fantasy, even when that fantasy is about making out with your ex. Your very hot, delicious-smelling ex…
I snap open a towel to break my ridiculous reverie and then fold it into a neat square. I fold all the towels, losing myself in the satisfaction of a simple task done well.
Life should always be as easy as folding a load of towels,
I muse. Instead, it’s damn messy, but I’m proud of myself for trying to finally put this nonsense to rest and build a normal, healthy friendship with Grady.
And when the other thoughts creep toward the front of my mind, thoughts about last night and this morning and what it all means, I shove them back as hard as I can. It's not a rekindling romance, it's a parenting partnership, which is fine, because that's all I need from Grady.
Cassie
“I think it’s awesome that you guys can hang out like this. So healthy for your kids.” In a quiet corner of the yard, my high school friend Janie and I are catching up. It’s been close to eighteen years since we’ve spent any real time together, which seems insane to me since we haven’t stopped gabbing and laughing since she walked in the house. It's as if no time at all has passed since we were passing notes in class and spending hours at the mall together.
It’s a crisp Saturday night, and since there were a bunch of people who wanted to see Grady and me and the kids, Grady threw a small get-together. A lot of the guests are people we went to high school with, many of whom haven’t seen us or the kids since we moved to Ohio, like Janie.
“I promise you, the divorce was messy. Things were
bad
. You wouldn’t even have recognized Grady the night he left.”
“Crazy,” she muses. “He seems exactly the same to me now. More settled, of course, but otherwise…” She trails off and gestures toward Caden with her cup. “And that one looks just like his dad. The spitting image. You’re going to have trouble with him. Look at Kimmy.”
Janie recently married Dan, one of Grady’s old football buddies. It’s a second marriage for both, and their entire “Brady Bunch” family, as she describes it, is here. Despite being almost Chloe’s age, Janie’s daughter Kimmy is clearly smitten with my son. She’s painfully shy and has never had a boyfriend, according to Janie, but she’s radiant from Caden’s clumsy attention. I thought my youngest was just being himself - open, friendly, and sweet - but as I watch, I realize he’s tentatively flirting with Kimmy.
“I can’t watch this!” I protest. “He’s a baby!”
Janie shakes her head. “Keep telling yourself that.” She takes another sip of her spiked cider and smiles. “He’s not as cocky as his dad was in high school, but he’s just as cute. Speaking of which, Grady looks amazing.”
“Damn him, he does,” I agree. “And so does Dan.” Together we watch the two men chatting animatedly next to the grill. Dan’s natural bulk is still mostly muscle, and his hair has just a touch of gray at the temples. There’s no denying he’s still attractive.
“How the hell do they do it? I’m at the gym five days a week, I haven’t eaten a French fry in a year, and somehow I’m bigger than when I was pregnant, for Christ’s sake,” Janie complains.
“Screw that. I do yoga, but I can’t stand working out. I have an extra ten on my ass and it’s just gonna stay there. Hell if I’m giving up French fries over it. I’d rather be lonely. I have a cat and a vibrator, so I’m good.”
At Janie’s peal of laughter both men turn toward us, and when Grady’s gaze meets mine neither of us look away.
Something has shifted between us. The little threads have twined together a bit, as tenacious as ivy, binding us. Maybe it’s just being here, where it all began. Maybe it’s the muscle memory of our respective hearts, triggered by the snatches of intimacy between us. I don’t know what it is, but I feel it everywhere. Under my skin and on my tongue. Inside my chest. Dan says something to Grady and when he laughs I feel it rumble between my thighs. My face grows hot and self-consciously I turn back to Janie and her raised eyebrows.
“What?”
“Really?” She rolls her eyes at me. “Cassie, you just eye-fucked your ex-husband right in front of me. Don’t play innocent with me. Are you two—”
“No!” I scoff, guiltily remembering my fantasy the other morning. “Oh God, no.” Waving my hand, I take another sip of the strong cider and try to change the subject. “So tell me how you and Dan got hooked up.”
“A subject change,” she notes. “Fine. Be that way. I
will
tell you that story, because it’s cute.” She proceeds to tell me her story while we get the S’mores fixings out, every once in a while pausing to keep an eye on Dan’s youngest son, who’s six and way too fascinated with the bonfire.
Though most people here are Grady’s childhood friends, I’m still happy to see everyone. There’s been a lot of laughter and good-natured teasing directed at Grady. He’s been missed back home, and I’m reminded of how much fun we used to have together before everything turned so ugly.
When Janie finally excuses herself to round up her younger kids, I realize it’s pretty late. Kimmy and Caden are sitting together by the fire, heads close, eating S’mores and shyly giggling between what look like stretches of comfortable silence. I’m hit with a memory of Caden in this backyard when he was two, splashing in his little wading pool. How did he become almost a man already? Time is deceptive - a night passes in a moment, twelve years pass overnight.
I’m still pondering this when Grady walks up to me with a perfectly burnt marshmallow on his roasting fork. He presents it to me with a proud smile.
“For me?”
“It’s the best one I’ve made all night,” he says. “Just like you like them.”
“Oh my God, thank you,” I breathe, tugging it unceremoniously from the metal prongs and stuffing it into my mouth. The charred exterior bursts on my tongue and sweetness oozes out. I make a conscious effort not to moan with happiness at how delicious it is.
The rumble of his laughter breaks through my sugary reverie. “When was the last time you had one of those?”
“Mmm, don’t even know. That was awesome.”
“You need another one,” he declares.
“No, it’s fine, I don’t—” But he’s marching back toward the bonfire, a man on a mission.
That marshmallow was good. So good. I could eat, like, ten more. Forget the graham crackers and chocolate. I watch Grady pull his fork from the fire and walk back towards me, blowing on the flame until there’s just a charred mass on the end of his stick. He tugs at the blackened lump and it slides free, leaving traces of its center clinging to the tongs.
“Open,” he commands, and I allow him to feed me, trying not to notice the heat in his eyes as he pushes the marshmallow between my lips. Some sticks to his thumb, and when he pulls it free he sucks the little bit off his skin. I don’t know if it’s the cider or my nerves or a sugar high, but my heart flip-flops in my chest as I watch him.
You’re going straight to Hell,
I scold myself.
Quit being dirty. He fed you a marshmallow. That’s all it is.
But looking in Grady’s eyes I know that’s not all it is. I can lie to myself all I want, but the truth is sitting right between us, waiting for me to acknowledge it.
I just don’t know if I can.
Grady
I would roast her a thousand marshmallows for the privilege of being able to put just one more on her tongue. When we were together, we did stuff like that all the time. That ridiculous couple feeding each other bites at the restaurant, cuddled up watching movies and sharing a bowl of ice cream with one spoon? That was me and Cass.
My God, her smile. Her entire face wears it. Her forehead goes smooth, her eyes brighten and crease in the corners, her nose scrunches just a bit, and her bottom lip pulls down and to the right. It’s a girlish smile, a happy smile, a maybe-she-had-too-much-cider smile. It makes
me
smile, because I know Cassie doesn’t loosen up nearly enough.
Tonight, she’s loose. She’s happy. Seeing Janie again was good for her. They were tight in school and despite the years it’s been since they’ve seen each other they still have whatever spark they had between them.
And that isn’t the only spark.
Earlier there was a moment when I looked at her and it as as if the past eleven years never happened. Her gaze fixed on me with the kind of admiration and tenderness I haven’t seen from her since I don’t know when. The light was there again, and I couldn’t look away. It soothed inside my chest like a balm, but it also lit a fire low in my belly.
It gave me hope.
I watch her hug Janie goodbye and wrap her arm around Caden, who looks sorry to see Janie and Dan’s daughter leave. I’m irrationally envious of my own son, who gets to lean into Cassie’s soft warmth anytime he wants. Her long, dark hair cascades down her back, rippling with her movements, rendering me frozen in place.
I want that hair on my pillow.
I want that soft warmth in my bed.
I want her mouth open for me like it was earlier, and now I’m thinking dirty thoughts as I wave goodbye to my friends.
Tonight has been the sweetest fucking torture of my life. Something is changing between us. Something is being repaired, but something else is being created. I feel it, and Cassie does, too, because she kisses Caden goodnight and then turns to search for me. When she sees me standing here, watching her, I get that beautiful smile all over again, and the flames in my gut burn higher.
Cassie
An hour after everyone has left and the kids have gone inside, Grady folds up the camping chairs and empties beer bottles while I gather sticky roasting forks and half-empty bags of marshmallows. Between us the low fire crackles and hisses and occasionally pops as a piece of wood collapses. I stop for a minute and enjoy its warmth and smell. Wood fire smoke in the crisp fall air is one of the best scents known to man, I think to myself.
It was nice tonight. Comfortable. At one point one of the guys mentioned our divorce and congratulated us for being mature enough to be friends. Grady and I had shared an awkward chuckle about that one but didn’t reveal our secret. If it looked to the outside world that we’d always been this relaxed around each other, so be it. And if I was being honest, it was wonderful to be able to be that way together. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed Grady’s friendship. Even when I was in conversation with other people, I was aware of him being nearby, and it felt comfortable and right.
We tidy up in a way that feels almost like flirting. He hands me a roasting fork and then tugs it teasingly away when I reach for it. He builds a pyramid of beer cans on the lid of the cooler and I make as if I’m going to knock them over. When I tie up the last bag of marshmallows, I remember him walking toward me with that perfectly burnt blob, offering it to me like it was something precious, and an ache builds in my chest. I can’t forget the look in his eyes, and I’m not even sure I want to.
Grady turns the classic rock station on low and we both sing along to Kansas and Styx and ELO, moving around each other as we work. Grady’s singing voice is as beautiful as ever, deep and rich except when he jokingly hits a falsetto in “Don’t Bring Me Down.” I swat him with a pair of gloves someone left behind and he leaps just out of reach. But when Van Morrison’s “Moondance” comes on, Grady shucks his gloves and reaches for my hand, surprising me. I don’t think. I just move with him.
As his fingers wrap around mine, I realize how much I’ve been craving his touch since the other night. He kept a respectful distance on the hike yesterday. We had fun, but he gave me my space and mostly interacted with the kids. I felt a bit hurt but then realized I was being silly. After all, it’s not like I want him back. Even if what Renée thinks about Grady still being in love with me is true, he’s my past, not my future.
Except I can’t deny that my body really enjoys this. Grady twirls me into him, then back away. I don’t know when it was that I last danced with a man, but it’s been far too long. We haven’t forgotten how to move together, though. His hand holds my waist like he does this every day, and our legs twine together and move apart without any clumsiness. All the while his gaze fixes on me, and a hint of a smile plays on his lips.
By the end of the dance I’m slightly out of breath. I’ve only had a bit of cider, so I’m loose but not tipsy. Still, when Grady pulls me close to him everything goes a bit fuzzy. I’m pretty sure I stop breathing for a second.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he declares.
“Sure, now,” I joke, slightly unsettled by the way he’s gazing at me. “Because I’m cleaning.”
He shakes his head before sliding his fingers along my jaw and tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “No,” he murmurs. “Because you’re you.”
When I was a teenager, I could stare into Grady’s deep blue eyes and even without him touching me I was a puddle. And now, in his arms, I feel boneless. My legs have suddenly failed to cooperate. Grady’s arm around me is the only thing keeping me on my feet.
“Another good night.” His fingertips sweep under my chin before his thumb brushes ever so lightly across the edge of my bottom lip.
“Such a good night,” I breathe.
“Kids had a great time.”
“Yeah.” I hope he stops talking, because I’m not sure how much longer I can hold a conversation with him touching my mouth.
“We’re racking up a lot of those.” There’s a question in his eyes but I can’t think about that right now. I just want to enjoy this moment, his arm around me, his thumb tracing the seam of my lips.
When the tip of his thumb tugs at my bottom lip, I lose every thought but the desire to have him kiss me. I’m not even thinking when I touch his thumb with the tip of my tongue, until I watch his eyes darken and his face lower towards me. I stare back at him and beg with every fiber of my being for that kiss.
And then his mouth is on mine and it’s glorious. He brushes my lips with his once, then again, and I whimper his name. He breathes mine in return before he kisses me again, so softly I think I might be drunk after all and just imagining it.
When I slide my arm up to grasp his hair in my fingers he pulls me tighter, but it’s still a chaste kiss. No tongues at first, just his lips nibbling mine like I fantasized the other morning. Steady. Sweet. His hand is on my back, just under the edge of my sweater, his fingers pressed into my spine, the pads of his fingertips softly stroking my bare skin.
It’s me who takes it deeper. He’s surprised but needs very little encouragement. His long fingers cradle my jaw as his tongue meets mine, still sweet from the marshmallows. A soft groan escapes his throat and is swallowed by our kiss. He tastes just as he used to when we were first together, before every kiss tasted like alcohol. I can’t get enough. We’re breathless and I’m shivering slightly - whether from the cold or the kiss, I’m not sure. I just know I don’t want him to stop. I should. But I search every inch of my mind while his mouth and hands are on me and I can’t come up with a single reason to make him stop.
Except that we’re a divorced couple making out in his mother’s yard, the kids are inside watching TV, and anyone could bust us at any moment. I don’t know what our intentions are with each other, but I know we’re not including the family in this while we figure it out.
As if reading my mind, Grady ends the kiss with a deep sigh and folds me into his arms, resting his chin on the top of my head. He strokes my hair and tucks me against his chest while I struggle to breathe normally again. And while “Wonderful Tonight” plays in the background, Grady holds me and we sway like a couple of kids at a middle school dance, oblivious to everything else but the magic of being in each other’s arms.