A/N: I decided not to include the Barbara drama here, but I may share it in the Epilogue. Enjoy...
Seventeen
Sam
"We can go next weekend or the one after that," Mercedes says over the noise at the Chang's compound backyard. Actually, it's more like the size of a football field. There are blue and pink balloons everywhere since Tina is having a boy and a girl..
Mike's mom, Julia, is throwing the shower, and there are so many people invited to this expensive shindig. Mrs. Chang has nannies on hand, but we asked our new nanny Melva to come for a few hours to watch Jessica. I look around the yard, and Jessica is enjoying getting her face painted while she sits on Melva's lap.
"Okay," Sam says about going to see his father. "I'm irritated that he went behind my back and called you about this. And do you see that clown? I don't trust him at all."
"What's wrong with the clown?" I ask. "Anyway, don't be upset that Dwight called me. I don't mind. He's just lonely, and he doesn't bother me at all." He nods and his phone ringing interrupts what he is about to say next.
"Why won't she give up?," he asks himself, and I guess it's Barbara because he doesn't answer the phone. "I'm going to see if I can get an updated restraining order."
"Are you sure she wants to take Jessica from you?" I ask. "She could only want to see her—"
"I don't care what she wants," he says. "There is got to be something really wrong with a woman when her own daughter warned me about her. I want Jessica to have a good childhood, not be scared and scarred by others and their issues."
I understand why he is keeping Barbara away from Jessica. Sam is adamant about making sure his daughter does not have the same childhood he did. Jessica comes running across the yard to us with a butterfly painted on her face to show us now that the face painting is finished.
"Look," she says while she pints at her face. Melva is holding a small mirror and Jessica takes it from her to admire her face. "Foto," she says, pointing to her reflection. "Mama," she says to me, and my heart stops. Before I can react, Johnny and Marley come to us. His face has cheetah spots on it.
"Down," he says to his mom, who puts him down. He stands next to Jessica, and they both smile and pose for pictures. Marley and I use our phones to take pictures of the dynamic duo. They run off to the bouncing house next.
I feel tears in the back of my eyes, but I don't let them spill. Sam puts a hand on my lap almost as if he knows how I'm feeling, and I put my hand on his. Marley sits next to me and takes a drink from a passing server.
"I thought the baby shower Tina threw for me was over the top, but this is insane," she says as she looks around the yard.
After doing my best to keep the tears in, I let them fall. Sam in response pulls me into his arms, and I cry against his chest. He kisses my forehead and rubs my back to comfort me. When I finally get my feelings under control, I lift my head from his chest and look around. Jessica and Johnny are running around laughing at the bubble station. They are as carefree as two toddlers should be. I look at Sam, and he's watching them too with a big smile on his face.
"You are raising a happy well-adjusted child who knows she is loved."
He puts his finger on my lips and corrects me, "No, we, you and me are doing that even though her mama is a sex addict." Shocked by his words, I try to punch him in the stomach, but all that does is get a laugh out of him.
"Why must you ruin a special moment with that. Besides, you benefit from it too much to use it against me."
"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone else about your habits unlike you who loved to tell the world that I was a manwhore."
"Whatever, if the body count fits, then you must be a community dick."
"That was in the past and you know it. I am so glad that I am a man, and no one can do what Mike has done to Tina to me." I've never seen a pregnant stomach as big as Tina's. I think it's because she is so petite that her belly looks twice as big in comparison to Marley when she was pregnant with Johnny. Tina is thirty-two weeks along with twins, and looks as if she is about to explode before her October 28th due date.
She waddles over to us with Mike protectively guiding her step by step. He helps her to the seat of honor that is closest to the luxurious portable potties that are on the grounds for guests who need to use the restroom.
"Thanks, babe," Tina says to her husband when he gets her a drink. "Next time can you just make sure to knock me up with only one of your giant babies?"
"I can't make any promises." He says grinning down at his wife.
"I get all his attention with me being more belly than human," she says.
"Like you didn't get attention before getting pregnant," Sam says.
"Sam, you are just mad because Mike gives me more attention than you," Tina says. "Go and bring my goddaughter and Johnny over to me. I want to take a picture with them."
"Do what my wife requested," Mike says to Sam, who pretends that he is going to run to get the kids, but he sees the clown and walks the opposite way.
Smut Alert
After dropping Jessica in the suite with Marley and Jake, I rush back to the room I'm sharing with my wife in the Chang mansion. I never thought I'd be the type of man who goes on about his wife, but my wife is pretty cool with a heavy dose of pretty. When I step back inside the room, which is more like a suite, I hear the shower running. That gives me enough time to change into the outfit I brought with me. I ordered it a few days after we had our talk at Granny's bedside, but this is the first chance I've had to use it.
I changed into the outfit and put on the tool belt. It's as if I timed it perfectly. She comes out of the bathroom in her short robe. It's the red one I got for her.
Her eyes bug out when she sees me standing in the middle of the room with nothing on but a pair of chaps shorts and the tool belt around my waist. Her eyes travel up my chest, and I feel a sense of pride when she bites her bottom lip. Then she looks down and starts to giggle.
"What the hell, Evans?" she asks, gesturing at me. "You look like a gay repairman."
I look at myself in the mirror and realize she might be right. The shorts are tight, and I look ridiculous.
"Ain't nothing gay about what's about to happen here," I say as I saunter toward her, making sure to thrust my hips forward so she can see my bulge. It works, and that causes her to have another fit of giggles. She laughs so hard, she falls on the bed on her back. I take her hand and pull her back to her feet.
I turn and show her my ass. She laughs some more and slaps my bare butt cheek through the holes in my shorts.
"Take those off before they cut off your circulation," she says between fits of laughter.
"I'm here to fix your blockage, ma'am," I say.
"Where did that southern accent come from?" she asks. "You don't sound like your daddy?"
"Ma'am," I say, talking like I did as a kid in Tennessee. "I'm goin' to ask you to bend over so I can get ascertain the origin of the problem.."
I walk closer, flex a muscle, and kiss my bicep.
"Why do I need to bend over for you to do that?" she asks.
She unties the robe and says in a sexy voice, "Mr. Plumber, I'm so glad you got here in time. I think I am going to be wet everywhere if you don't fix the problem." She drops the robe more, revealing her beautiful breasts.
She bends over the bed, and the robe rides up past her upper thighs. My fingertips trail along her smooth, brown skin. I lift the robe, and her juicy bare ass is before me. I rub on it, and she throws her head back and moans, and I know it's because she loves the feel of my hands on her body.
"Wet?" I lean on her back and nip her ear. "I don't think any of your liquid is going to hit the floor." My hand goes between her legs and run my fingers over her nether lips. "I think I know exactly what you need." I slip a finger inside, and she hisses.
"Yes, Sam, oh yes," she moans out, then she clears her throat and says, "I mean, can you help me, please?"
I lift her up, spin her around, and push her into a sitting position on the bed. After pulling her legs apart, I stand between them. My shorts have now gotten uncomfortably tight.
"You're about to find out, ain't ya?" I say.
"Don't you need your tool belt," she asks as I get up to take it off.
"I am about to reveal the only tool that I will need to completely fix your plumbing issue."
"Oh. Let me help you with that. It's really a big, long, and thick tool."
"Yeah. The best to relieve your needs with." I step away from her and do a series of moves that I was going to audition as a stripper with. She looks at me in awe. I know we're only acting, but the way she's looking at me turns me on like never before. At this moment, I regret every random before her. Every hit it and quit it that did not create Jessica. I ask myself how I could have been so dumb as to think those nameless, faceless women before my wife were worth it, or how those booty calls were ever a good idea.
"Oh, my," she says, totally in awe. "That's quite the tool."
"It is and I have to prepare your leak for it," I drop to my knees and lift the robe all the way up, revealing her with her legs closed. At least they are until I pull them apart.
"I have to taste it to make sure I know what kind of blockage is causing the slow leak." I swipe my tongue from her clit to her hole.
"Oh, hell," she hisses while she holds onto my head for balance. "I had no idea this was how you plumbers worked." Her words come out muffled and husky.
"Oh, yes, ma'am," I say with my head still between her legs. "Let me do my job, okay, little lady?" I lick her again and slide a finger inside her wetness. She moans loudly, and I love it.
"No one has ever fixed my blockage this way."
"Oh, no, ma'am. Only I possess the necessary tool to fix your plumbing needs. No one else." I leave her long enough to softly bite her inner thigh.
"Oh, yes, sir."
"No one else. Say it." To emphasize my point, I bite her inner thigh again.
"Only you," she agrees. Satisfied with her answer, I return to eating her out as if she's my last meal. She opens her legs wider for me, and her sounds of pleasure only get louder and louder with each kiss and suck.
She holds my head tight as she comes moments later, convulsing as her juices coat my face. There's no shame when I look at her. I lift her off the bed, and she stands before me on wobbly feet. I take the skimpy robe off her and tweak her nipples once she's naked before me.
I point at my hard dick, which is now pointing in her direction. She drops to her knees and takes me down her throat without any warning. She gags, and I love that so much that I shove myself deeper inside her mouth. She gags again. I pull all the way out and admire her wet lips.
"Lick me" I whisper, and she obeys. She takes control and wraps one hand around the base while she licks my dick me with her tongue. She drives me to the brink of insanity before sucking me, but as good as her mouth feels, I need to be inside a different set up lips now.
I pull out, lift her to her feet, and toss her onto the bed before she can register what's happening. She has her legs spread open by the time I dive on top of her and kiss her.
"It's time for me to put my tool inside of you ma'am," I say against her mouth. "I hope you can take it because this tool is huge." I flip us over and land on my back with her on top of me. "You have to slide down on it."
She looks at my dick, which is now pointing north. She picks it up and stands it straight. I lift her up, and she slides down while I sink inside of her, inch by inch, until I'm fully ensconced. I could die right now as a happy man. I'd die by orgasm, and I know my daughter would be loved and taken care of.
"Now what?" she asks in a high and shrill voice.
I thrust up inside and slap her ass. She slows down and grinds as she bounces up and down on my dick. I cover her breast with my hand and tweak her nipple. She moans, and I grab her hips.
I know I don't have much time until I come, so when she bounces up, I slide back inside and start screwing her fast and rough. She moans and calls out my name when she comes again. Her second orgasm brings forth mine.
It's October and instead of flying to Nashville like we did the first time, I decided to drive instead. Jessica happily babbles in the back seat until she falls into a deep sleep. Mercedes's hand rests on my leg and I cover it with my own.
Mercedes tells me, "You're doing the best you can." She can tell how I change the instant I am back in my hometown.
I shrug. "Sometimes I used to wish I had a sibling to share the load with, but with my luck, that sibling would be as screwed up as our father, and I'd be stuck taking care of both of them."
"Why don't you let me handle some things," she suggests. "I can help you out with Dwight. I do have a degree in business. I will only do what you want. You would have the final say, but I can do the day to day tasks."
"Really? You'll do that?" I ask. When she nods, I say, "I can't do that to you. He's—"
"You're not doing anything to me. I'm offering. It will be one less thing on your mind when you're traveling for your sponsors and when you begin spring training in February. And if your dad needs anything, he can call me. Team Evans." She cheers. I give her a quick glance before turning back to the road.
"I'll take you up on that," I say, and she smiles, satisfied.
I remain quiet for the remainder of the drive. Jessica wakes up just as we turn down the cul-de-sac. After I pull into the driveway, Mercedes steps out of the car and I get Jessica, and just like last time, Dad is peeking through the blinds.
"Whose car is that?" Mercedes asks about the dark blue sedan parked in the driveway.
"That's his therapist's car," I say.
"Let me get Jessie's things," she says, and I pop the trunk. She takes out Jessica's bag and her own. When I look back toward the house, the front door is open and my steps falter when my dad comes outside. I stand frozen in place, my eyes wide at what I'm seeing.
"Ike!" Jessica says, happy to see her grandfather.
From where I'm standing, I can see beads of sweat on my dad's forehead and his therapist behind him.
"You can do this, Dwight," he says in a soothing voice. "Just breathe like we practiced." Dad takes a deep breath and takes another step. He stops just at the top of the stairs, looks down at us, and smiles.
"How do you feel?" the therapist asks. "Breathe," he says again. "It's okay. You're not alone. I'm here and so is your family. See how happy your granddaughter is to see you?"
Jessica claps her hands and calls for him again. "Ike," she says again.
"Hey, Son," he says. "Hi, Mercedes. Sam, bring my two year old granddaughter to me." He holds his arms out for her, and Jessica reaches for him. Although Dwight was on FaceTime for her birthday party at Mercedes' family home, this is the first time he has seen my baby girl in person since she's turned two. On autopilot, I go up the steps and hand Jessica over. Dad kisses her cheek and turns his back to us, but I still see his tears.
Without another word, he goes inside, but he doesn't close the door behind him.
I look down at Mercedes but quickly look away.
"I'm Dr. St. Pierre," the other man says. He shakes my hand, and Mercedes leaves the suitcases in the driveway to greet him. After she does, she goes, she picks them up and wheels them inside. "Your dad's made a lot of progress this week. I can't be more specific, but he's had a breakthrough."
"Yeah. I haven't seen him outside since I was a kid," I say, still amazed. "Did he finally tell you what happened to him?"
"He did," is all Dr. St. Pierre says.
"Well, what the hell happened to turn him into that?" I ask.
"I can't reveal that. Feel free to ask him, but please don't push him if he won't talk about it. He wants to protect you from it."
"Protect me?" I ask as I glare down at the doctor. "What has he ever protected me from my entire life?" When he opens his mouth to speak, I talk over him. "Before you spout your psycho mumbo jumbo, you should know he didn't protect me from a damn thing. I've been more of a parent to him than he's ever been to me." I glare at him, daring him to contradict me, but he doesn't. I don't see sympathy in his eyes either, which is the last thing I want.
"Have you tried getting therapy for yourself?" he asks. His voice has softened, but my eyes have hardened.
"I did," I admit. "And it was a waste of my time. All they did was try and tell me how to change myself so I could accommodate his crazy when what I needed was for that stupid shrink to tell me how to fix him."
Dr. St. Pierre looks away, and I can tell he's getting his thoughts in order. "It doesn't work that way," he says.
"Whatever. I'm not the crazy one. He is." I point at the house. "I don't need a shrink telling me some bullcrap about how none of this is his fault."
"It's not," he insists. "It's not your fault either, and let's not use the word crazy."
"You think I don't know it's not my fault?" I look away after asking that. For a time when I was a kid, I believed I was responsible. I thought I had chased my supposed mother away, and that broke my father.
"It's not your fault," he repeats.
"And what? I'm supposed to throw him a party for coming out of the house for two seconds?" I ask the doctor. "What happens now? He'll go back inside for another decade, leaving me to do everything as always?" The bitterness that I try to keep at bay comes back up.
"I don't think that's going to happen. I think this is the start of a new chapter in his life," Dr. St. Pierre says. "He wants to be there for his family."
"I needed him to be there for me when I was a kid!" I scream. "I don't need him to be there for me now. What the hell is he going to do for me at this point? I needed a parent who got his ass off the couch to attend events at school and my games and buy me some new shoes so I could play the game that now pays for his lifestyle. Maybe even take me to yearly dentist and doctor appointments. But yeah, it's not his fault. Let's praise him for being outside for less than a minute." I do a slow clap before I turn my back on the doctor.
"If that's how you feel," he says, "why do you continue to take care of him? You could have walked away, but you didn't. Not only did you not walk away, but you have given him everything he needs and more to help him recover and try to be a good father to you.
I don't bother to turn around to face him. I don't bother to answer. After pausing my steps, I continue and walk through the front door and slam it behind me.
Mercedes
While Dwight feeds Jessica cookies, I begin preparing the chicken salad I fixed the last time I was in Nashville.
"Thanks, for making these again, I have been craving them since you left." Dwight admits the last part as if he is embarrassed.
"Do you want me to show you how to make them so you won't have to wait so long to have them again? I promise you it's easy to do. We can put the recipe in your cell phone."
"Sure, I am not good at cooking, but if you promise that it's easy, I will try to do it." He says this while making sure Jessica is enjoying the popsicle without it melting all over her.
I am worried about Sam. I thought he would be ecstatic about his father going outside, but instead, he seems to be in a very bad mood.
When Sam joins us in the kitchen, Jessica looks at him with her face covered in chocolate and smiling wide and waves him over.
"Hey, Jessie Love," he says back. "I see you're back to manipulating your grandpa.
"Oh, I don't mind that she has me wrapped around her tiny finger." Dwight says.
"I was thinking," Dwight begins as we are sitting down and eating lunch. He gives Sam a quick glance but still bravely continues, "about how we usually have you as the hibachi chef whenever you come?"
"Yeah," Sam says as he takes a big bite of his sandwich.
"Instead of you cooking, maybe we can all go to a hibachi restaurant." I start to cough and accidentally spit out a huge bite bite of my sandwich as Dwight's request. Sam reaches over and hits me on the back. Dwight keeps on talking. "I mentioned it to Dr. St. Pierre, and he thinks it's a good idea. He says he'll come so he can help me with my breathing. I already made a reservation. I used your name, so we can have a private room and not be bothered by your Sammyfans."
He seems so proud of himself, and I know how big of a moment this is for him. Way bigger than just going outside.
"I think it's the best idea ever," I whisper, and Dwight smiles at me in appreciation.
"Are you sure?" Sam asks.
"I don't want to live like this anymore, and I know I fought you about therapy and taking my medication, but it's been the best thing for me. Thank you, Son, for not giving up on me." He reaches across the table and puts a hand on Sam's. I turn my head to wipe the tears from my eyes.
"Okay. When are we going?" Sam asks.
Two hours later, Sam fills me in on his conversation with Dwight's therapist.
"Do you know what that crazy quack had the nerve to say to me?" I shake my head because I didn't know.
"Other than the usual 'it's not his fault' bullcrap, he asked me why I continue to take care of him if I'm so angry. Why build him this house and find him a doctor instead of walking away for good? I should fire his ass. It's not his job to question me. His job is to fix that hot mess of a man downstairs."
He falls down on the bed and stares at the ceiling.
"Why do you?" I ask. "And I'm not talking about the house. You're rich, so that's nothing to you. I know you well enough to know you wouldn't abandon him with nothing, but why do you take his calls? Why do you visit? Why do you make hibachi just because he likes it? Why don't you just take care of him financially and leave the rest alone?"
He sighs and covers his face with his hands. "I like hibachi too," he says with a shrug. When I remain quiet, he says, "Because despite everything, he's all I have. At least he was before Jessica and you. Until two years ago, he was all I had, and as much as I hate him sometimes, I can't abandon him. I'm just as screwed up as he is."
I walk to him and look down. After several seconds, he peeks through his fingers, and I grin at him.
"You're not screwed up. You are a good son." I take his hands and try to pull him into a sitting position, but he's much too strong. He finally takes mercy on me and sits up on his own. He puts his arm across my shoulders and I rest my head on his as we sit side by side.
"You're an even better daughter-in-law," he says before he kisses my temple. "Thanks for listening to me vent."
"I will always listen to you," I promise him.
He lifts me onto his lap. "I don't ever want to come visit without you again." He holds up his pinky finger. "Promise me."
I wrap my finger around his. "You won't ever have to."
We sit in silence, and I enjoy this quiet moment with my husband. The man I once detested has slowly become my best friend. I move my head and sniff the side of his neck. He smells so good. We stay like this until we hear a soft knock on the door. After I yell come in, Dwight sticks his head in. I try to slide off Sam's lap, but he holds me in place.
"Jessica is asking to go outside," he says. "I'll go out there with all of you." He looks away when he says it, but Sam's brows shoot to his forehead.
"Are you sure, Dad?" he asks. "I don't want you to overdo it."
"I'm sure. Today wasn't my first day. I've done it a few times before with my therapist."
"Oh!" I say, jumping off Sam's lap. "Did I ever tell you two that I played on the girls' Rec softball team in elementary school? We came very close to winning a championship." I stand up and I start to bat an imaginary ball.
"I know someone who's won two Word Series," Sam throws in.
"You know what? Let's take this outside," I say to Sam. "I'm gonna show you how to play baseball for real."
He throws his head back and laughs. "You're gonna show me how to play baseball? Yeah. Right. It's on."
"I'm going to go change," I say, suddenly excited.
"Whatever. Nothing will save you from the humiliation you're about to feel." He takes Jessica from Dwight and growls at her. "Game face!" he yells. Even Dwight takes a step back. "Grrr," he says to Jessica. She bares her teeth and growls back. He tosses her in the air. "Game face!"
"Ame face," she says back with a giggle.
They growl and make noises all the way out of the room and down the hall.
Dwight stands there with his eyes wide and says, "All of them are absolutely nuttier than a fifty pound fruitcake."