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I grit my teeth as I reach down to take care of my uncomfortable hard-on. As the steam clouds around me, I stroke myself with one hand, the other pressed hard against the shower wall.
As I groan low in my throat, I get an image of Anna, her head thrown back, her eyes cloudy as she comes on my hard cock. Only as I crawl between the sheets do I realize her image was how she looks now, not her face as it was eleven years ago. I am so fucked.
I wake up to the sound of heavy and persistent rain lashing against the window. I stretch before peering out at the morning, shrouded in gray. I look up and see heavy storm clouds rolling overhead. Outside, the world is slick and glistening; it must have rained for most of the night.
Turning, I try to shake off my melancholy mood, which mirrors the dismal downpour of the relentless raindrops that stream past my window.
My steps feel heavy as I walk toward the kitchen. The rich aroma of coffee beckons me on. Anna stands rigid at the stove, her back to me. The only sound is the sizzle of bacon hitting the hot pan.
She pauses for a fleeting moment when she hears me at the coffee pot. However, she doesn’t turn around as I pour myself a cup. The aroma of coffee, usually a comfort, does little to dispel the knot of unease in my stomach.
Connor rounds the corner, a frown marring his youthful face. “Why the sour face, Connor?” I manage a smile, getting down plates and handing them to him.
“It’s raining,” he mutters as if that explains everything. I hide a grin, remembering how I used to hate being cooped up when it rained, but that was before the wonderful invention of video games.
“Actually,” I casually say, “I think I have a PlayStation around here somewhere.”
Connor’s eyes gleam. “You do? Where?”
“In my closet. I’ll dig it out after breakfast. Deal?”
“Deal!” The frown vanishes in a flash, replaced by a bright smile as he bounces around, setting out the silverware. I shake my head, wishing I could change my mood as easily as he does.
Anna hasn’t spoken a word to me this morning. Not a greeting, not a single glance in my direction. Part of me understands. Last night’s chance meeting in the hall was a bombshell to my equilibrium and self-control. I can’t blame her for steering clear of me.
Does she sense my frustration at what happened or what could have happened last night? I study her as she continues to deftly flip pancakes and fry up the bacon. I go over to the microwave and get out the warm syrup. No matter how she may feel toward me, she certainly doesn’t let it affect the way she cares for me.
A guy could get used to hot breakfasts and home-cooked meals. We’re all seated around the table and soon filling up on the golden-brown pancakes and crispy bacon. Anna again has three fried eggs on a plate for me, I notice with an appreciative grin.
Connor, bless his heart, seems oblivious to the tension. He grumbles about the rain but barely looks up from his plate. Almost as soon as we’re done eating, Anna looks over at Connor, carefully avoiding my eyes. “I know you’re dying to get to the video games, so go ahead. I’ll take care of the cleanup.”
Relief washes over me, a temporary reprieve from the awkward silence.
The rest of the morning melts away in a blur of button-mashing and friendly competition. Damn, the kid’s good! He dodges and weaves through the virtual world with an agility that puts my aging reflexes to shame.
“Hey, Connor, we’re tied!” I shout over the roar of the virtual battlefield, my hands still on the controller. “But you’ve won the last two rounds. You’re a natural. Quick reflexes, sharp mind.”
I turn and give him a high-five. A blush creeps up his cheeks, and his eyes practically sparkle. “Thanks, Dad,” he mumbles with a hint of pride in his voice. “You’re not too bad yourself... for an old guy.”
I blink, a chuckle escaping my lips. Damn, if he isn’t right. Compared to his ten years, I’m practically ancient. Still, his words warm me; they carry an acceptance that tugs at my heartstrings.
By lunchtime, thankfully, the relentless drumming on the roof finally seems to be tapering off. A weak stream of watery sunlight appears, peeking through the clouds and catching Connor’s eye.
“Hey, it’s stopped raining!” he exclaims, pointing excitedly towards the window. “Look, the sun’s out.”
It’s a welcome change. Maybe a change of scenery is called for. That might be exactly what our unconventional family needs to break the tension. Simmering emotions seem to clog the air whenever Anna and I are in the same room, making it hard even to breathe.
“Great idea, Son,” I reply, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “What do you say we give your mom a break from cooking and grab some lunch out?”
Connor practically rockets out of his chair. “Great!” he shouts, his enthusiasm echoing through the house. “Mom, Dad wants to go out for lunch!”
Anna’s voice filters in from the kitchen, seeming muffled by the clatter of pots and pans. “Sure, that sounds good,” she replies. But the forced cheer in her tone doesn’t escape me.
The past few hours have been a whirlwind of domesticity—the shared breakfast and the video games with Connor. It’s been… pleasant, a glimpse into a life I never dared to dream of. But Anna’s silence, her studious avoidance of my gaze, hangs heavy in the air.
With a touch of frustration, I follow Connor into the kitchen. The room itself seems unchanged, the stringent aroma of cleaning solution replacing the earlier scent of bacon and coffee. But from where I stand, I can’t quite see what Anna’s been working on all morning.
Is she just cleaning and re-organizing the kitchen? Or is she doing it to avoid me? I grimace. Can I blame her? Isn’t that what I was doing by playing video games all morning? At least it allowed me to bond with my son.
