Choices (18 page)

“See if I’m holding you up then it just looks like a guy taking a shower. People will only see my feet. And wouldn’t you know as luck would have it, there is a little ledge to place your delicate, delicious bottom.” As he grabbed the soap from his toiletry bag, he worked the bar of soap into a frothy lather and
proceeded to swirl the soap around my breasts and my thighs.

“See I never got a chance to say thank you for a wonderful weekend. So, I thought
I would show you in the shower since things got a little heated earlier, I wanted the weekend to end on a high note with one more lasting memory.”

“Hmm.
..What do you plan on showing me?” I nodded and started to relax.

“Well, let’s just say I’m so thankful there is a little ledge right here to place your bottom. It will make my work much easier.” His tongue stroked the inside of my thighs.

Higher and higher until jackpot while his fingers pinched my nipples. I breathed in deeply so as not to scream his name because someone just entered the men’s room. It was incredibly hard to be quiet and his hand actually covered my mouth while his tongue did amazing things that sent more shockwaves through my body and made me cry behind his hand.

We stumbled into his condo late Sunday night, smelling like campfire, horses, the woods and the sea. These were scents that I will always equate with sensuality and seductiveness at its best.  My thoughts lingered on our last encounter this morning in the public shower stall at the beach campground. Overcome with those intoxicating scents still clinging to my skin and his, my hands reached for his and stopped him from unpacking. I reached up and dug my hands in his messy wavy hair, pulling his head back so his neck was exposed. I ran my tongue up the side of his neck and breathed into his ear requesting a command and repeat performance of this morning.

“
Don’t you think we should talk?”

“No, I don’t want to talk, to think. I only want to feel. Brandon, please, make me feel good.” I begged.

“I thought you would never ask.” He replied huskily, his throat thick with want and need. 

“It wasn’t a question but more of a demand.” I replied just as huskily.
He placed his hands with those glorious fingers on my backside and lifted my legs around his waist. His tongue exploring again and mine answering his call. We, or I should say he, walked over to his shower stall built for two with the glass door and gently placed my feet on the cool tile. Brandon turned the water on to steaming hot.  The cool tile against my back was a shock against the hot water. Even though the water was incredibly hot I still had shivers course down my spine. He kissed me expertly, fervently while his hand traveled lightly across my breasts, down my stomach to the warmest place of my desire.  Again his eyes smoldered a smoky quartz blue as his gaze burrowed deep into my own eyes while his exquisite, delicate fingers found my desire waiting expectantly for his. Brandon’s fingers were phenomenal. He squeezed and pinched my pulsing desire, holding my life force delicately between thumb and forefinger. I remembered a conversation we had over the weekend where he referred to his fingers as flappers. Flappers makes me think of inadequacy. They were hardly inadequate.  His kiss this time was even more consuming than before. He withdrew his fingers and traced a path of my glistening desire up my stomach, between my breasts, where they landed gingerly on my own lips. Brandon licked my desire off my lips. He whispered in my ear, “I want to hear you say my name this time” and his tongue traced the trail he already blazed. Once his mouth found the very essence of my appetite, he created a point with his tongue and this time I did scream his name.

Aw, my Joni. I can’t say enough about my Joni. She is one of the sharpest
- tongued individuals I have ever met and she would lay down her life for you in a heartbeat. Really in an argument, you want her on your side. She is so compassionate and liberal and all about equality. She’s never one to hold her tongue, either, but you figured that one out already. Her husband Marc is one of the most sensitive men I’ve ever met. Again, all of our husbands get along tremendously well. It makes life easier for us girls because we can get together without feeling guilty. The boys can play together too, when they have enough gumption to get themselves organized, but that’s another story.

Joni’s Marc is amazing. Again, another match well suited to one another. They are sensitive, patient, kind and all about self expression. I love to watch Marc with his kids.
Now, all our husbands are good dads, but Marc, Marc, is cut from a slightly different cloth - a little more patient, a little more loving and a smidgeon more sensitive. I actually learn a lot from Marc when I’m in his presence. He has taught me a lot about compassion, sensitivity and turning sadness into something productive. Marc has had his share of tragedy as well. Haven’t we all, really? Sometimes through choices of our own indiscretions and sometimes it’s totally random. Watching Marc conduct himself, despite his heartache is nothing short of a miracle, either. Pain hurts. It’s crippling, debilitating but somewhere, somehow, you find the strength to keep moving, keep living. Marc has lived his life with gratitude and grace and still continues to believe in life and all its wondrous possibilities. Life hands you lemons, make yourself some damn lemonade.

I was over at Joni’s when Marc came home early from work one day.

“Oh, hi, hon, how are you today?” Joni got up from the table and gave her husband a hug. She had a concerned expression on her face.

“I’m good, thanks. Hey, Laurel, how are you?” He bent down to give me a kiss on the head.

“Well, to what do we owe the honor of your presence on this lovely afternoon?” I quipped.

“Today is my brother’s anniversary. I came home to call her and check up on her. It’s a long and involved conversation, not something I can do at work. She needs to rehash everything. Don’t ask me why. There is nothing we can do for him now, but for some reason it helps her feel better.”

“Oh, gosh, Marc, I’m sorry. I forgot” I blushed.

“Laurel, no worries. Believe me, if I could I would too.”

“Joni, I’m going to call her in Florida now, are the kids napping.” He asked exhaustedly.

“Yes. Sure, sweetheart, you do what you have to do.” She kissed him and he turned to go into the bedroom.

“Wow, Joni, I feel like such an idiot.”

“Oh, c’mon Laurel. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“He really has handled his death well, better than anyone else in the family. Everyone else wanted revenge. Marc just wanted to salvage something positive. Marc has always tried to deal with his brother’s death constructively. That’s why he makes such a good drug and alcohol counselor. He wants to make sure everyone gets a second chance. Marc wants to do what no one ever did for his brother. He wants to save lives. He knows it won’t bring his brother back, but it helps him not feel so helpless. If he can save one person, then that’s one less family taking a drive to a cemetery to remember the dead.”

“Joni, how did it happen? I’m sorry that was rude. You don’t need to answer that.” I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, wishing I could easily reel the words back into my mouth.

“That’s okay, Marc won’t mind. The more people that know his brother’s story the better. His brother was absolutely gorgeous, like Greek God gorgeous, 6’2” chiseled body, thick, blonde, curly hair.”

“Wow, what happened to Marc.” I giggled trying to break some of the tension. I knew Joni would appreciate the humor even under these circumstances.

“Ha, very funny, smart ass.”
“Ah, it takes one to know one.”

“So, anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted, Marc’s brother was in love with this beautiful girl, someone from around here, I think. I don’t know I didn’t grow up here. Well, she got pregnant they
ran off somewhere south and she died in childbirth and Marc’s brother was so overcome with grief he turned to alcohol and drugs. They found him dead in a dumpster somewhere in Florida a few weeks after her death. His mother was devastated, still is, Marc’s brother was the golden child. From what Marc’s mother has told me he was full of life, lived it to the fullest and squeezed everything he could out of it. He was kind, sensitive, loving. Marc’s mom couldn’t cope, hated the thought of living away from where her baby died so they moved to Florida. Actually, if that awful tragedy didn’t occur, Marc and I probably would have never met. We moved north because Marc couldn’t stand the constant pain and reminders anymore.”

“Wow, Joni, that’s agonizingly painful
. And the baby? What happened to the baby? Didn’t he have the baby to take care of?” I swallowed a very painful lump that was beginning to swell at the back of my throat.

“The baby died; complications from birth
. Marc’s mom found out. Apparently losing both of them put Todd over the edge and well…the rest you know now.” She sighed deeply and put more water on for tea.

“
You mentioned something about his family wanting revenge. What’s that all about?”

“Since
Todd’s girlfriend, really his wife, died in childbirth at such a young age without seemingly obvious complications The Goldbergs think the doctor is to blame- something about him being tired and not seeing something written on the chart clearly. You want some more tea?” I shivered and gratefully held out my cup.

Laurel’s Journal

I think this has been the best summer of my life since I was seventeen. God, is that a good thing or a bad thing? I don’t know. Believe me I know damn well what I’m doing is wrong. What’s that old adage...if this is so wrong then I don’t want to be right. I am blissfully happy. Brandon is sexy, spontaneous, smart and oh so loving. I think it comes from being raised by a single mom. He’s just more centered, confident and a risk taker for one so young.  Sadly my Paul is still struggling. I don’t want to compare. I just want to feel again. I just want to feel loved instead of constantly giving. I want to feel safe and secure and isn’t it crazy but I feel safe and secure with a twenty two year old instead of the forty year old I’m married to.  I feel so guilty not supporting our vows, not being loyal anymore but yet I’m so stinking happy and relaxed. Different personalities and strength of character is how I look at it. He was always preoccupied with his own demons.

I do need to be careful, Vanessa knows something is up. She is always telling me how happy I look and seem. It’s sad though really. She really never knew me when I was truly happy and fun to be around. I’ve always tried to be happy around the kids and shielded them from m
y inner feelings of neglect and anxiety. I just don’t want to think about what’s wrong or right for once in my life. I just want to be and do what FEELS right, not what I THINK is right. I want to live with my heart and my body right now at this time with Brandon. I often think about having a life with him but I have to be careful with that line of thinking. That could be really dangerous and when you play with fire you get burned.

“Hey girl, where the hell have you been?” Kristy was actually really annoyed on this phone conversation. “I’ve called, you don’t call back. You and the kids haven’t been over to swim in the pool this summer. I miss you. What gives? Are you sneaking around with someone or something?” She laughed and I nearly choked on my bagel with cream cheese.

“No sweetheart. Your hands are full with all those kids of your own. You don’t need mine around all the time too.”

“Are you insane? My kids are freaking out that they haven’t seen each other and I need my mother’s little helpers for Jack, especially these days. Not to mention that I need my gal pal! Hey when is the next GNI? Did you call Bonnie and Joni?”

“Oh shit, I forgot!
” I winced when I remembered I needed to call the girls and make our plans. All my free time has been in the city with Brandon and my little people have been with Aunt Liz a lot or my neighbor Sharon. Surprisingly, it actually has been working out quite well, except I’ve been neglecting my friends. Oh, no, wrong word-more like avoiding. Joni and Bonnie will be able to see right through me and Kristy, well, I really think she would be supportive but I know deep down she would be really upset by what I’m doing. She loves Paul. All my friends love Paul. Everybody loves Paul.

“Hey, wait a minute. Whaddya mean ‘especially these days.” What’s the matter? Oh, back the bus up. You’re pregnant again aren’t you? How far along are you? How are you feeling? When’s the due date? Wow, Jack and this new one
is going to be what eighteen months apart?”

“Whoa, hold on there! How much caffeine have you had this morning? Yes, I am p
regnant and my due date is…um…beginning of February something or other from my own calculations. 

“Wait! So you’re almost out of your first trimester and you’re telling me now!”

“I was going to tell you but, you never call me back anymore” I cringed inwardly. “I swear this one is it. I think six children are enough. God, I hope this one is a girl. If it’s not I think I’ll send it back. Although, if it is a girl, she will certainly have her hands full fighting off five brothers. I kinda feel sorry for her already.”