Stella and the Boxer

Chapter 38

Charlie is still sleeping when I wake. My room is mostly dark, but I feel his steady breathing against my hair and his warm hand that rests between my thighs and I’m sure that he’s fast asleep. I quietly move my legs and sit up in the bed, taking his hand from underneath the covers and bringing it to my lips before laying it down near his face, where my body has left the bed warm. He shifts only slightly, but doesn’t wake as I crawl from the bed.

I go to my suitcase and pull from it a pair of black leggings. I normally wouldn’t bother putting on pants with an oversized sweatshirt in my own house before padding down to the kitchen for tea and breakfast, but I decide to present myself to my parents in the gentlest way possible after having a boy sleep over, regardless of if they would’ve said anything otherwise.

“Morning, Stella Lou,” my dad greets me over the popping noise coming from the pan that his spatula is turning about in as I enter the kitchen.

My mother sits at a bar stool in front of him, flipping through a magazine. She turns when he says my name and pulls her readers from her face, “Did you sleep well? Where’s Charlie?”

“I did. He’s still sleeping, so I just left him.”

I sit in a stool next to my mom and reach towards the plate piled with cooked bacon and some sausage that sits next to my dad. He notices my struggle and hands me the plate.

“Thank you. I’m starving.”

I have a waffles on, too, and these eggs are almost done. Your mom and I are going to see your aunt Margie, but we didn’t want you and Charlie to starve,” he smiles.

“Thanks, dad,” I say. I consider reminding him that I haven’t starved yet since I’ve lived without him and my mom making my breakfast, but I decide against it, because playing damsel isn’t so bad when I’m eating well because of it.

“You two are welcome to come, but we didn’t want to overwhelm Charlie by introducing him to the whole family all at once,” my mom says, laughing a little to herself.

“I’m going to have to unwelcome you both, then,” my dad states, turning off the burner, “Charlie is too polite. He won’t know what to say when Margie pulls out her nudie sketches for show and tell.”

My aunt Margie – who is actually not my aunt, but my mom’s cousin, likes to encourage every person whom she meets to take any opportunity that they’re given in life in which they feel both totally and completely uncomfortable and free, and to do that thing until they don’t feel uncomfortable any longer. For Margie, that thing was posing nude for art majors in college.

She’s kept copies of many of the sketches, and still takes the liberty of proudly showing off to her frequent visitors (she’s social, of course,) and inspiring all whom she comes in contact with to liberate themselves in whatever uncomfortable, freeing ways that they deem fit. I say, good for her. Still, time after time I’m shocked and a little frightened by the detail that some of these artists have so eloquently sketched her body. Talk about getting to know someone quickly.

“I’m sure he will be devastated to have missed the opportunity, but I’ll assure him that the sketches aren’t going anywhere.”

“They certainly aren’t. She keeps digital files now,” my dad dryly includes.

“We thought we could take you two into town today, though. You’ll be gone for your trip before you know it and you’ll probably want to rest during the days before your trip, or Charlie might want to go to the gym or something, so we want to take you out,” my mother says excitedly.

“Alright,” I agree, “I’m sure he’ll be up for it.”

I eat my breakfast with my parents, and then my mom makes Charlie a plate and a glass of water before they leave for my aunt’s. He still hasn’t come downstairs, so I decide to take him his breakfast.