Page 38 of Until Now
Dominique
As August turns to September, the passing of time seems to be accelerating. The window of our opportunity is about to shut. So much has happened. The last eight weeks have shaped a new me. We are all works in progress, but my metamorphosis is taking shape quickly.
The strange part is, I don’t have a sense things are movingtoofast. They move exactly as they must. Maxen and I have a limited amount of time together before he returns to his real life in California. If this is destiny, those are our limitations. It’s as if the angels are humming the song “If It’s Meant to Be.”
Lots of information has been revealed for both of us. I have seen how he relates to Bing, to children in general. That is number one on my list of must-haves. He’s got the common sense a parent must have to navigate daily life with a child. He’s fair. He’s kind. He doesn’t allow a kid to play him or outlast his resolve.
I can tell Bing likes him and likes me with him. I don’t know exactly what happened on that Smokey Mountain bike trip, but they came back as friends. It’s encouraging to watch how Maxen and Bing interact. There’s no sense of jealousy for my attention from either of them. I would not allow that to happen. My priority will always be my son, but I can see how fitting in a man I love would be a wonderful thing for both Bing and me.
As I gather the condiments and put them on a tray, my mind is on the future. Looking out my kitchen window, I see Hunter and Bing carrying out their assignment. McFly and Cali stand stiffly on the lawn, accepting their fate. It’s bath day. We found it was easier to suds them up at the same time and rinse them off with the garden hose. Besides, when Cali does her shake off, whether it be soap or water, it carries at least six feet away.
I like the look of Maxen standing at the barbecue, wearing shorts and a sleeveless T, flipping the burgers while watching the boys. But it’s his arms I’m most interested in. God, he has some great guns. He catches me looking and smiles. Flexing his biceps for my enjoyment. He knows me well already.
While the boys are busy and not looking at us, I give my man a quick flash of my boobs. His mouth opens, then when he’s sure he’s not being observed, he wiggles his tongue at the sight. My nipples harden with the thought.
Picking up the tray, I walk out the open French doors.
“There she is. The burgers are ready.”
Maxen turns off the grill and loads the burgers onto a plate.
“Boys! Finish up and come eat lunch.”
The dogs have picked up the scent of meat, and Cali especially is straining at Hunter’s hold. Bing sprays the water over McFly's back and undercarriage and lets him loose to shake it off. It always has to be this way, Cali rinsed off first. We did it once the other way, and a rinsed McFly got sprayed with his friend’s suds. Now it’s Cali’s turn.
“Okay, Cali, you’re clean,” Hunter says.
But what follows doesn’t escape my eyes. Before he releases the dog, Hunter kisses the top of her head. I turn to Maxen to see if he’s watching and listening. He is. I hoped the reaction to the death of his own beloved dog in the accident was going to soften, and it has.
I’ve got to give it to my child, who made all the difference. One afternoon Bing called him out when he saw Hunter ignoring McFly’s attention. The dog’s offer doesn’t happen that often, and my boy pointed it out. From that point on, Hunter changed his attitude. Sometimes peer pressure is a positive thing.
Both boys have been good for each other, beyond their shared interest in music and girls. Even though they attend the same school, they were never friends. It’s a double junior high class, and they only shared breaks. I’ve already heard some mumblings about how cool eighth grade is going to be. I’m encouraged for them both, as it begins shortly.
Cali runs to Maxen’s side as he lifts the plate of burgers above his head. Unfortunately, the dog waits till he is nearby to shake his large, wet body.
“Cali! No!” I say, turning my face.
“Girl! Get out of here!”
McFly joins the group as the boys take their seats. He takes a seat at Maxen’s feet, clearly identifying the person most likely to share his burger.
As we pass around the catsup and pickles, I see Maxen give my dog a little bite. Then one for Cali, who takes his place on the other side of his human’s chair.
“What? This is perfectly all right,” Maxen says, catching my stare.
“That’s what I tell her. It’s not like we’re giving them a roast!” Bing adds.
I pretend I don’t know the answer as I pushback. “Let’s see, who went to veterinary school and got a degree in caring for animals? Oh yeah, it’s me!”
Laughter is the response I get from all three of them. I can’t help but smile at being outnumbered.
“Okay. You’re right. Don’t give them any more, Bing,” Maxen says with a serious expression.
“What? Me? You’re the one who started it!”
My child gets the joke. He punches Maxen in the arm for emphasis.
“Ow! Well, maybe it was me. I can’t remember.”
