“Mom,” I draw it out in exasperation.
“Sit down, Dominic,” she replies in her mom-voice, that tone that says‘don’t fuck with your mom’without actually embarrassing the child because only the family recognizes the inflection.
I do as she says—otherwise she will embarrass me. Mom doesn’t tolerate anything that remotely resembles disrespect toward her or Dad. Leaning over the table, I immediately recognize the pictures she’s showing Sophia. They’re of me, of course, in various activities through high school. There are several different shots of me in football, baseball, proms, homecoming dances, and some just funny shots with my friends.
“Sophia, I see you’ve met my dad, Rick,” I look between them and they both nod.
“This boy here—what was his name, Dominic?” Mom asks as she picks up the picture to show me.
“That’s Joey,” I respond with a smile. “He was he craziest guy I knew in high school and he always stayed in some kind of trouble with the teachers, but they couldn’t resist his personality, so he normally got out of everything.”
“What about you, Dom?” Sophia asks and my mom’s head jerks up from the pictures. She rapidly looks between Sophia and me as I purposely keep my eyes from meeting hers. Sophia continues, “Did you get in a lot of trouble in school?”
“Nah,” I say shaking my head. “I rarely got caught.” The table erupts into laughter and my mom swats my arm for good measure.
“I know just what this group needs,” Dad says as he gets up from the table. Sophia looks up at him, questioning what he meant but not yet comfortable enough to ask him.
“Dad is making a round of his specialty—Piña Coladas. They are the best you will ever have and he won’t tell anyone his secret,” I explain to Sophia.
“That’s right!” Dad exclaims as he gathers his ingredients. “Even your mom can’t get that information out of me.”
Mom laughs and whispers to Sophia conspiratorially, “I could get it out of him if I wanted to.”
Sophia and Mom both laugh and Dad wiggles his eyebrows at Mom suggestively, “I’ve been telling you for years to just try your best.”
Mom gets up and walks over to Dad. Standing on her tiptoes to reach his cheek for a kiss, she replies, “You know I would do anything you want me to—recipe or no recipe.”
Sophia smiles, at first, as she watches them, and then her smile fades. The romantic, hopeful look she had just a moment ago has been replaced with sadness. Reaching across the table, I take her hand in mine as I say, “Hey, are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” she says, putting her happy face on again. “I was just thinking about my parents and wishing they could’ve been like yours. You must’ve had a great childhood.”
I glance over at my parents, who are in a loving embrace in the kitchen, and I have to agree with her. “Our home was full of love. It sounds like yours wasn’t and I’m sorry to hear that. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a happily ever after.”
That longing look is back in Sophia’s eyes, but it’s not a sexual longing. It’s a desire for a real family, to have someone to lean on, and to know that there is someone in her corner who will fight to the end for her.Unconditionally.The very thing she’s never had but always wanted.
“Okay, everyone, the grill is hot and the steaks are marinated. Kayla, throw the potatoes in the microwave and let’s get some food to go with my specialRicka Co-la-das,”he finishes with a fake Spanish accent and pitiful attempt at humor. It garners a giggle from Sophia, anyway, and she rises to help my mom with the preparations.
The blender whirs until Dad’s concoction is ready and I grab enough glasses for everyone. Dad takes the marinated steaks out of the refrigerator and walks out on the back deck, leaving the door open for me to follow him. Sophia glances up and shrieks, “Oh my god!” Everyone jerks their heads around to see what she’s looking at and her eyes are still glued to the door leading outside.
“What is it, love?” I ask.
“Oh, I’m sorry. How embarrassing! I just saw the backyard and I can’t believe how beautiful it looks! It rivals even the house!” she gushes.
“I will be glad to show you around as soon as we finish eating,” my dad offers, obviously proud of his backyard oasis.
“I would love that, Mr. Powers.”
“Rick, please,” he says with a smile as he walks back out on the deck.
I join him and leave Sophia with my mom in the kitchen. Dad doesn’t even glance over at me as he lifts the lid of the built-in grill of their outdoor kitchen as he says, “Dom, huh?”
Inhaling deeply, I know there’s no way out of this conversation, so I answer truthfully, “Yes.”
“You’ve never let any of the others call you that. She’s that special to you, son?” Dad’s voice is full of concern. He’s trying hard not to cross the line of giving unsolicited advice and being a father who cares about his son.
“She is, Dad. I can’t explain it. I knew she was different from the second I laid eyes on her, and I didn’t even know she was already somewhat trained as a submissive then.”
“Somewhat trained?” he asks, his brow drawn down and his head titled to the side.
