Page 56 of Bringing Home the Bacon
“Thank you for welcoming me so generously into your home. You didn’t have to be so understanding and accommodating, yet you are.” I clear my throat. “It, um. It feels important to assure you that I do not make a habit of ‘diving into life penis first.’ The connection I felt with your granddaughter was so intense, so immediate… well, I guess we lost track of ourselves that day. But I can’t feel an ounce of regret for that because I found something I never knew I was missing.” I take a deep breath in, then let it out. “I love her, Mrs. Bedd.”
“I know you do, sweetheart.” She points at my face. “It’s in the eyes. Always in the eyes.” She makes her way to the door, gives me a wink, and says, “Sleep tight now, son.”
Son. No one’s ever called me that before.
“Sleep tight, Ethel,” I say and fight the urge to go all misty-eyed. What a day this has been. One for the record books, for sure.
Once I’m alone, I clean up in the small bathroom down the hall, then spend way too much time standing outside Colleen’s closed bedroom door contemplating knocking or just slipping inside. But I don’t want to wake her. Plus, I just finished telling her grandmother I respect her rules and we’d sleep separately. I’m not going to damage all that goodwill we’ve established by going against Ethel’s wishes.
But damn, I want to hold her.
Colleen, that is. Not her grandmother. One would think that’d be obvious, but it doesn't hurt to be specific after the conversation that veered on flirtation just now.
Maybe I shouldn’t have gone out with Colleen’s brothers tonight. When they invited me out after dinner, she said she was cool with it and that I should go, but after four months apart from her, I should be soaking up every minute we have together, not trying to fit in with “the cool kids.”
I have to hand it to them, though. The Bedd brothers really are cool. They seem so confident in who they are in the world and who they are to each other. I don’t doubt they’ve had their struggles over the years, but seeing them now as grown men busting on each other, talking shit… it all seems so comforting. Having a shared history with siblings is something I’ve always craved. It was nice for one night being welcomed into their fold.
Returning to my temporary bedroom, I strip down to my boxer briefs, slip on a tee shirt, and lie down on the air mattress.
“It’s squeaky, isn’t it?”
The voice I’d know anywhere sounds through the wall.
I turn my head toward the mint green wallpaper. “Colleen?”
“These walls are incredibly thin,” she says. “How was the night?”
“It was fun. But I was just thinking, I should’ve stayed here with you. I’m sorry. I know you have feelings like people favor your brothers over you, and I’d never want you to think?—”
“That you favor my brothers over me?”
“Yeah,” I say, realizing how ridiculous that sounds now that I’ve said it out loud.
“I would never think that. I mean, would my brothers play Yes, Chef! with you on your marble countertop and let you knock them up on the first date?”
“No. No, they would not.”
“Exactly. I’m not worried. You know where your bread is buttered.” She laughs softly.
“Do you think we’ll… butter bread together again at some point?” I ask like an idiot.
“I certainly hope so. It won’t be tonight, though. Gran’s orders.”
“Yes. Gotta respect Gran’s orders.”
“And you gotta stop flirting with my grandmother.”
“Flirting with your grandmother? What are you even?—”
“‘I have to say, you look adorable in those holiday jammies, Mrs. Bedd.’” She does a damn good impression of me. “Like I said, these walls are thin.”
“For the record, I was not flirting with her,” I say. “I was simply appreciating a beautiful woman who has always taken care of my beautiful woman.”
“I’m your beautiful woman, huh?” she says playfully.
Did I take that too far?
“Yes? But, of course, I mean that in a fully feminist, non-possessive, I-know-you-are your-own-person and I-am-my-own-person kind of way.”
