For the next week, I’m back in Rita’s bed and also in her home. We cook together as we did before, but we also talk about everything. I tell her more about my art and the history behind it.
“As I mentioned, I was just playing around with things but found it soothing. I like to keep my hands busy.” I suggestively wiggle my brows as Rita glances up from her side of the kitchen island.
“Had you ever considered the possibility of selling your art?” She suggested such a thing the other day, but I hadn’t really considered it.
“You’re very talented . . . with your hands.” She winks at me, playing along with the subtext conversation. “But seriously. You could sell your work at some of the touristy places in Burlington or even online. What about from the firehouse? You could make it a studio and rent the apartments upstairs.”
It’s certainly a thought. “That old firehouse isn’t cheap.”
“Could your brother go in on it with you? Is there something he could do with you?”
Considering my brother, I sigh. “Drummond Brothers Electrical had been a discussion years ago, but I didn’t like how Nolan never took anything seriously. Don’t tell him I said that, but he hasn’t always been very responsible.” I hate to admit such a thing about my brother, but I didn’t have confidence in his ability to stick with a business plan or dedicate his all to working together. “He is my best friend, while my little brother, but crossing the line into business partners felt like a risk I couldn’t take with him.”
“I don’t think he likes me,” Rita states.
“He doesn’t even know you,” I defend my brother. “Why would you say that he doesn’t like you?”
Shrugging, she answers. “Maybe it was that less than stellar greeting he gave me when I went to your house a week ago.”
Nolan had been a total dick when Rita showed up at our house, and we had words again about Rita after she left. It wasn’t that Nolan didn’t like Rita; he didn’t trust her. He told me lawyers were snakes with their own agenda, reminding me of that python attorney Parker Avery who prosecuted my case. He added that there wasn’t a single thing Rita could want from me, other than some orgasms and great sex. I scoffed at his lack of faith that I could offer a woman something more than my dick.
Sneaking a strawberry from the bowl she’s filling, I pop it in my mouth and enjoy the burst of flavor. “He’s just being protective of me. He doesn’t want me to get hurt.”
“And he thinks I’d hurt you?”
I shrug, unable to answer her question without it potentially leading to a fight. Rita could hurt me. It isn’t just my past but also my future. I want her to have faith in it like she says she does. I want her to have faith in us, but I accept that we are still raw in our reunion. Although in the words of Nolan, we are having great sex with lots of orgasms.
“I wanted to tell you I’ve been learning a little bit about myself from the AA meetings.” In that discussion we had about alcoholism, when she told me about her past, I explained to her how I was under the influence when I was arrested and my response to said arrest, which resulted in assaulting an officer friend. She also knows that I drank in prison. Sarcastically, I once explained how I could become a ketchup moonshiner if I ever wanted a new career path. Rita listened as I described how creative inmates could be with fruit syrups or the famous condiment to produce alcohol. Getting caught sick off the stuff landed me in my prolonged sentence in alcohol counseling. I’d learned my lesson well enough from that experience, but the prison system thought otherwise.
“There’s a lot of talk about God in the program, and I’m not certain what I’ve done to piss Him off, but a bigger part of the program is learning to forgive myself. Accept what’s been done.”
Rita slowly smiles. “The Serenity Prayer?”
I nod. “There are things I cannot change. I’ll never know who set that blaze. Why the school. Why the timing. I need to accept those things.” Rita wants to do more sleuthing into my case, but I just want to leave it alone. I’m almost to the end of my sentence. “But there are