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"I read this book, The Kama Sutra, and they had this one position I wanted to try. How flexible are you?" I don't wait for an answer, just tuck my shoulder in her stomach, and gently throw her over it. She laughs on the way to the bedroom, then gasps when I throw her on our bed. I love that sound, but I'm not going to stop today until she makes that low needy sound.
I get my sound over and over again. And thankfully, she's very bendy.
I, however, will be walking with a limp for a couple of days.
Worth it.
41
JANEY
I don't bother shutting the door. I just drop my stuff in the hallway, and start yelling. "Jonas! Get your butt out here!" I'm expecting him to bolt into the room looking worried. I don't yell...that much. And in the nearly two months we've been married, I definitely haven't yelled this loud.
But there's no running feet. No Jonas at the table. Nothing.
I circle back to my purse, dig out my phone, and send him a quick message.
Me: Where are you?
His response is immediate.
Hubby: John's. Come down. There's food!
Why am I surprised? I should have checked there first. In the last couple of months, Jonas and John have developed a weirdly wonderful relationship. John's in our place building Lego, or Jonas is down there watching John cook. I think he's even started chipping in with the prep.
I jog down the stairs, and push open the door to the 'extra' floor, as the guys call it. There's only one empty apartment left, and as I pass it. Something tells me it won't be empty for long.
The door to John's apartment is open, so I don't bother knocking. I'll admit, I'm a little surprised at what I see. John's at the stove, as expected, but right next to him, holding a flipper with an intense look of concentration on his face, is Jonas.
My flush of anger loses a little steam as I quietly watch my husband flip something in the sizzling pan. His tongue is sticking out, and his face is a picture of intense focus. It's the same look I imagine hostage negotiators wearing, or the president in the war room. Like lives depend on the next few seconds.
Abby gives me a little wave from the table, where she's busy sketching. Another friendship I never expected. She's been spending a lot of time here with John. Whenever I ask her about it, she brushes it off as being neighborly, but I don't think most neighbors have breakfast together every morning.
"Janey!" Jonas yells from the stove, “Did you see that?"
The rest of my frustration falls away. "Yeah, Love, I saw." As always, when I call him love, he beams. It's so incredibly easy to make him happy, that I want to do it all the time. Not just for him, but for me.
It's nothing like when I was a kid. Then, I tried to make people happy to protect myself. Now, I do it because it's who I am, and it makes me happy too.
I sit next to Abby, and peer down at her sketchbook. It's a wild maze of lines and shapes in an explosion of color. It makes my eyes cross, trying to pick out the individual shapes. She laughs, and takes mercy on me, shutting the cover and tucking her orange colored pencil into its case.
"How was your dad today?"
"He's great. We grabbed lunch at the diner, then spent some time at his place. He picked a paint color." I can't hide my grin, honestly thrilled that finally, he's coming around.
"So he's done with that whole 'I just want you, not your money' thing?"
"Sort of. He still won't take any money from me or Jonas, but he agreed to let me buy the new paint. He's going to prep the walls this week, and we'll paint them together next Saturday."
"I'm really happy for you Janey. Dan's a good dude. And I'm glad you have a second chance."
"So am I," I say quietly.
Honestly, I didn't expect it to go well, even though I was willing to try. I thought there were too many years of disappointment between us, and at some point, it was going to blow up.
But my dad is not the man I grew up with anymore. My childhood wasn't all bad. There were moments of laughter, moments my dad showed real concern, but those were few and far between. But now? He checks in to make sure I got home okay after our visits. He calls me just to chat.
But the biggest difference, at least in my mind? He seems proud of me. Walking through the neighborhood today, I had to choke back tears as he proudly introduced me to people I hadn't seen in years. He's built himself a life, and a community, and he's welcoming me into it.
