“Yes! You and Mama love me the most, besides Nana and Papa. Uncle Stephen and Auntie Dottie Lynn love me too, but they live far away.”
“Exactly. And the cool thing about love is that it’snot limited; we can make as much as we want. So all that love you feel from me and Mama? Your baby brother or sister is going to feel all that same love, plus all the love you can give them too. And they’re going to love you right back. We’re going to have so much love in our family, it’s gonna leak out of our ears!”
Sadie laughs and snuggles closer to Ivy, dropping her book so she can put her little hand in mine. The way Ivy so eloquently side-stepped any mention of Earl while reassuring Sadie that she and her sibling will have all the love they need, plus some, is absolutely brilliant.
I think Ivy might have been made to be a mother.
“Vee Vee, you’re gonna stay here with us forever, right?”
Ivy looks over Sadie’s head at me, and I try not to let my desperation show as I wait for her answer.
“Yeah, Sadie. I’m gonna stay here with you forever.”
I don’t know if Ivy means here physically in Fox Hole or metaphysically in our hearts, but it doesn’t matter. The emotions hit me like a freight train either way.
Silence passes between us as we cuddle in the tiny bed surrounded by fifty shades of purple and Ivy’s old emo posters. My tears fall freely now, butthankfully, I’ve mastered the art of silent crying so Sadie is none the wiser. The white noise machine kicks on thanks to its automatic timer, a sign that it’s time for Sadie to close her eyes and go to sleep. The low rumble resembles a whirring fan and fills the space, harmonizing with the sounds of our breaths rising and falling. Ivy closes her eyes, nuzzling her face against the top of Sadie’s head. My own eyes feel heavy from exhaustion, and even though I’m crying, I feel like I could fall asleep at any moment.
That is, until my daughter sits up straight as if she’s been possessed, turning to grab my two tear-stained cheeks in her little palms.
“I really hope the baby is a girl. I’ll still love it if it’s a boy, but I can’t promise I’ll like it very much.”
“Amen, sister,” Ivy mutters, and for the first time in what feels like centuries, I laugh.
“God,it’s fucking freezing in here,” I say, shivering in my winter pajamas. I’m applying my pregnancy-safe night cream to my under eyes while Ivy brushes her teeth, the two of us taking up almost all the space in the en suite bathroom. I have to call my brother and get him out here as soon as possible. It’s already cramped in here, and the baby is only going to add toour circus; we’ve got to get the renovations started if we want to make Grandma Millie’s place our home.
“It’s seventy degrees in here, Lilah. Isn’t pregnancy supposed to make you hot all the time?”
“That’s menopause. Pregnancy just makes you miserable. If it’s cold, you’re freezing. If it’s hot, you’re sweltering. If you’re hungry, you’re ravenous. If you’re horny—” I cut myself off. No need to open that door right now.
“Have you hit the horny stage yet? I remember when you were pregnant with Sadie, you were damn near humping everything in sight. You seem a lot calmer so far.”
I seem calmer because this time I find myself wanting to hump you, and that doesn’t seem like a particularly appropriate thought to share.
“I’m mainly just fucking cold,” I say, sidestepping the question. “Can we turn the AC off tonight?”
“If you want your daughter to melt in her sleep, sure.”
“Forget it, I’ll just bundle up. Can I borrow one of your hoodies? All of mine fit too well and will suffocate me in my sleep. Yours are oversized and comfy.”
“Top drawer on the left,” Ivy says, and I scurry towards the dresser with a mission to find Ivy’s extra-soft, extra-extra-large Knoxville Crushers sweatshirt that I always steal when we go to the cityfor football games. I spot the black and orange sleeve near the bottom of the unfolded pile of tops, but when I yank at it, a flash of green catches my attention.
I don’t know that I’ve ever seen Ivy wear green. She favors the more monotone blacks and grays with pops of pink and red when she’s feeling colorful.
Something in my gut tells me to leave whatever the green fabric is alone—it’s probably underwear or some other garment that is none of my damn business—but curiosity wins out. I reach into the pile and pull out not underpants but a heavy pouch embroidered with a beige ‘I’, the material bulging in odd shapes from its contents. Glancing over my shoulder, I see that Ivy has shut the bathroom door. Blood rushes to my cheeks, and I instinctively know what is inside.
I should put it away. I should bury the pouch beneath the stack of clothing and pretend that I never saw it. I thought underwear was none of my damn business? This is so far out of my realm of business that I couldn’t spot where I’m standing on a map.
But I don’t put the pouch away. Instead, my fingers find the zipper and pull slowly, one tooth unzipping at a painful pace until I can see the beginnings of the wonderland inside.
Stuffed to the brim with silicone, Ivy’s toy bag islike a mecca of female pleasure. Dildos of various shapes, sizes, and colors lay amongst smaller toys covered in buttons that speak of buzzing entertainment and pleasure galore. Clit sucking devices that I’ve only seen blurred outlines of in social media advertisements, lube, and a heap of black, leather-looking material that might be a collar or some sort of other fun accessory stare up at me. All of it taunts me with promises of horny delight, an abundance of orgasms, a whole new world of pleasure I never thought to dream of for myself.
My clit pulses like it's developed its own heartbeat, aching to be touched while arousal seeps past my lips and into the cotton of my not-so-sexy bedtime granny panties.
Does Ivy use these toys on herself? Does she use them with her partners? Does she share them, pressing one side of delicious, buzzy silicone to her own sex while another woman mounts her, chasing her own pleasure?
I resist the urge to touch anything, just in case I accidentally turn anything on or slip and fall and start to fuck myself with the contents of my best friend’s goodie bag. I don’t even own a vibrator—I’d be mortified if Earl ever found it, but my hand and my shower head have served me well over the years. I wouldn’t even know where to start with any of this,but now that I’ve seen the treasure trove hiding amongst Ivy’s clothes, I don’t know how I’m supposed to think of anything else. Did Ivy know I would find this here? Did she want me to see her toys and wonder what she does with them? Can she sense the inappropriate thoughts that have been plaguing me?
The sound of the toilet flushing on the other side of the door breaks me out of my stupor. I quickly zip up the pouch of wonders and put it back where I found it. I throw the Crushers hoodie over my head and slide into bed, feigning sleep because I don’t think I can face Ivy right now. Not with all the dirty thoughts swirling through my head. Her hands wrapped around a silicone cock as she kneels between my legs, teasing me with the head until I beg. Sticking the toy in my mouth and forcing me to clean it up with my tongue. Straddling my face and lowering herself down, waiting for me to take my very first taste of her sweetness…
