Chapter 10 #2
I rub at my chest, reliving the hollowing feeling of watching my dad walk away from us at our most vulnerable, at Mom assuming both parental roles when she could barely keep down food.
The way she would balance textbooks on her hospital bed and wear the hats I’d poorly knit her in home economics that I pulled out of my teenage black backpack from a very fitting emo phase.
There was nothing I wouldn’t do for this woman.
From the first princess backpack to my current brown vintage pack, I’d declared that cancer research was what I’d wanted to do.
I hoped one day I could be a part of a team of brilliant scientists that granted little girls the life they deserved, mothers their second born, and fathers the emotional stability to stay.
I’d give them their happily ever after back, one test tube at a time.
That is why I always worked as hard as I did, getting scholarships, tutoring, and working as a TA. I couldn’t leave the burden of finances to my mom. This is why I’ve never had time to think about a love life or romances…it seemed frivolous in comparison.
I hear the timer go off in the kitchen, pulling me back to the present.
I gently pad down the steps to see Mom stirring a can of soup in a pot for our dinner.
She hadn’t turned at my quiet steps, so I sneak up behind her and throw my arms around her middle, closing my eyes and holding her tight.
I feel her middle shake with quiet amusement before she sets down the spoon and wraps her arms over top of mine.
She begins swaying back and forth gently, rocking us to a silent lullaby.
Neither of us move until the soup begins to boil over, making us both chuckle.
“What was that for, my sunshine?” She asks, eyes crinkling at the outer corners.
“Just because.” I reply, gathering bowls from the cupboard, then swivelling and grabbing spoons from the drawer.
“All right then, so tell me. What’s new?” Mom asks, settling herself into one of the kitchen chairs in the corner, a blanket thrown across her lap and a hot tea already in hand.
I mull over her question, chewing on my lip and wondering how much I want to divulge. “Not much, no summer classes this year so I have a break there, at least. I’m still tutoring though which is good.” I carry over the bowls, setting them down in front of us before pulling up my own seat.
“That’s great, sweetheart. It’s good to see you getting paid for something you do so well.
” She waves a hand as if to move the conversation along, “But I want to know juicer things. Have you seen Dominic since getting ice cream?” She stares me down, a conspiratorial smile creeping across her lips.
I roll my eyes at her hilarious attempt at getting gossip out of me.
My love life has always been null and void because of my focus on academics, she knows this better than anyone.
However, since meeting Dominic and setting up our little matchmaking agreement, my head has felt like a swarm of bees with thoughts that won’t stay still longer than a second.
“No.” I frown a little. “I tried to give him hell for a shitty date, but he just gave me a new favourite ice cream shoppe,” I snort. You can’t stay mad at someone who brings you to a wonderful new dessert place owned by one of the sweetest women you’ve ever met.
“Well, I’ll have to try it sometime then,” Mom says with a wink over her mug. I open my mouth to reply, but my phone chimes in my back pocket, distracting my train of thought. I wiggle a little to maneuver it out of my jeans and see a text from an unknown number.
I can’t school my features fast enough. Mom catches my frown and asks, “What’s that look for?”
“I just got…” I read over the text thread from Dominic realizing he’s sent me a new contact, Jude “The Hair”. I send him back a quick text, then a hello message to my new contact. Jude replies instantly.
Jude “The Hair”
Hey Celly, this is Jude. Where do you want to meet tomorrow for our date
I read aloud the text from Jude to Mom.
“Wow, how presumptuous of him to assume you are: A–going on a date, B–are free tomorrow, and C–gives you a nickname without even knowing you.” She squints at me, her jaw tightening.
She’s protective of me in a way only a mother scorned could be.
She had every right to be. “You just got back from a date this afternoon, what is Dominic thinking, booking you on all these dates? You’re not a robot! ”
I smile at her. “Mom, I’m okay,” I say reassuringly, sending a text back to Jude with a time and place then put my phone back snuggly in my pocket.
“Honey, I know you’re okay. What I meant was at least spread this out a little.
I know you’re starting your final year before hopefully,” she crosses her fingers in the air, “getting into medical school, but don’t hyperfixate on solely dating if you’re just looking to have some fun outside of your schoolwork.
Hey! Why don’t you finally go get that tattoo you’ve wanted!
” she remarks playfully, then takes a hearty mouthfuls of soup.
I know she’s leaving me space to refute that I do in fact participate in social activities even during the school semesters, to which she’ll parry that Delaney doesn’t count and I need to go on a date and get laid, and before we even begin this habitual repartee she cuts in,
“Why don’t you just go on a date with Dominic?”
My gaze shoots up to her face, her eyebrows are high in question and her shoulders shrug innocently.
“You can’t be serious,” I scoff.
“Why not? You deem him worthy enough to pick your suitors so what’s wrong with him that he couldn’t be one?”
My mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water.
“Well, I…I…no, nothing’s wrong with him, per se,” I admit, collecting both our bowls and cutlery and getting started on the dishes in the small sink, filling it with warm water.
My mother offers me no insight or opinion, just leaves the question dangling there, waiting for me to expand on it.
“He’s just…different,” I finally say. She cocks her head at my answer but refuses to reply. I sigh and begin washing the bowls in a sudsy frenzy, “He’s…” I glance upward as if the right words are hanging above my kitchen sink, “Aloof.”
“Oh, a mystery man, eh? What else?” She smiles this time and it’s entirely in amusement at watching me squirm a little. I direct my focus into the bubbles and continue scrubbing at the spotless bowls.
“He’s…Ugh, why is this so hard? He had a tough upbringing and he’s got a dry sense of humour. He’s overtly honest and the colour black seems to be his thing.” I turn to gauge Mom’s reaction over my shoulder.
She studies me. “His thing?”
I half turn from the sink and lean my hip against it. “Yeah, like almost everything he wears is black, he drinks his coffee black, his hair is black, his eyes are…well they’re actually a very brilliant shade of blue…” I turn back to the sink and swallow.
For some reason, I feel uncomfortable sharing this with my mom.
Even though she’s the person I’m closest with and we’ve talked about things like this before, it’s just…
Dominic isn’t a boyfriend. Or a crush. He’s…
uncategorizable. He’s a variable I never accounted for and I’m not sure if I’m ready to share that quite yet.
“Okay,” she drags the word out, “But is he handsome?” She raises her eyebrows at me pointedly. I laugh and throw a dish towel at her, thankful for the cut in the tension she seems to always know how to handle.
“Yes, but that has nothing to do with this!” I laugh as she throws it back at me while making her way to the couch in the living room, situating herself in front of our Scrabble game.
“Hmm, okay. So from what I understand, he’s willing to go up to strangers to help out your love life, and you hang out at that cafe often and for hours—”
“To study!” Mostly. I fold and tuck away the towel before coming to sit across from her on the other side of the game board.
“Sure, sure. But he takes you out for ice cream to a spot he’s been going to for years, and you think he’s handsome?” My mom shoots me a look that irks me. I rub my eyes with my palms.
“Okay, I give up. He is quite the decent guy. And yes he’s very good looking but he does not qualify for this experiment because he doesn’t make The List.” I give her a tight-lipped smile and a shrug, hoping she’ll drop it.
She doesn’t. She lets out the most egregious sigh and rolls her eyes so far back into her head I fear they might get stuck.
Well, at least I know where I got that from.
“Honey, you have got to give up on The List,” she says, now looking at me with more concern on her face than necessary. “You can’t expect one guy to fill this void of your father while meeting these standards. It’s not fair, honey.”
Pity. That’s pity on her face. For me. Even though she was the one that was left high and dry, going through a divorce and chemotherapy at the same time, but I’m going overboard?
I do what I do every time my mom brings up my dad, which isn’t often, I pretend she didn’t say anything at all and move on.
“My list is fine. Expectations are a good thing to have. Then you don’t get hurt,” I say in finality. I proceed with my turn, placing the letter tiles down a tad too forcefully.
“Sunshine—” Mom starts.
“Your turn.”
We continue to play on for at least another hour before abandoning our game for trashy reality television.
Within minutes Mom’s asleep on the couch and I pull a blanket up around her and put a glass of water on the coffee table next to the unfinished Scrabble game.
We never finish a game. Once we run out of tiles, we just swipe it clean and start again.
No score is kept. No dictionary pulled out.
I swear half of her words are made up, but that’s just how we play.
Not with rules, but with our hearts. We like it better that way.
I turn the lamp off, double check the lock on the front door, and head upstairs to my room.
I guess what she’s saying has some merit.
I ruminate over our conversation as I change and tuck myself into bed, trying to think of other ways to describe Dominic.
Flashes of him standing behind the coffee bar pop through my mind.
Hard working. I picture his tattoos splayed across his forearms. Muscular.
I wonder if he has tattoos in other places?
Visions of his apron stretched across his thighs, his lean muscular physique leaning against the coffee bar run through my mind.
My body flushes with heat and my sheets feel scratchy against my suddenly sensitive skin.
I have a memory camera roll of his true smile, the one that makes both sides of his pouty lips turn upward, floating through my mind.
That, and his strong jaw that has just a little bit of stubble, just enough to scratch.
I wonder what it would feel like on my skin. Would it be rough or tickle? Would he laugh or kiss away the sensation?
My hands grip my comforter as my breaths come a little faster, heat simmering under my skin. My hand begins to slide down my stomach to the waistband of my sleep shorts.
No! What are you doing? Stop fantasizing about Dominic!
I jerk my hand back realizing I was indeed fantasizing about Dominic.
Conflicting thoughts erode my mental state and I can’t help but wonder what he would look like without a shirt.
I know he’s got a great physique, I just have yet to see it all.
I find myself suddenly picturing him pulling his shirt over his head, exposing a set of toned ab muscles that ripple with his movement.
There go his pants….
My hand begins to slide downwards again to the edge of my shorts, but I pull it back. Again.
Now I’m making the conscious decision to go up.
My fingers begin tracing my nipple over my tank top, rolling it deliciously through the thin fabric.
I close my eyes and picture Dominic’s hands instead.
I bite my lip to hold in a small whimper.
Breathing in deeply, I open my eyes and stare at my ceiling in indecision.
Okay, Cel, it’s just a fantasy. Meaning not real, totally fictional, and that’s OK! Go ahead and get your O, girl!
A small thrill zips through me as I allow myself this one little fantasy.
I continue stroking and pinching my nipple through my top with one hand, while the other slides between my legs.
I draw lazy circles around my clit with my index finger, picturing Dominic’s thick forearms holding me against a wall, my car, fuck…
He could hold me against that stupid locked entrance door to Biblio & Brew if he wanted.
Heat buds in my low belly and I bite my lip to suppress a moan.
I pinch my nipple at the image of Dominic using his teeth to tease me through the fabric.
I wonder just how big Dominic is, considering the size of his hands and his above average height.
Above average length too? I clench around air, needing more.
Needing to feel full. Just as I roll over to grab my vibrator from my nightstand, I hear a knock on my door and I jerk back in shock.
I’m not naked, but being pulled out of a sexy fantasy by reality is incredibly jarring.
A second later Mom’s voice comes from the other side in a soft whisper.
I lay frozen, my hands stilled in the air like a burglar caught in the act.
“Honey, if you’re still awake, thank you for tucking me in. I love you. Goodnight. God Bless.”
I hear her footsteps trail back to her room and her door softly closing behind her.
She is not particularly religious but for some reason she’s always said that same sentence to me at bedtime for as long as I can remember.
Thinking of a blessing from the big guy in the sky completely kills my mood.
I flop back onto my pillow and throw an arm over my eyes.
Leave it to God to pull me out of my fantasy and deny me an orgasm.
What was I thinking? About to get myself off to Dominic?
I must be in some sort of delusional exhaustion for my mind to wander the way it did.
I groan and roll over into a fitful sleep and an unresolved ache between my thighs.