16. Kellen
Sixteen
Kellen
Does Elizabeth count as a new woman? I decide that she does, even though I have nobody to confirm my suspicion. I don’t care to discuss these things with my brother. It feels inappropriate to call my daughter or one of my nephews.
So I’m left on my own to agonize over what to wear if we stay in, and whether to change that up if we go out.
I even leave work early to pace in front of my closet, eventually deciding on a pair of dark jeans my brother bought me in Europe, paired with today’s dress shirt from work.
I move my pacing to the living room around four, when I peer out the window to see Jake pacing in the driveway.
I see Elizabeth talking to him from the steps.
I imagine she’s letting him know she loves him.
That he can still have a fun weekend. I feel such deep anger for Todd Gaston, a man I haven’t met but would like to strangle.
I realize I’m angry on behalf of fathers everywhere.
I stand in the picture window with my hands on my hips, looking out until Elizabeth meets my eye from across the street.
She mouths, “Creeper,” and smiles, so I decide to just head on over there.
“Hey, neighbors,” I say, extending my hand to pat Jake on the shoulder, but then catching myself and remembering he might not like that.
I’ve always been physically affectionate with Orla and my nephews.
They joke about Brady hugs. But I know not everyone appreciates that sort of thing.
I wave awkwardly instead. “What are you two doing this evening?”
Elizabeth opens her mouth to say something, but Jake flashes his eyes at me, angry, and says, “It’s Friday. On Fridays I eat pizza and watch Star Wars.”
I nod. “Which episode?”
He rolls his eyes at me. “I’m on Last Jedi. I watch one each week and then go back to the beginning.”
I put my hands in my pockets and raise a brow at him. “Do you loop in Rogue One?”
Jake sinks down on the steps next to his mother, shaking his head. “Obviously not. How could you even ask that?”
Elizabeth hides her smile behind her fist. I try to cover. “I was just making sure we were on the same page.” He rolls his eyes again. “Would you and your mother like to come have pizza and watch at my place?”
“Will you order pizza with pineapple?”
Sensing this is another test, I purse my lips before I reply. “Only if you like it that way.”
He nods. “Come on, Mom. Does this count as a dinner party? I’m meeting so many requirements for Miss Amy this month.”
Without waiting for us, he charges across the street and lets himself into my house. Elizabeth moves to shout after him and I touch her wrist. “I’m happy to have you both over,” I tell her. “Truly.”
Half an hour later, we are all seated on my sofa with an extra-large cheese pizza on the coffee table. It’s not lost on me that I’m an old man with a podiatrist taking advantage of the early bird dinner special, but Jake seems thrilled to get a head start on his exciting Friday evening.
I try to hide my disappointment that Jake sat between Elizabeth and me on my couch, but if I’m really honest, I’m too nervous to make a move on her anyway.
She asks questions about the movie periodically, and he shushes her, not wanting to miss a thing.
He mouths the dialogue along with the characters, showing me this probably isn’t the first or the last time Elizabeth has seen the movie, either.
I lean behind Jake, who is sitting ramrod straight, engrossed in the TV.
“Can I get you a drink,” I ask Elizabeth.
She nods emphatically and smiles. I like how I feel when she smiles, and I like knowing I can make a woman smile after all this time.
There’s something magical about knowing I brought her pleasure.
Then the thought of pleasure takes my mind into other forms of it and I quickly stand and head toward the kitchen before my thoughts spiral out of control.
I pour a few fingers of whiskey for each of us, grab the freshest soda in my fridge for Jake, and settle back into the sofa, raising my glass to her in a toast before slowly sipping my drink. “You and your whiskey,” she says, smacking her lips as Jake shushes us.
Elizabeth winces as she swallows her drink.
“The second sip goes down smoother,” I tell her, raising my eyebrows as I savor my own second sip.
The drink warms my insides, calms my racing heart a bit, even as the action on the screen intensifies.
I feel my pulse throbbing in my veins as I watch Rey and her nemesis fight, then nearly kiss.
Eventually, the movie ends and Jake stands up, clapping his hands. “Whew,” he says, turning to face us. “Mom, can I go play Xbox now?”
“What?” She looks taken aback, like his question jolted her back to the room and her thoughts, too, had been elsewhere.
“Xbox. Can I go play? Zack and Fred from school said they would be online tonight and you emphasized how important you thought it was for me to build social relationships.”
“You met friends at school?” Elizabeth’s mouth hangs open and she clutches her drink to her chest.
Jake rolls his eyes again, reminding me how often this happens with teenagers. “Yes. And they’re on Xbox. Let’s go home. I’m going to play.”
He heads toward the door but realizes she hasn’t stood to follow him.
She looks at me, obviously not ready to call it a night.
“I could…” I don’t want to invite myself to her house.
That’s too forward. But I’m not ready for our night to end, either.
None of this has gone how I was expecting.
I run my fingers through my hair and scrape a hand along my jaw, where my beard has come in nearly white.
“I’ll be over here, sweetheart,” Beth says. “You go and play, but come get me if you need me.”
“Mom,” he says, heading out the door again. “I’ll just text you. Duh.” The silence rings after the door shuts behind him. We both lean a bit to stare out the window and watch the lights turn on in Elizabeth’s living room as Jake settles onto their couch, firing up the video game system.
Eventually, I realize that we are seated with my arm around the back of the couch, just above the line of Elizabeth’s shoulders.
The smell of her is everywhere around me.
Yes, I smell pizza and whiskey, but I also smell her.
Sunshine and citrus like always, but something else.
Something new and mature and wonderful. “You smell nice,” I mutter, before I think better of it.
She flushes. “You’ve always smelled nice,” she says. “You smell better now.”
“Is that right?” I bring my glass to my lips again as she nods.
“You stopped wearing that awful drugstore cologne,” she says, smiling into her own drink. We sip in silence for a bit, evidently smelling each other. I don’t feel drunk, but I am definitely affected by the alcohol.
“Maddie says I smell good,” I tell her.
Beth nudges me with her shoulder. “She clearly has good taste.” I feel a pulsing tension in the air, a current between us. “I’m glad you asked us over tonight,” she tells me.
“I was very glad to have you here,” I tell her, truthfully. “Both of you. Truly.”
“I can tell,” she says, and drops a hand to my knee. We both lower our eyes to where her skin warms through the denim. “I love that you like my son.”
She doesn’t move her hand, so I move my arm closer to her shoulders, half on the couch and half draped over her slim body. I can feel the heat circulating through her veins, too. “I like both of you,” I tell her. “Of course your kid would be great. He’s your kid.”
“Orla is wonderful, too,” she says. “I admire her spirit.”
I lift my glass toward her. “To great kids,” I say. We clink glasses and drink, and I stretch to put my glass on the coffee table. “I don’t want to talk about kids anymore, Beth.”
She swallows thickly and looks out the window. I follow her gaze and see Jake illuminated by the blue light of their television. He’s wearing a headset and shouting animatedly as he leans to and fro, holding the video game controller.
Elizabeth’s eyes return to mine and I lean closer to her, dropping my other hand to her shoulder so she’s sitting between my arms. “It’s been a really long time since I did anything like this,” I tell her.
She snorts. “Uh, yeah. Me, too.”
I close the distance between us and kiss her, feeling my lips melt into hers.
It’s familiar and new. Strange and magnificent.
As I move my lips, deepening the kiss, my thoughts flit between how this feels so different from kissing my wife and how I shouldn’t be thinking about my wife when I’m kissing someone else.
Elizabeth’s tongue slips into my mouth, dotting against mine. I groan, tasting her. We both taste like whiskey, like heat. Like discovery. She puts both her hands on my shoulders, too, pulling us close against one another.
I adjust my legs and she’s kneeling between my thighs, kissing me, moaning.
I hear nothing, see only her as she seems to fill my entire body with her wanting.
Elizabeth is pressed tightly against my chest and I feel the heavy weight of her breasts.
I think I can sense the hard pebbles of her nipples and the realization of that has me gasping for breath.
I break the kiss, resting my forehead against hers. “Kellen,” she breathes. “I want you.”
“I want you, too,” I say, kissing her again, and then stopping. “I don’t know if I know how.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know if I do, either.”
I hold her then, and she rests her head on my shoulder, the two of us panting. Eventually, she pulls back and kisses me on the forehead. “I should go home,” she says, rising from the couch, slipping through my fingers like rainwater.
I rise along with her. “When can I see you again?”
She laughs, smoothing out her jeans and adjusting her short hair. “The next time you look out your window I guess.”
I frown, gesturing at her walking boot. “I’m walking you home,” I tell her. “This is still a date, after all.”
She nods. “I’ll accept that.” We navigate our way down my steps, and between her cast and my sore foot, we actually seem to need the physical support when we clasp hands. And we walk that way across the street, holding each other’s hands until she gets her front door open.
“Good night,” I tell her, lifting our clasped hands and kissing her knuckles.
The smile she gives me stays with me until I fall asleep.