Page 9 of Night Blind

“Thank you, but I can’t accept it,” he told Luca.

“It’s not for you; it’s for Naomi.”

Slow turned fully in his seat to face the HR Manager. “One, I’m not okay with a male outside of my family heaping gifts on my daughter,” he said. “It sets a bad precedent. Two, I don’t know anything about you and your kids or their birthdays, so I don’t want to feel obligated to reciprocate to your children that I don’t know, nor want to know. Again, thanks, but no.”

“Jeez, you are such a hard ass,” Luca said, reaching to close the door to Slow’s office. He helped himself to a chair no one offered to him. Luca cleared his throat. “I don’t have any children of my own. I’m seeing someone who has a daughter Naomi’s age, and I dunno, I want to make it more permanent, but I don’t think I’m ready to take on someone else’s kid. I don’t even think I’m ready to have my own.”

Slow sat staring at him mutherfuckingly, uncertain if the old demon who hung out next to him had been replaced with a new guardian from Hell with an offbeat sense of humor. He asked, “And why, dear Jesus, are you sharing this with me?”

“Because you are a man who can keep a secret,” Luca confessed. “I need to talk to someone and my father, God bless his soul, is so desperate for grandchildren, he’s thinking about adopting one of them babies from overseas. In a couple of years, he’ll be in his own diapers talking about changing some on his grandson. Listen, I just want to talk to a man who understands the weirdness of being a girl-dad.”

“Dude, you have no idea the amount of weirdness coming your way if you go through with this, but follow your heart,” Slow said. “If you can find it in you to love the child as your own, then talk to the woman in your life about timing and planning your own biological to give the girl a sibling.”

“You make it sound so easy. Are you and Abigail trying for another to give Naomi a sibling?”

“Honestly, that is none of your business,” Slow said, rising, giving Luca the cue that his time was up.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to overstay my welcome.”

“You were never welcomed; you just barged in. Take your present,” Slow said, passing the pretty wrapped gift box to him.

“No, and you can’t make me,” Luca said, sticking his tongue out at Slow. “Tell Naomi the head bully on your playground made you bring it home. And thanks.”

“Whatever,” Slow said, looking at his watch. It was time to head home. Naomi had an early rehearsal tonight which meant Cherry had picked her up from daycare. All he wanted was a hot shower, possibly a cold beer, and eight long hours of sleep. “If my wife throws in a quick and dirty, I’d be okay with that as well.”

All the way home, his stomach rumbled, and he prayed that Helen hadn’t decided to cook dinner. As far as he was concerned, he secretly prayed his wife hadn’t either. The two beautiful women were both menaces in the kitchen. Every meal they cooked rested on a sheet pan, drizzled in olive oil with a bit of Mrs. Dash for seasoning, making each meal taste exactly the same as the last. It didn’t matter if it was chicken, fish, or pork, all of it tasted like greasy lemon peppered bad habits. He arrived home, taking his vehicle to the garage to park. He trudged slowly across the yard to the back door. He noticed the pile of wood was smaller, not by much, but Helen was working on it. She’d be sore tonight from her efforts.

He stepped inside the home to smell the wonderful scent of seared beef with onions. Inhaling deeply, he followed his nose to the dining area, his breath catching at seeing his wife. His eyes went from Cherry to the dining room table and back to Cherry, uncertain which to look at first. On the table, which was decorated with a white tablecloth, deep green napkins, and plates he’d never seen before rested the single most gorgeouscowboy steak he’d seen in a long time. A small bowl of sauteed mushrooms sat next to a container of brown gravy along with a steaming bowl of green peas with the butter dissolving into the perfect circles of goodness. A brown wicker basket held crusty brown rolls next to slices of aged white cheddar, and a beer, so cold there was condensationen masse on the side of the bottle, but the baked potato, loaded with sour cream and chives made his mouth water.

He turned to look at Cherry. She stood before him in a piece of lace with spaghetti straps to hold it on her shoulders, but the rest allowed him to see everything he loved about the woman. His wife even wore a pair of high-heeled strappy sandals to show off her amazing legs.

Slow swallowed hard, “This…and wow…you, amazing.” He paused, looking around, “Bunny?”

“She and Helen are having dinner with your parents. We have about three hours alone,” Cherry said, lifting the lace. “What would you like to put first in that filthy mouth of yours, Mr. Neary?”

He chuckled while removing his tie. He slowly removed his shoes, then his jacket. His eyes went to the table as he picked up a mushroom, sighing in delight as it hit his tongue. He took a swig of the beer, cold, refreshing, and delightful to the taste buds in his mouth, which felt rewarded after a long day.

“Listen, wife, you’re going to mess around for real, and tonight, when I’m done, you will most definitely be pregnant,” he said, reaching for her.

“Well, we are alone, and you can be as loud, as nasty, and as physical as I can tolerate,” she said, reaching for the bulge in his pants.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Mrs. Neary,” he laughed, lifting her into his arms.

He carried his wife to the bedroom, tossing her on the bed like a rag doll and diving in behind her. In one motion, his pants were off, and with the next, the sheer negligée she wore became shreds. Slow leaned over her and whispered in her ear, a command so nasty, so raunchy, so debaucherous, she felt her girly parts leak with anticipation. It was all the encouragement he needed as he spent a solid hour non-stop making her wail like a three-dollar hooker auditioning for a starring role in an upcoming adult film.

“Damn, Michael Isaac Neary!”

“Baby, if it wasn’t for that steak in the other room, I would start on Round Two,” he said, kissing her passionately, as he disengaged their bodies.

He ate his meal with pleasure, looking across the table at his wife. Twice he reached for her, offering a passionate kiss, and finally after he’d eaten half the meal, they cleaned the kitchen and waited for the return of their family at the nine o’clock hour.

Naomi entered the front door, yawning, “Hey Daddy. Hi Mommy? Did you miss me?”

“Of course we did; we missed both of you,” he said, looking at Helen and nodding his head in appreciation. She in turn offered a mock salute.

“I’m going to head home,” Helen stated. “Good night, everyone.”

Slow spoke up, “No, stay for story time. Pour yourself a glass of wine, and Cherry will walk you home when I put Naomi to bed.”

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