The Good One (The Ones)

“Tell me you guys did the deed, and he was as amazing as I would imagine him.” For a moment I’m irritated that she would imagine my… what? Boyfriend? Friends with benefits? Lover? No, that last one is too weird for me to say. We haven’t established what our relationship is. He was too busy with the orgasm giving last night. I want to take it as it comes, but I’m still me, and I need to know what the parameters of our relationship are.

“Yes, and if you imagined he was anything other than spectacular, you would be wrong,” I say. She squeals so loudly into the phone that I have to move it away from my ear or risk hearing loss.

“Of course he was. He’s got that BDE pouring off him.”

“Seriously, Abigail.” I laugh. “I don’t know if I like you talking about Donovan’s big dick energy, which by the way is a totally accurate observation.”

“Yes, girl! I would say I’m jealous, but I’m too happy for you to be jealous.” That’s a good friend. She’s been telling me to let loose for just about as long as I’ve known her. I tell her the story of how bold I was at the restaurant but leave out the details of what happened last night and this morning. Those are just for Donovan and me.

“I really am happy for you, Kasey. You needed this.” She isn’t wrong.

“I have to get going,” I tell her. “Dinner with my sister and mom.”

“All right, girl. Have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

We hang up. I guess it’s time to put my own clothes on. I really don’t want to, though. I enjoy having his smell on me, but it might raise a couple questions if I show up at my mom’s in men’s sweats. I throw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt (of my own) and grab a sweater on my way out the door to a waiting Uber.

I get to my mom’s house before my sister. Nothing new there. I walk in the front door just as she’s prepping the salad to go with the lasagna I smell cooking in the oven.

“Hey, Mom.” I walk up and give her a quick side hug while she has her hands full. “Talk to Lindsey today?”

“Hi, sweetie. Yeah, she called and said she was running a little late. The lasagna has to rest a minute anyway, so it’s no big deal. How are you doing, honey?”

“I’m good, Mom.” I sit at the kitchen table where we had countless family dinners and study sessions growing up in this house. The pang that strikes me whenever I remember my dad isn’t here anymore has lessened over time but will never go away.

“You look great, honey. Did you do something to your hair? I love it when you let it go wild like that.”

I smile to myself, thinking about why it looks this way today. I didn’t have any of my stuff at Donovan’s, so it dried naturally, and I didn’t have the energy or inclination to do anything with it when I got home.

“Just too lazy to mess with it today. What time did Lindsey say she was going to be here?” I need her questioning look away from me. Moms and their intuition. I’m not up for answering questions today when I don’t even have the answers for them myself.

“Any minute I’m sure. Hey, great story about Donovan Hayes last week. He’s so handsome.”

If I had a drink, I totally would have choked on it. Handsome, sex god, master of orgasms. Plenty of adjectives to describe him. Where the hell is my sister?

“Thanks, Mom. Yes, handsome is one word,” I reply.

“What other words would you use?” She gives me a quizzical look. Just then, my sister walks in. Thank you, baby Jesus. Any more thoughts of Donovan, and my mom would surely have caught on to my flushed cheeks and guilty look. I’m not one to keep secrets about who I’m dating from my family, but we have a few things to figure out before we tell anyone about whatever we are.

“Hey, guys, sorry I’m a little late.” Lindsey looks put together as always in her cute boho white top and flare jeans, but she has a tired look in her eyes with dark smudges under them. I wonder to myself if she is still working on her story, and if that’s causing the obvious exhaustion.

“That’s okay, honey. I was just congratulating Kasey on her piece about Donovan Hayes. You made him sound so much less, I don’t know, stiff?” Oh man, this lady doesn’t know what she’s doing to me right now.

“Yeah, she definitely gave him a personality in her story. More than I would have thought she would have been able to pull from him. What’s your secret, dear sister?” Is she being snarky with me? What the hell did I do?

“Good journalism, that’s all.” I shoot her a confused look, but either she didn’t catch it or she just doesn’t feel like answering. Anything is possible with her.

“Dinner’s ready, girls. Just come serve yourselves from here and we’ll eat at the table.”

I dish myself a huge plate of lasagna and salad. “Is there garlic bread too, Mom?”

“You must be starving, hon. Have you been taking care of yourself? Eating enough? I’ll send leftovers home with you,” my mom fires off at me.

“Yeah, I just haven’t eaten much today.” Not since the eggs and toast at Donovan’s.

“I know I don’t have to worry about you like some other people at this table,” she jokes, side-eyeing my sister playfully.

“Yes, Kasey is always the one everyone can count on. The responsible one. The good one.” She rolls her eyes. She isn’t joking like my mom is. I shoot her another look. This one less questioning and more shut-the-hell-up.

“Lindsey, is everything okay?” my mom asks.

“Yeah, Mom. I’m just tired and hungry. It’s making me a little cranky, I guess. Sorry, sis. I’m being a brat.”

I smile at her, but I’m not convinced that was a sincere apology. We finish up dinner and help my mom clean up a bit. We’re sitting at the table talking about the time Dad decided it would be a fun family trip to go stay in a pioneer town where there was no running water or electricity. It’s an experience of a lifetime, was how he tried to sell it to my mom and us girls. He should have known better. My sister and I were so bored we were making up and acting out our own TV shows, very loudly, or fighting and carrying on like sisters do. There were a lot of doors slamming and screaming at each other. It’s amazing how far sounds travel when there are no other regular life noises around. We’re all laughing, caught up in the memory.

“Your father was so embarrassed when they asked us to leave early,” my mom says, laughing and shaking her head. “But as soon as we were reunited with our car and fast food, he was perfectly happy to leave early. I think the idea of having to cook over an open flame one more night turned his stomach. Your father wasn’t much of a camper, or adventurer, for that matter. To this day I don’t know what he was thinking with that trip.”

“He wanted us to have ‘an experience of a lifetime,’ Mom.” My sister laughs, using finger quotes.

“Well, it certainly was that.” I don’t know how my mom does it. She lost the love of her life ten years ago and still went on laughing and living. I would be utterly inconsolable, I think. Not that losing our dad was much easier on Lindsey and me, but we had each other. We weren’t the ones who lost the person we planned a life with, to grow old with. It feels good to laugh, though. Remembering our happiest memories.

“I have to get going,” I tell them. “Work in the morning and all that.” I order an Uber to take me home at the same time Lindsey does. No fancy driver for us girls. We kiss our mom good night and head outside, where both our cars are waiting.

“Linds, are you okay? What was that earlier?” I ask my sister.

“I’m fine. Promise. Just a lot going on with this story. It has me following leads pretty late at night.”

“Any more sex club adventures?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

She laughs. “No. Nothing like that. Just late nights, is all. I’ll call you in a few days. Love you, sis.” She leans in and gives me a hug, then gets into her Uber and leaves.

A wave of exhaustion comes over me on the way back to my apartment. When I get home, I decide to put Donovan’s T-shirt on to sleep in. I take a picture of myself in it with my hand on the hem, like I’m about to pull it up over my panties. “Sweet dreams” the caption reads. He responds seconds later.

DH: They will be now beautiful.

I’m so exhausted that sleep comes for me easily and quickly. I don’t dream, probably because I’m so tired that I sleep like the dead, but I wake up the next day still smiling and still sore from the day before. And I’m not mad about it.