On the Beach Ch. 13

Jill stares at us and walks pass me to the deck.

I join Jim in the kitchen and begin to make myself a sandwich.

"Everything okay over here?" I ask as I spread a glob of mayo over a slice of bread, Wonder Bread I notice. Jesus. I am a cracker.

Jim shrugs.

"It's your crazy family. I think so. Your mom lost her shit this morning."

He takes a bite of his sandwich. I put the last of the roast beef onto the slice of bread with the mayo. I add a thick slice of raw onion and squirt mustard over the top before smashing another slice of bread on top. Jim swallows. I can't help but watch the way his throat muscles ripple as he does.

"She pulled herself together enough to let me fuck her doggy style," he says watching my face intently. "With your dad on his back. Between her legs. Eating her pussy While I fucked her." He takes another bite of his sandwich. "After I fucked her, too," he says around a mouthful of food.

I whistle. "Holy fuck. What was Jill doing?"

"You mean besides directing? Watching mostly." He shook his head. "You know I love her right? Jill I mean. Mrs. C, too but not in the same way." He looks confused. I laugh.

"Yeah, I know all those things."

"I worry about Jill, more than your mom. Your mom gets it. She's cool. When shit needs to be said she says it. Jill? She thinks as long as she approves, long as she's having fun, everything and everyone else is cool, too. I don't think she has any idea how this could turn into the shit storm of the century."

I nod but I don't say anything. As I finish my sandwich, I hear feet on the stairs. It's Mark. And Muriel. I pay myself the mental $50 I had bet myself she'd be with him. Good for him. She should be here.

"Have you two been picking on my little sister?" Mark asks with a grin.

"Fuck you, Mark!" Jill's voice follows him inside.

He laughs. Good for him. Muriel frowns, that's not so good. I've never seen her look uncomfortable before. It bothers me.

I wrap my arms around her and wait for her to respond. It takes a few seconds but only a few.

"I'm glad you listened to Mark," I whisper in her ear, too softly for anyone else to hear.

Her eyes are misty but she's smiling when I release her.

"Ms. Dyer," Jim steps between us. "Excuse these folks. They prove what I've always said: 'Virginia is not really part of the South', elseways they would have introduced us proper like by now." He lays on the backwoods southern accent. "I'm Jim, Jim Watson and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Don't be too rough on 'em Jim, especially if you insist upon courting that feisty young thing sunning herself on the deck." She brushes aside the hand he's offer and gives him a big hug. Neither of them seem to care that they're naked.

"Muriel Dyer, I thought at least you'd be on my side," Jill huffs from the doorway. She looks like a toddler told she can't have any ice cream. I try not to; I honestly do but I start hooting laughter.

Jill is across the room and smacking me on the arm and back, furious.

"Jill Marie Casey, stop that! Now!"

Muriel's voice is sharp, firm. For a woman without children she hit just the right tone, pitch and cadence to stop Jill in her tracks.

"What on earth has gotten into you Jill? For goodness sake."

For the first time since she was, I don't know, five, Jill bursts into tears.

"You all think I'm some kind of perverted freak, just because I'm not crouching in the corner overcome with guilt and shame. Maybe I am." She gasps out between sobs.

Jim tries to put his arms around her but she pushes him away, the first time. When he tries again she lets him. In all the hullabaloo I'm the only one who notices mom and dad standing quietly near the kitchen. Muriel sees them, raises her eyebrows. Mom nods.

"Jill," Muriel says as she touches the back of my sister's shoulder. "Shush now. No one thinks you're a freak." She pauses, rubbing the back of Jill's shoulder. "Hush. I do worry you're not quite as aware how serious or how ugly this could become. You're a bright young woman but you're young. You're convinced everything will be fine because, thank the Lord, most of the time things do work out fine. But not always. And, sweetheart, this could be an awfully damn big not always.

"Family, even at the best of times, is tricky business. You start adding in sex and physical attraction and, well shoot, honey, all bets are off. I know I'm not family but I love your momma and daddy like family. I love all you kids like family, though I only see you a week a year and through what your momma tells me. All y'all are wonderful people but even wonderful people can get crossways with each other and I hate to see that happen, especially to this family.

"And that's saying nothing about the added complexities of you and that young man holding you having to work out how you're going to deal with each other, how to handle the times when he pisses you off and you piss him off. It's bad enough when a woman gets angry at her man and runs off to complain to her brother or her father. Imagine how that'll feel to Jim if the man you run to when your mad isn't just a brother or a father but a lover as well? Lordy, that sure won't make it any easier.

"No one thinks you're a pervert or a freak. If you are, we all are."

She stops and presses the side of her face into Jill's back. Jim moves his hand to give her room.

"And honey, don't get mad all over again, but sweetheart you're a big damn pain in the ass sometimes. You don't seem to have learned yet that there's a chance you could be wrong at times. That plus that bullheaded streak you got from your momma can lead a person to want to grab you by the shoulders sometimes and start shaking. Being as I'm a pacifist, I'll resist the urge. But you don't get to go smack your brother's around either. I don't give a blind parrot's fart whether they're laughing at you over it or not."

Jill had grown quiet as Muriel spoke to her. Suddenly, her body starts to quake and a strange muffled strangling sound fills the room. Both Jim and Muriel step away and stare. Jill covers her face with her hands. Drops to the floor and begins to roll from side to side.

Giggling and gasping for breath.

I gape at her. We all gape at her.

***

I start toward my daughter, convinced she's finally snapped. I'm getting ready to holler at Ben to call 911 when she manages to control herself and sit up. Her cheeks are wet.

"'A blind parrot's fart'? Really? I thought I'd heard all the bizarre sayings of the South there were but that's a new one. 'Blind parrot's fart', seriously what the fuck does that even mean?"

I tell myself I may not be a pacifist like Muriel but no good will come of grabbing my daughter by the shoulders and giving her a good shake. I tell myself to stay calm and try to think of what to say.

Jim beats me to it.

"Knock it off, Jill."

She looks at him, surprised. He didn't raise his voice. His tone wasn't sharp but it had lost that 'luvvy dovvy' sense of awe his voice usually had when addressing her.

"Are you forgetting how much time we've spent together? I may not know you as well as your folks or your brothers but I'm not a stranger. You're uncomfortable with where this conversation is going, mostly cause you know Ms. Dyer is right, so you make a joke out of it, side-track the conversation and ignore it. Nope," he says, shaking his head, "not today, pumpkin. This is a conversation that needs to run its course, even if you don't like where that course may take us."

Damn I like this young man. I hope Jill doesn't fuck things up with him. He's an easy-going man but, as he says, he's no stranger. He's smart. He's got a lot he wants to show the world and enough pride to get it down. He's not going to play patsy for anyone, even a girl he's crazy about.

"Your mother and I have had a chance to get cleaned up. We're too hungry for this drama." Ben's voice is as steady and strong as the hand on the back of my hip. "I suggest the rest of you get cleaned up, have something to eat, and let's meet at the pool, better yet in the pool, in an hour. Anyone got a conch?"

They all stare at him. I'm a failure as a teacher and a mother.

"Lord of the Flies," Muriel sighs. "I'm the one never finished high school. Don't y'all read?"

I cross the room, hold Jill at arm's length and kiss her forehead. I kiss my boys, including Jim, though they have to bend a bit for me to reach their foreheads.

"Jim?"

He looks at me.

"Honey, I don't care what my daughter does but you need a shower. She's got tears and snot all over that pretty chest of yours. That won't do, honey, won't do at all."

"Come on," Jill says, snuffling snot back in her nose, proving my point, as she rolls her eyes. "I got you dirty; I'll get you clean."

"I'll excuse myself now that I've said more than I ought to have," Muriel says.

I start to tell her not to be ridiculous. I see Mark's mouth start to open. Jill beats us both.

She steps over to Muriel and tips her forehead to rest against my friend's.

"No you did not. If you're excusing yourself, it's only to eat and take a shower. If you aren't in that pool in an hour we'll all come and drag you out, kicking and screaming, if we have to."

"Yup," my oldest agrees. "I'm going with Muriel. I'll make sure she doesn't disappear."

I see the look he gives my friend, my lover; I see the look she gives him. My heart gives a songbird's short trill and I find I'm holding my breath. My poor dears.

***

I eat my sandwich. The place is quiet. Jim and Jill went to our room, so Bill could have the basement shower. Mark and Muriel are over at her place. Meg decides a yogurt and a slice of mango will do her. She's quiet.

I enjoy just sitting her with my wife, having lunch? early supper? I've nothing left to hide. It's all out there, for her, for everyone that matters to me most. Whatever happens next, I need not spend an ounce of energy on keeping any secrets. It's liberating - for the moment anyway.

We hadn't talked in the shower either. I washed her. She washed me. We huddle under one showerhead and let the water wash over our bodies. When we kissed, it was both deeper and gentler than our kisses have been for years. The commotion that greeted us when we came out of the bedroom had been a cold dose of reality but I can't see how it could have come out any better. Most, if not all, of the questions were out in the open. No one had said anything spiteful. No harm had been inflicted, either bodily or verbally. I allow myself to feel a bit of hope that everything will be alright.

"Did you have fun? Was it what you had hoped it would be?"

Meg's voice comes from behind me. She's washing off her plate and spoon. I pushed the last bite of my sandwich into my mouth with my index finger and take my plate over to the sink. She takes half a step to the left so I can wash my plate. I rinse it, as I swallow the last bite, put it in the rack and turn to face her. I know she's nervous. Her voice is steady but she had waited until our backs were to each other before asking her question. I wonder if she is aware that she does that.

I kiss her forehead. I had loaded my sandwich with onion and my toothbrush is being held hostage by my youngest and her lover.

"May I ask you something first?"

Meg nods.

"Did you have fun? Or was it as bad as you feared it would be?"

She's looking at my chest, rubbing her finger through my chest hair.

"Total truth, Meg. Has to be. Please."

"I know. I know." She stops playing with my chest hair and meets my eyes. "It was a lot of fun. I can't believe I'm saying that but it was. Not just parts of it but all of it. I have been freaking out, and I don't think freaking out is all that crazy, but if I search past the part of me that recoils in horror, no I enjoyed all of it. I enjoyed watching you, even with another man, something I would never have dreamed was possible. And," she says, eyes dropping and finger beginning to meander across my chest again, "I enjoyed being with you and Jim." There's a longer pause. "But, I'm not sure it's something I want to do all the time. And I'm not sure it's a good idea to do so with Jim or one of the boys in the future. I'm not denying it was fun but I feel like it needs to be over now. They need to find lives away from us. It's not fair to add another tie that will hold them back."

She waits for me to speak.

"It was better than I had imagined it might be, because you were there and, most critically, you seemed to be having fun. That was the biggest turn-on for me. The second biggest was the fact you didn't kick me out.

"I don't see how we could do it 'all the time', any more than we have oral sex all the time, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping we could do it again. I agree with the rest of what you said as well. Jim, the boys, that's fini. Whether we can find another man, or couple, we trust and like well enough to do something like this again is a big big question. That's the other reason I don't think we'll be doing this 'all the time'."

Meg nods.

"I think it would be fun, if, and I agree it's a big if, we can find the right person."

"I'd kiss you but I want to brush my teeth first."

She kisses my cheek. "After everything I've had, you've had, in our mouths the last day or two, it's onions you draw the line at?" She pats my cheek as she shakes her head. "Now, that's sweet."

"I'm done. The bathroom downstairs is open if you want to use it."

We turn to see Bill rounding the top of the stairs. He walks over to the breakfast bar, flips a towel onto the seat and sits down. He's still naked.

"My toothbrush is in the bathroom," I say with a shrug. "You hungry?"

"Naw, I wolfed down a sandwich before the meltdown."

"You'll have to be more specific, Bill," Meg chuckles. "We've had a few recently. Perhaps we should number them? Give them code names like, 'momma flip out #2'."

"What do you think about Mark falling for Muriel? I think it's mutual."

I shouldn't be surprised that he's noticed. I'm sure Meg has noticed. Bill is a lot like her but I've always felt he was more in step with his sister than his brother. His question appears to be addressed to both of us, so I answer.

"I love Muriel but it's going to be tough, tougher maybe than what you'll face as a gay man. I won't try to stop it or interfere. I'm afraid Muriel will push him away, 'for his own good' as she imagines it. What do you think, babe?" I ask my wife.

She nods. "Pretty much just what you said. Part of me thinks 'oh no that's too much, too hard, don't do it' but part of me understands, as we may have proven here this weekend," she says looking at me, "that love is always hard, very hard. I agree with your father. I don't know that I'm happy for them. That's not true I am happy for them but the happiness is tinged with reality."

"Reality about what?"

I hadn't noticed the shower down the hall had gone silent. Jill and Jim, also both naked, round the corner of the hallway and cross to the breakfast bar. Jim has a small towel. He sits. Jill stands between her lover and her brother, though the distinction is somewhat muddy at this point. She puts a hand on both shoulders and repeats her question.

"What are we talking about?"

Jim turns to her. "We weren't talking about anything. They were talking about something and you're butting your way into it." He shakes his head. "My guess would be they're worried about your brother and Muriel falling so hard for each other."

"Mark?" Jill squeaks, eyes popping.

"Girl, you have got to learn to pay attention to something besides whatever the fuck is rattling around inside your own skull," Jim snorts. "Just watch at how they look at each other. Jeez." He turns to Bill. "I thought you said your sister was the smart one in the family."

"Not me. I might have said biggest 'smart ass' and you misheard."

"Really you guys? Mark and Muriel. That's so cool." She swivels her head to stare at each of us in turn. "And don't give me any shit about being naïve. I get it but don't any of you dare say anything to make them feel bad or unsure of themselves. I love both of them to pieces."

"We all do, Jill," I remind her. "We all do. That's not the question. We're all supportive. That's not the question either. That doesn't mean that in the end they'll be able to handle it."

I look at my family, everyone except my oldest son. "I want to brush my teeth. And I want to take a mini-nap. I'll see you all at the pool in a half-hour. Meg, would you wake me up if I'm not out here in 30 minutes?"

"No," she says, shaking her head and smiling. "I'm coming with you. We can set the alarm."

I take the hand she offers as the other three head for the patio door and, I assume, the pool beyond it.

***

Muriel and I brush our teeth; we've already showered. I skip shaving. I join her in bed without asking. She lets me snuggle up to her back.

"Mark, this can't work. You, we, need to stop this now, before it gets even harder. You must see that. You have to."

"Sssh, sleep a little bit. You're tired."

She doesn't argue.

I think she sleeps. Her breathing is soft and regular. Her legs twitch once or twice and I remember how Bill use to do that when we were kids visiting grandma Collins. She had a small one-bedroom house. Mom slept in grandma's bed with grandma. Jill always got the couch because she was a girl. Bill and I got the floor, no air mattress. Just two blankets atop the carpet to make a 'pallet', a couple of pillows, and sheet. If it was winter, the pallet was a blanket shy so we'd have one to sleep under. Bill and I would talk and giggle. Jill would complain we were keeping her awake and finally either mom or grandma would come stamping in and threaten to dismember us if we didn't hush up and go to sleep.

I tell myself I'm spooning a woman my mom's age. I'm not actually sure but I don't think Muriel is much older than mom. If she's a year older than mom, then she's twenty years older than me. Do I care? I twist myself into a mental pretzel, trying to peer into the deepest darkest crannies of my subconscious, trying to be brutally honest with myself - do I care? I truly don't believe I do.

I ask myself another question. Is this a rebound thing? I was pretty fucked up. No one likes to get dumped, especially not by someone you were getting ready to ask to marry you. Was this a rebound? No, again, I don't think so.

I listen to Muriel breath. I smell the scent of her shampoo, her deodorant. I touch my lips to the back of her neck, underneath her hair. She's sweating a little. Her skin is salty. Her hair tickles my nose. My cock is getting hard, pressing against her ass but I don't want to fuck or make love or do anything except lie as close to her as I can get.

***

I'm a stupid, a stupid foolish idiot of a woman. What was I thinking? I should never have asked Mark to come over that night. I should not have given into my lust. Or my heart. Christ, he's literally young enough to be my son. If I'm doing the math correctly I am twice as old as he is. Stupid stupid stupid.

When he kisses the back of my neck it's all I can do not to respond. When I feel his beautiful dick begin to press against my ass it's all I can do not to respond. What the hell is wrong with me? I pride myself on my pragmatism, on not letting emotion cloud good sense. Those qualities have served me well, very well, in the past. So, why on earth am I behaving like a schoolgirl with a crush?

You're not, that's the answer the part of me that truly has remained calmed and pragmatic gives me. You're behaving like a woman in love.

Please, I scold myself. I don't believe in love at first fuck much less love at first sight.