Josh had always loved returning home for the summer. True, it had been his choice to go to school across the country, to experience the Northeast—but he still missed home. There was nothing like coastal central California. His parents, who still lived in the same house he grew up in, lived just a mile from the Pacific Ocean, and year-round the weather was comfortable—not too hot in summer, never too cold in winter. That's the thing he hated about the Northeast—the winter. When it was below zero and snowing on frosty January evenings, he usually dreamt of home, of the surf kissing the sandy expanse of beach, of the clear, blue California sky, of shirtsleeve weather and fields of poppies bobbing in the wind.
But this year was different. Winter in the great white North had changed his life. He had fallen in love. And now, the prospect of summer away from Monica stretched out before him like an endless highway, leading to some unseen horizon. How was he supposed to get along for over three months without her? He had just arrived back home yesterday, and it was good to see his folks—Mom had lost twenty pounds and looked great—and Jeffrey, of course. Jeffrey, who had always idolized him, hung on his every word. Sometimes it was annoying having a kid brother, but Jeffrey was all right. Twelve years old, smart, full of questions (and answers). He had missed the kid.
But he missed Monica more. Only apart for twenty-four hours now, and already he longed to be with her, to look into the depths of her brown eyes, to run his fingers through her fiery red hair, to caress the soft flesh of her breasts, to feel her vaginal walls, slick with arousal, gripping his rock-hard penis as he thrust in and out of her while she moaned and rushed toward a thundering climax. He longed to just talk to her, hold her hand, smile, listen to the music of her laughter.
How had he fallen so deeply, so desperately, in love? How had he allowed himself to get to this point—where a twenty-four-hour separation felt like twenty-four days? Worse—he had the entire summer to think about what she'd said to him. That she was seventeen years older than he was, that she couldn't give him a lot of children, that he needed to consider, soberly and with foresight, the prospects of marriage. He needed to think practically, with his head, not his heart. But all he was able to do right now was miss her. He lay back on the bed, his bed, looking at the walls of the room he grew up in. He still had a poster of Ken Griffey Jr. on the wall. It had frayed a bit, and one of the corners was ripped off, but other than that, it was in good shape. He'd always valued its presence—it was like a rock in a sea of change. When he first went away to college, he lay in his dorm room, missing that poster. When he came home for Christmas break, he looked at it and it provided him with comfort. Things were still the same, it seemed to say. Nothing's really changed. But now, it no longer said that. Somehow it looked older, like a relic from the distant past. It belonged to his life ten years ago, last year . . . not now. Everything was different now.
He sat up, turned on his cell, texted Monica a message . . .
"Hey sexy. Thinking of u, missing u. Wish you were here."
Not twenty seconds later, his phone chirped. "I miss u too," she wrote. "But try to have fun, Josh. Enjoy home.:)"
Yeah. Enjoy home. He'd never had trouble doing that before. But this summer, it seemed impossible.
*
"So . . ."
Josh looked down at the tabletop, at the back of his hands. "So" was what his dad said when he was pissed off.
"May I ask . . . how did you manage to spend all the money in your account?"
He had just cried poverty, told his parents that he would need another grand for his checking account when he went back to school in August. "Um . . . you know," he fumbled. He hadn't told them about Monica yet. He wasn't sure why not. He would need to tell them, of course. After all, she was the woman he intended to marry. But now wasn't the time. Not so soon after getting back home. Besides, he had all summer to tell them.
"No," his father said, folding his hairy arms, "I don't know. You care to enlighten me, Son?"
Josh swallowed. He needed to think quickly. "Books went up last year, Dad. And you know how it was. I tried to get through the semester without a job. Y'know, so I could give more time to my studies. But I had to keep borrowing from the account, then, 'cause I had no income. Things just added up, that's all."
His dad just shook his head. "No. It doesn't add up, Josh. And you know—"
"Oh, c'mon, Reed, give him a break." It was Mom—to the rescue. Just what he'd been hoping for. "It's not like we don't have a thousand dollars."
Dad sighed. "Honey, that's not the point . . ."
Mom pouted at him, then winked. Josh wanted to throw up. She was flirting. It was great that his parents still wanted to get it on, but he just didn't like to think of it.
"Just give him a break, Reed," she said. "It'll pay off, big-time, if you do." Another wink, and she went up to him, massaged his shoulders.
Dad leaned his head back, enjoying the rub-down. "Okay," he said. "You win." Mom kissed him, more sensually than Josh would have cared to see, and the matter was closed. Geez. Mom was acting extra flirty now that she'd lost weight, and Dad was eating it up.
"But I expect you to be more responsible with the money in the fall," Dad warned. "Understood?"
Josh nodded, feeling like a six-year-old. Then he got up to leave. Mom was acting way too frisky to his liking, and he got the feeling that his parents were about to get naked, real soon. Maybe right here in the kitchen. It was a sad day indeed when his parents were getting more action than he was.
*
He was horny, so horny. He had called Monica on the cell a little while ago and asked her to create an IM account. She said she had never done that, but he assured her it was free and easy. Five minutes later, she texted him, telling him she had created an account.
So now here he was, in his room, just after eight o'clock, chatting with Monica. It wasn't the same as being with her, but it was all he had at the moment.
But just then, a knock at his door.
"Josh?" It was Jeffrey. Josh groaned. He knew his brother wanted to talk after missing him all winter and spring. But why now?
He got up, unlocked the door, and Jeffrey walked in. Immediately he eyed the monitor, saw that Josh was on a chat site.
"Oh," Jeffrey said. "I guess you're busy."
"No, it's okay," Josh said, even though it wasn't. "I'm capable of having a three-way. Plant yourself on the bed, Jeff. 'Long as you don't mind my chatting online at the same time."
Jeffrey shook his head, sat down. Josh went back to the PC, keyed in that his brother had just entered the room.
"Oh," Sister Monica keyed in. "Well, maybe you should talk to him, then?"
Josh told her he could do both, and that his brother probably wouldn't stay for more than a few minutes.
"Hmm," she wrote back. "Why don't you give him some uninterrupted time, Josh. I'll still be logged on here for a while. Just send me a message when you come back.:)"
He frowned, but it was probably for the best. "Okay," he wrote. "I should only be away a few minutes. Stay where you are, gorgeous."
