Authors: Saorise Roghan
She’d been here before.
Maybe not often but she’d been here.
Before she hadn’t noticed what she felt today - a slight air of
pretentiousness.
Maybe not.
Maybe it was her.
But one thing was for sure, this was
not the store where one shopped for Sloppy Joes.
Denise yanked her phone
from her pants.
It was 4:00.
She had to get home. At least Zander
would be there. Had she thought about who did what after school and on what
days? She moaned and fled towards the “prepared foods” aisle.
She’d found food here before.
She’d liberally sampled the gourmet
pizza.
She’d made luscious salads
and bowls of fruit.
But her
brothers had been raised on an utterly unpredictable combination of leftover
haute cuisine prepared for her parents by their personal chef, take out KFC,
and since her mother had no idea of the amount of food growing boys needed to
eat, stolen tins of pate, sardines and wheels of gouda cheese.
Well.
Had she actually given the impression she would cook?
She grabbed the most normal of the
pizzas, bypassing sprouted grain crust and vegan cheese and latching onto
something she could at least pass off as pepperoni.
A large salad constructed from familiar greens and some semi
normal looking vegetables.
A
gallon of 2% milk-organic, from Happy Grass Fed Cows, and she was moving for
the register.
No she did not have her
Green Foods Shopper Card.
No she
didn’t want one.
No she had not
brought her own bags.
Sure. Fine.
She’d buy two reusable bags woven from natural fibers by blind children using
their toes while living in impoverished countries.
At home the herd of dogs
surrounded the cab and escorted her up the drive.
She’d hoped a few of them would bolt for freedom while the
immense gate creaked and groaned its way open and closed.
Several did leave but only to encourage
her from behind as she left the road. They scooted back in well before the gate
finished closing.
They would lick
her to death when she left the cab. She’d be lucky to have any pizza left.
She paid the driver,
leaning over the back seat, handing him an extra ten, and a slice of pizza.
“It’s yours if you hold
this out the window as you drive away.”
The driver shook his
head. He took the ten and the pizza.
All but one mammoth dog took off down the drive.
There was no way she’d
get in without him.
Once inside,
the dog headed for the interior. Denise opened the pizza box. The beast stopped
short. By degrees, and small portions, she coaxed the huge beast out the door
before throwing the entire piece to the bottom of the steps.
From distant regions of
the house Denise heard screams.
They sounded like happy screams though so she ignored them and began to
shift the salad from its 85 % recycled post-consumer content container into a
large salad bowl.
Since she was
able to locate a platter that would hold the pizza she tossed the boxes under
the butler’s sink in the pantry.
Returning to the kitchen
an object landed hard between her eyes and someone, two someones, snorted.
Denise yanked a Nerf
arrow from her forehead and put her hands on her hips. It took spit to get a
Nerf arrow to stick like that to human skin.
“Come out with your hands up!”
Zander crawled from
behind the island on hands and knees, his bow clamped between his teeth. “We’re
the ones who’re armed,” he complained around the plastic weapon he held in his
mouth.
He clambered up to his
feet.
Her best friend Robert
appeared on the floor and then he too stood up.
“Gimme some love, Babe!” His arms opened wide and he bent
his knees so she’d be able to throw herself into his arms.
She preferred that to having him hulk
over her while he hugged her face into his chest.
She threw herself and he
grabbed her, hoisting, boosting her to his waist where her legs wrapped around
him.
“My sweetie!” Denise
squealed, and gave him a big wet smack on the lips.
Because they were the
very best pals, because they had known each other since the second grade,
because a long time ago they’d actually had hilarious,
how-the-heck-do-you-do-this-best-friend-experimenting sex, they shoved their
tongues into each other’s mouths and made exaggerated moans and groans, each
one of them using their hands to roam the other’s body in an overly dramatic
fashion.
Zander had seen it all
before; “ick.”
He fired an arrow
into Denise’s backside.
The large dog suddenly
joined the circus, barking, thumping his huge tail into cabinets and making
dull whomping sounds. Denise was too busy running her hands up Robert’s chest
and crooning to think about how Goliath had gotten back in.
Then she saw her
husband, standing in the door way, a cool, somewhat bored look on his face that
couldn’t possibly be anything except a mask.
Andrew had never cared for Robert.
Shit.
Denise slapped Robert’s
chest for real, and wriggled to get free.
Robert laughed and
pulled her groin against his, making oooh baby sounds.
When he finally registered the look on
her face he dropped her.
Zander let another arrow
fly, once again choosing a spot between the eyes for a target.
Andrew put his hand up
and removed the arrow.
“Not in the face, Kid.
Scram.” But he ruffled the boy’s hair and tossed him the arrow. He stood there,
hands on hips, waiting for the boy to leave.
Zander, sensing the
sudden drop in temperature, left at once.
Robert had social skills.
“Andrew Cross! My Man!
Congratulations!
I knew you’d win
her back!”
Andrew allowed Robert to
seize his hand and pump it up and down.
His gaze remained shuttered.
“I was rooting for you,
dude!
Way to go!”
“So you were kissing and
fondling Denise as a way to congratulate her on her wedding?”
“Don’t be a dick, Andrew.”
Denise moved away from Robert and past
the island toward safety.
His hand shot out and
grabbed her by the arm, bringing her to a sudden halt and wrenching her around.
There was a now familiar
if still jolting flip from her lower abdomen.
A warning knell sounded in her head, banging up against her
skull.
She felt herself flush.
“Chill.
Chill.” Robert tried to insert himself
between them.
The very large dog
pressed its body against Denise. Then the large dog growled.
“Don’t be an ass.” Andrew’s
voice was flat.
He lifted an eye
brow at the beast. “Are you growling at me?”
The dog’s tail whomped
again.
Andrew kissed his wife hard
on the lips.
“A man wants a kiss
when he comes home, Babe.” He dropped her arm.
“Are you joining us for
dinner, Cardman?”
He disappeared
into the dining room.
Denise heard
him keep going, and then the sound of his feet on the stairs.
She grabbed the dog’s ruff and tried to
steer him to the garage.
“O.K.
That was intense.”
Robert grabbed another hunk of pizza
and waved it under the animal’s nose.
Moving fast, he opened the door to the garage and tossed the slice down
the stairs.
The dog stood on the
threshold, looked at the pizza lying at the foot of the stairs and then back at
Denise.
“Oh for shit’s sake.”
She reached for another slice and sent
it to join the other one.
Two was
too much for the dog’s new sense of responsibility and it bolted.
Robert slammed the door.
Denise looked at the depleted tray of
pizza and wondered if there’d be enough for five males in various stages of
development.
Fortunately, she felt
too sick to eat.
Don’t
be a dick
.
Yep, that’s exactly
what she had said to her Head of Household Husband.
***
Robert chose not to join
them for dinner and swept out the door after eliciting a promise from Denise to
meet for coffee the next day and spill her guts.
The house phone rang a few times and she ignored it.
It was attached to an answering machine
everyone routinely ignored.
People
used cell phones these days.
She
looked for napkins, plates, cups and silverware feeling much as she imagined
Betty Crocker had felt doing her thing, nevertheless aware that her annoyed
husband would still have to be dealt with.
Maybe he’d forget?
Right.
The next time the back
door opened William and Lucas lounged through the door followed by a nice
looking young guy who introduced himself as Tom.
Tom’s hair was the color of corn silk
and his eyes were green.
He
blushed. “Mrs. Marrow, Ma’am?”
Denise blushed too. Who
knows why?
Because her life was
turned upside down?
Because her
husband chose that moment to return to the kitchen? Obviously not expecting
anyone, recently showered, shirt open and pants not yet buttoned all the way.
Denise opened her mouth.
Not a sound came out.
Andrew’s
face demonstrated no hint of embarrassment. He buttoned his pants as he moved
into the room.
“William! Lucas!
How was life on the slave ship today?
Tom, this is Ms. Marrow.”
He pointed to Denise and thrust out his hand.
“I’m Andrew Cross.”
Very jovial.
Tom accepted his
hand.
William and Lucas were
grazing their way through the room headed for the rest of the house, shedding
backpacks and clothes.
“Or,” Andrew said, “Mrs. Cross.
What can we do for you, Tom?”
He draped an arm possessively around
her shoulders.
This day will absolutely not end.
One fucked up scene after another.
Her brain hadn’t unscrambled since she started reading the
kinko blogs.
How was that for a
lesson about idle hands
.
“So, I’ll be driving the
boys.” Tom’s head moved slowly up and down while he spoke.
“Is it ok for me to check in with them
about times? Or should I discuss this with you? Maybe in the afternoon?
Do you want one trip, or are a couple
all right?”
Andrew leaned down and kissed her
cheek.
“Nice, work, Dinx.
I think it’s best to check in with Ms.
Cross-Marrow daily, Phil.
She’ll
be sure to know the guys plans and let you know how many trips are needed.
I take it you’re pretty flexible?”
Denise stiffened.
He’d renamed her. The bastard.
He’d highlighted clearly her need to
know what her little brothers were doing. Which made perfect sense, except it
was her business and she should have thought of it. Ok, she hadn’t thought of
it but she hated him telling her what to do.
“Check with the
guys.
I don’t know their
schedule.” Denise snapped.
There
came a time when one’s self-respect demanded throwing caution to the wind. She
tried to whirl out from under her arm.
It didn’t work.
“Dinx, Baby. Please
don’t interrupt me again.” Andrew nuzzled her neck as though it was all a big
joke.
“Cut it.” That’s what he
hissed in her ear while he pretended to nuzzle it.
His voice was that low, cold growl that made a picture of
his belt pop up in her mind.
“Sure you’ll know what
the dudes are up to, sweetie.
We’re gonna get this parent thing down.
So you’re up for more than one run, Tom?”
Tom backed towards the
door.
“Uh, sure! I’m supposed to
be free to drive between two and seven pm five days a week.
I get my schedule from Dispatch, and if
I’m not free they’ll plug someone else in.
But you know,” he gave a shrug.
One hand snuck behind to fumble for the door.