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There was more silence while Prosper considered her statement.
“Okay, so why are you gonna sleep with me then?”
Pinky just smiled and hopped on the back of Prosper’s bike.
The next couple of days were full of sweaty sheets, messy hair, broken lamps, long joint-shower sessions, and periods of neighbors banging on the walls.
Sex with Pinky was … fun.
No, it was more than that—it was life affirming.
A goddamn celebration. Yeah, that’s what it was.
Sex with Pinky was the ticker tape parade, the corner piece of birthday cake, the winning lottery ticket … confetti and balloons and magic tricks.
It was hot and daring and easy and an escape from the real world.
For Prosper, Pinky was the last deep cleansing breath, the long drink from the cool spring, and the velvety darkness before the dawn.
She was his stay of execution before shit got real.
When Prosper rode up to the house, the first thing he saw were two little girls with their fists full of strawberries and their chins and lips colored crimson from the juice of the fat berries. As soon as they saw him, they ran up the small hill, screaming and laughing and calling his name.
He didn’t even attempt to hold back his own burst of happiness at seeing Raine and Claire, healthy and happy and resilient as only kids could be. Each time he came to visit, he wondered if they would remember him. Early on he had decided to stack the deck in his favor by bringing them little gifts, just like he brought for their mother. Just silly little trinkets that he found along the way and that he hoped would bring a smile to their faces. Now they danced around the motorcycle until he got off. Then Prosper did what he always did with the two girls and lifted both of them, placing one on the left and one on the right of his broad shoulders.
“One of these days those girls are going to get too big for you to pick up, you know!” Maggie was leaning against the open door, smiling.
“Never gonna happen.” Prosper grinned. Then with one last tickle, he knelt down on one knee and the girls jumped off.
“What did you bring us?” Claire burst out her excitement.
Raine pulled on her arm.
“What?” Claire looked at her sister.
“It’s not polite to ask like that.” Raine frowned at her.
Claire thought about it for a second, then said, “Well, then, how am I supposed to ask?”
“You aren’t supposed to ask at all,” Raine whispered to her.
“Then, how am I supposed to know!” Claire shook her head at her big sister.
“Well, how about we start with this?” Prosper pulled a chocolate bar out of his pocket for each of the girls. Claire dove right in, but Raine held back and looked at her mother first. When Maggie gave her nod of approval, she unwrapped the chocolate bar slowly, as if she intended to make it last forever. Prosper looked from the girls to his motorcycle then back again. “Hmm … I’m not sure, but it could be that a few things fell into my saddlebags on my way here. You might want to go take a look …”
But before he could finish, both girls took off at a run.
“Left side!” Prosper yelled out to them. Then he looked with alarm at Maggie because the right side held his weed, his flask, and his condoms. “They do know left from right by now, don’t they?”
“The side facing the barn, girls!” Maggie called out after them.
“Now, you realize I have to know what is in that right bag!” Maggie laughed against his chest when he put his arms out wide and pulled her into him.
Maggie still looked beautiful, but her eyes has lost some of their sparkle, and there was a grayish pallor to her skin. Prosper’s heart dropped when he held her. She’d gotten so thin and felt so fragile in his arms. He wanted to hold on to her forever, to give her his strength, his life’s blood, his body, his soul, whatever she needed … whatever he could do.
“Goddamn it! You just got here and already you’re plying my kids with candy and god only knows what else … and you’re manhandling my woman!” Jack came around the side of the house and bellowed out good-naturedly. His welcomed smile couldn’t quite hide the sadness in his eyes or the drawn look of apprehension on his face. Jack’s shoulders slumped as if he were carrying the weight of the world.
Christ, Jack looked worse than Maggie did.
