She sniffs. “My ass jiggles when I walk.”
“It’s mesmerizing. I love watching your ass jiggle. I love smacking your ass and watching it ripple. I’m absolutely, completely, head-over-heels in love with your ass and if you lose an ounce, I will go to your house and force-feed your grandmother string cheese until she has to roll down the street like a Jigglypuff. Please stop hiding your gorgeous ass, baby. No,I take that back, I’m the only one who should be seeing that ass.” She giggles. “Hide it from everyone but me.”
“You really like it that much?”
“So much I’m going to have it framed.”
She swats me.
“I mean it. I’m going to get one of those make-an-impression-of-your-dick casting things and we’re going to cast your ass and put it on my wall.”
A wild, sweet giggle. “At least you’dhavesomething on your wall then.”
I cuddle her back into the seat, kissing her temple. “You think I’m joking, but I’m not.”
I pull my phone out, thumb over to a box store app, and order a casting kit.
“Order some prints for your walls while you’re there,” Cynnie suggests.
“Are my walls too bare for you?”
“Yes. And your chairs are too ouchy.”
“My chairs?”
“The ones around your dining table? Worse than sitting on the floor. I love your beanbags, though. So scrunchy.”
While I can’t believe I’m about to offer this, I say, “How about we go and do some shopping on your next free day? Replace those chairs and get some things you like for the walls. Bee prints? Cherry blossoms? I know you love those.”
She tips her head back to look at me, those dark eyes depthless. “Really?”
“Sure. I have no talent for decorating. None. Zippo. I let the decorator do everything. Those chairsareuncomfortable. That’s probably why I eat in my rig or in the beanbag. But I like eating at the table with you, so let’s get some comfortable chairs. And if you see something you want on my walls, I’ll get that, too. Whatever you think looks good. I want you to feel at home.”
“I do feel at home here. Too much. That’s why I blurted all that out. I shouldn’t have said it.”
I turn and pull her up onto my chest so I can look down into her eyes. “Cynnie, baby, I want to know those things. I want to hear what’s going on in your head.”
“No one wants to hear my worries?—”
“Ido.”
She bites her lip and watches my face for a moment, then says hesitantly, “Bees are endangered. Some bees in particular, but all bees are declining. They’re so important to our world, and they’re threatened. I worry one day we’ll wake up and there will be no more buzzies. I volunteer and give money to a bee conservation program, but it’s not enough. Would you help me?”
“Of course, I will. Tell me what to do.”
“We could start with some small things? Like the flowers in your planter. We could swap out a few of them with flowers that are more bee friendly. And we could make a little bee garden on the roof. And there’s a fund-raiser coming up in November you could help with?”
“I would love to do all those things.”
Her smile peeps back out. “Really? My family thinks I’m wasting my time on bees.”
“Then they don’t read enough. I’ve seen news stories on bee conservation. I know bees are important and in trouble.”
She slides her arms around my neck and hugs me. “Thank you.”
“Now tell me what’s fucked up and unfair.”
She sighs and buries her face in my neck. “Everything. Is that why you do it?”
