my waist.
“Grab that handle inside when I lift you up.” Before I could say a word, he had lifted me to the open door. I grabbed the handle in question, but Steve held on to my waist for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. He released his grip, but did not remove his hands. I pulled myself up, slid free, and onto the seat. I didn’t say anything, but I smiled as he stepped back and closed the door. I had forgotten about my stomach.
I didn’t know what to make, exactly , of his actions and behavior. I had avoided his company as often as possible for most of my teenage years. I didn’t hate him, it was more that I was mortified over what had happened, and I never got over it. I had tried to hate him, but never could. The best I could manage was a version of indifference, facilitated by previously mentioned avoidance. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling now.
He climbed into the driver’s seat, sat there for a second looking at me, then reached across my lap. Once again, I had forgotten to buckle myself in. This time I didn’t slap his arm away. I just sat there, and looked at his face. His eyes would glance at mine, at the seat belt, and back up again.
It took him a while, mainly because I think he was taking extra time, but I wasn’t entirely sure. I could smell his cologne. I could also smell his hair gel, a pleasant, clean, masculine scent. I didn’t know gels had gender specific scents. When the belt clicked into place, he left his hands on it and looked up into my eyes for a moment before slowly leaning away and starting the truck.
My heart picked up, just a little. Just enough for me to notice. It felt very strange, because I could see in his eyes, now , that he was feeling something too. I had no doubt, and I saw him glance again at my mouth and up, just before he reached over and cupped my chin. His thumb caressed the corner of my mouth, and I sat there frozen.
“Guacamole,” he offered as an explanation, but he didn’t release my chin.
I considered whether I should say anything, or wait to see if he had more to say, but I couldn’t continue to just sit here, my chin in his hand. Not with all the questions I had, questions that started popping into my head, one by one. The first question escaped without warning. “What about Alecia?” I screeched that one. I hadn’t meant to.
He released my chin and smiled. “Oh, yeah. You don’t know. We split up a month ago.”
“But Dad said she was coming back, like you were working so much because... Why doesn’t my dad know?”
“C’mon, Jessie. Think for a second and you tell me.” He grinned at me.
Ah . I did know why. When Steve and Leslie split up, my dad was constantly trying to set him up, and give ‘love advice,’ and asked all kinds of embarrassing questions. Steve almost quit just to get away from Dad. Duh . I shook my head and grimaced.
“ Exactly !” Said Steve.
“He was just trying to be helpful, you know.” I tried to construct a defense, but there was none. I glanced at Steve, our eyes locked, and we both laughed.
“Speaking of your dad, I’m surprised he hasn’t called yet. I’ve been gone longer than I had planned. Longer than he had planned, for sure.”
I pulled out my new phone, held it up and wiggled it, and said, “Allow me.”
I called the store, and after several rings, the machine picked up. When it beeped I said loudly, “Dad, if you’re there, pick up!” I waited for a few seconds, and repeated myself. He didn’t pick up, so I called the house. He answered on the first ring.
“ Yellow .”
“Hey Dad, why are you at home?”
“I closed early today. Business was slow, Steve went to lunch, and I was bored. Really, I just got here. I was planning to eat a bite then go back, but I changed my mind. I’d better call Steve so he can just go home and not waste a trip.”
“I can tell
“Grab that handle inside when I lift you up.” Before I could say a word, he had lifted me to the open door. I grabbed the handle in question, but Steve held on to my waist for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. He released his grip, but did not remove his hands. I pulled myself up, slid free, and onto the seat. I didn’t say anything, but I smiled as he stepped back and closed the door. I had forgotten about my stomach.
I didn’t know what to make, exactly , of his actions and behavior. I had avoided his company as often as possible for most of my teenage years. I didn’t hate him, it was more that I was mortified over what had happened, and I never got over it. I had tried to hate him, but never could. The best I could manage was a version of indifference, facilitated by previously mentioned avoidance. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling now.
He climbed into the driver’s seat, sat there for a second looking at me, then reached across my lap. Once again, I had forgotten to buckle myself in. This time I didn’t slap his arm away. I just sat there, and looked at his face. His eyes would glance at mine, at the seat belt, and back up again.
It took him a while, mainly because I think he was taking extra time, but I wasn’t entirely sure. I could smell his cologne. I could also smell his hair gel, a pleasant, clean, masculine scent. I didn’t know gels had gender specific scents. When the belt clicked into place, he left his hands on it and looked up into my eyes for a moment before slowly leaning away and starting the truck.
My heart picked up, just a little. Just enough for me to notice. It felt very strange, because I could see in his eyes, now , that he was feeling something too. I had no doubt, and I saw him glance again at my mouth and up, just before he reached over and cupped my chin. His thumb caressed the corner of my mouth, and I sat there frozen.
“Guacamole,” he offered as an explanation, but he didn’t release my chin.
I considered whether I should say anything, or wait to see if he had more to say, but I couldn’t continue to just sit here, my chin in his hand. Not with all the questions I had, questions that started popping into my head, one by one. The first question escaped without warning. “What about Alecia?” I screeched that one. I hadn’t meant to.
He released my chin and smiled. “Oh, yeah. You don’t know. We split up a month ago.”
“But Dad said she was coming back, like you were working so much because... Why doesn’t my dad know?”
“C’mon, Jessie. Think for a second and you tell me.” He grinned at me.
Ah . I did know why. When Steve and Leslie split up, my dad was constantly trying to set him up, and give ‘love advice,’ and asked all kinds of embarrassing questions. Steve almost quit just to get away from Dad. Duh . I shook my head and grimaced.
“ Exactly !” Said Steve.
“He was just trying to be helpful, you know.” I tried to construct a defense, but there was none. I glanced at Steve, our eyes locked, and we both laughed.
“Speaking of your dad, I’m surprised he hasn’t called yet. I’ve been gone longer than I had planned. Longer than he had planned, for sure.”
I pulled out my new phone, held it up and wiggled it, and said, “Allow me.”
I called the store, and after several rings, the machine picked up. When it beeped I said loudly, “Dad, if you’re there, pick up!” I waited for a few seconds, and repeated myself. He didn’t pick up, so I called the house. He answered on the first ring.
“ Yellow .”
“Hey Dad, why are you at home?”
“I closed early today. Business was slow, Steve went to lunch, and I was bored. Really, I just got here. I was planning to eat a bite then go back, but I changed my mind. I’d better call Steve so he can just go home and not waste a trip.”
“I can tell
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