I’ve set up Book Pages for each of the books on Facebook. I was nudged into this by some author friends. I admit it’s kind of a cool idea in that you can both “like” the Book AND “add” it to your list of books you’ve read on Facebook. This helps me immensely in search engines and when you click on that nifty “what are you doing right now” button in your status you can say you are reading my book (if you are, lol) and it will link people. Pretty cool huh? So, if you want to help, click “like” then “add”.
What’s in it for you? Well I will be posting snippets from the books on there, supplemental fictions, Pinterest pins, etc. Sure, you can still get these things here and on the my Facebook Author page too but these will be specific to the books. In the case of Third Time’s The Charm you can stay up to date without having to wade through other updates.
THANK YOU as always for your wonderful support!!!!
For the Dom & Kate Fans:
The Bird Day Battalion Book Page
For The Downey Trilogy Fans:
The following is a letter that was written the February before this flashback in First, I Love You;
She smiled remembering it. Little Joey running all over the hotel lobby getting into things the way restless nine year old boys do. Daddy all tense and silent, staring at ‘that woman’, as mom had always called her. And Tommy–Ha!–Tommy, acting like he had just wandered into the Omaha Hilton because he had nothing better to do. But she could see in his eyes he was just as nervous as she was. Just as curious to finally meet his siblings…
And in Second of All;
“We’re here so you can meet your brother for the first time. You can get an ice cream any other time.”
Joey sent a quick resentment-filled look at Tommy who was teasing a furiously blushing Kiki about some boy-band she liked…
~~~
Dear Princess,
I hope you are enjoying Paris! I know I said I wouldn’t “bug you” while you are visiting your mother but I thought it might be nice to get a letter from your old man anyway. It feels strange to be writing to you instead of enjoying your company while I write to others. It’s not only odd in its intended recipient but because my study feels very empty without you. I can feel you rolling your eyes at that, even from across the ocean. Oh well, somehow we will both survive your teen years. You’ll be happy to know your “stinky little brother” has so far kept his promise to stay out of your room. Either that or he is exceptionally talented at not getting caught. Given his parentage, it could go either way. I’m sure you’ll be happy to know he’s still quite jealous you got to go without him. I suggested maybe I could send him to his mother during his own birthday month, but he’s still set on Coney Island.
Speaking of brothers, Tommy will be graduating this May. Since Joey doesn’t want to head to Europe, I thought it would be nice if we could take a trip over to Omaha and see Tommy graduate. Won’t it be nice to meet him in person? Well past time, I think. You’ll find when you get older it’s easy to let time slip away and before you know it your daughter’s wearing lipstick and your oldest son’s graduating high school. You should probably make sure your mother doesn’t see this letter. You know how she gets when people mention Tommy.
I have to run now. Call me when you get this letter so I can hear your sweet voice.
Your loving father,
Mickey.
PS–Remember our deal, you need to be completing your homework. Getting out of school for a month doesn’t mean you can slack off.
PPS–No falling in love with any French boys.
Mark your calendars my Downey Darlin’s! 🙂
From Beth Ronan’s Poetry Compilation “Blurred Lines”
By Genevieve Dewey
We could pretend we both got lost here
…crossed paths like two strangers.
Strange in body, but not in soul
Certainly not in hearts.
Because ours
Have surely met before.
We could pretend we both found here
…Discovered by the fusion of fate and serendipity.
That heart’s intention had a will of its own
And could see with greater clarity
Than our words and mind.
Because ours
Have never been more blind.
We could pretend we both are free here
…Unburdened by promises and expectation.
Adrift in a sea of peaceful indecision
Where clarity came not from stillness
But a rare moment of chaotic bliss
Because ours
Would not be a placid sort of love.
We could pretend we floated to shore
…kissed by the lapping of the waves.
That our caresses were born from survival
And not an anxious sort of loneliness.
Because ours
Have always been this desperate.
We could pretend that nobody would mind
…betrayed by none and no betrayal in kind
That our love was just more prescient
Than the petty dictates of ephemeral morals.
Because ours
Have atrophied once more.
We could pretend we cared about any of that
…tethered to a society that tells us we should.
But we never were fond of children’s games
Nor too weak or innocent to face reality.
Instead we pretend nothing and willingly suffer
The consequences of our honesty.
Because ours
…Is not a pretending sort of love.
© 2013 Genevieve Dewey, All Rights Reserved
The following is a letter referenced in Third Time’s The Charm;
Beneath the tray was a bundle of letters, no envelopes, about an inch thick. Mary’s hands trembled and she quickly rubbed them against her pant legs to remove her sweat. She sent a brief nervous glance at the doorway and lifted the first letter up.
~~~
My dearest Mary,
I would say first, that I love you, except mostly these days I despise you the way a man can hate only that which he once loved more than life. I take joy in that, actually, because today I realized I still have a heart. How could I still hate you this much if I didn’t? The truth is I hate you because I still love you and I would give anything if I could stop. You wanted me in prison for my crimes once, well this is a worse punishment by far. I hope you are happy, wherever you are. No, I hope you are empty. Empty like I am. I hope you ache the way I do. For everything we could have had together.
I decided to stop writing you today. It’s not fair to my children. I held my new son in my arms last night and I made a promise to myself. I will not rest until I find you. It was better to let you run and hide when Big Joe was in charge, but now I’m the man in charge and I will find my son and bring him home to his sister and brother. But until then, I have to stop holding on to the past. I thought writing these letters would help. I know now, nothing will help but to see you in front of me instead of in my memories. I’m only left to wonder, which will win out when I see you again? The love, or the hate?
Until We Meet Again,
Mickey.
Read the rest of the letters here: Letters From Mickey Downey
Here is an excerpt from the forthcoming Third Time’s The Charm (subject to final editing, etc)
“Would you like some, Mary girl?” he asked with an eyebrow wiggle, a devilish smirk, and a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
“Michael!” She worried the sternness of her tone was contradicted by the weak nervous laughter that bubbled around it.
“Is that all you can say?” he asked. He took a lighter out of the pencil drawer and lit the pipe. He got up and started walking over to her.
“Michael, what if Tommy or James found that and—oh!” Mary let out when he yanked her by the hand back towards the chair.
He scooped her up and plopped her on his lap as he sat, pipe still in his mouth. She laughed out right this time and cupped his scratchy face in her hands. Fifty-six years old and still spry as a randy old goat, Mary thought fondly. She kissed him on his forehead and he swiveled the chair back and forth, holding her close.
“What on earth has gotten into you lately?” she voiced the question everyone had been asking themselves. “You’re a thousand different moods in one body these days.”
She smoothed the front of his track suit. She far preferred him in his suit and tie—what woman wouldn’t?—but he still looked amazingly fit. Tired…worried…but fit. She looked up into his face again. He was watching her closely but still said nothing. He reached up and took the pipe out of his mouth and smiled a slow contented sort of smile. The smoke whispered around them both. She wrinkled her nose at the herby musty scent. It wasn’t sweet like the tobacco.
“Michael, smoking something illegal to take the edge off quitting something that is legal is probably not a better move,” Mary said, but she smiled as she said it. They both knew she didn’t really care. On the spectrum of laws Mickey Downey had broken over the years, this was pretty low on the totem pole.
“And I’m pretty sure they work the opposite anyway,” she continued. Mary hoped that was a little bit stern. It sounded weak to her ears.
“Or do they?” she wondered out loud. Way to be indecisive, you ninny, she thought.
He stuck the pipe back in his mouth with a chuckle and his free hand played in her russet curls.
“Why don’t you wear your hair long anymore?” Michael finally responded.
“Mmnn, I don’t know,” she said as his large palm teased at her neck.
It made goose bumps rise on her flesh and a shivery feeling snake through her stomach. She sighed and leaned into him. It was an amazingly domestic and normal feeling, sitting on his lap. As if all those years apart had never happened. She wanted to get lost in the moment, at least until his mood shifted again.
His head nuzzled hers. “I haven’t been entirely truthful with you,” he said, so softly she felt it more than heard it. She smiled weakly.
“And this should surprise me?” she answered. She could feel his silent chuckles underneath her bottom.
“Why did you come?” he asked. She shook her head at the rapid topic change again.
“Do you want me to leave?” she parried with another question.
“Mmmn,” he hummed and scooted her closer to him. His pipe was in his hand and his mouth moved to her forehead. He kissed it gingerly and haphazardly, as if he didn’t even realize he was doing it. “How long can you stay with us this time?”
“Can and will are two different words. Are you asking if I’ll stay?”
“Ahh, was I? Seems the second question would be superfluous with an answer to the first.”
“And which was the first, why I came, or what might make me stay?”
“Would your answer change if you knew my mother was going to be staying with us for the weekend?”
“I suppose that depends. Who is ‘us’?”
His deep chuckles moved her whole body and he pressed his lips against her forehead in one long kiss.
“We could do this all night,” he finally said against her skin. “It was always one of my favorite things.”
She smiled. Talk about falling into old patterns… she thought to herself. Maybe Kiki was right, maybe she needed to make the first move.
“I recall your favorite thing to do required no clothes. Maybe—” she squeaked as he squished her in another bone crushing hug. He dropped the pipe on the table and she had the vague thought of chastising him for potentially starting a fire a nanosecond before his hand bunched in her hair and his mouth was on hers.
Ahh, how he kissed. It was like nothing else. He put everything in him into those kisses. The same energy he had put into becoming a billionaire, into rising through the ranks of the mob, into raising his children. Her tongue furiously dueled with his and her arms made their way to his neck. She moved to try and straddle him but his arm was in a vice grip around her and his hand in her hair showed no give. Her lips began to hurt under the onslaught of his, but she made no moves to stop him. Her insides felt like they were melting and her only cognizant thought was marked amazement that he could still make her feel such overwhelming passion.
She panted against his mouth as he let her loose just enough to hiss against her mouth,
“Believe it or not, the thing I loved most was your mind,” he said. “Just sitting with you and our boy and talking.” His hand still held her hair, though not painfully.
Her eyes searched his for answers to this mood shift. They were glimmering with hunger and frustration. Why was he upset again? She thought hazily. One minute they were talking, the next kissing, and now he was moody again. He closed his eyes and kissed her one more time, just a regular, ordinary and gentle kiss. Then he slowly moved her off his lap. She stood up shakily.
“I don’t think I can do this,” Michael said.
–Copyright 2013, Genevieve Dewey. All Rights Reserved.
Ordinarily on Mondays I feature a poem. Today, I am going to feature a POET who also writes Fantasy/SpeculativeFiction and is an artist. I think all these things go together quite well, don’t you? So, please welcome Shannon McRoberts as we discuss her series, Verses of Athine!
Gen: Hi Shannon! Thank you for dropping by! First, where did the inspiration for Verses of Athine come from?
Shannon: I was sitting at home one day thinking about some stuff and looking for something to do when the idea of Athine, my main character, just popped into my head. I personally think I have watched too many episodes of Xena, Buffy, and read too many Lady Death comics!
Gen: What is a one line synopsis for your book(s)?
Shannon: Take what you know about mythology and throw it out the window.
Gen: Now I’ve tortured you by making you reduce a series into a sentence, give us a more robust description complete with a genre or two.
Shannon: I hate putting myself into genre’s. I just usually say Fantasy or Speculative Fiction b/c that is what it is. The series is about Athine, an immortal born goddess, and her journey to figuring out her destiny. Was she born to destroy the world or save it?
Gen: I understand, I hate having to smoosh something into discrete boxes, too. Why did you choose the Fantasy world versus others?
Shannon: I didn’t write my story with a genre in mind. I just wanted to write a story with the elements I love. Strong female leads, mythology, twists, and turns. I guess fantasy just fits it best b/c I have always loved things in the fantasy world.
Gen: Do you have plans to expand upon the series?
Shannon: Yes. Verses of Athine is actually the first 4 books. I am writing the 5th one now. I have about half of it penned. Hopefully sometime soon I can finish it. I have plans for a 6th one.
Gen: Which character is your favorite to write and why? (Yes, you must choose. There can be only one! Wait—wrong series.)
Shannon: Athine because she was the first character I created that I really have had fun with.
Gen: If you had to pick an ice cream flavor to describe your favorite character what would that be and why?
Shannon: Food analogy? No, no. We don’t eat books! We don’t lick our characters either. Well, maybe SOME people write about licking characters, but that isn’t what my series is about 🙂
Gen: HA! Alright, as I mentioned above, you are not just an author, you are an artist and poet (though a poet is an author in my mind). Do you find it hard to balance your time amongst these or do you just go where the moment takes you?
Shannon: I go where the moment takes me. I carry a “writer’s bag” around with me for writing down ideas about story lines, poems, etc. I also use my cell phone when I am in a pinch. My fantasy art actually helps me write b/c when I make a picture of a character I immediately want to make the background or continue writing about that character. It is almost like a writer’s block preventative for me.
Gen: What is your favorite type of book to read, or do you have one?
Shannon: I like a lot of different things. If it has a story. I have read anything from erotica to fantasy. I’m not in a story for just blood, guts, sex, etc. You have to have something to keep me reading!
Gen: Can you share a bit about what you are working on right now?
Shannon: Cursed Bloods follows where Verses of Athine ends. It is the next in the Chronicles. I am trying to write it where it will be longer than a novella. I have about 26,000 words and I don’t even have all the chapters started. I wrote an outline for this one b/c I had to do a lot of research on how the characters were related. Isn’t it odd that an author would have to do research on her own made up world? ROFL. I wanted to avoid the pitfalls of someone going back and being like UHM NO, that isn’t what you said before. I redid a lot of those “sticky” points in Verses of Athine and while new readers may not know it, previous readers of my individual books may. I want consistency. I have found that it is much easier to write with an outline where I don’t have to stop every five minutes and go back into another book for a minute detail. Oh, and this book will expand on the vampires, dragons, and the N’Loron mythology.
Gen: What is your favorite music to listen to while writing? Is there a difference when you are in “artist” mode?
Shannon: I hate genres….I never can get the music or books I read into a genre. I listen to a wide variety of artists. Marylin Manson, Matchbox 20, Disturbed, Korn, Staind, Metallica, Evanescence, God Smack, A Perfect Circle, Tool, Brittany Spears, Selena Gomez, etc etc etc. For artist mode I don’t usually need music, but I generally listen to the same things. If I am going for a somber mood I may go for the sappy song or power ballad. That reminds me I need to rip my Aerosmith and Kid Rock CD. I have ADHD and for whatever reason I find that the music helps me focus. Maybe it occupies my brain LOL.
Gen: You and I definitely share a hatred of boxing ourselves and our tastes into little genre/type boxes! Here’s to the eclectic souls! Now I’m going to take a leaf from our author pal Lucy Pireel and ask you to round this interview out by just blathering on about whatever. I thought that was fantastic when she interviewed me, so I’m doing it here. Go on and tell us whatever you want in this space, a rant, a self-promo, blathering nonsense, whatever:
Shannon: I recently started a new blog and new web page. I have a newsletter on my blog 🙂 I also started uploading some of my pictures to Deviant Art to sell prints there. At any given time I have a lot of irons in the fire. I would love it if you went to my new website www.artistauthorpoet.com (also www.shannonmcroberts.com) and my blog at www.theobsidianpoet.com to browse. My non-blog site has excerpts of all my books, links, and some art!
Gen: Great! Thank you so much for telling us a bit about yourself and your work, Shannon, I hope you’ll stop back by sometime!
Everyone please check out Shannon’s links!
Shannon McRoberts
Artist, Author, Poet
Twitter: @obsidianpoet
Here’s a little young love–erm, confusion–to read on a Friday night. Ever wondered about that game of Spin the Bottle that Katelyn mentions in Bird Day Battalion? Well, here’s a flashback to that night. I haven’t made up my mind whether it’s going into the Dom & Kate novel yet. PLEASE, tell me what you think! 🙂
Fourteen years ago
“Hey, Motor Mouth!”
Katelyn continued walking, her arms pumping, hands balled and her eyes squinted in a fine line. This was the second week in a row that Dominic had followed her home from school. True, he lived next door, but he always took a separate route home. Except the last two weeks he had followed her and her—hopefully—boyfriend Humphrey the whole way mocking poor Humphrey’s name—he couldn’t help his name could he?—until Humphrey had refused to walk her home anymore. She figured Dom would stop then, but no, here he was.
“Come onnnnn, Skate…”
Katelyn swiveled on her heel and placed her fists on her hips.
“I…Told…You…To…STOP calling me that!”
Dominic ran a hand through his floppy curls—the only almost fifteen year old boy she knew who could have curls and still seem cool—then he grinned. He took a few more lazy strides to catch up and mimicked her stance. She complemented her glare with a pathetic sneer, pathetic because she sort of wanted to laugh at his superman pose. Dom had that effect on her, and it was one of the many things she hated about him. It was not natural or normal for a person to dislike another person the amount she disliked her obnoxious neighbor and yet he always knew how to get a laugh or smile out of her.
“Ok, I’ll stop calling you Motor Mouth. It’s your stupid brother’s nickname anyway.”
“Kyle is not stupid! And I meant Ska—”
“I was just wonderin’ if you wanted to come to my birthday party Friday night?” he interrupted in a lightning fast jumble.
She raised her eyebrows.
“I always come to your birthday parties, remember? And you come to mine. Because our moms are BFFs and we have no choice in the matter,” Katelyn replied, her nose in the air, and an impatient foot tapping. “And I thought it was on Saturday at two?”
He gave a carefree shrug and a lopsided grin but his eyes were on her front. She looked down at herself. Did she have a ketchup stain or something?
“No, I mean, my sister—you know how she just got her license? Well, she said she’d drive me and a few friends to Omaha this Friday night to watch hockey for my birthday. She’s going to just drop us off at the rink and go meet up with her friends, and she promised not to tell Mom because she’s cool like that. So I’m calling that my real party. Kandace is going. She said we can hang out at her friend Grace’s afterward.”
“Oh,” she said awkwardly.
That was possibly the longest thing Dom had said to her since she broke her arm after taking his dare to pop a wheelie on his skateboard. He had written her a horrible poem, horrible even for a nine year old. He called it ‘Ode to Skate’ and recited it to her after she got back from the hospital and his mother made him come over to apologize. It was really bad yet really funny. Which was basically Dom in a nutshell. But ever since he’d hit puberty he had been more prone to witty one-liners and snarky set-downs and avoiding her… until the last few weeks.
She frowned. How come Kandace hadn’t told her anything about this party? What good was it having a sister so close in age if she was going to keep stuff from her? Apparently she was just good for borrowing clothes. Katelyn shifted her feet and narrowed her eyes again. She wouldn’t put it past Dom to be playing some sort of prank on her.
“Won’t Demetria have to check in? I can’t imagine your parents will let her have the car the whole night.”
“Naw, you know how it is. Mom and Dad pretty much let her do whatever she wants.” His voice held resentment. She shook her head. He resented how his sister always got to do whatever, but speaking as the often overlooked kid in the large Anderson clan, she would love to have the amount of attention Ramona and Dino Valentini lavished on Dominic. The newly budding feminist in her also felt bad that Demi was overlooked not because she was one of many like Kate was, but because of the Valentini crime of not having a penis. In fact, new comers to the community were often surprised to learn the Valentinis had a daughter that was how much they forgot to mention her while they extolled Dom’s virtues to all that would stand still.
“Well… still… I don’t want to break any rules…” Katelyn began to say.
Dominic rolled his eyes and snorted.
“We’re not,” he drawled condescendingly. “We have permission to go into town with Demi. We are actually going to watch hockey. I thought you liked hockey?”
“I do! I just don’t want to get into trouble, that’s all. I’m going to be in high school soon. Stuff like that goes on your permanent record.”
“Stuff like what? What record?” he asked, looking confused. She noticed his eyes had made their way back to her front only lower this time. She was starting to feel self-conscious. She crossed her arms and his gaze rose to hers again.
“You know, your college resume? If you want to get the best scholarships to the best schools you have to have a flawless record.”
His mouth dropped slightly and his brow furrowed.
“I was actually thinking about studying my practice National Merit Exams this Friday,” she continued. “And you probably don’t want someone a year behind you tagging along anyway.”
His confused expression cleared up.
“Naw, that’s alright. Like I said, your sister’s coming and everyone knows you two hang out a lot. And that new kid Andrew is coming. He’s in your grade. Just no inviting Kyle, ok?”
“’Kay…” she replied softly. Her eyes were starting to hurt from keeping them narrowed for so long. She sighed. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“What’d’you mean? I’m always nice to you. We’re friends.”
It was her turn to drop her mouth in confusion. Friends? They hadn’t been friends since grade school. Friendly neighbors, yes. Constantly forced into celebrating holidays and birthdays together by their mothers, yes. But the way she saw it, that made them more like… like… distant family or prisoners in the same jail or something.
“Anyway,” he paused with a huge grin and tapped her shoulder with his fist. “Rumor is we’re gonna play Spin the Bottle at Grace’s after the game, so better practice your pucker, Skate.” He laughed and sauntered off towards their houses. She stared at his back for a full minute. He had to be kidding, right?
Only… not.
All through the Lancers game he kept bending forward from two spaces over and making kissing faces, sending the boys next to him into gales of laughter.
Jerk, she thought. He had obviously just invited her to be entertainment for his friends. She nudged Kandace in front of her. Kandy turned around, looked between them and threw an ice cube from her drink at Dom.
“Quit it, moron!”
The boys started laughing even harder until the people behind them said,
“Shut it, dumbasses!”
Their equally scathing reply was lost in the dun dun dun dun of the hockey rink organ and the surge of the crowd as the Lancers almost scored. The boys completely forgot about her and started dissecting the play and the ice and the wobble in the puck and blah, blah, blah.
Katelyn sighed. She liked hockey, but not that much. She mostly liked it when the players got into a fight and the Zamboni guy shot hotdogs. And to think, she could be home reviewing her P-SAT words with a nice pint of Ben & Jerry’s…
It didn’t get any better once they arrived at Grace’s on the west edge of town. It was practically her bedtime yet everyone was jazzed like it was midafternoon. Katelyn stifled a yawn and jumped a bit in guilt when she felt Dom’s hand on her back pushing her through the door to Grace’s large family playroom. She looked at him, expecting a snide remark but he just flushed a bit and dropped his hand like she had cooties. There were four people sitting in a circle around a Ouija board. Each of them had a bowl of popcorn and M&Ms in front of them.
“Hey! We started without you guys! Come pull up a patch of carpet,” a girl with jet black hair a few years older said. “I’m Grace,” she said to Katelyn then pointed at the others in the circle. “This is Tommy, and Cam, and Mindy.”
Dom waved and pointed to Kate and Kandy.
“This is Katelyn and Kandace, they’re my neighbors. And you guys already met Hayden, Andrew and Jaxson.”
Grace nodded. “You staying, Demi?”
“Sure,” Demi said in a bored mumble then flopped down next to Grace. She was still going through her Emo phase, which was not quite Goth, more like Goth-Lite. All of the black wardrobe and morose demeanor, none of the Morrissey and facial piercings.
“Ouija boards are dumb,” Hayden said. “Thought we were going to play Spin the Bottle?”
Dom nudged him. Grace and Demi looked at each other, eyebrows raised.
“I don’t care if we play Spin the Bottle,” Cam replied, looking amused. He grinned at Grace and she flushed and brushed her long hair behind her ears.
“I think Ouija boards are fun!” Katelyn interjected. “And we all just met each other. It’d be a little weird to play a kissing game.”
“What’s the matter, Skate, you chicken?” Dom asked with a huge grin.
His posse started making chicken sounds. She raised her eyebrows and pressed her lips together. Boys were soooo predictable. She felt Kandy’s hand on her elbow.
“That’s the point, baby sister,” Kandy said. “To get to know each other?”
Dom and his friends started laughing again then argued about who was spinning first. Once everyone sat in a cramped circle, Katelyn started praying under her breath that the bottle wouldn’t rest on her. But fate was not on her side because the instant Dom had a turn the bottle spun right to her. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he did it on purpose. His friends all started laughing again and Kandace pushed Katelyn towards the door.
“Go on. Two minutes,” Kandace said loud enough for everyone to hear, then leaned closer to whisper in Kate’s ear. “Just remember not to hold your breath.”
“What?” Kate whispered back, but Dom yanked her hand and shut the door.
The closet was dark and cramped, as closets were supposed to be, and Kate thought whoever invented the game of Spin the Bottle had to be a man because no girl would find it even remotely romantic. Dom’s hands fumbled on her until he found her face. When she could feel his breath on her face she leaned forward and to the side to give him a quick peck on the cheek.
“There. We can go back out when the timer goes off and you can say we kissed.”
He was silent but his face never moved away from hers.
“Dom?” she whispered.
She sucked her breath in as she felt his lips brush hers softly. It tickled with a prickly rush that made her want to rub her lips to make the odd sensation go away. But she never got the chance; his lips met hers again only firmer. The tingle went away, replaced with wetness and pressure. It… didn’t feel bad at all, but, it still felt… weird. Especially weird because it was her first kiss and she had never figured she would have her first kiss with the same boy who had potty trained with her.
She felt his tongue prod her mouth and she pushed him back.
“Dom!” she whispered as forcefully as she could.
“What?” he whispered back.
“What was that?”
“It’s called French kissing…”
“I know what it is, Dominic!” she retorted in a stern voice. “We’re not actually making out, were just supposed to pretend to!”
He was silent again. Then…
“We… we are?”
“Well, duh, Dom! We’re friends, like you said. Or were you just saying that and now you’re going to make fun of me with your friends?”
“I… no, I mean… yeah we’re… I mean no, I’m not going to…” he trailed off.
His hands left her arms and they felt cold from where his sweaty palms had been.
“Time!” yelled voices from the other side of the door.
Kate popped up and almost tripped over Dominic in her haste to get to the door. She breathed a huge sigh of relief after she opened the door. He stood up and rubbed his hands on his jeans. He looked pale and distracted.
“Are you alright?” she asked.
He looked up from the floor and flashed a quick grin, though he still seemed preoccupied. He shrugged.
“Sure. Think I just ate one too many hotdogs at the rink.”
He brushed by her and gave two thumbs up to Andrew. The boys guffawed, making Katelyn flush with embarrassment. She shot them all a furious frown and deliberately sat as far from Dominic as she could. Kandace tilted her head and looked between them then shared a quick look with Demi who rolled her eyes.
“I’m not playing anymore,” Katelyn said.
Her comment was greeted with a mixture of laughter and jeers.
“Hey, don’t make fun of her! She just doesn’t want to tarnish the memory of me,” Dom said with a smirk and traded high-fives with his posse.
“Or you were just that bad,” Kandy teased.
“Ooohh, ouch,” Grace laughed.
Dom glared at her but his grin slipped and he shot a quick look at Katelyn. Kate began to feel bad; it was his birthday after all…
“I’m sorry. I’m just not comfortable kissing strangers. Dom’s a friend so he doesn’t count,” Katelyn said with her chin in the air.
“Ouch,” Grace said again.
Katelyn couldn’t figure out why. Or why Dom was starting to look mad.
“I have to have the car back by midnight, so if we could wrap this up?” Demi half drawled, half whispered. She looked like she could just waste away from ennui. Katelyn had to give her credit, whenever Demi was in a new phase she went whole hog with the part.
The rest of the evening was fairly uneventful, but when she got in bed that night she thought about Dom and how, in retrospect, it was a really nice thing to invite her. She vowed to thank him properly the next day at the family birthday party. The only problem with that was, Dom pretty much avoided her the entire time. And come Monday, he didn’t follow her home. She was both disappointed and relieved. When he continued to avoid her for the next few weeks, she began to think he hadn’t meant it about being friends or she had hurt his feelings. On the third week, instead of reviewing SAT words at lunch with her friend Tracy she wandered over to the cubbie holes where the boys hung out.
“Hi, Dominic,” Kate said shyly. All the boys stared at her with dull eyes. Dom smiled a bit but he looked wary.
“Whatsup?”
“Oh, I was just saying hi.”
The boys started snickering. Katelyn flushed.
“Ok,” Dom said, eyebrows raised.
“Ok,” she replied.
Dom nodded, eyebrows rising even farther. Her flush deepened.
“Actually, I was just wondering if you were going to my Track Meet on Thursday?” Kate threw out, hoping to salvage her pride.
Dom shrugged but his face went back to normal and he sat up a bit.
“If football practice is over, I could maybe stop by,” he said. His friends all went back to looking bored, except the new kid Andrew.
“Are you two going together?” Andrew asked.
“Nah,” Hayden answered for Dom without looking up from his sketch pad. “Dom’s dating Mindy Potanski, where you been?”
Dom nodded but he looked at his shoes. Katelyn’s flush began to feel like the worst sunburn she had ever had. She had been worrying about hurting his feelings and the truth was he was just busy with his new girlfriend. She smiled brightly showing as much teeth as she could without looking like a horse.
“Yeah, we’re just neighbors and friends, right, Dom?” Katelyn replied.
“Right,” Dominic concurred without looking up. He looked bored again and started unfastening and fastening the Velcro on his sneakers.
She thought he maybe even looked a bit sad but figured she was imagining things, because on Thursday—and every Thursday after—he showed up at practice and cheered the loudest.
–Copyright 2013, Genevieve Dewey
The following is a (partially coded) letter sent shortly before this event referenced in Second of All;
Maeve had turned in the doorway, still ignoring Mary, and said to a sticky faced Tommy, ‘until we meet again, grandson’. When Mary asked Michael about it later he had said that he simply wanted his mother to meet them ‘just in case’. All further prying was met with stony silence until finally, ‘Family’s family, Mary girl. You never know when you might need them.’ And subject closed.
~~~
Dear Ma,
Dublin? I’m to believe you spent a week in Dublin just for grins and giggles? Pull the other one. I say this with love in my heart but what’s a woman of your age thinking? I seem to recall you once saying you’d eat gruel and potatoes for a month before you’d ever spend more than a passing moment there. If you’re needing something to do you might consider visiting your children. Has Rosa told you she’ll be working uptown after she graduates? That’s two of your children situated fine, in case you’re counting. Not that I’m fishing for compliments, I’d never bother to be so modest. Ha!
Truth be told, I wouldn’t mind another visit if you’ve a yen to hop the pond. Recently I’ve been listening to some songs that have me a wee down in the mouth. Makes me think of the bonds of family and days gone buy. Speaking of, I’ve a project I’d like to show you. It’s my best creation yet and near to my heart. It would bring me great pleasure to know you’d seen it. And though I know you hate morbid talk, I would be comforted knowing it had a safe home should mine crumble. After all, the weather in New York is as capricious as ever.
As for those cigars you saw on Arthur, I’ve purchased three; one for your next visit, one for a rainy day, and the other for posterity. For myself, I prefer the Cubans. And, yes, I do believe you are correct, too much Italian food does give one heartburn. Next time I’ll wash it down with some whisky.
All My Love,
Mickey.
Genevieve Dewey 