Aiken
The morning we woke to leave for my pops’, Claire found a surprise in the bathroom. Mr. Elf was tucked on the shelf in the shower, his little elf hand on his crotch, the bottle of conditioner next to him, cap undone, slightly tipped over.
“Aiken!” Claire shrieked…and then stomped out of the bathroom, elf in hand, my T-shirt dangling over her thighs, hair a beautiful mess.
“Don’t abuse my virgin elf.” She laughed, swinging him around.
“You didn’t say that when his head was between Smitty’s doll’s legs.”
Another laugh bubbled up her throat. “That was horrible.”
“So horrible you can’t stop laughing.” I gathered her close and carried her into the bathroom.
“Give me him.” I nabbed the elf and next her T-shirt, dropping them both to the floor. “Now, I want you, and we both need to shower, so we gotta make haste.”
“Is that farm talk? Make haste?”
“Why, yes, it is, Claire,” I said, lifting her under the warm water before pushing her against the wall. My arm slid between us, my hand finding her ready, and then there was nothing between the two of us. We were connected as one. For a quick second, fear swept through me.
Would this last? Could we make this work?
But then Claire moaned my name in my ear, and I didn’t have a care in the world.
Driving deep inside her, the water falling around us, I burned the moment into my brain for while we were away. I’d have to take her quietly in the middle of the night on the farm.
Or maybe out in the barn…my mind wandered.
“Hi there, Claire.”
My dad pulled her in for a big hug as soon as we crossed the threshold of my childhood home.
“Happy holidays, Mr. Fordham.”
“I don’t mean you any disrespect, Claire, but you’re all grown up. Call me, Sam.”
“None taken.” She smiled at my dad, and my heart rate settled.
I hadn’t even realized how fast my pulse was racing. I felt like I’d just returned from a ten-mile run. Taking in a deep breath through my nose, I told myself this wasn’t a big deal—introducing the first woman I’d ever been serious about to my pops.
“You certainly are way more beautiful than the young chippies he used to bring around.”
My pulse soared again, although Claire had to know they were no competition.
“Pops, enough,” I still felt compelled to say.
Then my dad pulled me in for a hug too, holding on a few beats longer than he had with Claire.
“How you doing, Son?” he asked when he let me go. “Don’t you worry yourself over me meeting your lady. She’s in good hands.”
“I’m good, Pops. Since when did you turn into Oprah?” I joked, blowing off the tension coiled tight inside me.
“Very funny. I watch a lot of daytime TV now that you’re gone.”
“Yeah, right. What smells good?”
“I got a roast in the oven, but first let’s help Claire get settled.”
“A roast?”
