Rock Hard
“We’ve been over this a million times, Nat,” I sluggishly groaned as I shuffled towards the island for support. God, I feel terrible. “That pet name of yours doesn’t work when my name’s not actually Claire.”
“Yeah, well, suck it up,” my best friend chuckled, turning her eyes back to the television. “Anyway, don’t you, like, have a thing with your mom today?”
Recollection snapped me to alertness. I stumbled towards the clock on the oven and cursed myself for oversleeping.
“Oh shit, I’m gonna be late!”
“You’re making a bad habit of that!” She rang out in a singsong voice, before chomping down on a spoonful of cereal. “And here I was, about to invite you to Netflix the shit out of some shows with me. When’ve you gotta be there?”
“Two hours,” I moaned self-piteously.
“What? You can totally make that.”
“It takes an hour and a half to get there, and I’m a total mess at the moment, if you couldn’t tell…”
“So what? Skip the shower. Slap on some makeup. Brush your teeth. Put on pants. The problem practically solves itself!” She threw her hands up in mock exasperation. “Do I need to figure all this shit out for you, or can you be a functioning adult for, like, one goddamn day?”
I couldn’t help but grin. Her friendship was a definite blessing to me.
“One day I’m gonna strangle you, you smart-ass,” I chuckled groggily. “But I’ll need that shower to wake me up… so, you know, enjoy your Netflix boyfriend. Gonna make that Jared of yours jealous.”
“It’s true, Netflix is bae,” Nat cheerfully announced. “Jared knows his place. He buys me shit. He gives me the dick, but Netflix? Netflix is where my heart goes.”
“I thought that was pizza,” I retorted.
“Netflix and I have an open relationship with pizza. It’s working out pretty well.”
“You’re hopeless.”
“And you will be, too, if you don’t get your ass in gear. Shower if you’re gonna, bitch!”
Shaking my head, I followed her advice. I really hated showering any less than half an hour, but time was of the essence. After a quick, begrudgingly utilitarian rinse, I stood under the faucet and let the steam cloud my senses for a few minutes.
One hair-drying session, a brisk bit of makeup, and a fresh set of presentable clothes later, I was traipsing towards the door.
“Hey, have you heard anything from your Good Samaritan yet?”
“My what?”
“Uh, Dalton, I think he said his name was,” Natalie clarified, pausing the television. “Dude from the bar. It was weird – you hated him one moment, and then you were practically hanging on his every word the next. But he turned out to be pretty chill, all things considered.”
“Did he?”
The memories slowly drifted back. I faintly remembered the conversation we had. Dalton told me about his chemical engineer father, about being in the Marines for two terms, and some other things that were slipping my mind.
“Yeah. He could have dragged you to his place, or at least tried. I was keeping an eye on you and making sure nothing funny happened. But then he walked right up to me and put you in my care instead of trying to fuck you.”
“We wouldn’t have fucked.”
“Oh Clara, you would have definitely fucked him. You should have seen the look in your eyes. After you warmed up to him, you would have rode that dick all night long.”
“Ugh,” I grunted. “Was I that bad?”
“You weren’t bad, per se, but it was a bit of a fight to get you back here. You kept trying to call the poor guy in the middle of the night.”
“Wow,” I shook my head. “Wonder what got into me.”
“Well, to be fair, he was definitely into you, too. And he was handsome as fuck. You two would have had extraordinary sex, and I’d have been cheering you guys on from the other side of the wall.”
“Vote of confidence, that quickly? What if he turned out to be an axe murderer?”
“I’d have taken that chance. Let’s tally it up, shall we?” Natalie grinned, hopping over the arm of the couch and leaning on the other side of the island.
I shook my head in amusement as she leaned forward, counting off of her fingers.
“(1) Dude’s a Marine. Or was. Either way, it’s awesome, and he’s still a total hottie. (2) That English accent. It’s to die for, really. He sounds so dignified! (3) He didn’t try to take advantage of you. I can’t really stress that one enough. How often does that happen these days? Borderline never.”
“You’re trying to hook us up, aren’t you?” I asked coyly. “Natalie, I just met the guy.”
“Hey, all I’m saying is you need someone to help you get over that total jerk-stain of an ex. Why not some big sexy arrogant marine?”
“Lets not talk about Jeremy.”
“Of course I’m going to talk about Jeremy,” she said. “This guy’s, like, the total opposite of him. Total dreamboat, with the whole consent thing down. You should go after him.”
“Jeremy didn’t do anything without consent.”
“No, but I think psychological coercion is sort of a gray area when it comes to the whole ‘consent’ thing… and this guy? He seemed to be pretty legit when the opportunity to take advantage rolled his way.”
“Well… it’s true that I can’t remember the last time you’ve ever really approved of anyone I’ve been with,” I thought aloud.
“Clara, this might come as a surprise, but you have really shitty taste in guys. When the good ones come around, you’re never interested! I just think you should give that guy a shot. You never know what’ll come of it, right?”
“I’m going to remind you, potential axe murderer.” It was supposed to be halfway serious, but my widening grin totally ruined it.
“Look, you can’t keep a straight face. But anyway. You’re already late. Think about it! Text that guy when you’re back, alright? If he’s a total tool, then no love lost, but he already plugged his number into your phone and everything.”
Oh yeah. I forgot about that.
“Alright, alright, fine. I’ll text him when I come back and thank him for his gentlemanly ways.”
“There you go, girl!” Natalie cheered. “Now get out there and get this stupid family thing over with so that you can move on with your life!”
The huge, stupid smile stayed smack across my face as I walked down the hall, took the elevator to the lobby, crossed over to the parking garage elevator, and wandered towards my car.
As I left the city, I put Tove Lo’s album on and headed down the interstate. Ever mindful of the time, I went roughly ten over the limit most of the way – keeping my eyes peeled for any parked squad cars and speed traps along the side.
Luckily, fortune favored me today. My haphazard driving made me barely able to arrive in time for lunch. As I arrived, my eyes fell upon two unfamiliar vehicles outside Mom’s house – an expensive gas-guzzler of a truck, and a worn but highly serviceable motorcycle.
I reasoned that the younger one probably had the motorcycle. Oh good. Not only is the kid old enough to drive… he’s old enough to be comfortable on a motorcycle.
Mom stepped outside to greet me as I parked beside the other vehicles. She met me at the front patio, drawing me into another one of her warm, loving, but mildly suffocating embraces.
“Hello, dear! It’s been so long! I’m so happy to see you again,” she cooed, holding me at arm’s length after the hug to scrutinize my appearance. “Are you eating properly? You look like you’ve lost weight!”
“I’ve been eating a little better, yeah. The banquet serving job keeps me running ragged too, so there’s that…”
“Well, we need to put some more meat on those bones!” Mom chortled happily.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I’d been coming back from an eating disorder I’d developed while at home. Mom, who was naturally a wider woman, had always been obsessed with my appearance. She loo
ked down on “skinny bitches” and liked to keep me “fattened up”.
Oh yeah.
It took a few therapy sessions to fix that.
“So, where are they?” I politely redirected the topic as I followed her inside. “Have you killed them already?”
“Oh, heavens no!” Mom chuckled haughtily. “They’re both in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on lunch.”
“They both cook?” I grinned slyly. “Sounds like a dream come true for you. Two grown men, taking care of all your meals…”
“For a Brit, William knows his way around a spice rack, that’s for sure.”
I was about to comment on that coincidence when we turned the corner into the kitchen… and my heart practically stopped on the spot.
Oh no. This CAN’T be happening.
The two gentlemen had their backs to me, but turned when we came into the room. I recognized the younger one instantly, and a faint look of surprise flickered across his face as he took me in.
His father was the first to say something.
“Clara! I’m William. It’s great to finally meet you!” The older man exclaimed cheerily. He was the spitting image of his son, but with light gray fringing his hair and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses over his eyes.