He takes my mouth with his, a hand grazing my throat like a warm, rough necklace.
"Touch me," he breathes onto my lips.
My hands slip under his shirt, over his abdomen, his muscles tight and warm against my fingertips. I touch the places on him I'...
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Middlebridge, Virginia A Tuesday in August, 6:23 PM
There's a promise of pizza in the air. I am beyond ready to stuff my face with dough. It's a cure-all, isn't it? I want grease. I want Sprite. I want Skittles.
I want my childhood, really, and that's what my childhood tasted like.
A blast of warm air hits me as I step out the front door in loose jeans and a baggy purple shirt. This one has the periodic table of elements printed in white on the front.
August has settled, the air teasing the end of summer already. It's still sticky, though.
I hear a rattly car idling at the curb and smile, but when I look up, it's not Greyson. It's Pat.
Raveena's at the wheel, her sharp eyes catching mine through the windshield. She waves, a quick motion that seems to say, Hurry up.
"Sweetheart, you're just in time!" Pat calls out from the passenger seat, his voice rough like old wood. He's smiling, though, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his moustache curled up with wax.
I hop down the steps, two at a time, and adjust the strap of my bag. "Aren't you both supposed to be at work?"
"Actually, we both took off early. Special occasion!" Pat beams, tapping his hands on his knees like a kid who can't keep a secret.
"Special occasion? Did I miss a memo?"
Raveena's nod is crisp, her lips tight in what might pass for a smile if you weren't really looking. "You could say that."
"Are you ever gonna tell me?" I probe, my curiosity piqued as I glance between Pat and Raveena through the car window.
Pat chuckles, a glint of excitement in his eyes. "I got that job promotion. I'm officially custodial management."
My eyes bug. "No way."
"Way, sweetheart. Way."
I launch myself into a squeal as he steps out of the can, skipping around to give my uncle a massive hug. "Oh my god! This is awesome! You're gonna rock that place with your... mop and stuff!" My voice lilts into laughter as I squeeze him tighter. "I'm so, so, so proud of you."
Pat returns the hug with a bear-like grip that lifts me slightly off the ground. "Thank you, sweetheart. It's been a long time coming, huh?"
As he sets me down, warmth fills me up like the sunlight soaking into skin. I watch him wipe a surreptitious tear from the corner of his eye with the back of his hand, laughing.
Part of me still can't believe it. All the years he came home late, the smell of cleaner clinging to his clothes, his tired smile never fading as he asked about my day. Nights I'd wait up in my PJs, not more than seven or eight, just to hear him shuffle through the door so I could sleep. I slept better when he was home, but I was always so worried to tell him that.
