Chapter Two: Bedtime Stories for Adults

In the morning, It is the sun that wakes me, and for once, I am happy to have woken. Pat is still beside me, on his side, resting an arm on my waist. This book is between us. His face is completely relaxed, and so beautiful, that I can't bare to take my eyes off the sleeping man beside me. I watch his steady breathing, until I start to feel creepy, and climb out of bed. Everything seems so different today.

I shower and start breakfast, which rouses him from his sleep. Pat joins me in the kitchen for blueberry muffins and orange juice. "You made me breakfast," he ask still groggy.

"Good Morning," I say with a laugh. He takes a seat at my kitchen counter and begins to munch on a muffin. "So how did you sleep last night?"

"Well, Thanks to you. I enjoyed hearing you read."

"Anytime, Tiff." I decide I will have to take him up on that offer again soon.

We finish breakfast in silence, and he kisses my cheek before he heads home to shower. The house becomes empty when he leaves, so I make my bed and do laundry, which are things I don't do very often. When I go to hang up my coat, I see the old shoebox on the top shelf of my closet. The things inside are a part of my past. That's where I keep "my toys for when I play with boys". The only person other then myself who knows about them is Veronica. She didn't approve of my past indiscretions, but she was intrigued by the all the bizarre things she never knew you could buy legally. I laugh at the memory of her shocked expression when I showed the box's contents to her.

I decide I don't want Pat to find out about these, but i'm also too proud to throw them out. I have no intention of using them ever again, but they are a part of who I used to be. I wasn't my best self then, but I love that part of myself. I love it as much as I love the best parts of myself. It took many hours of therapy to learn to love myself, and sometimes I wonder if I really do. My therapist explained my addiction to me, in the beginning. Dr. Lilly said, "Tiffany you feel guilty for asking Tommy for a break from sex, so you have this debilitating need to overcompensate, by exploring all the possibilities. Especially the ones you know would have intrigued Tommy." It was unusual for our conversation to be so frank, but I had enjoyed the reprieve from our usual sex safe lectures.

A knock on my door brings from my reverie. My Mother is already in my studio when I come down the stairs. "Tiffany, I just saw Pat leave." She has a concerned expression her face.

"Relax, Mom. He just fell asleep here last night. We weren't being naughty." She relaxes a little bit and rolls her eyes. Mom hugs me tight and kisses my forehead. "I love you, Tiff."

"I love you, too."

"I have to go to the store for somethings. Is there anything I can get you while i'm there?"

"No."

"Alright. I'll see you when I get back. Oh, before I forget, Your sister wants you to call her."

Of course Von wants me to call her. She's a bloodhound and she won't stop till her curiosity is satisfied.

"Okay, " I say and let Mom out. Once i'm upstairs, I call my sister. She picks up on the first ring.

"Tiff," she exclaims with a teenager's enthusiasm.

"What's up Goody-Two-Shoes?"

"You and Pat, huh?"

Before I can respond, I hear Emily in the background say, "Pap Pap."

I smile. The older Emily gets the more I like her.

"So it would seem," I say indifferently. I the past I would have told her to 'F off", but Emily has shamed me. The last time I said it, Emily wouldn't stop repeating it. Veronica was very upset with. Ronnie thought it was hilarious, and I couldn't bare the thought of little Emily's innocent mouth forming such dirty words.

It is then I hear her chanting 'Pap! Pap!', in the background.

"You sound busy. I'll call you back later," I tell her, and she tells me she loves me, like always, and to behave, which I never do.

I go next door, to my dad's study, and get my mail from this past week. When I return, Pat has left a letter on my door step. Curious, I open the envelope and unfold the paper.

Tiffany,

I think we should try the date thing again. Do you think the diner will let us come back? I'm kidding, obviously.

I promise not to order Raisin Bran this time. See you at seven-thirty.

with love and the best of intentions,

Pat