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We’ve eased into the potion of the night where everything is warm, and mellow, and dangerously comfortable. I have an Otis Redding record going, wine is flowing, and Kenzi is here.
Life couldn’t be better.
Jason comes back with a second bottle, serves the both of us, but I make the decision to take this bottle a little slower.
Truthfully? I was a little nervous about her coming over. A small, nagging part of me worried that she wouldn’t like the ways I’ve changed.
A stupid concern. We’ve slotted back into old roles as though no time has passed at all.
Kenzi points her fork between me and Jason. “So how exactly did this happen? The two of you living together.”
“I rescued him,” I say. “Like a shelter animal.”
Jason chuckles lightly. “Yeah—I mean, sort of. So I got married.”
Kenzi gasps. “That’s right! Mazel Tov.”
“Well, don’t get too excited,” I add. “He also got divorced. Basically in the same day.”
Jason scratches the back of his neck briefly. “I mean—we lasted almost a year. That’s not nothing.”
“I’m sorry. How long ago?” Kenzi asks.
“Six months. So, uh—anyway. She kept the house. I didn’t feel like moving back in with my parents—”
I motion. “And he refused to ask for help. So, being the stubborn bastard that he is, he slept in the hospital for—what? A week?—before I dragged him home with me. It was too sad.”
Kenzi listens, rapt. She glances around. “Do you have a guest room?”
I nod toward an outline in the wall and point to the living room across from us. “I’ve got a built-in murphy bed. Those are his digs.”
“No shit?” Kenzi says. “I mean, I know it’s old-school, but I kind of dig it.”
“I am old-school,” I remind her.
Jason cracks a grin. “You were born to be a grandpa.”
“I guess we all grew up, huh?” Kenzi adds, a little wistfully.
“No,” Jason protests, his Peter-Pan syndrome suddenly in full effect. “No growing up. We’re going to play a game.”
Now Kenzi’s eyes light up. “What game?”
“Truth or dare,” Jason says. “Obviously.”
“Obviously.”
Round one goes to Kenzi. “Truth,” she says.
“Most embarrassing moment in recent history,” I prompt.
She doesn’t have to think long. Her pale complexion already starts to go pink with the memory, but she laughs good-naturedly. “Okay—this one is ridiculous. At the airport getting here, I got stopped by security because I had a vibrator in my backpack.”
“You just…keep it handy?” Jason asks.
She balks. “I had a legitimate reason!”
I lift a palm. “You don’t need a reason. It’s absolutely natural to have a sexual relationship with your body. Not to mention, it’s healthy. Orgasms release serotonin.”
