Domesticated (18 page)

We had the most amazing sex, missionary style. The sex position I hated most, because of Garrison not wanting to do it any other way, was becoming my favorite position with Sam. I loved the way he was so attentive with me, constantly kissing me, running his hands down my body, and staring at me like he truly wanted me, not for himself. For me.

Sam was gone when I woke the following morning. I smiled when I read the note, telling me he had some things to do and for me to meet him at his hut at noon. I laid there for a long time, contemplating the time I had there. Summer was going to be over before I knew it and I would be back in my Connecticut mansion, being a snob and working for some charity I pretended to care about. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t okay with it.

I had done everything Adriana taught me to do. I catered to a man I hooked in college. A rich man that would take care of me the rest of my life. I was sure of that. Garrison would never go anywhere, not even if there were a way for him to find out the truth about us not having a baby. Garrison was a creature of habit, he hated change, and I was sure he would take care of me with lavish gifts, vacations, and anything else I asked for. I knew he loved me in his own sort of way.

He was no different than I was. His hang-ups may have come from two very different parents than my own, but just the same as me, he was conditioned to believe life was meant to live a certain way, and he was doing it. Just like I was, only different.

Taking a deep breath, I rolled to my stomach and moved my fingers to my already alive pussy. I faced the wall, closed my eyes, and let the inevitable happen.

Once I was over the after-effects of my morning orgasm, I used my alone time to call Garrison.

“Ah, you’re sober now, I presume?” he questioned. Any other husband would have called back the night before. Any other man would have had a tone, a pissed off tone. Garrison didn’t. He spoke to me in the same straight-lined tone that he always did.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I guess I had one too many.”

“I would appreciate that not happening again. I’m still not sure I shouldn’t send, um…”

“Olivia,” I helped. “I don’t need Olivia. I’m fine. I met some friends on the beach a couple days ago and had some drinks with them. It was nothing. Are you coming here this weekend?” I asked, hoping that he was not.

“I’m trying. I’ll let you know. I have to go. I’ll call you tonight. You’ll be home and sober, right?”

“Yes, Garrison. I’ll talk to you later.”

I had another first that day, too, against my will, of course. We went out in the ocean and boogie boarded back. It’s a lot harder than it looks. Every muscle in my body hurt. The next day I rode a horse, and the next, I beat the pants off Sam racing go-karts. I called Garrison between the fun that I was having with Sam and the sex. Oh, the sex…

We spent plenty of time out on the yacht, and just as much time doing other things. Things I would have never thought about doing, like riding a horse. For real? A horse? I’m never doing that again. The go-karts were fun though, and I would gladly gloat over beating Sam at it again, any day.

Garrison came to stay with me again on the weekend. I didn’t want him there. I feigned a period to keep from having sex with him Friday, and told him I didn’t feel like going out on the boat the next day. I could tell he was fine with both. I don’t think he really liked the yacht that much. I think that was more for me than him. The sex didn’t even seem to bother him. He read some serious book about a mafia case back in the thirties and I read my smut, and texted Sam.

I wasn’t sure what was going on with my mind, I mean I knew, I just didn’t understand it. I was bored out of my mind. I was never this restless. By Saturday night, I thought I was going to go bonkers just sitting around. I tried to shop online, but that didn’t work, either. I found myself shopping for jeans, casual tops, and somehow, I ended up on a cowboy boot site with the cutesiest cowboy boots ever. They were pink and brown. Aye, yai, yai. I got off the internet and went to find Garrison.

He was engrossed in his office with books, folders, and his computer, chewing on the earpiece of his glasses. Walking behind him, I wrapped my arms around his neck. The response was exactly what I thought it would be. Puzzled, he turned to look at me. I had his full attention.

“What are you doing?”

“Let’s go for a walk,” I said, massaging his tense shoulders. It wasn’t what was on the tip of my tongue at all. I wanted to tell him I was trying to feel something. I didn’t. It wasn’t fair to Garrison to put him in that spot. Nothing had changed between us. This was the way things always were between us. And he wouldn’t understand me telling him I needed to feel something. This was my hang-up, not his.

“I don’t have shoes for that. I only have what I wore.”

“You have sandals upstairs. Want me to get them for you? Or you could go barefoot.”

He smiled up at me and patted my hand. “You go for a walk. I really need to stay at this.”

Again, I wanted to ask him why the hell he bothered to come, but I didn’t. I let it go, hoping Sunday came really fast so he would leave. I missed Sam. I left my husband to more important things than me and went outside to the heat. The air was sultry, instantly filling my lungs. Not that I needed help feeling sultry. I was doing a good job of that myself.

Walking along the beach, carrying my flip-flops, I knew. I knew things had changed in me for whatever reason. I knew I wanted more. I wanted more than money could buy me. I wanted to ride around on ATVs, I wanted to be silly, driving around in circles in little cars, I wanted my muscles to hurt from riding a boogie board, but most of all, I wanted to feel. I wanted to laugh, I wanted to sing, and I wanted to feel emotion when I was lying beneath a man. The thing is, I didn’t want them with Garrison.

I knew where I was heading before I ever left my house. I just wasn’t expecting to feel even more down than I already was. Sam was on the beach in his swimming trunks and no shoes. He served the volleyball to a very attractive young lady and a child. A girl, maybe five or six, hit the ball back to him. I stopped and watched, instantly feeling jealousy. That was new to me, too. I never felt jealousy over anyone but my dad and my half-sisters. This was different.

I smiled and shook my head at how ridiculous I was being when Sam saw me. His face lit up. He smiled and walked away from his game and the two girls.

“Sisters suck. Whatever you do, don’t ask for sisters,” Sam said, high-fiving the little girl.

“Hi,” I said, feeling extremely awkward.

“Hey.” He smiled the biggest toothy white smile I had ever seen.

“That your sister?” I asked, making small talk while sliding my hands to the pockets of my conservative shorts.

“One of them. That’s Leigha. What are you doing?”

“Walking, bored.” Jesus, why was I having such a hard time talking to Sam?

“Are you free? Did he leave?”

“No, hopefully tomorrow.”

“Hopefully? Girl, you need to check your inner dialogue.”

“My inner dialogue?” I asked, pulling his shorts to sit beside me in the sand.

“Yeah, what are you saying to yourself? What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I would like for you to take me in that hut and fuck me,” I blurted out in my blurting-Kendra-kind of way. That was easier. I could talk like that with Sam. I couldn’t talk to him about…feelings.

“I can’t. I have family here this weekend. Come up to The Strip tonight. We’re all going to Bones for ribs.”

“Garrison won’t go there. He wants to go to some Italian place in LA.”

“Come later. I’m sure we’ll still be there.”

“I’ll see. I don’t know if I can get away that late.”

“Try. I gotta get back. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay,” I disappointedly replied. Why I was disappointed, I wasn’t sure. I was just feeling down for whatever reason.

I did try to get Garrison go to The Strip. He didn’t want to be around
those
kind of people. We dressed like we were going to prom for fifty-year-olds. My black dress hung like curtains on the wall, pleats going all the way to my knees, and a cover just like a valance hiding my bare shoulders. I didn’t even try to wear something a little sexier. What was the use?

“You’re flying home tomorrow, right?” Garrison asked, spinning pasta around his fork.

“No. Why would I do that?” I snapped, sounding a little more defensive than I meant to.

“You have Penelope Wrights baby shower,” he reminded me of the dreaded fact.

“Oh, that’s not until next Saturday. I’ll come Friday,” I said, relieved.

“There’s no sense in doing that. We pay the charter service for the plane and pilot.”

“Yeah, okay. Do you want me to pay for it? I can.”

“Where is this coming from? Of course, I don’t want you to pay for it. That’s my job. Is there something more important here? Something that you can’t leave for a few days for? I’ve already told Angelica you would be happy to help with the decorations. You know your name will be in the paper as helping with the amazing decorations.”

“My name or yours?”

“Kendra? Is this about the monthly thing?” Garrison asked.

“No. Whatever, Garrison. I’ll fly home with you tomorrow.”

“Thank you. You should start planning for the caterers and festivities for the Fourth, too. That’s only two weeks away, you know.”

“Yeah, I’ve pretty much taken care of it already,” I lied. I wasn’t interested in doing any of it. I didn’t want to do it. When did this happen? When did I go from wanting to impress my stuck-up friends to wanting to ride four-wheelers? I would call Olivia to take care of it. She could use the money.

I didn’t ask Garrison to walk with me after dark. I didn’t want him to go. I was annoyed with him. I didn’t want to leave the beach. The thought of going back to Connecticut soured my stomach.

“I’m going for a walk,” I announced.

“Like that?” Garrison asked, looking up from his cell phone.

“Yeah, Garrison. I’m going to wear shorts and a tank-top with my flip-flops on the beach, just like everyone else here.”

“You’re not like everyone else here.”

“Oh my god. I’ll be back,” I said, shaking my head and closing the door.

I walked in the direction I was hoping to find Sam. His dark hut told me he was still at the little bar on The Strip, I headed that way.

Keeping my distance, I sat at a table away from where I saw Sam and his family. They were so happy together, like family should be. I ordered a beer of all things and watched, observing the interaction Sam had with his family. I wasn’t sure who was who, but I could tell he was close with them, all of them. I can’t remember a time where I felt that way. I used to say I wanted it to be the way it was before my mother left, but deep down, I knew that never was the case. I don’t think my mom ever wanted to be there with my dad and me. She was too busy chasing a dream. I do remember it being better pre-divorce though, before Adriana came to work for us.

“I not want you to go,”
I remembered, telling my mother while she made herself up in the mirror.

“I have to, sweetie. Mommy will be back in two days. You have a new nanny. You have to teach her how to take care of you. I bet she’s a really good storyteller. Hey, I know. I’ll bring you home some new books, and Adriana can read them to you, okay?”

Adriana didn’t read to me. She never did anything with me. At first, she pretty much ignored me. It wasn’t until after she started getting frisky with my dad that she paid attention to me. It just wasn’t the welcoming attention I wanted, or the attention a little girl needed.

Thinking about it now, I wondered why nobody noticed. How could you not watch this blossoming little flower go from lively and vibrant to a shallow shell, afraid to move? You see all the commercials, the Lifetime movies, and the news specials where everyone says to tell someone. That’s what I did when I was seven. I was reading a little kid book while I waited in the play area for Adriana to get out of the doctor’s office. She had taken Paris in for her one-year-old check-up. She took Katie’s hand and left me alone, probably hoping I’d be kidnapped or something.

I flipped through an adult magazine and stopped on a picture of a little girl. She was sad and looked scared, like me. I read the small paragraph like any seven-year-old child would, one word at a time. “If. Someone. Is. Hurting. You. Tell. Someone,” I read, pointing to each word with my finger. Maybe I could tell someone. Maybe someone that didn’t work for my dad would help me. The first person I thought about was Ms. Lilly. She was always nice to me.

She was the school nurse at the private all-girls school I attended. Once, when I skinned my knee on the concrete by our pool, she took care of it for me when Adriana didn’t care. She put medicine on it and blew it when it burned, making the sting go away.

I faked a tummy ache the following day at school. Ms. Lilly laid me on the sick bed and rubbed my tummy. She gave me a blanket and I smiled. I loved when she did that. She had a warmer for them and they always felt so nice.

“I’m supposed to tell somebody if someone hurts me,”
I said.

Ms. Lilly took my little hand and smiled down at me. She was so young and pretty. Her hair was blond like mine and my mothers, and she always had pretty pink lips.

“Is someone hurting you, sweetie?”
she asked, rubbing the back of my hand.

I nodded and proceeded to tell her everything Adriana did to me.

Seeing the happy, loving expression change on her face while she listened scared me. She was going to tell on me. Adriana would find out I told and I would be in big trouble. I started to cry, knowing I was in for it.

Ms. Lilly smoothed my hair from my forehead and wiped away my tears. Everything that happened from that point forward was surreal. Not what I was expecting at all. Ms. Lilly—

“I thought that was you. You could have come and said hi,” Sam said, sliding the chair out beside me, bringing me back to the future. “Three beers? I’m impressed. I’ve trained you well,” he boasted. “What’s wrong?” Sam asked.

I changed the somber look on my face and smiled at him, happy he was there. “Nothing’s wrong. I was just watching you with your family. You’re close?” I questioned.

“Yeah, we are. That right there is Leigha and Lynn. They’re the oldest.”

“Twins?”

“Yeah, and Jimmy is the one trying to do whatever the hell he is trying to do,” he laughed at the guy attempting to do some sort of break dance move, but failing miserably. “He’s my stepbrother. Jill, Damion, and Leo aren’t here. They’ll be here over the Fourth.”

My eyes shifted back to Sam’s stepbrother, now doing some sort of wave. “He’s drunk,” I stated the obvious.