Inseparable

I could still remember Christmas when my mother was alive. It wasn't that long ago. She wasn't baking cookies and making homemade Christmas presents kind of mom. But she did love to decorate the house. There were pictures of me from a baby dressed in an elf onesie with Santa all the way through eighth grade when I became so cool I wore a dark green Givenchy sweater and perfected the trademark smirk my mom warned me the girls were all going to fall for. She was right.

We weren't a really religious family but at Christmas time my mom always puts a Capodimonte nativity scene on the fireplace mantel. It was really quite an exquisite thing. All swirly and colorful. Instead of the individual figures being placed in their traditional spots this was one big, fifty-pound depiction of that night in Bethlehem. I remember her telling me it cost $5000 but not to tell my father. Not that my father would have said anything about it. Compared to Jenna my mother was a regular tightwad.

The year my mother had gotten sick I noticed some strange things turning up in the house. Little prayer books would be lying around. I’d see a gold cross pendant around her neck that

I’d never seen before. There are no atheists in foxholes, I guess.

After the funeral, my dad and I spent that one Christmas together just the two of us. We had burgers and fries for dinner with some of my dad's favorite red wine from his private collection. We watched a couple of movies on Christmas Eve and on Christmas morning the entire living room was filled with presents for me. Including a Mustang in the garage complete with a big bow around it. I wasn't even old enough to drive. It took the entire day to thoroughly inspect and play with everything. I think that was my dad's goal all along. It kept me occupied and out of his hair.

In return, I had gotten my dad a subscription to the Robb Report. As a freshman in high school that gift had cost me over one hundred dollars.

This year I had a very hard time figuring out what to give my father. I knew when I walked in the door that the living room wouldn’t be filled with presents for me. Not that I needed that. If I wanted something now I pretty much just went and bought it. But I’d probably have a couple of designer shirts under the tree and maybe a pair of Italian shoes. But when it came to my old man I didn’t know what to get him. Here it was Christmas Eve and the only thing for him in my bag was my report card. Even that wasn’t as great as it could have been.

I walked around the airport just to stretch my legs and I looked in every shop there was hoping there might be something I could snag for my dad. The nicest thing I saw was a gold keychain with an onyx embedded in it. I knew no one else would probably buy it so I didn't have to jump on it immediately.

Instead, I roamed around and finally settled myself at the bookstore where I tried to find some halfway decent magazine that would help me kill a little more time.

That was when a flood of memories came flooding back to me. I saw the woman across the food court looking right at me. She was absolutely gorgeous but before I could use my smirk on her she stuck her tongue out at me. Just like that. Like a spoiled little girl making faces at everyone when her mother's back was turned. At first, I thought she was just a loon that had wandered in out of the cold. Just because she had a hot body didn't mean she couldn't be bat-shit crazy. In fact, experience has shown that to be the case exactly.

But then I saw something familiar. She started to laugh and I remembered. It was my last party after high school. My father’s Bentley. Telula Grant.

In a matter of months, she had become this amazing grown woman. I couldn't help but stare at her for a few seconds before I got it together enough to approach her. I did smirk as I casually sauntered over to her.

When she stood up to greet me I nearly gasped. She was curvy and soft in all the right places. Her baby fat had given way to a tight stomach and her ass was up even higher than it had been before.

“Telula?” I mouthed the word as I approached her.

She nodded her head, her hair flopping playfully around her face.

"Merry Christmas, Lucas." She said happily. For a split second, I was sure she was going to slap me. That she was just pretending to be happy to see me just so she could embarrass me in public. But as I inched closer I didn't see anything like that in her eyes. All I saw was crystal clear happiness.

“Merry Christmas.” I stuttered. “This is weird seeing you here of all places.”

“Yeah, right? It was so beautiful this morning in New York when I left. Where did you hail from?” she asked with genuine concern.

“Oh, you know Dartmouth is in New Hampshire. I can’t say it was beautiful there but it was clear skies at least.”

“Have a seat and let me buy you a drink.” She offered. I was still suspicious but took a seat anyways. I couldn’t stop looking at her even if I wanted to. Her lips were smooth and pink and there was just a small smudge of eyeliner at the corners of her eyes that made her look sexy as hell.

I told her to keep her money. I never needed a woman to buy my drinks. Quickly I ordered myself a red wine and did as I was told, taking the seat next to her.

"So how is school going?" She asked. It was an absolute cliché and boring thing to ask but I answered her. I searched each syllable she uttered looking for the condescension in her voice but there was nothing. I waited expecting to see a mass of storm clouds pass over her eyes before she launched into me with a barrage of insults and threats for the way I treated her after the party. But nothing. The suspense was killing me as she told me about her classes and how excited she was to be back home but how much she loved New York.

“There is one thing I wanted to tell you.” She smiled devilishly. Here it comes was all I thought. This was it. It’s too late to get up and walk away now. Just listen to what she has to say then put her in her place. It will be easy. She’s obviously unaware of who she’s dealing with. Everyone in O’Hare International Airport will know what slut she is and maybe even more than that.

I felt myself squint at her as I waited for the shoe to fall.

"I thought about that time we spent together." She blushed madly. What? Was she serious? Did she want to talk about that? "When we were alone in your garage, in your dad's car."

Tilly shook her head letting her hair fall in front of her face while she grinned.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying this and I’m not saying it to make you embarrassed but that was so much fun.” She giggled.

“What?”

“Oh, don’t be a big jerk and pretend you don’t remember.” She playfully slapped my arm and batted her eyes at me.

"No. I remember. Of course, I remember." I swallowed hard. "I was expecting you to be mad at me."