Chapter Twenty-two: Winning Friends and Influencing People

When we entered the townhouse, the strains of Al Green's "You Ought To Be With Me" punctuated the recognizable laughter of Mother and Jim. I led David into the living room where Mother, Jim, and Blue Eyes were grouped, drinking beer and snacking on a platter of grilled vegetables with a number of dipping sauces. The group quieted when they saw David with me.

"I hope we're not interrupting," I began awkwardly. I could feel Blue Eyes staring at me. "I invited David for supper."

Jim stood, motioning David to an empty chair. "We're having seafood risotto – there's plenty, David. Would you like a beer?"

David nodded. "That would be great."

"If ya'll will excuse me, I need to get a quick shower. I trust I can leave David in your care?" I stared, pointedly, at Blue Eyes.

Mother smiled. "It's nice to see you again, David. I'm glad Audra brought you by."

I abandoned David and went to my bedroom to start the shower. I had no sooner stripped and stepped under the hot spray than I heard movement outside the stall. I squealed when the door slid back and a completely naked Blue Eyes climbed in, forcing me back against the wall.

"What the he!! are you doing?" I yelled.

He ducked his head into the stream of steaming water, wetting his hair, and shook like a drenched dog. I put my hands up to deflect the water he was spewing at me. He reached out, grabbing my shoulders with both of his hands, and kissed me. My head tipped upwards to meet his mouth; he pressed his tall, lean body into me, rubbing his erection against my stomach. His arms slid behind me until his hands gripped my buttocks and pulled them up so that I was on my tiptoes. He shifted, keeping weight on his left leg, and nudged me into the wall.

"Put your arms around me," he whispered. "Hold on to me."

I wrapped them around his neck and felt him lift me up; he lowered me against him until I could feel him pressing into me, easing into me. I lifted my legs and locked my ankles around his waist. He groaned and knocked me, thudding, into the wall as he slid deep into me. He lifted his head, looking down into my eyes, as I felt the water bouncing off his back peppering my face. He developed a rhythm, raising me up, then shoving me down as he pushed up and into me, thumping my ass against the shower stall each time. And with each movement he increased the force, so that I was very quickly emitting a guttural "oomph" each time I hit the wall. I held on tightly, my arms and legs tensed, and I felt the growing tension in the pit of my stomach as I clenched around him.

"Hold . . . on," he began to chant with each thrust.

Ours was not a quiet mating. His chanting grew louder each time, just as my response increased in volume and the pounding on the wall echoed around us. By the time he groaned, "I'm . . . coming," into my ear, I was already occupied with the waves of my own orgasm; my milk let down simultaneously and dripped between us, mingling with the shower spray. As he ceased his thrusting, he loosened his hold on me, and I slid down him, ending up on the floor with his feet and the drain. He leaned against the wall, his leg obviously weak and aching. He left the shower and grabbed my towel to wrap around him as he searched for his pain meds. I remained sitting, letting the cooling water wash over me. I banged my head against the wall a couple of times in frustration. Blue Eyes, wearing his jeans, reached in and turned off the water. He held out a hand to pull me up. When I stood and stepped onto the damp bathmat, he wrapped me in a clean towel. He held me against him for a few minutes, neither of us saying a word. Finally, he kissed the top of my head.

"You have supper guests waiting."

"I need to express milk. I'm leaking."

He led me into my bedroom and climbed onto my bed, pulling me up after him. He settled me between his thighs, my back resting against his chest, and he watched as I, covered only with the towel, used the pump to empty first one and then the other breast.

"Lovely sight," he muttered into my dripping hair.

"Shut up," I answered.

He chuckled. "Wonder if Ph.D. guy is still here?"

"Oh, f#ck."

I found my Lee Roy Parnell t-shirt and jeans and dressed while he donned his own t-shirt. I rubbed my hair with the towel, then pulled it back in a wet, loose, curling ponytail. We walked into the kitchen together; Blue Eyes grabbed two beers, opened them, and handed one to me. I headed into the living room with B.E. on my heels.

The television was turned to a college basketball game. Jim looked up when we entered, frowned slightly, and said, "We didn't wait supper. Leftovers are in the fridge."

I saw the confusion in David's eyes. I walked over to sit beside him, but Blue Eyes stopped me.

"Want me to fix you a plate, too, Tiger?" he asked as he patted my ass.

I gave him my best "eat sh!t" stare and shook my head. I lowered myself to the floor between Mother and David.

"Your brother called," Mother said. "I wrote his flight information on the notepad in the kitchen. He's coming up Friday evening."

"Good. Great," I stuttered.

"Well, it's time for me to find my way home," David said.

I put a hand on his leg to discourage him. "You don't need to go yet."

He leaned towards me and squeezed my shoulder. "It's all right, Audra. I'll be in my office in the morning if you want to stop by and talk about your study proposal." He smiled reassuringly at me.

I walked with him to his car. He touched my cheek. "Audra, are you serious about that doctor? I mean . . ."

"I know he's not the most diplomatic of people, but he's been very good to me."

He got into his car. "I see. Well, drop by in the morning. And thanks for supper."

I watched him drive off and continued standing in the night, alone, wondering exactly what Blue Eyes meant to me and what I meant to him.

I got another beer and sat on the sofa between Mother and Blue Eyes. B.E. had a bowl of risotto he was furiously shoveling into his mouth. I reached over and snagged a shrimp, popping it into my mouth. B.E. stopped and squinted at me. He waved his fork at the kitchen. "Go get a fork. And bring me another beer."

I did as he directed. When I returned, Jim was chastising B.E.

"Did you have to go 'detain' her when she had a guest? You put us all in a difficult position."

"I put you in a difficult position. And I apologize."

I sat back beside Blue Eyes and immediately speared some peppers and a mussel with my fork. Surprisingly, he stopped eating and held out the bowl for me to pilfer.

Jim exchanged glances with Mother, then turned to me. "Are you two dating?"

"We're trying," Blue Eyes answered.

I was amazed and silenced. He wiggled the bowl, so I speared some more veggies and a piece of fish.

"Audra needs to concentrate on her work and her daughter. Gregory seems to understand that," Mother said.

Blue Eyes crinkled his eyes at Mother. "Thanks, Imogene."

"However, Gregory, the episode tonight with Audra – you realize, I guess, we could hear more than was acceptable. You and Audra need to restrain yourselves. Have you two given any more thought to getting married?"

"No!" we both exclaimed.

Mother looked at Jim. "I do think they doth protest too much, James."

Jim, to my amazement, nodded his head.

I stabbed another shrimp in B.E.'s bowl.

"What do you think, Tiger?" Blue Eyes asked. "Think we should give marriage a try?"

I opened my mouth, but nothing would come out. Finally, I croaked, "Why?"

"Regular sex?" he asked.

I closed my eyes. "I think I need to go to bed. Alone. Do you think you could spend one night in your own apartment?" I asked Blue Eyes.

"I don't see why. I'm comfortable here." He grinned insanely as he poked a snow pea into his mouth.

"Oh, he!!. Don't tell me you think we should get married?"

"Hey, that's not what I said. However, your mother is dying – shouldn't we grant her last request?"

I hung my head. "Mother, tell him that's not your last request."

Mother smiled. "I'm saving my last request for my last, uh, request."

Jim high-fived Mother.

"I'm definitely going to bed," I said. When I stood, B.E. stood, too.

"You're not going without me, Tiger," he leered.

I stared at him. "Don't make me call the cops."

I walked to my room. I stripped down; as soon as I slipped between the sheets, Blue Eyes entered the darkened room. I heard him bang into a chair.

"Aw, sh!t. Couldn't you turn on the light for me?"

"You're not supposed to be here. Go home."

He, apparently, divested himself of his clothes before he crawled over me. "Let me sleep for a couple of hours, and we can wake the household with another round."

"Oh, that gives me a reason to let you stay," I answered sarcastically.

He snuggled against me, wrapping his arm around my waist. "Let me know when it's time to pump those plump breasts. I love to watch."

I swatted his ass, but he just scooted closer to me. I fell asleep with his humming in my ear.

I crawled out of bed ahead of the sun. I was aching with the need to relieve my breasts of milk. I donned the same t-shirt and jeans I had worn the previous evening and left for the hospital.

I liked having the early morning alone with Zelda. Granted, the NICU was busy with struggling babies and their medical caretakers, but when I settled in my chair and raised her to my breast, I felt safe and private in our own cocoon. I realized, while I watched her, I had never bought anything for her: no furniture, no clothing, no blankets, or towels. Her existence had been so tenuous, I had never felt comfortable planning for a future with her. I decided to go shopping as soon as I finished my obligations at the university.

As had become our habit, Blue Eyes was waiting for me when I left the NICU.

"Let's go get breakfast."

"Okay," I agreed.

He looked askance at me, as if he thought I'd reconsider and pull a gun on him at any second. I just smiled and walked beside him. He was, I think, too startled to talk.

The hospital cafeteria was just beginning to liven up with morning diners. I got an omelette while he had a plate loaded with pancakes and several forms of breakfast meat. I put both plates on the same tray and carried them to what had become our regular table.

He began eating with his usual gusto. I watched him. Finally, he looked up.

"What?"

I smiled. "Nothing. Listen, it's occurred to me I have nothing for Zelda should she ever be sprung from here. I thought I'd go baby shopping this afternoon. Would you like to come?"

He thought as he chewed. "I have a patient. About what time?"

"I have to get some work done at the university, and then I need to come back to nurse her again. I should be finished with all of that around three?"

He considered as he added a bite of my omelette to what was already in his mouth. "Yeah, I can probably do that. Should I meet you at the NICU then?"

"That would be good."

"Ph.D. guy's not going with us, is he?"

"Not unless you think I should invite him. He might spring for a box of diapers."

"You can afford all the diapers she'll need," he retorted.

I grabbed a piece of bacon from his plate and patted his head as I scurried out of the cafeteria and headed for the university.

Not surprisingly, word had reached my two colleagues of my mother's illness. Cindy was sweetly solicitous and offered me a cup of hot tea as soon as I entered my office. Troy moved around aimlessly, waiting, I decided, for me to talk to him. I called him into my office.

"Have you updated the online classes?" I asked.

"Of course, Ms. Jeffrey. I graded their exercises and posted today's writing module."

"Have we had anyone using the computers in the conference room?" I asked. Part of our mission was to provide assistance for those enrolled in developmental English classes.

"Yes. I typed the info from the sign-in sheets into the database. Cindy showed me." He smiled his timid smile. He was pleased with himself.

"Troy, you're doing even more than I had hoped. Are you having time to keep up with your own classes?"

"Yes, Ms. Jeffrey. I have two good classes this semester: Feminist Composition Theory with Dr. Hillman and Writing the Disaster with Dr. Mebane."

"What books are you reading in Dr. Mebane's class?" I asked with genuine curiosity.

" Frederick Douglas, Margaret Atwood, Kurt Vonnegut . . ."

I nodded. "Sounds like a good class."

"Yes," Troy nodded. "He knows I'm working for you, so he pays me a lot of attention. He's interested in your program."

"I just bet he is. Do me a favor, Troy, and don't give Dr. Mebane any info about our classes, okay? No numbers."

He looked at me quizzically. "Why . . ."

"I want to wait until the semester finishes before we analyze our class numbers and the frequency of students seeking tutoring. I think everyone will be surprised with our success, and I'd prefer we keep the numbers to ourselves." I was still mistrustful of David.

Troy nodded enthusiastically. "Of course, Ms. Jeffrey. We will keep the news for ourselves. But you will not be unhappy with our progress."

I believed him. I wasn't sure if he was motivated by academic zeal or by a possible fondness for me, but it didn't matter in the end.

Cindy apologetically informed me of a series of lectures I was to begin on Friday, explaining our services to a variety of classes. I made a note in my calendar to dress professionally that day. I skipped lunch to catch up with my paperwork and only stopped by Dr. Mebane's office as I was leaving for the hospital.

"Audra, come in," he said quietly, not rising from his desk.

I perched on the only empty chair; every other chair was covered with books. "David, I wanted to apologize about last night . . ."

He waved his hand dismissively. "There's no need, Audra. I know you're dealing with some emotional issues with your daughter still in the hospital and, now, your mother's illness. We don't always express our grief in socially acceptable ways."

Did he just insult me? I furrowed my forehead, trying to work it out, but he continued talking.

"I've made a list of novels you might want to peruse for our summer project. I've been giving it some thought, and these seem particularly relative to the play and the playwright you've chosen."

I glanced cursorily at the list he gave me, noting the authors were all American from the twentieth century or later. His area, of course. Again, I had an uneasy feeling about the project.

"Thank you, David, and I'll give these novels my attention. If you don't mind, I must hurry on to the hospital to take care of Zelda."

"Of course. I completely understand. Will you be able to speak to the English classes on Friday? We have you scheduled for a full day."

As I stood, I smiled and said, "Of course, David. They are on my calendar in red."

When I got to the NICU, Blue Eyes was waiting on me. He was holding Zelda, rocking her and singing "Only the Good Die Young."

"Move over, Daddy," I teased.

He waited while I freed my breast, then placed Zelda in my arms with her little mouth aimed at my nipple. He wiggled his eyebrows at me. I laughed. Zelda, of course, latched right on and started nursing.

"Where are we going on our baby stuff hunt?"

"There's a consignment store near the university I like," I answered.

"Used stuff? Come on, Zelda needs new stuff. Not old, crummy, discarded crap."

"But the used stuff is cheaper," I objected.

"Oh he!!, Lady Rockefeller, I'll buy her a crib. Where are you going to put it?"

"In my bedroom. I'm a little overcrowded with Jim and Mother."

"We can't have Zelda sleeping in the room with us. We'll keep her up when we have sex. You are excessively noisy, you know."

"I'm noisy? You sound like you're in a boxing match and losing miserably." I moved Zelda to the other breast. "We can put her upstairs in the office, I guess."

"Good. Let Fidel take care of her night feedings."

I snorted. "Mother wouldn't get up at night for anyone even if she weren't dying."

Zelda smacked her lips. She was full and began to sleepily close her eyes. Blue Eyes took her, kissed her forehead, and put her back inside her incubator.

"Come on, Rocky, let's go buy some furniture."

While we drove to the mall, I called Mother and asked her to tell Jim I would take care of supper. Mother's voice was raspy, and she sounded tired.

Blue Eyes went overboard in the department store. He bought Zelda a crib with all the trimmings, several tiny gowns and sleepers, and a selection of onesies that read: My Mom's a Hottie; I Was in Her First; Poop is a Palindrome; and I'll Try to be Nicer if You'll Try to be Smarter. We were giggling like kids by the time we left the store, the baby clothes in a large bag and the furniture scheduled to be delivered the next day. On the way home, I had Blue Eyes stop at my favorite deli where I bought an assortment of meats, cheeses and breads. I also bought kalamata olives and containers of hummus and tzatziki. Blue Eyes kept his nose turned up as I made my selections.

"You'll like tzatziki. He!!, you eat everything."

"No I don't," he objected. "I'm very picky."

I rolled my eyes. "Then grab a bag of chips."

He grabbed a couple of bags and grinned evilly as he added them to the pile of food.

"You are such a kid," I teased.

He meticulously chose a bottle of wine. I raised my eyebrows. "It's for you. To get you in the mood."

"In the mood for what? You damm near broke down the shower stall last night. What do you have planned for this evening? On the kitchen counter so everyone can see?"

"Hmmm. You're giving me ideas," he smirked.

We were conspiratorial as we carried our goodies into the townhouse. I wanted to show the onesies to Mother, hoping she'd at least be amused, but she wasn't in the living room. I called her and finally found her in her bedroom, crumpled in the floor.

"House!" I screamed.

While he climbed the stairs, I moved her onto her back and checked her breathing. It was shallow and faint, but she was alive.

"Call 911," Blue Eyes ordered me as he bent over her. "Then call PPTH and have them page Wilson. Tell him to meet us in the ER."