I wake up slowly on Sunday in the bright early dawn. I’m doing my best to hold onto the dream. It’s Vivienne’s eBook cover, but it’s not static. It’s an animation, and it’s perfect. I need to capture all the marvelous details before they disappear.
I grab my sketchpad and pencil from the right side of this gigantic bed, stack the pillows behind me, and settle myself down to remember.
Flipping to a new page, I start a rough thumbnail large enough to draw out good details. The version of the eBook cover I sent to Vivienne shows a Champagne bottle in the lower left corner on a hot pink background, a popped cork in the right-hand corner, and confetti and bubbles in the air between, behind, and around the title.
I close my eyes and remember the action of this new animation. The Champagne bottle rises up in the left-hand corner, then the cork pops from the bottle up to the right. It’s followed by the explosion of not just confetti and bubbles (like the old version) but now also candy, flower petals, and tiny little flames. This is so cool. I’ve only started to teach myself simple animation, but I think I could pull this off. Wow. My efforts to tap into my inner sex goddess are working.
The bad news, I think while I furiously sketch out the full animation idea frame by frame, is that I may never be able to look Rune in the eye again. How do men do it? How do they fantasize about women they know who aren’t their girlfriends, wives, or lovers and then carry on interacting with those same women as if nothing is going on in their imaginations?
How do they sit across from these women in business meetings, or classes, or wherever, and act as if they haven’t been imagining all sorts of crazy, explicit, sexy things while they touch themselves and not turn into piles of awkward stammering embarrassment?
How will I face Rune again, let alone tomorrow, for the Fourth of July party? I overdid it. I went on a binge as if Vivienne had waved a magic wand and permitted me to go crazy.
I watched the first three episodes of The Troubadour Tales on Gregg Allman and Cher on Friday night. Last night, I watched the final three. This time, I kept my eyes glued on Rune. Vivienne’s right. He morphed right into the angel-faced-gravel-voiced Allman all right. It was a remarkable performance. Rune brilliantly portrayed the shy, brainy, talented man who used drugs and alcohol to keep grief and ghosts at bay.
Finished with my rough sketches, I jump out of bed, the energy almost crackling and sizzling around me. I want to start drawing this idea out formally before I start to hang out with Lorelei at nine. First, I need tea and food. I’m starving.
As I let Butterscotch out before giving her breakfast, I breathe in the grounding fragrance of Bergamot in my Earl Grey tea. The morning is still cool, but it’ll be warm today. Lorelei and I can sit out here to work on her scrapbook. My thoughts are a jumble of the sexy but sad drama of The Troubadour Tales and the new things I want to add to Vivienne's eBoook cover.
Gregg Allman's love for Cher couldn’t save him from his demons. He would eventually go to rehab seventeen times before truly becoming sober. He was famous for his womanizing. He’d married seven times and had five children. I hope he didn’t inspire Rune to be such a heartbreaker. Is that the real he had a vasectomy? To make sure he wasn't creating children all over the place?
Unfortunately, we can’t change for others, only ourselves, Theo breaks into my thoughts.
Did you ever try to change for anyone? I ask him, realizing uncomfortably it's been a bit of my M.O.
Just once, it didn’t work out, he chuckles, You have to find someone who loves you just as you are.
Fat chance, I smirk.
Patience, dear heart, Theo tells me, his voice fading so much I'm not sure I haven't made up the last bit, brighter days are coming.
I hope so. In the meantime, I have a new eBook cover to create and a homework assignment to finish writing up.
To top off my Rune Fest, I looked him up on the biggest audiobook platform. I’m impressed. He’s narrated dozens of books, thrillers, sci-fi and fantasy, non-fiction (including environmental), and even a few romances. I bought one of those, and I’ve listened to half of it so far. So apparently, he does get some work done while he’s a traveling Romeo.
Watching the TV series and listening to the audiobook made some sort of magical alchemic cocktail of a self-pleasure potion. I didn’t have to work at making up any fantasies to get the job done last night; they made themselves up as I let my fingers do the walking. Ahem.
I'm pretty sure I'll be able to make some good inroads on my Sexpectations homework later tonight, after I’ve hung out with Lorelei first. Of course, Rune won’t be the one to help me make my list happen in reality. What a disaster that would be. I’m so glad he warned me off. Who wants to be a one-time, or a few-times, mercy hookup because someone liked you when you were kids but is now completely out of your league? And considers himself cursed. No, thank you.
**
“I wish Rune were here to help us decide,” Lorelei muses, chewing on her lower lip as she stares at the vast array of pretty background papers the arts and crafts store has displayed.
I have to agree that the number of choices is a bit overwhelming. We’re standing before a wall of racks and racks of colorful paper. Almost every hue imaginable and all kinds of cheerful and whimsical patterns, too.
“What if you pick different backgrounds depending on a theme?” I ask, holding up a page with firecrackers going off in celebration of tomorrow’s holiday.
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“Like special events?” She asks, taking the page from me and studying it.
“Maybe seasons and holidays?” I ask her, “What if we go through the year and see what you’re inspired to pick out?”
“I like that idea!” she exclaims, looking relieved.
“Okay, let’s start with July and the 4th and work forward from there,” I tell her.
We’ve already picked out an eight-and-a-half by eleven spiral notebook of heavy-duty multi-media paper. When she showed me the scrapbook her Granty had made for her this morning for inspiration, it was clear Rune’s mother had used something similar instead of a pre-made scrapbook, and had decorated it all herself. That made sense. Astride was very creative and frugal too, if memory serves. She would certainly want Lorelei to use her own imagination and build her skills rather than rely too much on anything store-bought.
With this in mind, I’m trying to steer the tween towards items that will help build her drawing and creativity instead of relying on the alluring but expensive scrapbook elements this store has aisles of.
Lorelei has a pre-loaded credit card from Rune to spend on this project in her pocket (money she’s earned as her allowance, matched by him), but she’s carefully thinking about every possible purchase. I like that the Borstads are keen on raising a child who is savvy with her money. My parents were good about this, too, though my mom was known to go on shopping sprees when in one of her manic phases.
We’ve made it through Lorelei picking out paper backgrounds for July, August, and September when Lorelei stalls again, unsure of what background paper she wants for October.
“I do wish Rune were here,” she laments again, “He loves the fall and helping me dress up for Halloween. He told me it’s so beautiful here that time of year.”
“It is,” I agree, “but this is your project, Lorelei, I’m sure he’ll be happy with anything you pick out.”
“Still,” she wrinkles her nose, “I wish he was here having fun with us and not off hanging out with his latest crush.”
“Oh?” I say before I can stop myself, wishing I could both take the word back and stop my stomach from sinking.
**
“Hold on! I have to take our cake out of the oven,” I call out to my nephew Nils as the timer on the bookcase behind us goes off.
“Show me again, I’m almost there,” I hear Lorelei say as I dash out of the office for the kitchen.Nils and I started having dance parties and teaching each other steps on Zoom calls during the pandemic as a fun way to keep in touch. I called him last night and asked him if he’d teach Lorelei and me something today as a way for them to connect. Chances are he’ll be living in Seattle soon and coming for frequent visits.
For the past fifteen minutes, he’s been showing us how to do the Smooth Step. Something all the cool kids know how to do.
The entire downstairs is infused with the rich, sweet smell of chocolate. I pull the sheet pan of Texas cake out of the oven and set it on the counter. We need to finish it off with the chocolate walnut icing sitting on the stove, waiting to be warmed up.
“I can do it!” Lorelei comes racing in to get me, “Watch! He’s such a good teacher!” I rejoin her in the office, where we can see my fleet-of-foot thirteen-year-old nephew. He’s dancing away by himself, his baseball cap on backward to keep his red-brown curls out of his face.
“Ready to show her?” Nils stops and asks as soon as he sees us.
“Ready,” Lorelei says excitedly. Nils counts down, and they both start doing the step to the catchy dance music. Lorelei’s a little stiff. She’s got the step but not the full groove yet, but she’s picking it up fast.
“You’re an amazing learner, Lorelei,” I cheer. She beams at me but doesn’t stop doing the step, “And you’re an amazing instructor!” I tell Nils. He nods with a sheepish grin,
“Okay, you two, I’ve got to go ice the cake,” I tell them, “Lorelei, are you going to continue dancing or help me out?” Lorelei stops dancing and looks back and forth between me and Nils on Zoom, obviously torn between the cute new older boy she just met and being helpful.
“I’d better go you guys, I’ve got stuff I need to help my grandpa with for tomorrow,” Nils tells us, making her choice easy. He signs off quickly, and Lorelei and I return to the kitchen to finish our cake.
“He’s so nice,” Lorelei says, “does he ever come to visit?”
“He might be coming a little later this summer,” I say, hoping this will be the case.
While we’re pouring the warm nut-filled icing over the warm cake, she continues questioning me about Nils. What grade is he in? What does he like to do? I tell her he’ll be in eighth grade, a year ahead of her, and he likes to build things and ride his mountain bike.
“He sounds like my dad,” she laughs.
“He does at that,” I admit. I hadn’t thought about it before, “why don’t you and Butterscotch get us some more greens from the garden for our salad?” I ask her as I let the dog out of the laundry room. I was afraid she’d be stepped on with all the dancing.
The two are just going out as Rune’s coming in. I look at the clock. He’s back earlier than planned. “Did Daphne like your idea?” I hear Lorelei ask. Her tone is a little short, but she stops long enough for Butterscotch to get some love from Rune.
“She did; we both thank you for understanding. I had to go in person, Pup,” he tells her. She nods but doesn’t say anything else and runs out with the dog on her heels. I wish I wasn’t as bummed as she is he spent the night with his new crush.
“You’re not going to wash away any of that chocolate, are you?” Rune asks, slipping his light brown suit jacket over the back of one of the counter stools, “Especially since I don’t notice the requested second cake.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I say, pivoting to give him the saucepan and the chocolate-covered spatula quickly, hoping my face isn’t red as I remember what I was doing while thinking about him last night, “you’re all dressed up for a Sunday. Did you go to church?”
“I wish, that would’ve been more fun. No, I was meeting with my father,” he sighs. I stare at him for a moment, surprised, before schooling my face to neutrality while he sits at the counter stool next to his jacket.
“How did that go?” I ask carefully, over my shoulder as I get the chicken salad I made earlier out of the fridge.
“Useful but stressful,” he says shortly, clearly not wanting to say more, “though this is making up for it.” He takes a large mouthful of chocolate and closes his eyes, smiling.
He looks transported, but tired. A fun night with a new crush will do that to you, I think meanly, studying his lovely face. I’m way too happy he didn’t shave for this overnight outing. I’m not going to ask more. I don’t want to hear about Daphne.
“Shelby, you’re magic,” Rune’s green eyes open slowly, half massed to gaze back at me. I never noticed before I drew him that they tilt down ever so slightly at the ends. They’re such bedroom eyes.
“Well, I am a witch," I say, deciding to own it. Why not? "Would you like dinner to go with your dessert?” I ask dryly, turning quickly back to the fridge to get the homemade ranch dressing and some cucumbers.
“I’d love anything you have to spare, I’m starving,” he admits as I get out the cutting board and my favorite knife, “Can I help?”
“No, I’ve got it,” I say quickly, getting out Uncle Reuben’s large classic 70s wooden salad bowl. The last thing I need is Rune with his elegant hands, and long light gold forearms in their rolled-up dress shirt sleeves helping me in the kitchen. My body’s already making up new fantasies.
“What are all these?” Rune asks, nodding at the three mason jars next to the espresso machine on the counter. They’re filled with oil, calendula flowers, and rose petals.
“Lorelei’s helping me in my first attempt to make calendula rose body butter,” I admit, “This is the slow method. The flowers need to sit in the oil for several weeks to infuse it.”
“What’s the fast method?” he asks, continuing to use the spatula to lick away at the pot of chocolate. My nether regions are now twitching like a cat as my body contemplates what it would be like to have him lick away at me. Just sit with your desire, I tell myself sternly. He spent the night making love to another woman.
“Cooking it for twelve hours on low heat. I didn’t think watching the stove on such a nice day would be fun, and since I’ve still got some of the fancy rose-scented body butter my sister sent me, I thought I’d try it this way,” I tell him, making myself busy with chopping to keep my eyes off his lovely mouth so I don’t cut myself.
“Slow can be good,” he says, I hear the smile in his voice, “is that why you always smell so good?”
I stop chopping and lift my eyes to his, opening my mouth to answer but I’m saved by Lorelei and Butterscotch bursting in excitedly from the laundry room.