Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Kim
“And don’t go snooping around in his things. It’s not your house. Be respectful.”
Confused faces mock me. So does their height, which towers over mine.
“Mom! We’re not interested in what the dude has in his house.”
“Just listen to what I’m telling you. Don’t embarrass me or yourselves.”
Bing grabs me in a bear hug and lifts me off the ground.
“Don’t worry little mama!”
“I’ll give you a little mama! Stop it! You’re confusing Biscuit!”
The dog is not quite sure if Bing is friend or foe. He does not move an inch but bares sharp little teeth in a warning to the man. I guess he doesn’t want to commit to a bark.
And I’m down.
Ronnie’s laughter can be heard from the kitchen, just as Landon comes back inside.
“You two ready?”
Bing answers with a dance toward the door. “Let’s roll!” A kingly smile lifts the corners of his mouth. “See you next week, peasants.”
Grabbing his duffle, Hunter gives a backwards glance.
“Bye, Mom. Bye, Ronnie.”
No kiss? Barely even eye contact? I hate the new rules. Now I’m feeling sorry for myself and have to act cheery.
“Bye! Safe trip.”
“Kim, don’t forget the bags,” Ronnie calls.
“Oh! I packed a few snacks for the trip.”
“Great!” Bing is onboard.
I move to the kitchen and retrieve the freezer bags of goodies made specifically for each man’s tastes. Dolly is hiding next to the refrigerator, but she’s facing out and making eye contact. Progress. Grabbing grocery bags of sodas and water, I return to where they stand waiting.
“You’re going to get hungry.”
Handing the bags over, I watch their reactions. So do the B Boys.
“Cool! I love those gummies,” Bing says, eyeing the top item. “Thanks.”
Landon has an amused look on his face. It’s so cute.
“Are those Twizzlers I see?”
“You said they were your favorites when you were a kid.”
I get a sweet look for that one. He is impressed I listened to the little things he has said.
“I know what I got. Right?” Hunter asks.
“Of course. I know your tastes best.” I count on my fingers. “Black licorice only. No red. Sunflower seeds in the shell. Peanut butter cups. Not the little ones. You each have some of those. As well as oranges and apples.”
“It’s only a four hour trip, Mom!”
“Yeah? I bet you break into it five minutes after you drive away.”
The protest fails to make an impression, because I know my boy, Dominique’s son, and my man too. All three like the gesture. It’s all over the faces.
“Let’s get going. It’s almost nine. Thanks, Kim. That was nice of you. Bye, Dad! I’ll be back Sunday late afternoon.”
“Have a good trip!”
I’m happy with myself as the boys lead the way out.
Landon and I follow to the porch. Hunter and Bing load the last of their supplies and climb into the VW.
How the next minute plays out will be interesting.
Landon might hold back because of Hunter.
Just as Hunter held back because of him.
But no. Wrapping me in an embrace, he gives me a kiss.
On the lips. Not a peck and not involving tongue.
Just a real kiss. Yes, love. Let’s be our authentic selves, as much as possible.
I have always told Hunter as much, so I will follow my own advice.
“Bye, babe,” Landon says, turning away. “Don’t worry about the guys. It’s all gonna be fine.”
“God I hope so. Call me tonight!”
“If you or Dad need anything you can always call Lex or Layton. No matter what time it is. Any of the guys.”
He climbs in the truck and gets settled. The engine starts.
“We’ll be fine. Ronnie and I are going for a ride this afternoon.”
I leave out the part where I tell him who will be driving.
“Great! He will love that.”
With a wave and two honks, the truck leads the way. Memphis bound.
Sunlight settles on my shoulders as we walk to the garage. A leisurely trip with the healing man and dog in mind. Dolly brings up the rear, where she can keep an eye on us.
“I think it’s very clever of your girl. She can come along without us looking at her.”
“You talking about my little Dolly? Hear your name, girl? She’s a good girl, she is.”
Ohhh. So adorable of him.
“You’re a big softie, underneath this bear thing you’re going for.”
My fingers comb an imaginary Santa beard. He rolls his eyes.
“Don’t get any ideas you’re driving.”
“Where did that come from?”
“I know how you think. That’s where.”
“Why would I want to drive? I’m trying not to be your chauffeur.”
He looks a little surprised to hear the truth, and chuckles.
“Good. I need to test the ankle. The hip doesn’t concern me as much. Here we are.”
The old garage looks sturdy, despite its age. He slides the wide door back to reveal a black Chevy Silverado.
“There she is.”
“What year?”
“2007. I don’t put much mileage on her now. Most times, I’m on the Fat Boy.”
“She looks great.”
Dolly waits for my lift up, before I get in the passenger side. She has come to trust me. Ronnie opens his door and positions himself.
“I need to go slow.”
“Take your time.”
Raising his right leg, and grasping the window’s edge, he lifts his body onto the seat. I hold my breath.
“There. Mission accomplished.”
“Yay!” I add applause.
I get a pissy look and a head shake.
“You love it,” I say, rejecting his rejection.
He starts the engine and checks the mirrors. A few taps of the foot on the brakes and accelerator, tests the waters.
“Here we go.”
There is a slight hesitation in finding the right amount of pressure to put on the healing ankle. Too light, too light.
“A little more,” I say.
When his lead foot connects with the pedal, we go flying backwards. I scream my reaction.
“Whoa!”
“Don’t get excited. You’re okay,” he says, embarrassed to have listened to me. With the foot off the gas, the truck comes to a stop.
Laughter bursts from us, and Dolly starts barking.
“She’s talking!” he says, as surprised as I am to hear the sound.
“Oh little girl, you’re so…”
He interrupts my praise.
“Don’t overwhelm her! She might revert! Just pet her head.”
“Christ! Ya, mein heir!”
Ignoring my fantastic German accent, he focuses on the drive.
“Let me try that again.”
This time he finds his footing, and we carry on. In a fashion. There is definitely a learning curve.
“How’s it feeling?”
“It hurts, but I can do it,” then looking at me, “did you doubt me?”
“Never.”
My one word, said with confidence, pleases him. As we go over a slight incline, the truck lurches forward then stops too quickly.
“Let’s get on the freeway and see how far we get.”
My head whips in his direction and I am just about to protest when he starts laughing.
“I’m messing with you! Do you think I would be stupid enough to test my ankle’s limitations on the fucking freeway? Come on!”
“I wouldn’t put it past you. You’re a rebel.”
“But I’m not crazy.”
“True.”
“I don’t want to go backwards in the healing process. I can’t. Otherwise, who knows when I’ll get back on the bike.”
I bite the bullet and ask the question I have been avoiding.
“What did your doctor say about that? Did he tell you you’ll be able to ride again?”
“Oh yeah! He said I’ll be back to it in no time.”
Silently, I call bullshit.
“Well, good.”
I am not going to be the one to call him on it. Oh no.
“Let’s make a circle round the place, see what the boys have done.”
The trip from garage toward kennels and shed is a pretty drive.
“The wildflowers look so beautiful,” I say, appreciating the colors across the field. “What’s left of them this time of year.”
“Victoria and I planted them long ago. She loved her flowers. I grew to love them too.”
“I like that you can look at them every day and think of her.”
“I don’t need flowers for that, honey.”
It is not a melancholy statement. It’s presented as fact.
“You know Ronnie, yours is a love story that seems so real. I have known people who think they are in love but don’t act like it. Or they’re in love at first but the spark doesn’t last. You give us all hope.”
It makes him happy to hear me acknowledge the beauty of his relationship. A wide smile perks up his face.
“Thank you. You need to know your own standards. Of love. What we expect from the other person. Not everyone even considers the question. But it’s one of the most important things you can ask yourself.”
“I know what I expect. Basically, it’s what I am willing to give. Respect. Loyalty.”
“That’s right. I like that you put respect first. That’s the basis of it all. She taught me that.”
“Tell me what was so different about Victoria. Why was she the one?”
He sits up straighter and looks happy to be asked.
“I loved the girl in her. I loved the woman. A man needs to know that never changes.”
“Very wise.”
“She loved me as I am. Warts and all. Not for what she could change. You do that for a man and he naturally wants to become better. Just to live up to how she sees you.”
“Makes sense. I like that.”
“And she was playful. That might sound like a small thing to a young person’s ears, but it’s more important than you’d think. At least for me it was. It’s very appealing when a woman is that way.”
“I like that too. Landon and I are playful.”
“That’s good to hear. But being playful at the start is one thing. Keeping it up in year twenty is another.”
“Most of us start forgetting to play as soon as we leave childhood.”
“You’re right. But then you find out what love’s about and suddenly playing reappears.”
He smiles with recognition.
“You need to be aware of the state of your relationship. Forever. That’s how you keep the play, the romance, and your sanity. Sometimes playing your troubles away is the only thing that works.”
“I’m going to remember everything you’ve said. You’re one smart man.”
He pats my leg like a father proud of his child’s conclusion.
“Oh look what Landon has done! It looks much better.”
The kennels and shed have been washed and repaired as much as possible. It’s neater. Weeds and overgrowth cleared. Something has been planted on the borders, but they’re only sprouts so far. The path through has new gravel.
“I don’t know what I’d have done without Landon,” he says in a low tone.
“He’s stepped up. As he should have.”
We drive on, past the empty kennels, and toward the property’s biggest project tackled. Ronnie chuckles.
“I think you had something to do with that.”
“Oh no! That was all him. He loves you.”
There’s the oddest look on his face. He wants to ask something but hesitates.
“What?”
“I don’t know. It’s just that we stopped saying the words years back. Did he actually say that?”
“In many ways. Do you need the words to believe it?”
“Sometimes words are good. I don’t need them, but it would be nice. I’m getting old you know.”
He laughs, but I believe it is to hide how serious he is about the subject.
“Why can’t you be the one that says it first?”
The question is ignored, or maybe he is absorbing the idea. Either way, the conversation changes direction.
“Oh look! The putrid pond is gone.”
In its place, is a rock garden with a newly planted tree in the middle. A bird flits off with our approach. Colorful plants and small bushes rise around it. Slowly driving by, he adds another angle on the change.
“There goes my plans for an all-girl mud wrestling tournament.”