A Many Splintered Thing / Day 31: “My name is Martha Stewart.”

We've cracked 40K! That being said, for those of you following me on Twitter and FB you might know the man has outpatient surgery tomorrow to put a stint in a blockage. I will probably not be here tomorrow. But I say probably because I would not put it past me to be tapping away in the waiting room while he's under. So...ya know. Just a warning :)

Also, for all of you following along, your kind words, thoughts, prayers, virtual hugs and general niceness are a huge huge help to me. Truly. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

XOXO
Sommer

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“I’m putting on my pajamas,” she said.
Caleb watched Dahlia drop her bag and kick off her sandals. That small hint of unease was still between them and he wished he’d never let his mind get the better of him. What he wanted to do was grab her and haul her to his room like a caveman, but the worried part of him said things were moving too fast. That he was taking liberties. That he was assuming a fuck was more than a fuck.
Never assume.
“I’m going to go grate zucchini.”
“There’s an apron in the tall cabinet by the fridge.” She patted his ass playfully but her eyes were sober.
“Want a drink?” he called as she walked down the hall.
“Nah. I think I’m going to be an old woman tonight and have tea.”
Tea. Tea sounded good.
Dear God you’re as domesticated as an old Tom Cat who’s been taken in.
He snorted, put on the water and began to pull out all the stuff he’d need to make the bread. It wasn’t much. Flour, sugar, the zucchini itself, baking powder a pinch of salt, an egg…
It was easier to do something as mundane as bake bread in lieu of thinking too much about what he wanted versus what he told himself was okay.
When the water was hot, he poured out two mugs and kept an eye on them as he sprayed the pan.
“Hello,” he said softly, moving through the airy kitchen he now shared with a gorgeous woman on the property of his crazy ex. “My name is Martha Stewart.”
He heard a noise and was prepared to be teased mercilessly by Dahlia. Instead, Alice was in the doorway, head cocked. She seemed to be grinning at him. “Hi, Al. Need to go out?”
She wagged her tail.
He set the oven, poured the bread batter in the greased pan, plucked the tea bags out of the hot water and then opened the door for the dog to go out.
“Jesus. It’s true. I amMartha Stewart.”
The TV in the main room was murmuring and he put sugar and milk in Dahlia’s tea. It was a long shot but if she hated it that way he’d come back and give her his. Caleb carried her mug in and said,
 “What trash TV do we have on toni—“
She was curled on the larger sofa. The one where he’d pinned her down earlier and had his perfect way with her. She was in hot pink pajamas with red paisley patterns all over it. Her dark hair was twisted up in a messy topknot and her makeup was gone. Dahlia’s feet were tucked close to her body, her hands beneath her head on a big yellow pillow and she was out like a light.
She looked like a kid in the lamp’s rosy glow. She looked so young it hurt his heart. And the scars on her neck—that someone thought she deserved—showed almost malignantly in the low light. The skin shiny and thick.
Caleb pulled a cream colored throw from the back of a chair and draped it over her. On the large TV three women, all dark haired with Jersey accents, argued vigorously. He smiled. “You did pick some trash TV, doll.”
He found himself wanting to lean over her and kiss her forehead. Instead he left the room. He was getting carried away. He was taking it all too much to heart. He was getting way too tangled up in what was nothing more than sex.
Right?
“Right,” he said.
Caleb pushed the bread into the oven, set the timer and went out the back door to sit in one of the big lawn chairs that reminded him of big bird cages. Wicker things suspended on a base, they hung there, feathered with brightly colored cushions. He dropped into one, heard it groan and waited for it to snap and drop his ass on the ground inside his little wicker cocoon. It held.
When it began to sway and twirl despite him trying to put his feet on the ground, he levered himself out. “What the fuck kind of chair is that?”
Alice came and sat at his feet, assuming his words were for her.
He bent to scratch her. “Don’t sit in those chairs,” he told her. “They’re possessed.”
She thumped her tail.
Caleb found her bone and tossed it. It was fully dark now so the flying, green orb was like a ghost light in the gloom. She gave chase and he watched her. When he heard something, he assumed it was Alice at first. Rummaging through some of the shrubs for her toy.
Alice came crashing back and gave him the ball by dropping the slobbery, grass covered mess on his shoe. He picked it up with two fingers, grimacing. But then Caleb heard the voices again. He tossed the ball toward the front of the house and moved toward the sound.
The closer he got, the more he thought he recognized the voice. Far, far back on the property was a gazebo he’d been told was going to be overhauled or possibly torn down. The wine tasting pavilion had taken the place of such things as tiny run-of-the-mill gazebos.
He pushed through some small trees and found he could see the gazebo perfectly. Inside was a man. A tall, burly, dark haired man by the light of the meager moon. And that man was pressing a woman back against the bannister. Her long hair swayed and her pale hands reached up to cup his face as she kissed him back.
The way they were entwined, Caleb thought it best to step back and walk away before he witnessed more than he wanted to. But then Alice came rushing toward him, eager to deliver the ball she’d retrieved. She dropped it at his feet, saw new people and hurried joyfully toward them. For an abused dog she sure was trusting and happy to meet new people.
The dog bounded up and inserted herself between the lovers. He stepped forward, ready to apologize, get the dog and move along. But the woman turned with a gasp as he approached.
“Caleb—“she said.
Now the moonlight was on her and he felt his mouth press into a hard, tight line. He nodded, clicked for the dog and she obeyed by coming to him. “Jasmine,” he said. And then turned and walked back to the house.
photo credit: Luz Adriana Villa A. via photopin cc