CHERRY BLOSSOMS // Revisited // Cherry Blossoms // 1.4

Nia made French toast and bacon, and Geoff brought the girls’ bikes out of storage. He’d put them in the crawlspace to keep them out of the way over the winter. He had the padlocked door open now, standing outside in the alleyway checking headsets, bolt tightness, pumping up tires. It was an amazing spring day today. He was glad he’d surrendered to his wife and given up work for the day. He felt like there was something fresh and new and arousing in his marriage. In his relationship with his Nia. He felt fully charged. Had things waned before? He never thought that they had, but now, at the footstep of this huge and unknown thing, standing in the fog and trying to surmise its exciting shape, he realized it must have. The two of them had made love in ways they never had before, passions unleashed and burdens un-shouldered.

“Odele, do you remember where I stored your helmets?”

Odele had been watching, wanting to be outside with Dad rather than stuck inside, helping in the kitchen. She may be a future tomboy. It was in the Kane genes. His sister and his cousin Patricia were major tomboys, college athletes and no-nonsense broads who would tell anyone which way was up whether or not they were asked.

Odele said, “They were in here, Dad,” and she scurried into the crawlspace under the house, into the dark, unafraid of spiders. That was not in the Kane genes.

“Careful in there, sweetie,” he said into the blackness.

She was in there a while and he heard her scuffling. He had a horrible thought, funny though, of a raccoon wrapped around her head with its tiny paw clamped over her pinched lips, waiting for Dad to come to the rescue so it could jump on his face and rip his eyes out. That psycho raccoon he’d hit with a baseball bat in the fall that jumped up and hissed afterward and then ran off into the night. It had left his garbage cans alone, but now it was back for his daughter; back for revenge.

“Odele?” he questioned into that cold, wet space.

She blundered out, helmets clutched to her chest, and fell to a knee, jumped up, her face excited, “Got em, Dad!”

“You were in there so long . . . where were they?” He asked her, still peering into the black space under the house, feeling its cold damp breath on his face and neck.

“They were up front, Dad. I was looking at the stuff in the back. Remember my old tricycle?”

“Yeah?” That was, like, three summers ago, of course he remembered.

“It was in the back. I loved that bike. I called her Stacy.”

“I remember. You like your big girl bike too, don’t you? What do you call her?”

“He’s a he.” She turned then and looked into the crawlspace, said, “There’s a lot of memories in there.”

He laughed. She was seven. He said, “You’re not afraid of the dark?”

“No. I guess not. Are you afraid of the dark?”

Nia’s pretty head popped out the screen door. Up the stairs, from the kitchen, she called to them with a smile, “Breakfast.”

He turned back to Odele, their little girl they named after Nia’s grandmother, said, “Definitely. Come on.” He picked her up and hugged her to his chest and they went into the cozy house and they had breakfast at their kitchen table like a commercial for families. It was warm, and they had real maple syrup and his coffee was excellent.

***

Nia watched Geoff ahead of her on his prized ten-speed. Trim and fit, sexy in his way, his flannel plaid shirt flapped behind him. He had a thick head of sandy-blonde hair and he’d grown quite an excellent beard two years ago and she still liked it, even though she gave him such a hard time when it was coming in. He watched traffic like a hawk, worried for their little girl. Geoff was the best dad, an award winner. He had such a bond with their girl. She hated that sometimes it made her jealous. She’d sometimes get a little competitive, do things to win Odele’s attention away. But Odie was a little smartie, and she picked up on it. Nia could read it in her daughter’s eyes; Odele saw the dynamics. Cute at seven, but if Odie turned out anything like teenage Nia, they better monitor that because she would stomp her feet all over this family when she was fifteen.

They walked their bikes across Parkside Drive and then they were in High Park. She’d wanted to come today because a girl at yoga told her the cherry blossoms were at their peak. They were. It was incredible. Seven years in this neighborhood in the city and she’d never come out to see this spectacle just around the corner from their house. They’d made their way across the park to the west ravine. Odele was dumbstruck as they wheeled their bikes along the gravel path under the cool colonnade. Cherry blossoms as far as they could see, above them, beside them, all along the path, like there was no end. Bright pink and delicate white, the blossoms filled the trees, ruffling in the breeze. The sun filtered through them and lit all three of them up in a wavering pink hue.

“Whoa,” Odele whispered, her eyes sparkled taking this all in. Odele’s helmet slid to the back of her head, and Geoff tilted it forward, always making sure she wore it properly.

Odele pushed it back and chastised him, “I’m not even on my bike, Dad.” Geoff laughed off her disdain.

“We need to tighten those straps, O.”

“The flowers, Dad, the flowers,” she chanted, looking all around, mouth hanging open.

Nia put an arm around Geoff’s waist and hugged herself to him. He kissed the top of her head and hugged her in return. She slipped her hand up under his flannel, under his T-shirt, and slipped her fingers under his waistband, just a little. She felt the bare, warm skin of his hip. Whatever erotic strangeness had transpired between them last night, it had left them unscathed. Somehow in its wake they were stronger, more attracted to each other and even midday out in public hanging with her fam, she was horny for him.

Geoff made her and Odele pose with the blossoms. He took about twenty different pictures. Her face got tired from smiling, but she held it together for a bunch more where he selfied all three of them with their faces pressed together, cherry blossoms filling up the background and framing their beaming pink-lit faces.

They walked the rest of the Park, spent a lot of time at the Zoo where Odele didn’t want to leave the yaks. They were huge and black and shaggy, with long hair that went from their belly to their feet. The boys had enormous horns. Geoff brought out his sketchpad and made some funny drawings. Odele imitated them and they kept up their grunting like they were talking to her.

They made a complete loop, ended up back at the cherry blossoms and Geoff took them to the Grenadier and, while Odele wanted to sit inside under the huge indoor tree with its hanging leaves, it was such a nice day Nia convinced them to sit out on the patio. The sun was shining, and Geoff took more pictures of the two of them. They had hot chocolates and grilled cheese sandwiches and, even though he shouldn’t, he got Odele a sundae.

***

When Nia dated other men and Geoff was merely her friend, there was a tension in his life. He hated it. Hated that feeling, that desperate anxiety, that challenge that it would give his heart, make it beat faster. He was never man enough back then to step in and make his intentions known. Fuck, truth was he never knew she would ever give him a thought like that. All her male friends were hard-chargers. What would she want from Quiet Geoff? Looking back, though, he cherished that time. It was exciting. He would have enjoyed it a lot more if he’d known he would end up with the object of his flailing desires. Or maybe not. There was no jeopardy without threat of loss or the threat of never being good enough. It was the jeopardy back then that drove him, that made that time so stark.

That talk of Dino had brought it all back, and it was exciting as could be. He wanted to push it away, and he didn’t want it to leave. How could he curate it, tame it, and enjoy it? It was a annoying lump, like a canker that he shouldn’t play with, but couldn’t keep his tongue from toying with—then turning his nose up at the coppery tang. Then back to tease it. Her and Dino. Her on her back getting rocked by his tremendous manhood. Did she scream? Did she growl? Did she make those noises like last night? Fuck, maybe she was even wilder. Nia turned on and horny like last night was something. Now that he’d seen it, he would never get enough of.

“Want me to rub your back?” he said.

“Mm, do I ever,” she said.

She was in the hot bath he’d run for her after dinner. Knees up, chin resting on them, her arms wrapped around. Showing him her slender back, her tight middle with no folds, just bunched lines of flesh, her ample breast squashed against a thigh, a hint of her dark nipple. Her skin shone with the wet. He rubbed her back for her.

“You’re so beautiful, you know?”

“Thanks, Geoff. Good day today, huh?” His hands played around the hard ridge of her spine, digging into the muscles there, then back up to her shoulders and her neck. His hand tangled in the wet black hair at her nape.

“I’m glad you got me to skip work.”

“Me too. You should do what I ask more often,” she said, face turned to him, resting on her arm with her eyes closed.

“I’d do anything you asked and you know it.”

“Anything?”

Something about the way she said it made his chest tighten. It wasn’t sexual, was it? Was that what she meant? She made it sound sexy, but she was probably just being funny. Or was there something sexual she wanted to try? He worried he wouldn’t be enough for her once she wanted to get crazy. Wondered if he could muster up more than that drive and that energy last night. Worried he’d wilt under pressure. His performance last night was about all he had in him. There was that feeling again. Not measuring up. It hurt him and lit a spark in his tight prostate too, got him just a little hard.

Odele called from downstairs.

“Dad!” she called again. She was mad. He was supposed to come and draw with her.

“Gotta go, babe,” he said, and kissed Nia’s shoulder. He gave that beautiful body a secret once over before he slipped out and headed downstairs.

He went down and took Odele with him out to the studio, and got himself set up for what would be a long night of drawing. He got Odele on task, set her up with some paper and some supplies. She was an amazing artist. Even better than him when he was seven. She had skill, she had imagination, and an amazing hand control. She wielded a pencil or a crayon or a brush—she held them like an adult. It was amazing to see her tiny little hands work the tools like that, make amazing shapes on paper in interesting clashes of color and with an inherent knowledge of composition. She’d have big spaces filled with an unusual color, then a scramble of tumbling ideas put together in an artful swatch in a corner. A space thundering with cartoon faces in black and one other color. Where did she get that from? From where did her abilities emerge? He’d taken a few drawings that she’d done that he really liked and he’d framed them and put them on the brick wall of the studio. An editor came one time, liked them enough to offer money for them. She thought he’d drawn them. He told her they weren’t for sale, worried he’d embarrass a potential client. But inside, he was beaming for his daughter.

When it was 7 P.M. he told her it was time for bed and she demurred and he said one more hour, but she had to come into the house and sit with him and Mom. She was getting surly because it was getting late and she’d had too much sugar today, but she gave in, and followed him into the house. He made some popcorn and put a pot of coffee on while she sat in the kitchen with him, playing on her tablet. Nia was in the other room in her sweatpants and a tee and she was on her phone with Angie. Donna was getting married in July and they were planning a bachelorette in June. Nia was a bridesmaid and Angie was the Maid of Honor.

He could hear her talking in the family room. She had the TV on, but muted. She said, “I know . . . they will all want that . . . I don’t know . . . right . . . well, that’s their problem . . . it’ll be the last one she sees and then it will be just Joey’s forever . . . ha ha, yeah until they divorce . . . pfft, a big one . . . no, he doesn’t . . . who gives a f— . . . who cares what they say, it’s not their party, okay? . . . yeah, love you too, see you tomorrow, ciao.”

He wasn’t a hundred percent sure what they were talking about, but the prospect excited him. It shouldn’t. He knew it shouldn’t. But he almost wished she’d been talking dirty with her friend. He could fantasize that she was, twist her words and imagine she was talking to Angie about getting a stripper with a big dick, so they could all clap and laugh and cheer him on. He wanted her to be talking like that. Wanted, but also hoped she wasn’t. He was more mixed up than a fart in a fan factory.

“Okay, Odele, baby,” he said and came and held her head and kissed her sweet smelling hairline. “Let me take you up, read you a story, kay?”

She was sleepy now, and she loved getting tucked in and she loved having her daddy read to her. She nodded, her eyes struggling to stay open, and she slid off the kitchen chair with her tablet clutched to her chest. They passed through the family room and Nia was on the couch and she was flipping through her phone in the grey-blue flicker from the TV. He pointed to his watch and mouthed Ten minutes.

He walked behind Odele on their creaky stairs and he took her into her bedroom, got her into her PJs and he sat and brushed her hair for her. She was quiet, too tired—he should have put her to bed sooner. Her face was surly, and he tried not to let her see him smile about it. It usually made her more surly. He helped her into her princess bed, underneath its silky cocoon, and he tucked her in so that her sheets were right up under her tiny chin. He brushed her thick hair back from her face, then he took a book from her table next to the bed and he read two pages, and that was all she had. She was asleep. He turned her light off and slipped out of her room and back downstairs.