11. 11
11
The light of dawn peeked through the blinds ofWill’s kitchen windows. An early riser, he always awoke before the sun, stumbling to the countertop cappuccino machine for a sip of caffeinated lifeblood. Making coffeewas an art he’d nearly perfected, even with his eyes only half-open. His tousled hair bobbed softly as heworked. Hetamped grounds down into the Port-a-filter, readied it in its slot,and flicked the switch. The machine whooshed to life.
On autopilot, he poured some milk into a metal carafe andplaced it under the steam valve. He twisted the side dial. Milk bubbled inside. Will filled his coffee mugand artfully drizzled foamy white milk on top of the black espresso, creating a cappuccino that would put most coffee shops to shame.
Golden sunlight beamed into his eyes from between the slats of his blinds, eliciting a grumble. He took a sip of the steaming liquid, and his shoulders relaxed, letting out a small groan of pleasure. He felt revived, as though he had suddenly returned to the living after having beendead.
He missed his partner in crime. Soon,Starla would wake from her sleepover and call him to come and pick her up. But,for now,the silence invading his home made him feel uneasy. He was used to ridiculous inquiries and off-the-wall conversations with her first thing in the morning. The “ but why? ” question after everything had become part of their morningritual.
Every day with her was bothexhausting and rewarding. He swore he was going to raise Starla differently than he’d beenreared. She would never feel like a burden, something to simply be endured . No. He wanted his child to know she was cherishedfrom day one. And though he was far from perfect, he felt like he’d done a good job of that so far. He’d always provided for her, never letting her see how close their ship hadcome to sinking.
Silence had vanished the day Starla was born, and it went surprisingly unmissed .This morning, it had returnedwith a vengeance,and now he was excited for his little girl’speppy antics, ranging from begging for ‘bunny pancakes’to prodding for a satisfactory answer to ‘which dinosaur would he be able to beat in a fight?’ As his daughter blossomed into a social butterfly at school, he both loved and hated the times when Starla would stay the night at other kid’s houses. It was both a sacred time of peace and contemplation… and a ringingreminder that there was no romance in his life, no one to share his mind and soul with.
His days werea pink, frilly whirlwind full of girly stuffed animals, dog hair, and laughter. Yet, in the back of his mind,he couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that it was allstill missing something.
For months after Sarah left, Will went on a tear, sleeping with countless women,ones all too willing to be teased and pleased. Ones whose last name he rarely caught. Back when he was a single father of a toddler,he didn’t have much time for romance. Only sex to fill the void, to fill the emptiness.
He silently sipped his cappuccino, andhis eyes driftedto the mug in the sink that his would soon be joining.
Ava’s cup.
A valiant ceramic hero who gotAva mostlynaked. He thought back to that moment, replaying it in his mind. He recalled the line her bra left in her milky skin when she’d removed it. He’ddesperately wanted to run his fingers along the impressions, caressing the smooth flesh in the grooves.The thought reawakened his morning erection, which stood bolt-upright, puffing his flannel pajama bottomsoutlike a boat sail in gale-force winds.
He sighed in frustration.
Ugh . There was no one to share that with either.