And that’s to fuck.
It’s not some vague feeling either. It’s specific in its want.
It’s focus is solely for the woman sitting across from me, biting into a piece of toast, her eyes going to the window and taking in the rolling fingers of fog.
That’s who I want.
More than anything.
And I know I have her…I know I do. That’s the funny thing about all of this. Perry is mine and always will be. She’s wearing a ruby and topaz ring on her left hand, the ring I gave her. The ring that symbolizes our marriage, just as the band on my finger does.
So she’s mine, I know she’s mine.
Then why do I feel…I need to keep her?
With a desperation I hadn’t felt in years?
And why does this desperation make me feel so fucking alive?
Which brings my brain back to the other thing I’m obsessing over.
Tonight.
The reason why I have goosebumps all over my body already.
Why the hair on the back of my neck is already raised, like whatever we’re about to do has already started, just by our own intentions.
Plus, I have a hard-on.
I’m a fucking mess of a man.
“Are you okay?” Ada asks me.
I glance over at her, wondering what she’s picking up on.
I give her a quick smile, adjusting myself. “I’m fine.”
She studies me, suspicious as always, then has a sip of her coffee before glancing at Perry.
Perry is still staring out the window, oblivious to either me or Ada.
“Then stop looking at her like that,” Ada says.
My brows raise. “Pardon? Stop looking at my wife?”
“Yeah. It’s weird. You’re looking at her like she’s food.”
“Food?” I pause. “What kind of food?”
Ada rolls her eyes. “Look, I just want things to go smoothly tonight, and it’s quite obvious that you’re just rolling with your feelings right now.”
“I’m not rolling with anything,” I counter. “I’m just…getting prepared.”
Don’t tell me she can hear thoughts too now.
But while I’m talking with Ada, I notice Perry hasn’t said a word. She’s still staring out the window.
“Perry?” I say softly, trying to not look at her like a fucking Big Mac or whatever the fuck food Ada was talking about.
She still doesn’t look at me.
Finally I reach across the table and take her hand.
She blinks, jolted back into reality and looks at me in surprise.
“God. Sorry, I…” She shakes her head and looks at the both of us. “I was daydreaming. There are these birds out there. They’re so strange…”
I follow Perry’s gaze out the window, across the lawn to the towering maple trees on the other side of the road. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before, considering the branches are mostly bare, with a few patches of orange leaves hanging on, but there’s a giant flock of tiny birds that keep taking off and landing on the trees.
The birds take off as one, like a black cape, swirling and twirling up into the air and then swoop back down, covering the trees. They stay there for a moment, chirping and bouncing along the branches, before they do it again. A blot in the sky.
Leave as one.
Land as one.
A chill runs down my spine.
I twist in my seat to look at Ada and Perry.
Perry’s expression is blank, almost dreamy. Ada looks bothered.
“I hope that’s not an omen,” Ada says.
“I wonder what they’re doing,” Perry muses softly.
“Oh good, you’re still here,” Daniel says, walking into the kitchen with a newspaper under his arm, maybe the only person alive who still reads them. He breaks up the weird vibes, with all of us snapping to attention.
He puts the newspaper down and stares at us, like he has something to say.
Then he looks at me.
I can’t read his expression, but I can feel what he’s carrying in him.
Worry and fear.
But he doesn’t know what we’re up to tonight, unless Ada has told him.
“Dex,” he says, grabbing the coffee pot and pouring himself a cup. “You’re good at gardening, right?”
Perry snorts. “Dad, have you met Dex?”
But what Perry isn’t picking up on, what she should be picking up on, is that the conversation is a ruse.
“I know some things,” I tell him, and god help me if I’m wrong about this because I know shit-all. I’ve had numerous marijuana plants over the years, and they’ve all died. Probably because I didn’t water them. Look, I can barely take care of myself.
“Perhaps you can tell me what’s wrong with the fig tree in the back yard,” he says, walking across the kitchen with his cup of coffee, gesturing with his head to the sliding doors in the living room.
“Uh, yeah, I can do that,” I say, avoiding the rapid-fire looks that Ada and Perry are shooting me.
I get up and follow Daniel, my palms sweating.
I feel like I’m in trouble.
Like I’ve done something wrong.
He’s about to go all Italian mafia on my ass, isn’t he?
I’m out of the family, just like that.
We step through the doors and onto the patio, the floor cold and damp through my socks. He slides the door closed behind us.
What are you doing? Perry comes into my head, but I just shut my eyes for a moment, booting her back out.
“You okay, Dex?” Daniel asks.
I look at him, giving him a quick smile. “Oh fine. Just a bit concerned you might be plotting to murder me and have a quick burial.”
I expected him to laugh at that, or at least smile, but he doesn’t do either.
“Here’s the thing,” he says. “This isn’t about the fig tree.”
“You mean that fig tree?” I ask, pointing to a small one in a large white pot.
He glances over his shoulder at it. “Yes.”
“Well I can tell you one thing, you need to plant
