Parents Chapter 1 ~ Neglected

Russ let himself into Liseli’s apartment and found it much the way it always was; cleaned within an inch of its life and precisely decorated.  The light blue walls were hung with paintings he had spent hours positioning just right while she supervised like an ambivalent air traffic controller.  She had bought the paintings at “sheik” little art shops near the campus, and some of them he just didn’t get.  But at least it gave him an idea of what she liked, so he knew what kinds of things to bring home.

Russ unwrapped a small blue statue from its brown paper packaging, and looked around for a spot.  He’d already unloaded some other items at a pawnshop, but had kept this one “souvenir” for her.  A little cat-creature made of genuine Vahtaran blue ivory; rare, priceless, and really hard to steal.  The temple in Vahtaro had been guarded well.  Not that he would tell Liseli that . . . .

The end table had an ugly cat statue on it, probably purchased at a “sheik” little art shop by the campus.  He swapped the statues and nodded in satisfaction, shoving the old one into his backpack.  It was made of Bakelite plastic and he could probably find someplace where that was considered a rare and magical material.  Somewhere he could trade it for something that people in this world would pay a lot of money for.

He took his backpack into the bedroom, where he started unloading his clothes.  He paused, sniffed, and decided instead to take them into the tiny laundry room off the kitchen, where he put them in the hamper.  Then he took them out of the hamper and put them in the washing machine, rooting around in the cupboard before finding the detergent.  He watched the water filling up the machine for a moment, then started undressing quickly and throwing his clothes into the mix.

I need a nap, he thought as he found clean clothes in the bureau drawer.  Maybe he needed a shower, too, but he’d rather have the nap.  He climbed into bed in a t-shirt and boxer shorts that smelled distinctly like the packet of lilac freshener Liseli had put in the drawer.  The bed smelled like her, that mix of all the flowery soaps and lotions she smothered herself in before spritzing on perfume.  He pulled her pillow over onto his side of the bed and fell asleep.

When he woke up later she still wasn’t home.  It was five o’clock in the evening, and he was as hungry as hell, so he looked around the kitchen for something to eat.  Predictably, she didn’t have much in the house.  She never had much in the house when he wasn’t home, as if buying food was only interesting to her when she could feed it to him.  He found a box of wheat crackers, a couple apples, a bag of cheese curds, and a bottle of water, and decided it would have to be good enough.  He settled with his food in front of the television, watching the evening news to catch up with the goings on in this little world.  His homeworld.

Liseli walked in the door a little after six, and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw him.  “Russ!  You’re . . . you’re . . . .”  She paused, dropping her purse from her shoulder.  “Eating in the living room in your underwear.”

He smiled, swallowing the last cracker from the box.  “Hey sweetie.”  Her hair was all twisted and pinned up on top her head and she was wearing a very no nonsense black skirt and blouse, but he still felt a rush of heat at the sight of her, and stood up, abandoning the empty box.  Liseli blushed and mumbled something about crumbs, but when he pulled her close and started kissing her, her arms circled around his waist and she squeezed him tightly.  He loosened her hair, feeling the curls slither down through his fingers as his mouth concentrated on hers.  When he needed to take a breath it felt good, after over a month away, just to inhale close to her.

He slid a hand up under her blouse and asked, “So what’s this new look?  Librarian meets undertaker?”

She giggled, unable to answer for a moment.  It was a joy to make Liseli giggle; by now he’d found all her ticklish spots.  “I got a new job,” she said, still beet red.  It was very easy to make her blush, her face turning the same strawberry tinge as her hair.  “At the St. Somewhere Café.  This is the uniform all the girls wear.”

“Oh.”  He smiled crookedly, before he could stop himself.

“Well now you’re picturing them, aren’t you,” she said, frowning, and pushed his hand away from her breasts.

“Come on.  No,” he sighed, watching her straighten her clothes with that prim expression that had only ever served to inflame him more.

“I’ve got to change anyway,” she said, pushing up against him and giving him the briefest little kiss before darting away.  “I just got home from work and I have plans to study with Casey tonight, at the college library.” She headed for the bedroom, hips swaying, as she spoke.  “Big English paper coming up.”

“Who’s Casey?” Russ followed, feeling as if he was cut off and left floating through space.  She was unbuttoning her blouse, but in that quick, no nonsense way she did when it wasn’t for his benefit.

“A friend.  Casey Duncan.  Majoring in English like I am,” she shrugged out of her shirt and tossed it onto the unmade bed.

“Ah.  So . . . what is Casey?”

“‘What’?” she echoed, glancing over her shoulder at him as she kicked her shoes off.

“Yeah.  ‘Casey.’  That could be either kind of person,” Russ said, keeping his voice high and neutral as he leaned against the bureau.

“Oh,” she made a face, as if to say “you dork.”  Then she shrugged, a little defensively, he thought.  “He’s a he.  Why?  What does it matter?”

He shrugged in return.  She wiggled out of her skirt, bending over as it fell around her ankles.  He abandoned the bureau and curved his hands around her hips.  “Well . . . you’re not still going to go, are you?”

She stood up and stepped away from his touch.  “Well, yeah.  I have to write my paper.”

“But—” his hands were still curved in the air “—I’m home.”

Liseli turned around, pulling pins from her hair, staring blankly at him from dark green eyes.  “I know, but I’ve made plans.  I . . . well we’ve been meeting at the library to study and talk and stuff on a usual basis and if I don’t show up he’ll wonder what’s happened to me.”

Russ felt like she had shoved ice down his pants.  “I don’t care,” he said incredulously, “he should get his own girlfriend.”

“Russell,” she lowered her voice and frowned, then shook her head and turned away.

“What?” he asked, picking a neglected bobby pin from her curls.

She took it from him, sighing; “I can’t believe you’re acting jealous about Casey.  We’re just academic acquaintances—”

“You said friend.”

“Yes, friends.  Just friends.”  She rolled her eyes into the mirror as she snatched up her hairbrush.  “The fact that he is ‘male’ doesn’t make him your rival so you can wipe that anxious look off your face.  I can’t believe—” she tossed her head as she swept the brush through her hair “—that you’re so insecure about me.”

“I’m not.  But I dunno how I’m supposed to react to you spending the night with him and not me.”  Russ crossed his arms.

“The evening,” she snapped.  “I’m going to spend the night in this bed, with or without you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Look, it’s six thirty, I’m not about to fall into bed with you and stay there till morning; I have a paper to research and if I wasn’t doing it with Casey I’d be doing it alone.”

Russ lowered his chin and squinted at her.  “So what, he’s the only person you socialize with these days?”

“Oh God, Russell, you can be such a child.”  She turned on him, waving the hairbrush.  “You leave me alone for months on end, then pop in out of the blue and expect me to drop everything I’m doing because Little Rusty is feeling neglected.  That just makes me sick.”

“It’s not that.”  Russ felt himself flush this time.  “What’s so wonderful about Casey Duncan that you spend hours ‘talking and stuff’ with him every night?  That’s what you said.  You never even want to hear about the places I’ve been, but Casey must have all sorts of . . . of stuff you just love to hear.”

“We have things in common.”  She frowned, lowering the brush.  “Classes to talk about, same professors, students . . . books we’ve read.  Just stuff like that.  You wouldn’t find any of that interesting.  Casey likes listening to me, too, I don’t just hang on his every word for hours.”  Red worked its way back into her cheeks.  “There’s nothing wrong with talking to other guys and I won’t let you make me feel guilty about it, not with the way you like taking off to otherworlds.  Don’t tell me you don’t make any female friends there!”

Russ shook his head.  “That’s not the same.”  He clenched his fists, but fell silent, trying to calm himself.  Maybe you are just being a dick.  Of course she’s going to talk to her classmates . . . .  But every time she said “Casey” he felt a hot flush go through him, and he could picture her sitting side by side with some sweater-wearing frat boy, their heads bent together over books they weren’t reading as they chatted away till the place closed and they . . . .  And then what?

Liseli just rolled her eyes and turned back to the bureau, yanking open a drawer.  “You just have to accept the fact that there are other men in this world and I am going to associate with them and become friends with some of them.”  She pulled out a lightweight sweater the color of her eyes and wriggled into it.  He noted the way it hugged all her curves, and frowned.

“Fine.  But maybe you could be friends with me, too.”

“Friends trust each other,” she muttered, going over to the closet.

“I trust you,” he insisted, at the same time wondering.  “I wouldn’t leave you by yourself at all if I didn’t.”

She took a disturbingly short plaid skirt from its hanger.  “Great.  Thanks.”

Russ stared at her helplessly as she finished dressing, not knowing how this was all coming down on him.  She was the one who didn’t seem to have missed him at all, and didn’t even care to welcome him home.  “We talked about this,” he said.  “You’re concentrating on starting a career, and I’m just following my . . . my . . . who I am.  Anyway I thought you liked having your space to study and work and stuff . . . .  I’d just be getting on your nerves if I hung around all the time.  You make it sound like you don’t want me to ever go away.  But now that I’m here you don’t care.”

She let out a long, frustrated sigh.  “You picked a bad day and time to expect a welcome party, that’s all.”

“You have to study tonight,” he said dubiously.  “Right.”  He let his tone turn bitter.  “I’m not expecting you to have sex with me all evening, but maybe we could do something together instead of you ‘researching’ with Mr. Wonderful.”

“Like what?”

“You know,” Russ burst impatiently, “I don’t like it that you think all I want to do is fuck you and that Duncan-dickhead is the one you can talk to about all the stuff you’re interested in!”

Liseli stared at him silently, pursing her lips.

“Fine.  See a movie, then.  Go get something to eat.  Pretend we like each other.”

“I’m not talking to you.”  She flipped her hair angrily, stomping past him as it cascaded around her shoulders.  “Maybe if you think about your behavior while I’m gone you won’t have to sleep on the couch.”

Russ followed her out of the bedroom, steaming.  She ignored him pointedly as she gathered together her books at the desk in the living room.  The last thing she put on the stack made him speak out again; “What the hell is that?”

Liseli speared him with an irate green glare.  “The story I’m working on.”

“Yeah.  That’s what I thought!”

“What is your problem, Russell?”

“You never let me read anything you’re working on.”  His voice cracked but he didn’t care.  “You always say I can’t see it until it’s finished, and cover the screen if I look over your shoulder, and . . . and you’re letting him read it, aren’t you?”

“Russ, stop overreacting.  It’s my story and I can let whoever I want to read it!” she yelled outright.  “You’re not a writer, so there’s no point in having you read all my unfinished drafts and stuff.  Casey writes, so he helps me with my writing and I help him with his!  That’s all!”

“How long have you been doing this?” he yelled back.

“Stop it!  Just stop!”  She shoved him with both hands as she stomped back into the bedroom, stopping in front of the bureau and grabbing a tissue from the box sitting on top.

“Shit.  Don’t cry, Liseli,” he said as she wiped at her eyes and sniffed.

“Well what do you expect?” came the angry tremble.  “I don’t know why you’re treating me like this!  You . . . you leave me all alone for months on end and then be-begrudge me my friends.”  She backed up and sat on the bed, balling up the tissue in her hands.  “You don’t even know Casey!  And all this t-time I’ve been telling him how ‘great’ you are.  Ha!  And you act like I’m b-being unfaithful.  Do you want to screen all my female friends, now, to make sure none of them are lesbians?  Huh?  What is your problem?!”

She stopped, and blew her nose.

Russ felt deflated, fearing that he was being an asshole, even though the thought of Casey still made him sick.  But he knelt down beside her, burying his face in her lap penitently.  “I’m sorry,” he murmured, kissing the tops of her legs.  “I’m sorry.  Shhh . . . don’t cry, sweetie, please . . . .”  He rubbed a hand up and down her calf as he shushed her.  After a moment he felt her fingers in his hair, and turned his head on her lap to look up at her.

“I have to fix my make-up now,” she sniffed.

“You don’t.  You look beautiful,” he said, meaning it, even though her eyes and nose had reddened and her mascara was running down onto her cheeks.  He straightened to kiss her, wanting her to stay.  He didn’t care if Casey Duncan was just a friend, he didn’t want to share her with anyone tonight.  “Stay with me,” he begged, pushing her down onto the bed, thinking of nothing but her smooth legs tangling up with his and her body arching up into his . . . .

The doorbell rang.  They ignored it.  It rang again.  Insistently.

Liseli pushed Russ off of her and sat up.  She looked at the clock and blinked in disbelief.  “That must be Casey,” she said.  “It’s after seven, I’m . . . late . . . for the library.”

Russ glared through the living room at the front door.  “You’re a few minutes late and he comes running to . . . he knows where you live?”

“Shut up.”  She smacked him in the chest and stood up.  “You have to answer the door, I’m a mess.”

“Oh I’ll answer the door.  I’ll—”

“Be nice or I’m throwing all your stuff out and never speaking to you again!” she said, running toward the bathroom.

Russ got up, looking down at himself in his boxer shorts miserably, but didn’t bother getting dressed.  “Friends” don’t spaz out when their study partner is a fucking couple of minutes late, he thought.  And it was about a ten-minute walk from the campus to Liseli’s apartment, anyway, so the guy must have lit out at 7:01.

He flung open the door.