Chapter Twenty-Seven
Last night, I walked Marlon home and then returned to Ruby’s, where we went through two and a half bottles of wine, and by the time I stumbled back to Eli’s, the apartment was dark and quiet.
“Marlon,” I whispered, searching for my favorite old man.
I checked under the bed and even in my closet, but I couldn’t find him. A heavy dread settled in my chest as I continued to look. It was the same feeling I got any time I couldn’t find him and my brain began turning to worst-case dead-dog scenarios because he is old and fragile.
“Marlon,” I whispered again, but this time it came out more desperate.
Eli’s door was cracked open. Slowly, I tiptoed down the hallway until I stood just at the edge of the doorframe.
It took my eyes a second to adjust, but there, curled on his side, with his bare back to me, was Eli, a sheet shucked around his waist, and nestled right behind his knees was a shameless Marlon.
I let out a shaky breath. My aging Pomeranian would live to see another day!
Marlon lifted his head, looking very smug about being alive, and I silently begged him not to bark. I really did not need Eli to wake up to find me lurking in his doorway like some kind of specter. Thankfully, Marlon plopped his head back down and his eyes immediately began to drift shut.
A very foolish part of me wondered what it might feel like to slip under the covers. Would the other side of the bed be cool? Or was Eli the type to travel across the mattress throughout the night? Would his body heat linger on the sheets as I curled beneath them?
Between Marlon and me, only one of us would ever know.
That night I slept with my door cracked just in case Marlon came to my room, but by the time I woke up, my bed was still dog-free.
It was early yet, but soon he would be barking to go outside, and I definitely did not expect Eli to take on dog dad duties. I was perfectly capable of being a strong single dog mother, thank you very much.
Walking light-footed through the apartment, I searched for Marlon in the kitchen and living room. I noticed Eli’s coffee cup in the sink and his keys were gone from the usual place where he kept them on the breakfast bar. It must have been an early morning.
With no sign of Marlon, I circled back to my room, where I found the little perv tearing through my dirty laundry, likely searching out the stinkiest garment in the pile.
“Marlon!” I said. “No!”
He emerged from the heap with my oldest, granniest underwear, complete with ripped elastic.
“Drop it,” I threatened through gritted teeth as I marched over to yank it out of his mouth.
But with the spryness of a puppy—or at the very least a thirteen-year-old food-motivated dog—he dodged past me and down the hallway into Eli’s room, squirming through the cracked door.
“Are you fucking serious?”
Without too much forethought, I followed him down the hall and burst through the door to Eli’s room. “Marlon, you gross motherfu—”
I choked on that last syllable, begging my body to backpedal. But I couldn’t. My feet were stuck. I was rooted to the floor, unable to move.
Eli lay in bed, the duvet slung low on his hips as he pumped his fist. His eyes were shut, like he was trying to revisit a trapped memory, and I couldn’t pull my gaze from the head of his thickened penis, the only visible part of his anatomy.
My filthy imagination didn’t require much else.
Before I had a second to be embarrassed, my thighs clenched against the slow throb building in my lower abdomen.
Eli froze, his eyes now wide.
And then the panic hit. My body suddenly remembered how to move and I stumbled backward. “Oh my god, oh my god. I’m so sorry. I am—I’m so— I shouldn’t have just barged in like that and—” I spun around so I couldn’t see him and then I shook my head. “I’m—”
Behind me the sheets rustled. “Maybe knock next time.” There was a slight laugh in his voice.
“Well, that’s helpful. The door was open, by the way,” I told him.
“It was technically cracked. And your keys weren’t in their normal—” Why were we having this conversation right now?
Why was I arguing the technicalities of his door and car key placement?
Why was I still in the same room as his erect member?
His manhood. His velvet rod. His shaft of steel.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Did this make me a peeping Tom? A peeping Tammy?
“Vera.” His voice was even, and if he was uncomfortable, he was doing an excellent job at hiding it.
“I’m sorry,” I squeaked again, and then rushed toward the hall.
Fuck. My underwear.
I spun back around with my eyes shielded and tugged the underwear free from the vicious clutches of a very disgruntled Marlon.
“Okay, I’m going now.” I rushed back to my room and slammed the door shut.
Immediately, I jumped into bed and pulled the covers over my head as if Eli and his dick were some kind of monster I could hide from. Like I was the terrified woman in one of Ruby’s creature features.
Maybe if I closed my eyes and fell asleep, I would wake up in a different dimension or just die in my sleep.
EXT. CLIFF OVERLOOK—MORNING
Sitting on the hood of his car, they eat cereal out of the box.
POPPY (V.O.)
I knew he couldn’t possibly be mine.
But he kept showing up like he could be.
May 23, 2021
Vera S.
For posterity’s sake: Every time I decide this whole thing is shit, I read this line and think I could write a novel about it.