I totally admit, I wish adult life were that simple. I wish that sort of trust and honesty were available in any other relationship I’ve ever had with a woman.
So I have been imagining it, Chelsea sitting in the middle of the wide backseat of the Mercedes, eagerly staring out the window, her tawny eyes darting to capture every detail of the landscape as it slides past her. Mile after mile, floating away behind her as she got nearer.
And now the doorbell rings.
I swing open the door, already smiling. It takes a moment to appreciate the vision in front of me.
Curly, blonde hair drifts over her shoulders in shiny waves, longer than I ever remember it. Bouncy and healthy, full and luxurious. She still has freckles over the bridge of her narrow, elfish nose. Her eyes sparkle as a smile widens those velvety, pink lips as she pushes up onto her toes and leans forward excitedly.
“Hey, stranger!” she singsongs.
“Hey, yourself!” I answer, reaching out automatically to take her elbow and sweep her inside, enveloping her in a hug and twirling her around, ending with a quick flourish and a dip. She kicks her little foot up into the air, losing her shoe instantly. I hear it clatter to the floor.
“You still dance?” she asks me breathlessly, her cheeks pink, her mouth open in delight.
With a moderate amount of grace, I set her back on her feet and edge away with a small bow. I didn’t know I was going to do that. I’m not sure what overcame me.
“Well, I guess I do,” I quip, covering for the fact that I don’t recall ever dancing with anyone but her.
“You must have been practicing,” she shrugs shyly. “I’m so out of practice! You’re lucky I didn’t trip you or stomp on your feet or anything!”
“Stomp away, Chelsea,” I smile back. “You’re just a little thing. I don’t think you could hurt me if you tried.”
We just stare at each other for a few seconds, standing in the dimly lit atrium entrance. After a while, I realize I am being a terrible host.
“Well, here, let me show you around,” I offer. “This, as you can see, is the entryway. We had it made… for entering.”
She nods slowly, as though seriously considering my humorous description.
“A way into a home… how novel,” she observes.
“Yeah, well, we are innovators,” I shrug.
I hold out my arm and she slips her hand inside my elbow, letting me lead her through the house. She is still a lot smaller than me, and I find myself awkwardly looking/not looking down at her as we walk. What she always this… curvy? Seriously? I’m sure I would have remembered it.
But I don’t want to let that show. Even if we are not blood related, getting a boner for my little sister is not how I want to start this reunion.
We walk to the dining room and kitchen, then do a quick tour of the outdoor gym and swimming pool. She keeps sighing wistfully, shrugging her shoulders even when she isn’t saying anything.
“You know, we really don’t get as much use out of the pool as we used to,” I observe. “Remember? We spent 98 percent of every summer steeping in chlorine.”
She takes a deep breath before answering. “How could I forget?” she breathes. “That was… good. Right? Kind of the ideal childhood, when you think about it?”
I nod seriously. “Yeah. We really had it made. That’s why Chance and I wanted this for Ned and Matthew too. Not that they can really use it yet. But just so they can grow up with the same kind of great stuff we had.”
She smiles up at me, feeling deeply some kind of emotion that I think I understand, even if I can’t put a name to it.
“I bet you’re really good dads,” she says. “That’s nice. That’s exactly what I would’ve hoped.”
Reaching out, I nudge her on the shoulder with my hand, careful not to push too hard, or let my fingers linger too long either.
“Oh, come on now! No mushy stuff or I will have to throw you in the pool!”
“Don’t you dare!” she scoffs. Her hands ball into fists and she plants them on her hips, defensively widening her stance. Little does she know that tickles the part of my brain that definitely wants to throw her in the pool. I wasn’t seriously considering it before, but…
To my surprise, she comes at me first. She lowers her shoulder and dashes forward, circling her arms around my waist, throwing me off balance for a half second. I stumble backward toward the pool, catching myself just in time to counterbalance her assault.
“Whoa! Nice moves, Jackie Chan!” I laugh, ducking to catch her behind the knees. Now I’ve got her in my arms, holding her off the ground where she can’t do any real damage. She wriggles and kicks, and I get the feeling she really is letting loose. She’s like a feral cat in a sack, all elbows and knees, daring me to drop her or take us both into the water. I have to use just a little bit of strength to pin her to me, wrapping her belly against my belly so that she is temporarily immobilized.