Seven #2
Haskel just smiled dumbly, and moved closer, grazing Trudy’s hips with his fingertip.
“Men are so weird,” Trudy said. They really were. Moments ago, they’d been talking about Haskel’s dead wife; now he was getting fresh? “Food and sex,” she said. “Do guys ever think about anything else?”
“Nope.” Haskel leaned in and touched his lips to hers and hung there for a moment.
It should have excited her more, but she’d been so busy, so caught up in becoming a teacher and first lady.
This, sex with Haskel, was probably what she needed.
They’d agreed early on that their sex life would have to be secondary because it was such a challenge.
Trudy lived with her parents and her kindergartener, while Haskel, running for mayor, really couldn’t be seen hosting his girlfriend overnight.
It was the eighties, yes, but the Alabama church ladies remained a crucial voting bloc.
The only moments they had for intimacy were times like this.
She kissed him, passionately, like she meant it, trying to ignite her desire, trying for that flutter she hadn’t felt in so long.
He held her by the shoulders and looked at her with a smile. “Let’s jump in.”
“What?”
“Come on.” Before she knew it, Haskel stood unbelting and unzipping, dropping his pants to his ankles.
He stepped out of them, stripped off his shirt revealing his thin body, the golden sun glistening off the blond hairs on his stomach.
Their kiss had plumped him up, so his boxers tented.
Trudy did always think a penis a rather silly element of a man, but Haskel had no shame about his.
He took her by the hand and, lifting her to standing, kissed her again.
She wrapped her arms around his body, tasted the salt of his chest. He picked her up.
“You getting naked?” he said. “Or swimming clothed?” He carried her toward the water’s edge.
“Haskel! No!” She screamed and kicked. “Don’t you dare!”
He laughed like a cartoon villain.
“I swear, Haskel Moody, if you throw me in this water, I am gonna—”
“You’re gonna what?” He set her down and looked her in the eye. “Love me for the rest of your life?”
She stood on his bare feet, and the intimacy of it made her tingle a little. There it was.
He stepped back, shoved his boxers to his ankles, sending his erection bouncing before he jumped, butt-naked, into the river. He resurfaced with laughs and hollers echoing across the water. “Come on!”
“Haskel.” Trudy looked around as if someone might be watching out here in the middle of nowhere. She crossed her arms and whispered, “What if we get caught? And ... what about towels?”
“They’re in the trunk.”
Trudy shook her head. “I much prefer a swimsuit.”
“You see, that’s where we are different.” Haskel chuckled. “Because I much prefer you bare-ass naked.”
Trudy blew out a sigh of exasperation. “Could you at least ... ?” She motioned for him to give her privacy. He obliged by turning around, but only for a second; once she’d slipped off her sun dress, he spun back around with whistles and catcalls.
“Quit it!” Trudy kept one arm over her breasts while slipping off her panties with the other.
She stood covering herself as much as she could, then leaped in.
The chilly water fondled her nakedness, filled her ears with a garbled mumble.
“I don’t want to touch the bottom!” she hollered when she surfaced, kicking her feet wildly.
Haskel was there to hold her, so she didn’t have to.
“It’s muddy and gross!” Trudy always imagined slimy creatures on the bottom.
“Just a little squishy,” he said.
“Yuck!”
She kept her arms tight around his neck as he cradled her.
He stiffened even more once their naked bodies touched, but her own arousal wasn’t presenting itself.
It didn’t help that this river held as many ghosts as it did slimy creatures.
She pushed thoughts of Jimmie out of her mind, told herself the river Jimmie had died in wasn’t the one she floated in now, that those waters had long since flowed into the ocean.
She didn’t want to disappoint Haskel, so she kissed him, felt his manhood pulse beneath her, but her drive was simply missing.
They drove home mostly in silence. When they reached the carport door, Trudy loosened her shoulders and allowed Haskel to embrace her.
But she could only feel all the places where their bodies didn’t line up, less like two matching spoons and more like tongs carelessly tossed in the silverware drawer.
Haskel must have noticed. “I can’t wait to be married,” he said, dissatisfied, but grinning nonetheless. He didn’t come in; Leta Pearl and Dub had gone to bed. Trudy did, too, after she watched Haskel walk to his car and drive away.
The second she dozed off, Pete hollered, “Mommy! Moooommyy!”
She rubbed her temples; it took a moment to realize she wasn’t dreaming. Pete was sitting upright in the twin bed next to hers. He squeezed his pillow, buried his face inside it. She moved to his bed, wrapped her arms around him, and he sobbed into her chest, his face wet with slobber and snot.
“You’re okay, Peter-poo.” She held him as tightly as she could. “See? Only a dream. Just pretend.”
“It wasn’t pretend. I sssaw it. A monster.”
“Oh, dear.”
“He was chasing me.” Pete did his best to explain through sobs and sniffles. “He was fassstht.” Tears jiggled on his eyelids until they grew big enough to run down his cheeks. “He broke my tricycle.”
“Peter, that’s terrible!”
“He broke a-lotta stuff.”
“What did he break, darling?”
“The door. A window.”
“What? That monster’s mama shoulda taught him better.”
“Then he hit you, Mama.” He started sobbing into her chest again. “Why is he ssso mad at you?”
She tried swallowing, but her mouth was dry with guilt.
She’d read somewhere how babies are much more aware than parents realize, but surely Pete wasn’t remembering Jimmie.
Coals of shame burned her guts, even so, reminding her of what she’d let happen, how she’d made so many excuses to stick it out, hoping Jimmie would change, praying that each time was the last. She held Pete until he settled down. “ Shhh. There now.”
Pete released a few more hiccupy sobs and then, eventually, breathed calmly. Trudy rocked him back and forth, shushing them past the moment.
“I just remembered something,” she said, standing and lifting Pete by his armpits, standing him on the floor. “Can you keep a secret?”
He nodded.
“Nana’s hiding some cookies.” She smiled. “Let’s go eat one.”
His eyes widened and he smiled.
They sneaked to the kitchen where Trudy took two cookies out of the plastic Tupperware container.
The moon cast a blue glow across the table where Pete nibbled his cookie and Trudy wondered how he would adjust to Haskel, to leaving his grandparents who, for the most part, had raised him while Trudy finished college.
All this week, Leta Pearl had dropped Pete off at kindergarten and she’d missed it because she had to be in her own classroom.
Maybe Leta Pearl was right: once Trudy married Haskel, there’d be no reason to work.
It would mean a great life for Pete, a stepfather with means and standing.
An inheritance. Who knew? Pete himself could likely be the mayor one day.
Loving Haskel didn’t always feel the way she’d imagined it would, but marrying him was for the best. It was for Pete.