My Number Ch 08

We didn't get away from Dave's parents' house until almost 9:00 PM, and it's an hour drive back to our apartment in Lexington. I had told Dave that his mom suggested we have the wedding in the spring, on the farm, because it was really beautiful and green then, and it would save a lot of money doing it that way. He was kind of surprised that his mother had suggested that, considering that his sister and her boyfriend had been shacked up for a couple of years now, and he didn't think that his mother would be all that happy about us being engaged so quickly after meeting each other. I just said that his mom could obviously see what we were seeing between us.

I wasn't really horny, but it was still a bit of a disappointment when Dave didn't turn into that abandoned house driveway where he'd so thoroughly molested me the last time we were down here. Still, it was getting colder at night this time of year.

Monday was another slammin' day in class, with the professors piling on the work and midterms approaching. Midterms aren't a scheduled event at UK, the way finals are, so different professors set them at different times, and some of them schedule two midterms, called hour exams, for three-hour classes. At least we were both caught up on our work; that was one advantage of living together, that we weren't taking out extra time -- and money! -- to 'date,' but were just together. I was liking this, liking it a lot.

Amanda called me just as I was getting out of my 10:00 AM class; we hadn't talked since I'd moved out of the dorm, but we needed to now. I needed to find out if she'd be willing to be my maid of honor. Even with a small wedding on the farm, I wanted my friends there, and she was my best college friend.

She was happy with that, still kind of amazed that everything had happened so quickly. I told her that this was going to be a cheap wedding, and bridesmaids' dresses would be simple and inexpensive, which I think was a relief for her. Her parents weren't quite as poor as my mom is, but they still aren't rolling in money, either.

Of course, I just had to know how Eric and she were getting along!

"Oh, it's going pretty nicely, but it's not as hot as what you tell me you and Dave have. He wants to get together all the time, and that's fine, but he still feels that he has to plan some sort of 'date' to keep me happy, and sometimes things get awkward. I mean, he knows that he can take me to bed any time, but it's like he is still trying to figure out how to do it, every time, as though he somehow has to convince me to sleep with him. He's still pretty much a nerd that way. He's smart, and has a bright future ahead of him, but even though he's good, it's just not the seeing stars kind of thing you and Dave have. I guess it's the difference between he'll do and I have to have him."

"That doesn't sound good," I answered.

"Yeah, I know. I mean, he's been a better boyfriend than I've ever had before, even though there have been a couple of guys better in bed than him, but . . . ."

"You slept with Eli, didn't you?" I wondered if Amanda could tell that I had a huge grin on my face over the phone. Eli was the campus wonderdick, who was screwing his way through the girls' dorms and the ΧΩ sorority, tall, good-looking and rich to boot. He just had a way about him that drew in girls, even girls who knew that he'd screwed maybe a hundred others already.

"Listen, you told me he was great in bed, and yeah, I did, a couple of times. But Eli ain't boyfriend material, you know that. I just worry about maybe settling for Eric or someone like him, and then fantasizing about Eli when I'm screwing Eric. Actually, I've already done that! You're just lucky that you've got a boyfriend who's also the best guy you've screwed."

"Well, girl, I guess that you just have to teach Eric better! I mean, if he's physically able to be better, I guess that you just have to lead him into being better."

"Yeah, easier said than done. I want him to take the lead, damn it, but he doesn't really know how to do that."

So, I told Amanda how I'd led Dave into taking me over that log in the Gorge, the time the girls with the rifle caught us, and said that if she led Eric into an adventure like that, maybe that was just enough of a starter to get him going better. Amanda loved that story, though she sounded just as concerned as Dave was that the one girl had a 30.06 over her shoulder. Amanda said that if that had happened to Eric and her, and the other girls wanted him to do them next, Eric would probably at least want to try, and fantasize about doing it; Dave had been very adamantly backing off from the two girls who caught us.

"What would you have done if Dave had wanted to take up those girls?" she asked me.

"Oh, I don't know. I mean, it's not like I have much room to complain about Dave fucking another girl, not with all the screwing around that I've done, but no, I wouldn't like it. It's strange, and I never thought that I'd feel this way, but it's just plain special to me that I'm the only girl Dave's been with. Am I being a hypocrite about that?"

"No, oh Lord, no. That's really pretty special for you two. I mean, it doesn't bother me that Eric has screwed a couple of other girls, certainly not nearly as many as I've had guys, but what you've got going is really great.

"So, what are you doing for a wedding gown?"

"Oh, Hell, I hadn't given that much thought. Gowns today can cost thousands, and I can't afford that, and neither can my mother. Maybe just something simple, unconstructed and flowing, satiny, I don't know. I've got six or eight months to worry about that, and there's still so much to get done on other stuff. Dave and I were caught up on our work, and already the professors are loading us down again. Maybe you and Eric can come over on Friday evening, and the four of us can do something?"

"Sounds good. Eric still thinks he has to be a good frat brother on the weekend, but I'm sure I can pull him away."

With that, we hung up, and I headed over to the Student Center cafeteria for some coffee. I wanted to call my mother, and tell her about the wedding, but she should be at work now; I guess that I'll call her this evening. We're already scheduled to have Thanksgiving dinner at the Parkers, but I figured I should tell her about the wedding before then.

Dave and I pondered what to do for Eric and Amanda's visit on Friday, and I just decided that I was going to cook for everybody. I figured that even I couldn't mess up meatloaf, at least not too much, and I started looking up recipes on the internet; there were zillions of them. I figured that you can't go wrong trusting Betty Crocker -- Dave called her Betty Cooker! -- and then I took stock of what we'd need at the grocery store, not just food, but cookware. I had to pick up a loaf pan for the meatloaf itself, and we needed a cutting board to chop up celery and onions and stuff. We went shopping Thursday evening, and I was putting away the stuff in the kitchen, when I glanced over to the window, and there was the girl who had watched us, returning the favor.

"Dave, come here," I yelled. "Look over there!" and I pointed out the window. There, across the alley, was our neighbor, getting boned on her kitchen table by some tall, lanky guy covered with tats. She had the lights on and the Venetian blinds up, deliberately, I'm sure, giving us a show. Dave stared for a second, maybe more like ten seconds, and then he walked over and pulled down our Venetian blinds. "Spoil sport," I teased him, and punched him in the shoulder. It had been kind of funny, but if my fiancé didn't like that kind of stuff, I wasn't going to push it.

We got back to the apartment around 2:30 Friday afternoon, and I started to get ready to cook dinner. I chopped up all of the stuff to go in the meatloaf, and got everything mixed together, and into the loaf pan to cook. It was too early to start it, so I covered it up with a couple paper towels, and put it in the fridge. I had reopened the Venetian blinds, to get the light in the kitchen; our neighbor wasn't over there showing off, at least not yet. I wondered if she would be this evening with our guests over.

We'd already decided on pretty much of a country meal, with boiled redskin potatoes -- we just smash them up with a fork and put butter on them, leaving the skins on -- and green beans, and Dave went all out, baking an apple pie, from scratch. He didn't use a recipe, saying that he knew how his mother made them, and I didn't get in his way.

Well, not too much, anyway. To call this a galley kitchen would have been giving it too much credit: there were only about three feet between the countertops and the wall behind, with the window in the narrow wall. The stove was against the window wall, then about two feet of counter space, then the sink, and another three feet of counter, just not a lot of space for one person, let alone two. We'd gotten used to doing the dishes together, with Dave washing and me drying and putting them away, but that didn't involve going around each other. Finally, Dave just plain kicked me out of the kitchen to finish the pie.

I didn't mind that. The table and benches were already clean, so I just finished straightening out the living room and sweeping the floors. We had an old black Naugahyde couch, a crappy coffee table, and a couple of computer chairs for the computer desk. There wasn't enough room for both of us at the computer desk, so Dave usually did his work there, on his desk top, while I used my laptop either on the coffee table, sitting on the floor, or the kitchen table. The kitchen table was a bit more comfortable, but I couldn't see Dave from there, so I usually used the coffee table. Dave had set up a network which let me tie into his printer. I emptied the trash can, and straightened up the books, and that was really all I needed to do.

Eric and Amanda were due at 6:00, so I put the potatoes on to boil at 5:00, and the meatloaf in at 5:15. Dave had the apple pie ready to go in the oven, and he'd put it in when I pulled out the meatloaf, so it'd be warm when it was served. He liked it warm, with vanilla ice cream on top. Once my stuff was cooking, I went over to Dave, put my arms around his neck and said to him, my lips only a few inches away from his, "God, we're acting like an old married couple already!" Then I kissed him. I never get tired of kissing him!

"I guess so," he replied, "'cause it seems to me that we're acting just like my mom and dad."

"Well, from what I saw of them, that isn't a bad thing at all," and I kissed him again. Then I thought, if I could have seen this scene four weeks ago, I'd never have believed it. "Think we have time for a quickie?" I grinned at him.

Well, my boyfriend liked that idea, and he started to lead me into the bedroom -- I know that he'd like to pick me up and carry me in there sometimes, but the doors are way too awkward to let that work -- when there was a knock at the door; Eric and Amanda were early. "Well, crap, I whispered to him. Guess we'll have to get that in later."

It turned out to be a really fun evening. The food turned out even better than I had hoped, and Dave's apple pie was delicious. I kept wondering if our across-the-alley neighbor would put on another show for us, this time for Eric and Amanda, but no dice this time. We laughed and joked, and played spades. I thought for a second that Eric might suggest strip poker when the cards came out, but I'm guessing that Dave guessed that, too, and put on his serious-face, and whether that was the deterrent or not, Eric never went there.

I did manage to get Amanda alone for a bit and asked her, "Is this getting serious?"

"I'm not sure, it might be. I think it's pretty serious to Eric, but I'm still holding back a bit. He's spent a lot of nights in my room, but I'll wind up with a new roommate next semester with you out of the dorm, so I don't want him to get the idea he can sleep there any old time. I kind of hurt his feelings a bit when I pulled back on the shower stuff some. I mean, I know that he likes us showering together, and I do too, but it's not really fair to the other girls if we're in there together every morning. Most of the girls don't care, I don't think, but there are a few who'd rather not have guys in the girls' showers."

"Yeah, I get that. Is he treating you right?"

"Oh, yeah, he is, way better than any other guy ever has. You were right about the respect part, and I really appreciate that."

Then the guys started paying attention again, so Amanda and I had to break off talking about Eric, and we got back to games again. They wound up staying until almost, when Amanda pretty much dragged Eric away, letting him know that he was staying with her tonight. Dave and I started cleaning up, and heading for the monster pile of dishes. We didn't have many, but everything we had was dirty, and that meant no way to cook breakfast in the morning.

I don't think that Dave had seen this evening as anything out of the ordinary, and maybe it really wouldn't be, but it was kind of amazing to me, that Amanda and Marcy could be with two guys, dressed casually rather than out on the prowl, on a Friday night, with no alcohol, no pot around, and all that we did was hang out and play cards. Good Lord, what would happen to our reputations!

We didn't make love at night. Dave and I were both kind of tired, so we just went to bed, laying down and holding each other, just lightly kissing until we fell asleep. Dave we were facing each other, and in the dim light that came through the painted-over transom, I saw his eyes close first, heard and felt is slow, rhythmic breathing, and could see the slightest of smiles on his face. That night, with us just drifting off to sleep, I could see that David was completely happy with me, with us being together.

The next four weeks kind of flew by, and if maybe Dave and I fell into a routine, it was a really nice routine. We made love a lot, but it wasn't every night and it wasn't every morning. Other nights, we'd just drift off together, smiling, and it didn't seem like there was ever a time when one of us wanted to make love and the other didn't. Maybe it was just when one of us started, the other was instantly turned on, but we just clicked, in a way I never knew was possible.

Traffic on Thanksgiving morning really wasn't all that bad. My mom came down early, so that we could drive to the Parkers for Thanksgiving dinner, and we all headed down together in her car. Mom insisted that she just had to bring something, and she had two pumpkin pies and a huge platter of deviled eggs in the trunk. We left the apartment at ten, and it's right at an hour to the farm. There are a couple different ways to get there, and mom took I-64 to the Mountain Parkway rather than the I-75 way, because we figured that would have more traffic.

Man, the Parker's house was just packed full! There was my mom, Dave and me, one of his sisters and her boyfriend, his older brother and his girlfriend. That made nine of us, but the Parkers had a dinner table big enough for everybody, and I think they could have squeezed a couple more people in. It was close quarters to the one side, where we were kind of crammed up against an old, rounded glass antique china cabinet, but we all fit.

And the food! I've already told you that I can eat like a pig and not gain any weight, but everybody ate until they were stuffed, and there was still food left over. The turkey had been a huge one, and there were huge serving bowls of mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, corn, a kind of green bean and onion and something else casserole, sweet potatoes (I don't care for those), a cold vegetable plate with raw carrots and celery and sliced green peppers and green olives and broccoli. I think that half the town could have come to dinner and there'd still have been plenty of food.

As is typical, the guys headed for the living room, and the television, after Thanksgiving dinner to watch football. The Lions beat the Vikings 16-13 (which is too bad, 'cause I always liked the Vikings purple-and-gold uniforms), and the Cowboys were hammering hard on the Redskins. And as is also typical, the 'womenfolk' wound up in the kitchen, cleaning up and talking. Naturally, the wedding generated most of the conversation, with everyone wanting to know how this was happening so soon. Marie, Dave's sister, had been living with her boyfriend for two years now, and apparently he hadn't mentioned marriage yet. Robbie, Dave's brother, hadn't been with his girlfriend all that long, so getting married wasn't an issue yet, and they weren't living together, but she -- her name was Sam, short for Samantha, I guessed -- was asking me questions about how I got Dave to propose so soon. I told her that I didn't do anything to get him to; it was his idea before I ever thought about it.

I wasn't going to tell them that Dave and I had slept together that first night, but it didn't take too long for the meeting-at-the-party story to come out. What I told them was true enough, that we met at a party, and I admitted that I made the first move, walking up to him, but I might have made things sound like maybe I wasn't on the prowl when I told them about us leaving the party because it got too rowdy, without ever mentioning that I usually liked rowdy parties. I think Mrs Parker was sensing where this conversation might go, and pushed the subject to the wedding itself.

And we got the whole thing planned, setting it for Saturday, May the 20th, which is right after the semester ends. About the only thing that wasn't decided was where I was going to get a dress.

It was getting late, and my mom had to get back to Shelbyville, because she has to work tomorrow. Yuck! Black Friday is an awful day to have to work, but she works retail, in the Mall, and it's always a hugely busy day. Then Mrs Parker said that Dave and I didn't have to go, we could stay and that she'd take us back to Lexington later during the weekend. Nothing was said about Dave and me sleeping together in his parents' house, but it was just sort of assumed.

The sun was streaming through Dave's bedroom window early Friday morning. I woke up before Dave did, and I know that I was smiling. His room was just like you'd imagine an old farmhouse bedroom to look like, with a light wallpaper and white-painted woodwork, simple in its design, but well-crafted in execution. Downstairs the house had hardwood floors, but up here on the second floor, the floors were wide board, and I think they were pine. They'd been varnished, and looked good, but were obviously a money-saving installation from when the house was built. There was a grill in the floor, to allow warm air to rise from the first floor, which is I suppose how the upstairs was originally heated, but at some point electric baseboard units had been installed upstairs. There was an old dresser and chest of drawers, which was needed because the closet in this room was tiny.

I kind of laid there, just looking at Dave while he was still sleeping. He'd gotten a haircut just last weekend, so it was short enough that his hair wasn't a bedhead mess in the morning. He was on his right side, facing me, and I used my right hand to trace the scar on his left shoulder, one he'd gotten when a joist had come loose in the barn and a couple pieces of decking came down and hit him. I could see the marks of eight stitches there, but it was obvious that the scar was several years old. That made him stir, and a couple of easy kisses woke him the rest of the way up.

The sheets were clean and white, the blanket a kind of coarse grey material, with an old fashioned embroidered white bedspread. The bed frame was simple, and obviously homemade, well put together and painted white. All in all, the room just looked country-clean. I had always assumed that guy's bedrooms were a bit of a wreck, but Dave's wasn't. I guess that I should have known, since he was more of a neat freak than I ever was, but this simple room just looked spectacular to me. Of course, having my fiancé laying naked beside me might have helped that!