“Stock up,” I call out to Paul, just as I see a shelf of poppers. You know those things that you throw on the ground that make a loud popping sound? They are the perfect excuse to be an ass to Paul and have fun while doing it, so I grab a few packages without Paul seeing me. I have plans for these.
Separately, with our hands full of different things, we check out, put on our shirts, and reluctantly put on our head dresses, Porter wearing his over his red hat of course.
The cashier is kind enough to humor the tourists and takes a picture of all four of us in front of the shop sign, Paul showing off his dream catcher and my dad giving the camera the thumbs up while he says, “Say cheese!”
Once we are back in the RV, head dresses are carefully placed in the back so the feathers aren’t ruffled, and Paul and my dad start mapping out the rest of our trip across New Mexico. There aren’t many places to visit in New Mexico, so we observe the landscape more than anything and head to our next KOA in Tucumcari.
I take a seat at the table and open up my laptop. Paul and my dad are fighting over music while Porter sits across from me at the table. He pushes my computer screen down so I am forced to look at him.
“Hey,” he smiles.
“What’s up?”
“I got something for you.”
My heart flutters, my inner school girl coming out. “And why would you do that?” I cross my arms over my chest, trying to put on a front so he doesn’t see how giddy I am.
“It’s a peace offering. Plus, I saw it and thought of you.”
“Is that right? What is it?” I nod at his hand that is obviously closed around the gift.
He stretches his hand out to me and opens his fingers. Sitting on his palm is a small, very lifelike hotdog keychain. Mustard decorates the top, relish on the side. I laugh and grab the keychain from him, dangling it on my finger.
“I know how much your mom loved hot dogs and that she’s the reason for your family tradition. Figured you could put it on your purse or something and have a piece of your mom with you wherever you go. Plus, you would be the cool chick with the hot dog dangling at her side.”
I take a deep breath and look at the little gift. “Everyone wants to be that girl,” I joke. My eyes meet his and sincerity runs through him. The ache in my chest is heavy and the urge to wrap myself around him is overwhelming, but I don’t show it, it wouldn’t be appropriate. Rather, I hold the key chain to my heart and say, “Thank you, Porter. This means a lot to me.”
He shrugs and gets up from the dining table. “Hey, anything for my Marbles.”
If ovaries could burst, mine just did. Right there on the spot. The combination of his rugged smile, that small dimple that peeks just past his beard, those almost black eyes smiling back at me, and his nickname for me all do me in. I want to lick the ground he walks on, and I would have no shame in doing so.
****
After we left Teepee Curios and spent the rest of the day hiking along the desert landscape of New Mexico, we settled into our KOA spot and pitched Porter’s tent, who was incredibly grateful to not have to sleep on the Bitch Bed again.
Hiking along some of the bluffs that flanked both sides of the road was fun, until Paul swore he heard a rattlesnake and started running for the RV, doing knee highs, barely touching the ground with his toes. How he made it through Army basic training is beyond me.
Back in Albuquerque, we stopped at this place called The Dog House Drive-In that is well known for their foot-long chili dogs. I passed on the fart traps and got a corn dog instead, hoping my stomach would settle a bit from the onslaught of processed meat. The boys all got the chili dogs, which has been a real treat for me on the drive from Albuquerque to Tucumcari. I would have paid a pretty penny for a gas mask and a bottle of Febreze during the drive. Regurgitated hot dog meat coming out the ass of three men is not a pleasant smell, tap that with the occasional meat burp, and you have yourself a tasty aroma of liquid rotting carcass.
If I could, I would bottle up the smell and sell it to the government as a battle tactic, gas out the enemies with hot dog farts. ISIS would be down in seconds.
Thankfully, we had some grilled vegetables for dinner, along with some steaks my dad grilled up for us. My colon praised me for the choice in fiber enriched nutrients.
Now, we are sitting around the campfire, drinking the beer that I replaced for the boys, and reminiscing on stories from growing up. Paul is hammered, he keeps holding his beer to his chest and licking the rim of the bottle after every sip he takes, claiming he doesn’t want one drop to go to waste. In all honesty, it looks like he’s giving his beer a blow job. I pass it off as Paul being horny from not seeing Savannah and making out with the closest thing to a hole that he can find to fill the empty void.
Porter has had a few beers and finally has relaxed. His posture isn’t as stiff as it normally is around me, and he’s actually bumped me with his shoulder a couple of times. Yeah, I’ve noticed.
Okay, I know what you’re thinking, a bump to the shoulder, really, Marley? But let’s just say you’re sitting around a fire with, hmmm, Henry Cavill and his leg just happens to touch yours or maybe his shoulder brushes against yours, you can’t tell me you wouldn’t get all giddy inside too. Don’t lie to me, I know the sexual magnetism Henry Cavill holds in the palm of his hand. Well, that’s what it’s like for me. Porter is my Henry, and honestly…he looks like him too, except where Henry has blue eyes, Porter has deep brown.
Then there is my dad, lounging in a camping chair, a root beer in his hand, enjoying the September night under the stars. He’s a simple man, being around his kids makes him happy, and telling stories puts a giant smile on his face.
“Remember the time you peed in the pond for the first time, Marley?” Paul says, laughing like a hyena.
“No,” I say between clenched teeth, not wanting to talk about that in front of Porter.
“I don’t think I’ve heard this story,” Porter eggs Paul on.
“What? Oh, man, why weren’t you there? We spent hours in the pond together.”
“The way you say that makes it seem like you two are an item,” I add.
“We are,” Paul grabs Porter’s hand and raises it in the air and shouts, “We have a bro-mance, deal with it.”
“Okay, buddy,” Porter laughs, whipping his hand away from Paul.
“Anyway, Marley was in her little daisy covered bathing suit.”
“The blue one?” Porter asks.
“Yeah, that one.”
“Why do you remember that?” I ask Porter. He just winks at me in response; it makes me want to shove my tongue in his ear. I heard men like that…right?
“She had to pee so bad, but didn’t want to pee in her bathing suit, so she laid down in the pond, so her nakedness was covered under the water, pulled her suit off, held it above her head and fucking peed laying down.”
“What?” Porter laughs.
“Yup, there she was, floating sideways, pissing her life away, floating in her own filth.”
“I didn’t think it all the way through!” I defend myself. “I just wanted to make sure I didn’t pee in my bathing suit.”
“Why didn’t you just pull the crotch part to the side?” Porter asks.
“Because that means I would have peed on my hand.” I hold up my hands as everyone laughs. “Listen, I knew what I was doing. At least I can check peeing sideways off my bucket list.”
“If that’s on your bucket list, I don’t want to know what’s on the rest,” Paul sneers at me.
“Oh, so you think you’re a funny guy tonight? Fine,” I turn to Porter and say, “Have you heard the closet story?”
My dad laughs to the side and shakes his head, “Oh, this is a good one.”
“Don’t you dare,” Paul warns.
“What closet story?” Porter asks, excitement in his eyes.
“She got stuck in my closet, end of story,” Paul says quickly.
My dad bellows a laugh. “That is so not the
end of the story.”
“Dad, would it kill you to be on my side every once in a while?”
“Sorry, son, but I live for Marley to tell this story. It’s too damn good.”
“You’re not telling this story,” Paul points his finger at me, while his drunk-self sways back and forth.
I take a sip of my beer and calmly say, “I can either tell the story now or I can wait until your rehearsal dinner where I tell it in front of Savannah and her entire family.”
Paul’s eyes bug out of his head. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I so freaking would.”
“You’re the Devil.”
“Glad you’re finally realizing that.” I turn to Porter and get into character.
Before I go any further, I just want you to know that I was that annoying little sister who had to always be in her brother’s business. I needed to know what he was doing at all times, even if he wanted nothing to do with me. The closet story was the first time I ever regretted wanting to know what Paul was up to. Emotionally, I’ve been scarred for life, but talking about it has gradually healed those wounds.
“I was in fifth grade, so that puts you and Paul in eighth grade at the time. Mom was out shopping and dad was watching the Cowboys game.”
“Go Cowboys,” my dad lifts his root beer can at me.
“I was bored and wanted someone to play with, so naturally I go to see what Paul is doing, but when I go to knock on his door, I get rejected, and he tells me to go away. Now, Paul, being the dear brother that he is, never talked to me in such a way, so I was a little startled by his response.”
“I can understand that,” Porter grins. Paul sits back in his chair and tips his bottle back in his mouth, guzzling the rest of his beer as I continue on with the story.
“Being the nosy one that I am, I decide to pick his lock so I can see what he’s doing. I was crafty in my younger years and grabbed a bobby pin from my drawer to start picking away. Even though I thought I was stealth about my sneaking in abilities, Paul heard me picking the lock from a mile away and told me to leave him alone, then proceeded to move his huge dresser in front of the door, so even if I did unlock the door, I couldn’t get in.”
“Smart move, man,” Porter pats Paul’s leg, but Paul just ignores him.
“At this time, I have to know what’s going on if he is so set on me not getting in his room. I thought maybe he was making a Christmas present for me, or maybe had a stash of candy he didn’t want to share. It had to be something good! Therefore, I called on the Bernie Man to help me.”
“Clutch,” Porter says.
“If this was a sporting event, he would have won MVP for his performance because he got me in.”
“How?”
My dad cracks his knuckles. “A little thing called acting, my boy.”
“Exactly. So, I went up to my dad and told him that Paul was doing something in his room and I wanted to see what it was, so I had to sneak in. I told him to call Paul out to the living room so I could sneak into the closet. Of course, my dad would do anything for me, so he agreed.”
“Yeah, thanks, Dad. You didn’t even bother to think about my privacy?”
My dad shrugs his shoulders. “Hey, I was happy. The game was on and I was drinking a root beer, I would have done anything.”
“Oh, hell,” Porter laughs and puts his hand over his eyes. “I think I know where this is going, but please, continue.”
“I planned it out perfectly.” I say, really getting into the story. “I hid in the bathroom across from Paul’s room and waited for my dad to call him out to the family room. It was hilarious hearing Paul struggle with the dresser, trying to get out of his bedroom. The minute he was gone, I sprinted inside and hid in his closet, cracking the door open an inch for a good view without being detected. Then I waited. From the family room, I could hear my dad say, ‘I just wanted to tell you I love you.’ Paul freaked out from my dad’s disturbance and stormed back to his room.”
“Role of a lifetime,” my dad laughs. “Nailed it.”
“Yeah, great job, Dad,” Paul says sarcastically and rolls his eyes. “Oscar worthy.”
“So, you’re in the closet…” Porter helps with the continuation of the story, clearly wanting to hear the rest.
I scoot closer, not being able to hide the humor in my voice. “I’m in the closet and Paul comes charging back in his room, pissed off by the interruption. I watch him lock his door and then struggle to get the dresser back in front of it to block his nagging sister from entering; little did he know, I was already inside. I hold my breath as I realize, this is it, because of my devious planning I’m going to finally find out what Paul’s been doing this entire time. I’m barely breathing, making sure not to make a sound, so I don’t blow my cover. I wait in anticipation to see what he’s going to do when I realize, he’s getting into bed. At first, it looked like he was just going to take a nap, until…”
“Oh, Christ.” Porter’s shoulders shake as he chuckles next to me, a deep rumble coming from his chest. “Dude, did you beat your meat in front of your sister?”
“No!” Paul defends himself.
“Then what did you do?” Porter looks at me to finish the story.
“He got under his blue blanket…”
“Ugh, the one he used to carry around with him around the house? The one he took a scrap of with him when he went off to basic training?”
“That’s the one.”
Paul cuts in, “It was a soft blanket!”
“So, he gets under the blue blanket and starts…moving his hips.” Porter gives me a quizzical eyebrow. “He starts, humping the mattress as if there is a hole in it and his penis is trying to bury itself inside.”
“No,” Porter claps his hands together and laughs, the corner of his eyes crinkling. God, he’s sexy. “What did you do?”
“Well, at first, I really didn’t know what was happening. I was confused, being only just a wee little girl, until I realized that what he was doing was probably not for my viewing pleasure.”
“Buttons, that isn’t for anyone’s viewing pleasure.”
“Once again, thanks, Dad.” Paul sulks off to the side.
“The minute I realized he wasn’t making me a Christmas present or eating a stash of candy, I stopped watching, because honestly, it made me really uncomfortable.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have snuck in. I was a teenager, I needed privacy!”
“Oh, fuck,” Porter covers his eyes. “All I can think about is Paul making you a Christmas present…with that. So fucking gross.”
“Clearly,” I scoff. “So, instead of watching, I just stood there in his closet, not really sure what to do, only a thin door separating me from Paul’s dry humping.”
“Dude, why didn’t you just beat it? Why were you humping your mattress?” Porter asks.
Paul crosses his hands over his chest and stares at the burning fire. “My dick was raw. I didn’t discover the use of lotion until later on. I needed some relief that didn’t involve chafing, and the mattress was soft and welcoming. It didn’t judge me.”
“Why are we friends?” Porter chuckles some more. “How long did you hang out in the closet?”
“Well, that’s the thing. I was in there for probably a good ten minutes, trying to figure out what to do. I didn’t know that whatever he was doing was going to take so long, but honestly, I was hungry and my legs were cramping up from not being able to move. So, I did the one thing I knew would get me out of there. I called out Paul’s name.”
Porter and my dad laugh in tandem.
“I said, ‘Paul, its Marley.’ Paul, completely oblivious from his task of stuffing the mattress, he just shouts for me to go away. I then proceed to tell him that I can’t, for obvious reasons. Once again, he tells me to go away, so I take it a step further. I told him I was in the closet.”
“You didn’t.” Porter wipes his eyes.
I nod. “I did. But he still didn’t believe me.”
/> “Dude…” Porter looks over at Paul.
“I was too preoccupied to try to navigate where her voice was coming from.”
“Because he was so dense, I only had one other option. I knocked on the closet door, saying desperately, ‘Paul, I’m in the closet!’ Oh, boy, you should have seen how fast he scrambled off the bed and started yelling at me to get the hell out of his room. Without looking at him, I tore open the closet door and struggled to move the dresser just enough to squeeze myself out of a crack in the door. I ran to my bedroom, slammed my door shut, and held onto my Winnie the Pooh stuffed animal while rocking back and forth on my bed.”
“Fuck, that’s great.”
I enjoy watching Porter laugh; it’s one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen. He just doesn’t laugh, his whole body laughs. His shoulders slightly move, his strong hand grips his stomach, his dimple peeks out for the world to see, it’s almost seductive, the way his body moves.
“I’ve been scarred for life.”
“Serves you right.” Paul grabs another beer and opens it. “You shouldn’t trap yourself in your teenage brother’s closet. Only bad things are in your future if you do so.”
“When my mom got home that day, I made her watch Mulan with me, to clear the adult content that engrained itself in my brain.”
“If only I knew what she was planning on doing, I would have spared you, son.”
“You’re a liar!” Paul points his finger at our dad. “There is no doubt in my mind in order to teach me a lesson about touching myself, you still would have helped her out.”
My dad drinks his root beer and thinks about Paul’s accusation for a second before answering. “You know, you’re right. And do you know why? Because you spent way too damn long in the shower and in your bedroom once you found a light breeze would turn your dick on. You had to be brought down a notch somehow. Luckily, your sister was the one to do so.”