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“Look up at those stars, Nikki. You can’t get sky views like this in Boulder. Do ya’ll even have stars out there?” Dad was laughing at me. He grew up in Colorado and knew just how vast the skies are. Sure, we have city light pollution, but with very few trees, we can see for miles and miles.

“Yes, Daddy, we have stars. And we can see them each night. Emily even has a little telescope of her own. What we don’t have are huge spider webs sitting in the middle of a huge pocket of air, seemingly connected to nothing. Is it black widow season? Do I need to worry about those yet?” I was sure Daddy could hear my concern.

“They’re out there, honey, but no, you don’t have to worry about them. They don’t build webs up high. Only Charlotte builds them that high up. Check the girls’ hair for ticks each night. You’ll be fine. Go to bed. I’m sure Chris is up waiting for you to get home.” Dad took one last puff of his cigarette, and I could see the red glow flickering and falling to the deck as he pressed and rolled the remainder between his fingers until it was out.

“’Night, Daddy. I’m going to check on the girls and get some sleep.” I walked away, aware of every patch of air around me. I knew Charlotte was waiting, and she was probably pissed because I had ruined her web.

I found Chris on the couch with his laptop in his lap reading some research papers. He told me the girls missed me but were worn out; they were both asleep before he finished reading their second book. Then he tossed me a sheet of smiley face stickers and told me he’d see me in the room in a few minutes. I crept into the room my daughters were sharing; Bella in a crib and Emily lying sideways in a twin bed with her feet hanging off the front side. I took a purple and a pink sticker from the sticker sheet Chris gave me, placed one sticker on each of Emily’s hands, and then straightened her out, tucked her in, and kissed her soft cheek. Bella didn’t need a sticker to know I checked on her after she was asleep, but I found her blanket in her crib, and I tucked her in the best I could. I still had to brush my teeth and get dressed for bed, so Chris beat me to our room. But when I finally made it, he was eager to hear all about Liza and her love crusade. Well,
eager
is not the really the word. He just wanted to laugh at her and her troubles. I guess he could tell she wasn’t quite sober earlier in the evening after all. Being a typical man, he didn’t want the details, just the funny highlights.

“Has the prince returned to Love Lorn Liza?” He asked in a fake British voice with a chuckle.

“No, she’s smitten with the joker and doesn’t seem to get his funny costume gives him not royalty, nor loyalty. She thinks now he wants to be a pirate. And a pirate is not someone who wants to settle down with just one wench. Right, me love?” I crawled into bed next to Chris and noticed he wasn’t wearing boxers. Usually the lack of clothing in bed meant he was ready for our own business. And of course asking about my love sick friend was his way of showing he cared about me and could be emotionally attached to me as well as physically in need of me. It’s a man’s way of foreplay. We were in my childhood bedroom, so odd, but even if quick and quiet, I’d take it when I could get it.

“Well, Nikki, my dear, you can’t worry your pretty little head with all of this prince pirate nonsense. What you need to worry about it is that pretty little neck of yours.” Chris started to kiss my neck. His touch was so soft and gentle. We have both always loved the energy we get from sex in taboo places; like my childhood bedroom at my father’s house or the cab of his truck on the side of a mountain road on the way home from a ski trip where we had a beautiful hotel room with a huge bed and huge bathtub in which to enjoy each other over and over again, but chose the side of the road as well. The naughty sex on the side of the road was so much more pulsating than any sex we had in the hotel. And sex at someone else’s house was always exciting. His kisses worked their way down to my breasts. They arose to the occasion rather quickly. He lingered there for a few moments and then moved south. He really had my attention then. For the first time since arriving in Virginia, I felt myself truly relax. I moved my hand out to him and rubbed his back. Then I slowly felt his back turn into the top of his head as his mouth found my stomach. I flinched when he tickled my side with the bit of scruff growing on his face. He was tender and slow, and I felt as if I was sinking into the mattress with each exhale. The tenderness quickly turned to rapid lust when I felt his tongue heating me up, and with a few quick flicks, I gasped so loud I grabbed the pillow from under my head and put it over my face. The taboo of sex at a parent’s house had so much to do with noise levels, and there was no room for squeals of pleasure. I knew what was coming next, so I had to prepare my loud mouth with some sound insulation. The rhythm of his tongue grew faster and faster, and I could hear one or two moans coming from below. I felt him throbbing against my leg. He wanted in, and he wanted in badly. With my back arched, pillow over my head and my breath held, he used two fingers and a fantastically talented tongue to bring me to a meadow of flowers in sunshine. A meadow, where behind my closed eyes, I was eighteen with Will’s face touching mine. I’m not sure why I had visions in my head during sex, but this time, as the breath was released from my lungs and blood rushed through my body, visons filled my head. As my muscles contracted and released several times rapidly in a matter of about sixty seconds, I could see hills, green grass, white puffy clouds, and flowers behind my eyes. And Will. I sighed, “Oh My God!” into my pillow and felt my wonderful, loving husband suck juices from me once more before he brought his mouth back to mine and slid right into my meadow scene. When I opened my eyes, the flowers were gone. Chris was with me instead of Will, and the orgasm I just had was still vibrating through my body, and the thrust of my husband sent me to an oblivion I have wanted to feel for so long. I was having a connection with my husband in a moment important to no one but us. He moved fast, whispered a few short moans, then said, “Oh, God, Nikki,” thrust once more and stopped. There we were hip to hip, him pulsing and shooting stars into the night. We were both still, and for a few seconds our bodies were so in tune, our throbbing became one. Then he collapsed on top of me, whispered something about great into my ear and laughed quietly.

“Laughing after sex is never a great thing, honey,” I whispered back.

Kissing my ear he said, “I wasn’t laughing at you, I’m sorry. I was thinking about what we were talking about before. Liza’s loser becoming a pirate. What the hell does that mean; she thinks he’s a pirate?”

“Yeah, it is kind of funny. He does reenactments of pirates, I guess. And the pirate group he’s in all hang out in their pirate garb at the bar and pretend to be pirates together. It could be sexy, you never know.”

Chris chuckled again. “Sexy, I’m not sure about. Silly ass grown men dressed as pirates hanging out at the bar is not what I would think of as sexy, but I guess if you are Johnny Depp, you can be sexy wearing anything.” He had a point.

“I don’t think he has to be wearing anything to be sexy. Johnny Depp, I mean, not this loser pirate guy. But I’m sure for me he couldn’t do what you just did,” I said as I gently massaged his shoulders.

“So what else did you all do tonight besides fantasize about sexy pirates?”

“We went to the old pool I’ve told you about near her house,” I paused. “And Will was there.” I told Chris every immature thing Will had said to me and how uncomfortable I was. Chris was so secure in our relationship, he’d always been fine with the friendship Will and I had over the years. But since I lived halfway across the country, I almost never saw Will, even if we did talk on the phone weekly. I’m sure if I saw him more, Chris might not have understood why we remained close friends. I knew I wouldn’t want Chris to be close to an ex-girlfriend.

“Nikki, I’m sure he was just playing around and joking with you. Did he even get in the pool?”

“No, he didn’t, but men should know not to even joke with another woman if they are in a committed relationship. I mean he’s about to get married! It’s just not right. I’m sure Rebecca’s not out hitting on old boyfriends. I’m not even sure if I should go to this wedding. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable at her own wedding. I know Will doesn’t love me anymore, and I’m not a threat to their relationship. But I wouldn’t have wanted an ex of yours at our wedding.” My thoughts drifted to our wedding. Chris drifted to sleep. We got married in Vegas. In a sleepy state I remembered the dress, the minister, and my father walking me down the aisle. There was no rehearsal, so we practically ran down a twenty five foot aisle, and within ten minutes, Chris and I were married. We celebrated our wedding evening with lots of sex, on the couch by the window, on the bed, and in the shower. I guess we made up early for the years of parenting that would come later where sex only happened in taboo places or not at all. We never saw it coming. But it happens to many married couples with kids; or at least it’s what we hear. Who knows, really? Maybe all of our friends are getting it every day and laughing at us because we always talk about how we don’t have the time or energy. Sleep came easily for me, but I was starting to feel a bit down and yet nostalgic at the same time. I had dreams of rope swings tied to big trees, small twigs sticking up from the ground becoming trees tall enough to overtake an entire house, a hammock tied between two pines, and a little girl watching the birds eating seeds from the pine cones above her. Meadows, blue skies, and flowers turned to salt water pools and naïve girls giggling. My mind was opening and letting in the past.

Chapter Four

The next day was a blur. Chris and I took advantage of the beautiful weather and took the kids to Williamsburg for a history lesson not quite at the level of a three year old and a thirteen month old, but they both enjoyed watching the Clydesdales. Chris even splurged for a carriage ride for us all. If anything, we got some great pictures for the scrapbooks I thought I might actually have time to work on one day.

The wind howled, and in the afternoon, dark clouds covered Williamsburg and turned it into an eerie place full of ghosts and unspoken history. We left after a quick lunch and a trip into the candy store for salt water taffy and headed back to Deltaville. Our life was back to normal; we were on a family vacation. I was feeling a bit more settled. Though with each new look around, I’d see more change. A house a friend from school lived in while growing up was now an insurance office; a tiny grocery store that had been around since the early 1900s had burned to the ground; and there was still a burnt wood pile on the ground. Back at the house, the walls in my father’s home hadn’t been painted in many years. The carpet needed to be replaced. Nana had a huge pile of ants living in her family room, and no one seemed to notice until I saw them crawling around and followed their trail. Things seem to be aging because time moves on and because people don’t have the time they once had to fix things as they break. It was very hard for me to get past. I loved the trees in Daddy’s yard. They were beautiful. Back home in Colorado, I took photos all the time of huge hardwood trees that had been standing tall for more than a hundred years. I was always making up stories surrounding the unknown history of an old tree. I usually guessed where property lines were many years ago before Denver took off; back when it was farmland and one family owned and farmed the land for miles, or at least until the next big tree line. Back in Colorado it was fun to imagine the history of old trees, and I had so much fun looking into the life and history of them. But back in Virginia, I knew the history of the trees, and it made me feel incredibly sad for some reason.

Sunday came quickly. We had to be at the beach for the wedding at one o’clock. I decided to take the kids with us to the wedding. It’s hard to tell a child they will miss an opportunity to play on a beach on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. Especially if those children are used to flat lands and “play sand” in the middle of the country nowhere near a beach. I figured if they became unruly, Chris could always take them for a walk down the beach, and they could skip rocks into the York River. It took us about forty five minutes to get to the beach, after the two hours at Dad’s house getting the girls dressed and ready to leave the house. It took about twenty minutes to locate Emily’s favorite stuffed bunny she had named
Goon Goon
. We got the bunny for her when she was four months old at her pediatrician’s recommendation. She had not been sleeping through the night. She was awake about six times a night wanting me to nurse her each time she awoke, so we got her something to hug and hold throughout the night. The idea, of course, was she would wake up, find her bunny friend in the crib with her, and the warmth and comfort her bunny friend offered would help her drift back to sleep. What really happened was she would find her bunny friend in her crib, hold it up in the air, and scream until I came into the room to get her. Then I’d have to nurse and rock baby Emily while trying to keep the bunny from falling away from her little body. I learned several tricks to catch the bunny or grab the fallen bunny with my feet and bring it back to where she lay against my breast. For almost two years, we just called the little pink thing Bunny. When Emily was a little over two years old, she started calling him Goon Goon. When Emily turned three; Goon Goon went through the change and became a girl bunny. Chris and I still called it he, every so often, and Emily was always there to correct us. Goon Goon went everywhere with us. And we were lucky she made it everywhere. She was under the bathroom sink lying under a towel. When we finally found her, I was very close to telling Emily Goon Goon would have to stay at Pop-Pop’s house while we went to the beach wedding, but Chris lucked out and just happened to look in the cabinet. As soon as he found her, Emily came running out with Goon Goon and said, “She was sleepy, so I tucked her in the towels, so she could get a little rest.” She said it like she knew where the bunny was the whole time, and Chris and I were playing a little game of hide and seek with this stuffed bunny. It was those things which made life with a three year old so frustrating and yet so damned cute and sweet at the same time.