Abby woke up to the unwelcome melody of her alarm, immediately anxious and aggravated for the school day ahead. Her phone read 6:00 AM - not an extra minute to spare on snoozing, but she rolled over in a knowingly futile attempt to catch a few extra winks. The high school senior had been kept up all night by noises from her mother's room down the hall: noises she'd prefer not to a put a name to, but basically unmistakable in their tiny, two-bedroom home.
Abby rolled out of bed and stepped into her slippers. She shuffled into the hallway and smelled breakfast already cooking downstairs: surely her mother Tori's boyfriend, Dan. Tori never got up before Abby, let alone early enough to have breakfast ready for her. While Abby appreciated the effort Dan put in, it was still weird adjusting to that much thoughtfulness. It only seemed to amplify her mother's shortcomings.
Abby frowned in the bathroom mirror. Her blonde, straight hair framed a face that she found chubby and girlish, her baby bangs doing little to offset the adolescence of her façade. Her body, on the other hand, she thought too developed altogether. Since hitting puberty, Abby had been one of the bigger girls in her class, both in height and figure, leading to a surplus of shame and teasing from boys and girls alike.
Now eighteen, she continued to feel freakish and embarrassed when she inspected herself in the mirror: tits too big, tummy too plump, ass entirely too fat. And her gapless thunder thighs rubbed together as she walked, much to her dismay. Abby washed her face and met her gaze in the mirror.
"I am strong," she told her reflection. "I am smart. I can do hard things."
Dan stood at the stove frying up some sausages for breakfast. He was wearing a white t-shirt, white crew socks and white briefs.
"Morning, Abby." He grinned over his shoulder at her, his kind eyes low and relaxed.
Still in her pajamas, Abby sat down at the small kitchen table in the center of the room. Dan had his back to her.
"Don't laugh," he said.
Abby fought back a giggle. "Where are your pants?"
"They're all in the dryer, unfortunately," said Dan. "You hungry? I'm cooking up some of my world-famous breakfast sausages."
"Not really," said Abby. She opened up her textbook and forced herself to study.
"You sure? Your mom loves these things." He looked over his shoulder again. "Can't seem to get enough."
Before Dan, Tori had kept her dating life completely hidden from Abby. She never brought anyone home and certainly never spent the night anywhere else. Their house had been a somber, quiet place in the eight years since Abby's father passed away. But Abby had grown accustomed to the stillness. While she felt sorry for her mother and occasionally resented her lack of effort, the hush of their home made for peaceful and productive studying, and plenty of blissful solitude for Abby...
...until about three months ago, when Tori had told Abby the news over breakfast.
"I have a new friend. And we think...
I
think... it's time you two met."
"A friend?"
"Yes, a... special friend."
"You mean a boyfriend?"
"Yes. That's what I mean."
Abby picked at her scrambled eggs.
"Abby, no one is ever going to replace your father."
Abby nodded, eyes on her food: watery scrambled eggs and two shriveled strips of bacon.
"You don't even have to like him. But he's a lovely man and he's becoming a... big part of my life."
"It's okay. I'm just surprised."
"He'd really like to meet you, too. He's heard lots of great things about you."
"Like what?"
"Like what a great student you are. That you're on the swim team. He wanted to come to your birthday last week, but I figured we could have one last hurrah, just the two of us."
Abby's eighteenth birthday, like the past several, had been a sad affair. Just she and her mother, ordering pizza and watching movies. Tori had passed out in front of the TV with a slice of butter-cream cake in her lap.
Tori took her plate to the sink and rinsed it under the faucet.
"I know it's strange, but you're getting to be a grown-up now. It's time I stopped hiding grown-up things from you."
That same night, Dan came over for dinner. When she met him at the door with her mother, Abby had to admit, he was a handsome man. He was tall and slim but broad-shouldered and very fit. Dan was a bit younger than her mother at 36, but already with some grey in his thick, medium-length hair. Stubble covered his face aside from his upper lip, which was adorned with a thick mustache that somehow added to his handsomeness rather than making him look like a total creep. He had an athlete's strong jaw and the rough hands of a woodworker, despite the relatively soft, comfortable living he made as a creative director downtown. He was holding a bouquet of peonies: Abby's favorite.
"Abby?" he said. "These are for you."
Abby took the bouquet and felt her cheeks flush.
"Thank you."
"Dan," he said. He held out his hand. Abby shook it, feeling her little hand dwarfed in his large, calloused mitt.
"Abby," she said.
Dan's face stretched into a wide, warm smile.
Tori beamed.
Since that night, Dan had slowly become more of a fixture in the household. He slept over most nights, even though it doubled the commute from his downtown condo. Abby had to admit, her mother seemed happier. But it was strange going from no men at all for years to this one, nearly constant presence in their little home. She just wasn't sure what Dan, a catch in any pond, was doing with her mother of all people.
