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His hand falls to my right shoulder, as I raise the mug for another sip of coffee. A split-second later, Daddy’s other delicate grip sinks into my left. No sooner does my mug return to its place on the metal side table, when he dips below my ears with a heavy breath smelling of my fresh spearmint toothpaste.
“Good morning, my boy,” he mutters low, snaking his head farther around for a kiss. “Did you sleep well?” He asks, his tongue tasting small drips of coffee from my lips.
“Mmmm,” I moan in reply. “That depends on how you measure quality sleep.”
Daddy’s lips collide with mine, forming random shapes. Usually I’d be careful about kissing a boyfriend at home. Then again, I’ve never had a real boyfriend until now. There’s no doubt that Candace and Tuti are lurking behind the kitchen curtains. Probably cheering on our passionate exchange.Fuck it. Let’s give them a show, shall we?
He’s definitely brushed his teeth before coming downstairs. Because I’m sure if given much of a choice, he wouldn’t have purposely used my dollar store toothpaste. But his kiss is more delightful than the black gold in my coffee cup. If the caffeine doesn’t wake me, his magical fucking tongue will. I reach up to grab his left arm, tugging on it to summon him around the chair. Daddy Reid lowers to his haunches, where I reel him in closer to finish this capricious display for my parents.
He grins modestly when I support his neck with both hands. “Your moms are watching from the window,” he snarls. “Youdoknow that,don’tyou?”
My head tilts to the side. “And?” I retort. “I’m not ashamed of expressing my love,” I add, licking the corners of his mouth. “Are you?”
“Not a chance, little boy,” he grunts mildly, reaching around my neck to finish the deed.
Our heated swap of passion lasts a good ten minutes, though actually much shorter. I’ve come to the realization that true love suspends all time. It’s as if a mere second can feel like an hour. And one single day, a fucking eternity. If Reid Fairchild were a boyfriend for hire, I’d be in debt up to my ears by now.
Daddy finally comes up for air long enough to climb up into the second chair opposing my coffee stand. A long sigh exits his mouth while he scans our surroundings, taking in the sights of Western Colorado. Out yonder ahead of us is a prime view of The Colorado National Monument. Then off to our left, is a viewable portion of The Grand Mesa.
“You know, we actually have a volcano right here,” I blurt, pointing my thumb in The Mesa’s direction. “Not only is that there the largest flat-topped mountain range in the world,” I add, contending with my scratchy throat. “But it’s a ten-million-year-old volcano, dormant now.”
His eyes grow wide with surprise. “That’s neat,” he says, shooting me his sly wink. “Will living next to active volcanoes be scary?” He asks, reaching across for my hand.
My head oscillates from one shoulder to the other. “Not if I have your strong arms to keep me safe, it won’t,” I reply, teeming with enthusiasm.
Reid jerks his head back for a rapid sneeze, knocking the newspaper out of my lap in the process. When he comes to, he realizes it fluttered to the dirt. Daddy leans forward in his seat to retrieve the paper, shaking it free of loose grime from the bottom. As the debris clears, it seems every ounce of passion went with it. The vacant expression on his face freezes him, now taking the aesthetic of a ghost.
“What is it, Daddy?” I ask concerningly.
His head shakes, appearing utterly speechless. He turns the front page around towards me, pointing at an article in the bottom corner. The headline comes into a clear focus when I lean forward to examine closer, immediately robbing me of each personal breath.
"MIDNIGHT CRESCENDO" ACTOR, WADE LEARN, DIES FROM SHARK ATTACK OFF COAST OF MAUI, HAWAII—PRODUCTION ASSISTANT IN CRITICAL CONDITION
No wonder Daddy can’t muster any words to describe his fret. This headline isn’t even relevant to my personal life, and I seem to be affected by it all the same. A frown forms as I reach for his hand, catching his uneasy stare. The caffeinated seas which once surrounded his pupils, have turned to dismal, dried riverbeds thirsty for a sign of life.
“Are you okay?” I ask, swallowing a hard gulp. “Is there anything I can do?”
The awkward silence between us is brief and fleeting. He accepts my hand in his with a simple shrug. Although I can’t see any visible signs of tears, Tuti’s extra sensory powers might be working within me at this precise moment. And it’s apparent he’s deeply affected.
“No,” he says. “It’s fine—I’m fine,” he stammers with another short groan. “How about the breakfast your Momma is cooking before we get you packed up, little boy?”
Something says Daddy isn’t fine. I can practically read him like a book. But if he insists on bottling his feelings, then I can’t force him to open up any more. I’d just hoped that if I’m making the conscious decision of moving across the Pacific Ocean, he’d be comfortable confiding in me.
* * *
The morning passed quickly after finishing breakfast. Now Daddy Reid and I find ourselves rummaging through every corner of my bedroom. So many memories have come flooding back as I decide which things to ship down to Maui, or part with entirely. Since he’s already arranged a shipping company to come out on Monday, whatever I choose to keep will be shipped in an ocean container to my newhome.
I’m not a hoarder, but there’s very little I find myself being capable of neglecting. Almost everything I own comes with some form of sentimental value. And I’m moving three-thousand miles away to paradise. If I didn’t bring each keepsake, I may forget the memory associated with them altogether.
My phone buzzes in a pocket, likely from the only other person I’d expect to hear from. My best friend, Carrie. Earlier, I messaged her with pictures of our packed boxes and a bittersweet caption. Advising her that this place has offered me many memories and good times, but perhaps it’s truly time I fly the coop. However, she’s still guarded about her feelings.
Just please tell me that you won’t get even remotely close to snorting coke or something equally as dangerous. I love and care about you, and of course I want you to be happy. But it’s gotta be done safely and responsibly.
Okay, I’m pretty sure this is worthy of a quick FaceTime conversation. We’re much too busy for me to exchange a million texts back and forth, so I saunter into the bathroom. Stepping inside, I scan the area to determine what could possibly obscure the dialogue between us. Naturally, like any other Hollywood film, I switch on the faucet as loud as it’ll go. Followed by popping a squat on the toilet lid, dialing Carrie on FaceTime in the process.
My best friend answers almost too quickly, hardly even a full ring emanated. “Aren’t you supposed to be packing?” She asks, tilting her head.
I nod. “Well yeah, but you can’t send me a message like that and expect a simple one sentence reply,” I bite back, shaking my head. “Tell me again, what happened?”
