Jewel Ann - Idle Bloom

Oliver holds up his hand. “I said I don’t—”

I walk partway up the stairs to meet him. “I know what you said.” Wrapping my hand around his neck, I pull him to me. Our lips connect for a slow kiss. “But I needed you to know. I haven’t been with Kai … in fact, I haven’t been with anyone.”

Yep, that did it. Frozen, eyes wide with slow exaggerated blinks, Oliver is in shock. I could wait to see if he finds his voice, but I’m not anticipating that happening anytime soon.

“So … enjoy dinner with your parents. I’ll call you when I get back in town.”

Nothing.

I smile and walk down the stairs with an occasional glance back at the stone statue that is Oliver.

* * *

Oliver

I like this amazing woman that’s eight years younger than I am. She’s an adult and old enough to drink. Age shouldn’t matter, until she flashes her V card! I’m not that old, but I’m too old to be taking anyone’s virginity.

My head yelled at her to stop because we needed to discuss the bomb she dropped on me, but my mouth could not move. Now she’s leaving for the next two days and I’m going to go crazy. Chance would think I hit the jackpot, not the case for me. That damn V card has too much fine print on it.

Expectations.

Words like love, cuddling, fairy tales, forever, marriage, babies, and minivans are stamped all over it like a passport to Hell. I can’t be Vivian’s Prince Charming, and even if that’s not what she wants, it’s what she deserves. It sounds so shallow, as if looks are all that matter, but twenty-one-year-olds that look like Vivian are not virgins. Was she abused? Is she religious? What is her story?

“Hi, Mom.” I give her a big hug as she greets me just inside their front door.

“I was hoping you’d bring your neighbor friend.” She rubs her hand up and down my arm as we walk out back to see Dad and Chance.

“Someone has a big mouth,” I say loud enough for Chance to hear as my mom hands me a beer.

Chance tips back his bottle taking a long pull while hiding his grin. “You’ve been blowing me off to spend every night with her, so I assumed this would be the week we’d get to meet her.”

“We’re just friends and that’s all it’s ever going to be. She’s too young for me and bringing her here could give her and everyone else the wrong impression.”

“Oliver, a few days ago you acted like the age difference didn’t matter. What’s all of a sudden changed?” Chance asks.

I take a swig of my beer. “She’s just young and has a lot to experience in life, that’s all. Can we talk about something else?”

“Your dad and I are thinking about flying out to Portland next week. Would you like me to get you a ticket too?” My mom is talking to me with the ease and confidence she would have while spewing off a grocery list to my dad over the phone.

“No.”

“You do realize it’s the—”

“Yes, Mom, I realize!” I drain the rest of my beer. “Find a new subject or I’m out of here.”

She sips her wine and looks at my dad. He gives her a slight head shake and takes the food off the grill.

“You boys both going to the game with me?” My dad knows how to change the subject and keep the peace.

“Yep,” Chance and I reply in unison, relaxing the tension that’s heavy in the air. This is what I need: no-brainer emotionless conversation.

* * *

Vivian: On my way to my parents’. Hope you had a nice time at yours. Call you when I get back :)

This is not how I want to start my day, but I need to make a clean break. A text seems like the coward’s way, but the last thing I need is Vivian building us up in her mind over the next two days.

Me: I think we should stick to being neighbors/friends. Okay?

Vivian: Did I do something wrong?

Me: No. The age difference is not going to work for me.

Vivian: WTF?

Me: Please don’t be mad.

Vivian: Am I not old enough or do I not have enough experience?

Me: I don’t have what you want.

Vivian: I don’t recall telling you what I want, but UR right, UR an ass and that’s not what I want!!!

Me: I’m sorry, don’t be this way.

I wait for a response, but receive nothing. As much as I want to call her, I don’t. She’s pissed and rightfully so. I have to keep reminding myself that I’m not worthy of her. The hardest part is figuring out if I’m worthy of anyone. The past few weeks I haven’t felt alone, which is all I’ve felt for the past three years. Now, it’s back and so is the shell of the man I’ve become. Maybe my mom’s right. Maybe I need to join a support group for “healing”. Although I know everyone in those groups is there for the same unspoken reason: misery loves company.

I know just a few miles away my dad is watching the sunrise too while my mom continues to sleep. He’ll be here soon to pick me up. Unless he gets called into the hospital, this is our new routine: sunrise, coffee, and rowing. My dad has rowed his whole life. In college he was on the heavyweight crew and I followed in his footsteps in college after he introduced me to sculling in high school. He’s been a member of the Cambridge Boat Club for years and quickly moved through my membership application as soon as I came back to town.

“Looks like a perfect morning,” my dad comments as we stare at a few other sculls already gliding along the river while we finish our coffee.

“Yep.”

“You’re quiet this morning.” He’s always been a man of few words but very direct.

I shrug. “Tired, I didn’t sleep well.” We both continue to stare at the water.

“This about Portland or the girl?”

I give him a one-grunt laugh. “Neither, both, hell if I know.”

“Let’s go, then. You just need to clear your head.” He finishes the last of his coffee and gestures toward the water.

* * *

It’s been four days since I’ve seen Vivian. Uncontrolled nerves have hijacked my body like a goddamn smoker having withdrawals. I’m short with Chance—fidgety, unfocused, and miserable. It doesn’t help that my mom keeps reminding me that they’re leaving in three days for Portland.

“Easy, bro, that’s the fifth paver you’ve busted today.” Chance shakes his head. “What the hell is going on with you? Did you tease your dick with that girl one too many times?”

I toss the rubber mallet to the side and grab my water. “We never had sex, dipshit.”

“What? Why the hell not?”

Wiping my brow, I shake my head. “Virgin.”

Chance drops to his knees, bends over, and pounds his gloved fists on the ground. “Why, why, why does everyone think you’re the smart one? You are a total dumb fuck!”

I grab another brick and continue working. The only thing surprising about Chance’s reaction is that it’s not more extreme. I expected him to beg for her phone number.

He stands back up and grabs his shovel. “It doesn’t change your fucking moron status, but I’ll let it slide today since I have a date this weekend.” Chance grins and I see the canary feather sticking out of his sly cat grin.

“A date, huh? As in you called a girl and planned something in advance as opposed to the usual last minute drunken pick up?”

“Yep, well, actually she called me. But that’s not the craziest part. As you know I’m not really a wine and dine ’em kind of guy, but the one girl who I’d like to take to dinner and savor my time with, told me dinner was the optional part of the date.”

“She sounds like a real gem, the kind you bring home to meet the parents.” I chuckle.

“That’s just it, she is that girl. You know her.”

I sit back on my knees and squint at him. “Who?”

“Viv.” He grins.

“Vivian?”

“Yeah, Vivian Graham from The Green Pot.”

I shake my head in disbelief or maybe to clear it, because there is no way I’m hearing him correctly. “You’re full of shit.”

Chance laughs. “Sometimes, but not about this. She called me last night and said my years of annoying but diligent nagging are about to payoff. She said ‘one night’ and dinner is optional. Now, I may not have a degree from Harvard, but I know when a girl is offering up sex and nothing else.”

How does she do it? How does she blow my mind over and over again? This is ridiculous and beyond stupid on her part.

“Chance, you can’t sleep with her.”

“Um, now see, that’s the difference between you and me. I don’t have an issue with consensual casual sex. Have you taken a good look at her? Man, those long legs wrapped around—”

“Yes! I’ve seen her. Just shut your goddamn trap about her. Show a little respect would you?”

He holds up his hands. “Chill, dude! You don’t have to be so touchy. What’s your deal lately?”

“Just stop talking and get back to work.” I sigh.

Vivian

Oliver deserves the biggest prick award. What guy doesn’t want to be a girl’s first? Claim her. Plant his flag. Make his mark. Maybe he’s just selfish and assumes I won’t be good in bed, that I won’t be able to satisfy him. I put him too high on a pedestal way too quick.

My poor mom thought I was still depressed about the accident and my dad—typical guy—assumed I was PMSing when I sulked around their house for two days. I’ve felt hurt then angry then back to hurt again, finally settling on pissed, bitchy, and out for redemption. Oliver made me believe for a moment, a small moment, that I could be with a man someday. He reminded me that beauty is not skin deep. Then he made it clear that sexual experience matters.