Page 42 of Over My Dead Boss
“I most certainly did.” I grin and receive a kiss on my forehead before wrapping my arms around his body, feeling the muscles underneath his shirt. “Also, you really need to chop some more wood,” I say, my face buried in his chest.
“It’s 77 degrees Fahrenheit outside. You wore nothing but your underwear most of the day. I don’t think we need more…”
“Firewood!” I cut him off and push him away. “Now, please.”
He gives me a skeptical glance and reluctantly walks outside to get his axe. I follow and watch as he untangles an elastic band from the handle, his skepticism turned to confusion.
“They’re called sleeve garters,” I explain. “You complained about your sleeves sliding down when you have dirty hands and since I take my job as your assistant/editor/bodyguard/seamstress and personal stylist very serious…”
Phoenix laughs again, making my heart flutter. Out of all the noises that I illicit from him, this might be my favorite.
He puts them on and moves his arms to see if the sleeves stay up. “It’s funny that you found solutions for these problems now that not putting on any more clothes would be an option.”
“Oh, we’re getting to the no-clothes-part soon enough.” I place a piece of wood on the chopping block. “Now, chop-chop while I watch, please. I’ll give you your payment later.”
That same night, I find myself spooning Phoenix from behind, incapable of not nibbling on his broad shoulders while doing so. I know I am already more fond of this than I should be and that it’s a dangerous game we’re playing, but I just can’t help myself.
“Say,” he interrupts my thoughts. “You haven’t been having any nightmares the last couple of days. What happened? Did I bang them out of you?”
I bite him a little harder than before. “Not quite,” I say and want to leave it at that, but he keeps poking.
“Did anything change? If so, you should keep doing that. I can’t imagine having those terrors every dreadful night.”
“You get used to it,” I lie as Phoenix turns around to face me.
“But you shouldn’t have to if there’s a solution.”
“It’s not as simple.” I press my lips together and look into the dark blue in his eyes. “It’s… I need background noise to sleep well, but somehow YouTube videos don’t do the trick.”
“Background noises? Wait, are you saying that my snoring is what helps you sleep?” Phoenix asks and can’t hold back his laughter.
I nod, a single tear rolling down my cheek that I quickly try to hide by snuggling up against him. Unsuccessfully, unfortunately.
“Wait, did I say something wrong?” His hand glides over my cheek, down to my chin, and guides my gaze toward him.
I press my eyes together but can’t hold back. More and more tears run down my face. I can’t speak, so Phoenix pulls me close and just waits for me to calm down again. When I do, he kisses me, his warm embrace making me feel a little better, safe. “You don’t have to talk about it,” he finally says. “But if you want to, I’ll gladly listen.”
It takes another minute or two until I finally stop sobbing and can speak again, a pain in my stomach reminding me that I haven’t talked to my parents in a while. “Well, you already know about my dad. When I was younger, he got sick. Pneumoconiosis, or more specifically severe asbestosis. He was exposed at his old workplace, which damaged his lungs. The company hadn’t provided adequate protection and, well, that was that. He got too sick to work or do anything, really. He needs oxygen to function somewhat normally, but even walking a few stairs is enough to make him gasp for air. Him and his colleagues sued the company but lost because who could have known…”
Phoenix lays quietly next to me, his hand stroking my back in an attempt to comfort me.
“Anyway, I grew up with him being hooked up to some sort of breathing machine or another. We had a few occasions where he almost didn’t make it because he got a severe cold or another illness. So on those nights, mom and I would take shifts. I would sleep next to him to make sure everything was ok, that he was comfortable, that he wouldn’t die in his sleep. We would talk until he’d drift off, and then I would listen to the sound of the breathing machine. They used to be bigger back then and louder, but I thought the sound of it was sort of comforting. I figured as long as the machine was still going, nothing could happen to him.” Another tear rolls down my cheek and is wiped away by Phoenix’s big hand.
“I see,” he says, his voice sounding husky, “and my melodious snoring reminds you of that sound.”
I laugh through all the snot and mucus. “Melodious. I guess if you wanna call it that, sure.”
“What did you two talk about?”
“Oh, the usual father-daughter stuff, I guess. Unicorns, pro-wrestling, whether we could pull off going bald. Turns out one of us can, and I will not reveal who that is.” Phoenix chuckles and inspects me closely, running his hand through my hair. “One time, at Christmas, I had fallen asleep and my dad had snuck to the living room when I suddenly heard him shout something. He can’t shout very well, so I had to listen very closely. And then I heard him say,Listen, I don’t care who you are, fatty! Get your sled and those horses off my fucking roof.I must have been six or seven and appropriately naïve for my age, because I remember crying so hard. In hindsight, it’s one of my favorite memories, but back then I was convinced my dad had scared off Santa and I wouldn’t be getting any presents.”
“That’s adorable. He must have been a good father.” Phoenix grins.
“Six-year-old me would have begged to differ, but yes, he was pretty great. Still is.” I slide on top of Phoenix, sit up, and fix my hair into a messy ponytail. “It’s important for him to stay fit and eat healthy, but once in a while he got a real craving for pizza, so he would sabotage the kitchen and pretend we couldn’t make dinner at home. I remember him putting a hamburger bun in the oven and saying that it wasout of order, which is why we had to order pizza from his favorite pizza place.”
“So your dad is one big dad-joke, huh?”
I have to grin at the memories and I am glad that I can. Talking about my dad is not something I particularly enjoy. I usually try to sidestep the topic when it comes up, and apart from Sienna, no one is privy to that sort of information, but it feels good to let someone else in on it. “How about you? Do you have any pleasant memories? Something that doesn’t involve bribes and nipple tattoos?”
