Paper Cranes (20 page)

“A
re you ready for my bucket list request?” Lee asked as we pushed the buggy around the grocery store.

“I should be afraid, shouldn’t I?”

“Naw, you’ll be fine. I promise.”

“Why is it so important to tell me right now?”

“Because you’re going to do it…right now.”

“In the grocery store?” I chuckled as I pulled the cart to a stop.

“Yep!”

“Oh hell no. What are you trying to get me to do?”

“I want you to make a fool out of yourself in front of everyone.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” I laughed.

The devilish grin crept across his face as he gave me an arched brow.

“I am not getting naked,” I started to pale.

“I never said you had to be naked, but I do want you to stand on that check out right there, in your undies, singing a song to the entire store.”

“You are out of your mind, Daniels.”

“Probably,” he stood next to me with his arms cross across his chest.

“You know this is going to get me arrested,” I fussed at him.

“More than likely, but then you can cross off another bucket list item.”

“What? Pretending to be a cast member of Orange is the New Black?”

“Bingo!”

“You are totally twisting my words. I just said I wanted my mug shot done. I’d waltz my happy ass to a precinct and they would humor me with a photograph.”

“Well now is your chance to make it legit,” he crowed.

“Ugh, I don’t know,” I trembled. There was only a smidgen of me that was titillated at this adventure, while the rest of me was shaking in my boots. Literally.

“If it helps, I’ll do it with you,” he smiled as he began disrobing in the dairy section.

As grandma over here debated about whether to get 1% milk of 2%, Lee was taking off his clothes. He shimmied off his jeans and gripped his t-shirt, pulling it over his head. His chest was exposed, a stark contrast to the Mr. Mom beer guts in the frozen food section.

I had never seen Lee without a shirt on, and boy, was I missing out. He was covered with sleeved tattoos. Tribal inked snaked up his arms and down his muscular back. I tried everything in my willpower not to stare too hard.

All of the stay-at-home mommies stared, mouths drooling as they covered their children’s eyes. Most of which had probably already seen a boob or two already.

I couldn’t let him do this alone; he needed my support just as I needed his.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I rolled my eyes as I clutched the end of my Angela Chase dress and pulled.

With my boring, tan bra exposed, I tried to shield my white cheekie panties.

“Happiness…,” was all Lee had to say before I was shucking off my boots, ready to make a mad dash.

I stood in only my bra, cheekers and dinosaur socks.

“Nice socks, Dove. They are super cute.”

“Mommy look! Nakey people,” a toddle screeched as we took off with the shopping cart full of our clothes.

As we approached, “Janette”, or so her nametag said, we excused the patron trying to purchase eggs and flour.

Lee jumped on the register, pulling me up with him. Grabbing the microphone, Lee pulled it from its holster.

“Excuse me folks, sorry to disturb you this evening. I was wondering if everyone could assist me in making my friend’s bucket list wish come true.”

Naturally there was no response as Lee handed over the microphone.

“Go on now. Sing for your people.”

Taking a giant gulp of air, I looked out to the sea of people before me. At that moment all I could think about was My Best Friend’s Wedding.
You know what I’m talking about
. The scene where Julia Robert’s gay, male friend starts to belt out Dionne Warwick’s,
I Say a Little Prayer
. Visions of dancing crab claws made me giggle. Clutching the microphone, I prayed like all hell I didn’t sound like Cameron Diaz during her karaoke scene.

And so I began, “
The moment I wake up
…”

“YES!” Lee cheers as the sea of people gather closer to our stage. Although, instead of reaching fans, we had security and cashiers trying to pull us down. Perhaps it was the storewide interruption or the public display or undies that did it, but I could see the store manager grab a phone furiously. I could only assume he was calling the authorities.

“I say a little prayer for you,” Lee chimes in.

We were a quarter of the way through the song when I started to loosen up. Waving my hands in the air, we soon got the store to slowly join in on our public embarrassment. Soon, those sheltered housewives were removing their hands from their children’s eyes and hooting and hollering with us.

“
Forever and ever…. that’s how it must be, to live without you….”
I started.

While Lee finished, “
Would only mean heartbreak for me…”

We were flawless! For a task that terrified me, I was on such an adrenaline high right now. The crowd erupted in cheers, begging for more. Before we had a chance to start another tune, we could hear the sirens blaring in the distance.

Trying to climb down off the register, Lee had to get in one more jab before we got arrested. “Thank you, everyone, and clean up on aisle 5; Mrs. Landers spilled her milk,” we chuckled as the cops handcuffed us. Being escorted to the cop car had never been so entertaining.

It didn’t take us long to post bail considering we weren’t being hostile in the least. The police were actually really pleasant. They allowed me keep our mug shots, complete with flashing peace signs and handcuffs. Lee had begged to keep them, but officer Jennings said he needed to keep them…just in case.
Too bad.
They could have come in handy sometime

Lee took the mug shot photo from the police station and slid it under the clip in his visor. The cops were nice enough to allow us to take one together. A regular Bonnie and Clyde we were.

Lee explained to them my situation, which was the first time I had ever used my disease to gain the upper hand.
What? Like you wouldn’t do it either!
There only plea, “Don’t make it a habit.

We got a good chuckle as we made our way to his house.

“So I guess we’re eating pork and beans tonight, huh?” I asked.

“Sorry it’s not five star.”

“It was totally worth it; I don’t mind,” I said, patting his hand.

Before I knew it, Lee had grabbed my hand and intertwined our fingers.

“Breakin’ the law, breakin’ the law,” he joked.

“Okay Beavis,” I roar with laughter.

“Hey, don’t joke. That makes you Butthead.”

I loved being with Lee. He always had the best outlook on life, not to mention he was lovely to stare at. I could see this, thing, growing between us where, for once, it didn’t hurt my heart. I could see us actually making this work. Then again, I had shoved him away so hard, I wonder if he’s even into me. He may just be a flirty friend?

Lee released my hand to turn the wheel into his driveway. The disconnect bothered me for some reason. I liked the way our fingers molded with one another. Perfectly crafted to fit the contours of our skin. I could see our bodies in much the same way.

Oh god, sex. Sex. Sex. Sex.
Damn him for ambushing me tonight. Ever since our car ride to the meeting, that’s all I could think about. His lips on mine, his hands on my body, his cock, oh fuck.

“We’re here,” he said proudly.

Thank goodness.
I needed to be snapped out of this sexual fog.

Lee’s house was exactly how I had imagined it - white rancher, black shutters and bright red door. The backyard was fenced in where I could just make out the outline of a swing set and tree house.

“I know it’s not much, but it’s home,” he said quietly.

“I absolutely love it.”

Lee exhaled, “Thank goodness.”

“Are you serious? Why would you think I would care where you lived or what type of house you had?”

“I was afraid considering you live in the
fucking
garden district.”

“That’s not
my
house. JoJo’s house is far too big and incredibly impersonal. Your house has charm, which is far more then I can say about her house.”

Lee smiled as we made our way to the front door. Stopping just short of the entrance, I bent down in his flowerbed to get a closer look of a cleverly painted Saints garden gnome.

“It was Jackson’s idea,” he piped up.

“Well, I love it. I may just steal it!”

“Jackson would be devastated,” he grinned. I couldn’t understand why he would think I would judge him so. If anything, it made me appreciate him even more.

Placing the gnome down, I noticed a concrete slab settled nicely in the bed. On the slab was writing and a tiny handprint. “I love you, Daddy,” was barely legible, but the smashed hand in the cement was distinct. Pressed into the plaster were tiny marbles and rocks of all colors of the rainbow. I had never seen something so sweet before.

“Jackson’s Father’s Day present from last year. Dad helped him. I’ve got a pretty crafty kid,” he beamed with pride.

“For a five-year-old, he’s one hell of an artist!”

“Yeah, he’s pretty remarkable if I do say so myself. Takes after his dad.”

“Wanna show me around,” I followed him into his house.

Immediately once you enter the house, you were hit with a sense of peace. As soon as you walked through the door, all of your worries were left on the doormat. His home was warm, inviting and smelled like cinnamon apple candles. Each wall was covered with pictures of Lee, Gage and Jackson at all stages in their lives.

“It’s not very big, so the tour will be nice and short,” he snickered.

Missing our touch, I laced my fingers through his again as we made our rounds. He reciprocated my gesture by giving my fingers a little squeeze and a wink.

“This,” he motioned, “Is the man cave…or the living room.”

Amazingly enough, the room was spotless. I suppose having Jackson at his grandparents must be pleasant for Lee and his dad occasionally. It gave them ample time to clean. That or he was exceptionally immaculate, but what five years old is?

The couch was tattered and perfect to accommodate the two men and little boy. Years of Sunday football had broken in the brown, plaid couch. A giant Saints fleece draped the couch as a toy chest sat under the window, filled to the brim with action heroes.

Looking around the room, there was Saints memorabilia all around. Football helmets here, posters there, not to mention picture frames decorated with ticket stubs. They really were diehard fans, and yet, Lee had never once begged for tickets. Just another testament to the man he was.

Approaching a picture, I pointed to a portly gentleman with a gold and black painted face.

“Is that your dad?” I questioned with a grin.

“Yep. Good ole’ Grandpa Jim.”

“You two look so happy,” I smiled echoing their demeanor.

“It was a great day, but then again, any day with dad is a great day,” he smiled.

“You’re really close, aren’t you?”

“He’s my best friend. I mean, who can say that about their parents?”

“I wish I knew,” I gazed intensely at the photograph.

“Well, clearly, there is a lot of Jim to go around so I’ll share the geezer with you. How does that sound?” he tried to make light of the situation.