Jensen

SHE'S. BACK. SHE'S. BACK. SHE'S BACK. 

Each word in my head is punctuated by my shoes hitting the gravel.

She's. Back. She's. Back. She's. Back.

I can't move past that basic fact. She's back. She's back. She's back.

It's been over a decade since I last saw her. Fourteen years since I sat in that waiting room. Fourteen years since she walked in growing my baby; then walked back out with an empty womb. Fourteen years since she left me alone to grieve with only an undecipherable message in her wake.

It's been fourteen years, yet all that time seemed irrelevant the moment she was in front of me this morning. All of it came back in a whoosh that nearly doubled me over. Things I thought I had put to rest over a decade ago, suddenly a fresh wound.

She's. Back. She's. Back. She's. Back.

I thought running would help clear my head. If I pushed my body hard enough, surely the burning thoughts would dull. But the harder I push myself, the more the thoughts crowd around in my brain until they feel ready to burst.

Still, I power on, my legs eating up the distance faster than I've ever done before. I don't stop until I enter the cul-de-sac, my childhood home mere feet away.

I hadn't intended to come here; I ran with no destination in mind, but my body had brought me here. And, suddenly, I was desperate for answers.

If I couldn't get them fourteen years ago from my ex-girlfriend, then I would get them now from my dad.

I barge through the yellow door, ignoring the sound as it bangs against the wall. I follow the voices that lead me through the house and out the patio door, where I find my dad and stepmom lounging around the glass table. Their conversation halts when they see me.

My chest heaves as I fight for breath, my lungs on fire from the run, but I don't wait. I can't wait. "Is it true?" I demand, my attention on my father. His hand is holding a can of beer, paused halfway to his mouth, as if his actions were frozen the minute I burst onto the scene.

"Are you ok, sweetheart? You don't look well." Maxine scoots her chair back and starts to rise but falls back into the seat when I put my hand up.

"Just tell me, Dad. Is it true? Did you cheat on my mom?"

He stands abruptly, his chair crashing to the pavement. "What is going on, son?"

"Just answer the damn question. Did you or did you not cheat on my mom? It's a simple yes or no question." My fists are balls at my side, all my anger tentatively contained in my hands, threatening to spill out.

"It's not exactly as simple as that, Jensen," my dad hedges.

Maxine looks between us, her eyes and mouth both wide open, her shock plainly written across her face.

"It is, Dad. Either you cheated or you didn't."

He takes a step toward me, and I mirror it, putting distance between us.

"Where is this coming from?"

"Grandpa," I say, clenching and unclenching my fists. "He thought I was you. Spilled your dirty little secret."

"Son." His voice is laced with regret, and he bows his head under the weight of it. "I wish I could deny it, say your grandpa was mistaken, but I won't lie. It's true. I did cheat on your mother. But..."

I don't allow him to explain. I'm not interested in his excuses. I spin on my heels and take off, retracing my steps through the house and back out onto the cul-de-sac. I race back home, toward my girl, to the only place that makes sense right now.

-

THE CITRUSY SMELL OF CLEANING SUPPLIES greets me the minute I step into my apartment. The windows are wide open, creating a cool cross breeze throughout the open space. Scout is dozing in a puddle of light near a window in the living room, his tail periodically thumping against the hardwood floor, and under his head I spy his favorite rope toy. The sight makes me smile.

I go in search of Teddy, and I find her in the bedroom, standing before the bed that is cluttered with piles of folded clothes. Her hair is swept off her neck in a messy ponytail; and she still wears the outfit I dressed her in that morning.

Since she doesn't notice me, lost in her chores, I slowly creep behind her and wrap my arms around her waist. "Hi, beautiful," I whisper, my lips grazing her bare shoulder. "Thanks for cleaning."

She startles, the shirt she was folding falls from her hands. "Jesus, Jensen."

She turns to face me, taking in my appearance. Before she can say anything, though, I pull her in for a hug, tucking her head under my chin. I breathe in her comforting strawberry scent and sigh. "Sorry I just took off like that."

In response, she squeezes me tighter. "I bet that was a bit of a shock—seeing her like that after all these years."

"Yeah," I reply, pulling out of the hug. "Let's not talk about it right now, though, ok? Later?"

When she nods, I lower my head for a quick kiss; and when I back away, my eyes rake down the front of her. "I see you fulfilled your promise of cleaning with your headlights." I tweak her hard nipples between my fingers. "Good girl. You should have waited for me, though, so I could have appreciated it."

She pushes me away from her. "You're sweaty and gross. Go shower. I'll make us some lunch. What do you want? Something easy, like sandwiches or mac 'n cheese?"

"Mac 'n cheese. But can you add hotdogs, too?"

"And you say I'm the spoiled one," she teases as she watches me strip. When I leave my clothes on the floor, she snaps her fingers like she often does to the dog, and points to discarded pile of clothes. "Excuse me, sir. I just cleaned."

Once I throw the dirty clothes in the hamper, she praises me. "Good boy. And now you can apologize to me for calling me the messy one."

"Baby, you are so messy. If I could find my receipt, I'd return you."

She smacks my bare ass. "You're mean! See if I put hotdogs in your stupid mac 'n cheese now, buddy!" With a huff, she exits the room.

I shower quickly, never allowing my thoughts to wander to either of the scenes from earlier today, not quite ready to confront the emotions. I tuck them not-so-neatly away in whatever dark crevice in my mind that still has space, next to all the other things I've avoided over the years. Later, I tell myself, as I lather my hands with soap and wash away the unpleasant grime of the day.

Later, I reassure myself, as I dry off any remnants still lingering, quickly swiping a towel over my body.

Later, I agree, as I dress in clean clothes.

Later, I conclude, as I walk into the kitchen, joining my girlfriend as she cooks us lunch. I'll deal with the demons later, but right this moment I want to wade in the familiar, comfortable scene for now.

Scout, who never misses a chance to scavenge for food, has jumped up on Teddy, his front paws resting on her knees. "Shhh," she whispers to the dog, "don't tell your daddy. He thinks he's the boss of us, but we both know I'm the boss, right?" Scout gobbles up the offered hotdog and immediately begs for more.

"If anyone's the boss, it's the dog. It certainly isn't you, babe."

She startles at my voice, clutching a cold hotdog to her chest. "Jensen Anderson! Quit scaring me like that!"

Scout dances at her feet, the piece of meat in his sights; and when she ignores him, he squeaks an impatient bark at her.

"No." She snaps her fingers at him. "No barking."

He immediately sits quietly at her feet, tail wagging eagerly under his butt, and she relents, offering him the hotdog. He runs away with his treat in his mouth and hides under a stool at the counter as if he's afraid I'll confiscate it.

Shaking my head at the scene, I cross the room and stop in front of my girlfriend. "He's spoiled. You spoil him."

Gripping her at the waist, I lift her onto the counter next to the stove and place a quick kiss on her cheek before turning to inspect the pan warming on the burner. I stir the mac 'n cheese, smiling at the cut-up pieces of hotdog. Maybe, just maybe, I'm spoiled, too.

I turn off the burner and set the pan on a hot pad on the counter next to Teddy. Grabbing two forks, I hand one to her, and then I step in between her legs. "Thanks for lunch, baby." I scoop up a huge forkful of food from the pan and lift it to her mouth, waiting for her to open before I feed her. Then I take my own bite.

With a full mouth, she says, "We're eating like this today, huh?"

I fork another bite into her mouth. "Yep. Because after this we're going to go mess up that bed you just made."

Her eyes widen. "No, we are not! It is full of clean clothes that I folded. You will not touch that bed until the clothes are put away."

Shrugging, I take another bite of the steaming food. "Fine. We'll do it right here then." My hand finds its way under the hem of her shirt, and I squeeze her tit. "I'm not picky on the location."

Yes, later, I remind myself. There's plenty of time to deal with my demons later. Right now, I'm going to enjoy a lazy Sunday with my girl.