Cushie for the Tushie
Dane pulled into Huff and Maisie’s driveway and killed the engine.
Immediately he heard a racket that went clear through the car.
When he opened the door, it sounded like a pack of wolves being castrated.
Salma barreled out of the back seat and barked up to the door, sensing puppy distress.
Oscar, Huff’s nephew, was here for the weekend and obviously suffering some mortal indignity.
Dane strode into the kitchen, whipped off his sunglasses and flung them aside. “I got here soon as I could. What’s the status?”
Huff calmly looked up from making a sandwich, then down at his side where a sturdy four-year-old wearing nothing but a T-shirt was hiccupping back sobs.
“What manner of inequity is being inflicted upon this pantsless child and by what foul villain?” Dane said. “Tell me so I may smite them.”
Silence.
“Say hi to Dane,” Huff said.
“Hi,” Oscar moaned, hanging on the hem of Huff’s flannel shirt.
“We’re having a bad day,” Huff said.
“I will smite the day,” Dane said. “Bring me my sword.”
Usually his medieval knight routine was good for a laugh, but Oscar just went on whimpering. Salma glanced up at Dane with a look of Can you do something helpful, please?
“Holy moly.” Dane crouched down by Oscar and thumbed away some of the tears. “My man, what’s the matter?”
“I pooped really big and it hurt my heinie.”
“Oh,” Dane said gravely. “I hate when that happens.” He glanced at Huff, who widened his eyes and held his hands a foot apart, mouthing, It was huge.
“It hurts to wipe,” Oscar said, drifting into Dane’s side.
“Oh my God, no.”
“Huff put cream on it and it’s slimy.”
“Ugh, the worst.” Dane rubbed his back. “You poor kid.”
“And it hurts when I walk,” Oscar wailed, leaving Dane and lurching around the kitchen in a wide-legged, tortured gait.
“How did you walk before the slimy stuff?” Huff asked. “Show Dane.”
Oscar sniffed and walked normally. “Like that.”
“Ah,” Dane said. “And how do you walk now?”
Oscar started lurching and kvetching again.
Dane glanced up at Huff. “Nice going.”
“I can’t do anything right.”
“Look what I found…” Maisie came in, twirling an inflatable doughnut cushion on her fingers. “A cushie for the tushie. Sit down, your majesty.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Dane snatched the cushion, put it on a chair, and made a show of sitting. Hovering a bit, checking over his shoulder, before settling down with a little rubbery sizzle. Oscar’s next sob turned into a giggle.
“Wow, this is comfy,” Dane said, wiggling. “The support is top notch. Absolutely nothing is touching my butthole.”
“Can we not say butthole,” Maisie murmured, rubbing her temples.
“Let me try,” Oscar said.
Maisie held out a little pair of sweatpants. “Put these on first. Otherwise you’ll slime the doughnut.”
When Oscar was clothed, Dane put him dramatically on the cushioned throne. Oscar squirmed around, experimenting, then looked up with a wickedly smug expression Dane wanted to eat.
“Your lunch, sir,” Huff said, setting down a plate with a sandwich.
“Thank you.”
Huff kissed Oscar’s head. “Thank you for thank you.”
“Oscar always says thank you,” Maisie said.
“The best guys say thank you.” Dane hugged her. “Thank you, Maisie. You’re the bestest Maisie. Everyone should have a Maisie.”
“She’s not your Maisie,” Oscar said.
“Nuh-uh,” Dane said, tightening arms. “You got the tushie cushie, I get the Maisie.”
“All right, cool it,” Huff said. “We all know she’s my Maisie.”
“Ah,” Dane said, “but why is she yours?”
“Because the Great Dane introduced us,” Maisie said. “Thank you, Dane.”
“Thank you, Dane,” Huff said, with an earnest expression Dane wanted to devour.
“Pfft, it was nothing.” Dane waved a careless hand and went to the fridge for a drink.
“It was everything,” Huff said, and headed out the glass sliding door that led to the atrium.
Dane watched him go and suppressed a bittersweet sigh, rolling eyes at himself. What else could you do with unrequited love except introduce it to your sister, then sit back and pine as the mother of all love affairs unfolded before you?
Twenty years and this impossible, teenage crush on Huff Jensen showed no signs of growing up or growing out of it. If anything, Dane being suddenly single made the infatuation in vogue again. Huff having the unmitigated gall to age well had been making Dane a bit of a hot mess lately.
Which made the sudden, fantastical reappearance of Liko Greenman something of a tonic. Dane noticed that despite the sighing, he didn’t feel quite so squeezed today by Huff’s presence.
Maisie was busy making guacamole and marinating some chicken. Dane sat at the table and entertained Oscar into eating all of his sandwich.
“Did you bring your babing suit?” the boy asked.
“I brought my babing suit. Where are the babes?”
Oscar clambered down from his chair. “Is Salma going to swim?”
“She forgot her suit.”
“She doesn’t need one. Come on and see the pool.” Oscar flung aside the sliding door with enough gusto to make the frame rattle.
“Easy, Godzilla,” Maisie said. “You don’t know your own strength.”
The atrium was warm and muggy, filled with sunshine and potted plants and a thick chlorine smell. On the concrete deck, Huff was holding a plank and staring down at the iPad between his hands. He lifted one hand, pivoted to the side while holding the plank, and raised it above his head.
“Looking good, Jensen,” Dane said.
“Feeling weak, Strong.” Huff put a hip down, then rolled onto his butt and crossed his legs. “Are we swimming? You don’t have your suit on, kid.”
Oscar draped himself on Huff’s back. “I want to swim nudey.”
“No.”
“You and Maisie swim nudey.”
“Because we pay the mortgage and we don’t pee in the pool. Go get suited up.”
Oscar ran back toward the kitchen.
“Close the door gently,” Huff called after.
“Your suit’s in the downstairs bathroom,” Maisie added. “Pee before you put it on.”
“And aim,” Huff mumbled. “And flush. And wash your hands. And thank fucking god we don’t have kids.”
Dane laughed.
“We love to have him,” Maisie said. “But when he leaves, we split a twelve-pack and stare into space for an hour.”
“And curse nonstop,” Huff said.
“I remember those days,” Dane said, pulling out a chair to sit. “Except for the part where Saskia left.”
“How you doing, my man?” Huff asked.
“Annoyed, because I only came for the nude swimming.”
“Sorry. We try to keep the junk in the pool to a minimum.” Huff crossed his ankles, planted his feet and tried to rock up to stand without using his hands. “Can he do it? Can he? Third time’s the charm…? He fails. Not today, folks.”
He rolled onto a knee and slowly stood, taking the hand Maisie offered.
“How you feeling?” Dane asked, unlacing his sneakers.
“Yesterday was great,” Huff said, walking over and twisting his torso side to side. “Today not so much. I just have to work with what I’m given.”
The sliding door gently opened and closed. Then a streak of naked boy took a lap around the pool, waving his bathing suit around his head.
“There goes the neighborhood,” Maisie said, sighing.
“Is it too early to start drinking?”
“It’s too late.”
“I’ll get some beers,” Huff said. “Maze, did you make guac?”
“It’s on the counter with the chips. Bring it all out.”
Dane used the downstairs bathroom to change into his own suit. He brought the beers out while Huff carried the snacks.
“Take a load off,” Dane said. “I’ll take lifeguard duty. Will he nap later?”
“If he’s tired enough.”
“One tired beast, coming up. Yo, Oscar, I’m going in. Cover your butt or be left behind.”
Oscar had been taking swimming lessons since he was eighteen months old, and didn’t need water wings or any flotation device.
So Dane went full-on Dad and threw the boy all over the pool.
Splashing, swimming under water, doing funny jumps off the diving board.
They constructed a raft out of every single pool noodle, save one, through which Dane blew great jet streams of water as they sailed around.
Salma took a dip, although she was a sedate and dignified swimmer, preferring to descend the stairs in the shallow end, paddle once or twice around the perimeter, then get out and shake off.
Soon Maisie and Huff joined them. Maisie cannonballed from the diving board.
Huff sat on the side and slipped into the water in stages.
He didn’t throw Oscar or goof off on the board, but he gave whale rides and captained the noodle craft while Dane and Maisie tried to sink it.
Gradually the two sea monsters retreated and left Huff to downshift Oscar into quiet mode.
They floated in lazy circles, Oscar lying on top of Huff, head on Huff’s shoulder, pointing up at the skylights and looking for pictures in the clouds.
Dane dried off, changed, and took the opportunity to go up to the roof. He sat in one of the Adirondack chairs, put his feet on the railing and snapped a picture. He texted it to Liko with a message: Look familiar?
The bubble of three dots danced up, went away, came back. Activate face recognition, please, Liko finally replied.
Dane got up and took a selfie with the view behind him. Then a few more before he got one that pleased him. He sent it. Waited an excruciating minute while Liko bubbled away.
“Good lord, are you writing a novel?” Dane mumbled. “Just type I want to eat your face.”
The reply finally came: I’m a martinet about being outside with wet hair in cold weather. Blame Bootsy.
I was swimming.
Lucky you. Put a hat on.
Did I mention Schoenfeld’s has a pool?
LOL, I said I’m coming, you don’t have to keep selling the place.
Dane smiled at the screen, then looked up at the rooftop space. Remembering how he and Liko had leaned on the railing together and resolved to stay alive another year. He typed: Sitting here, it’s kind of sinking in just how fucked up this is. Meeting and then meeting again.
Did you ask H&M about me?
Nope.
You’re a man of your word. Anyway, I’m just about to close my eyes a bit. Ass is dragging today.
It’s siesta time around here too. Talk to you later.
K.
Feeling unsatisfied and dismissed, Dane sat a few more minutes, chiding himself to take his damn time and enjoy all this.
His phone pinged again. Liko wrote: Go inside or put on a hat.