The Trampoline
Chapter 1
Caleb trudged wearily down the stairs. What should have taken ten minutes, had taken an hour. His daughter had refused to sleep after just one story and he'd sworn on each of the subsequent five stories that this was "the last one."
He reached into the fridge for a cold soda, craving something sweet but caffeinated.
He'd heard Nicole get out half an hour before him from putting their other daughter to bed.
"Come on!" he'd texted her in dismay and envy.
"Sucka!" she texted back.
He'd tried to listen to hear through the door whether she was getting into the ice cream he'd bought, but couldn't make out anything over the sound of his daughter informing him that "I'm not sleepy!"
He carried his soda into the living room, but paused for a moment when he noticed an absence of Nicole. He looked around, perplexed. The routine was put the kids to bed then Netflix. He sipped his soda absentmindedly and waited for the hint of caffeine to reawaken his senses.
"Where are you?" he texted.
"Trampoline" pinged the reply.
"???" he texted back.
"Trampoline!" it pinged once, then a second time for "hurry up, dickweed!"
Caleb went back to the kitchen, then stepped barefoot out the back patio door of their modestly generic suburban home and out into the pitch black of night.
As he waited for his eyes to adjust before proceeding, she called to him.
"Come on over," she chimed. "I have a plan."
"I thought we already had a plan" he called back into the darkness. Technically he'd had two. The original plan, worked out months in advance was for Caleb to drop the kids at their parents on their way to the airport and fly down to Costa Rica to spend her birthday week on a beach resort, drinking, sleeping, and --quite frankly- fucking far more than their suburban life would ever normally allow them to. The tickets were non-refundable.
Then COVID hit.
Plan B was for him to make her a nice wild mushroom risotto (which he had done), put the kids to bed, and binge-watch her favorite episodes of Dr. Who, before seeing where the night might take them. Caleb had been excited for it.
"My plan is better!" she answered. "Quit being a baby. Come to the trampoline."
"You're on the trampoline," he laughed. "Now whose a baby?!"
"Baby's don't go on trampolines, dumbass. Nice try," she retorted....accurately.
He stumbled forward in defeat.
The trampoline had saved their sanity more than once during the lockdown. The kids could get some exercise while Nicole or Caleb worked from a laptop outside or even from the kitchen. They'd bought it just a month before the pandemic hit, from a local buy n sell. 10 ft of bouncy black bliss surrounded by a soft mesh net to catch any wayward lunges. "Best purchase I ever made," he'd told his Dad via skype just 4 days ago.
His eyes were beginning to adjust now, and he could see her laying flat on her back on the trampoline. As her silhouette started to sharpen in his vision, he could see that she was wearing her puffy light grey sweatpants from UCLA, where she'd gotten her bachelors degree, and a shirt (he couldn't tell what colour) that was way too tight and didn't nearly fit down to the waistband of her sweats. She'd given up on bras about two weeks into the pandemic. He stated constantly, involuntarily, at her large, soft breasts -- European breasts, he though, without really knowing why - It had been driving him crazy with desire, but there was rarely time to explore those urges. She had an elven face, narrow and mischievous, with a short, soft body to contrast it. Her hair was long -- months now without a cut -- and raven black; it splayed across the surface of the trampoline.
She was staring up at the stars.
Caleb crawled through the zippered opening in the trampoline's netting and flopped on his back beside her, ricocheting both their bodies up and down before settling. He stared up into the same sky that had captivated her.
"Whatcha doin?" he asked.
"It's my birthday," she replied.
"Mmm hmmm" he responded.
"At 2:00 am I'll be 30 years old, with a husband, two kids, and a mortgage." The words sounded dry and distant in her mouth.
"Yup," he replied.
She rolled onto her side to face him. "But I'm not 30 yet."
Caleb was confused, and starting to sense something brewing in her intent.
"That's true" he stated bluntly.
"Do you remember your 30th last month?"
Caleb suddenly felt like a trap was forming around him. Of course he did. It was his birthday. And it was, you know, last month.
"Y-es" he replied.
"Do you remember what I did for you?"
He did. Did he ever.
"Of course."
"Do you remember that I said I'd do anything for you.....even, that thing you wanted to try?"
That thing hadn't been nearly as pleasant as Caleb had hoped it would be; it was mostly awkward and a little gross, but he was deeply grateful that she had let him try it.
"I do" he stated, knowing that the axe was about to fall.
"And do you remember how you said you'd do anything for me as well?"
Caleb found himself cursing his moment of weakness -- surely pillow-talk couldn't be held against him in a court of marital negotiation. He immediately wondered what she had planned.
"I do" he answered while running through scenarios in his head of what might be to come.
"Did you mean that?" she asked with her sweetest, most seductive whisper.
Caleb did some math his brain at this, trying to envision what each potential response might lead to. The possibilities hovered in his consciousness for what seemed like minutes, and all the while she just gently stroked his chest, patiently awaiting his response. In the end, he decided to just be honest. He had meant it when he said it, and even now it held true. He would do anything for her.
"Yes," he confessed in surrender.
Immediately, Nicole leapt up on to her forearms and smiled like the Joker himself with a perverse sort of glee. "Excellent. Take your shirt off."
"Uh, we're outside," he protested.
"That's correct," she affirmed.
