Lemonade Nights: a short story

More than ten years ago, I published a short story collection called Evolvement. I’m going to republish the stories from the collection here. The book is available at all ebook retailers and the paperback version is available at Amazon.

“Lemonade Nights”

Emma ate shrimp and crackers at the post-funeral gathering that followed the burial of her father-in-law.  She sat behind her husband, Marco, who stared into the backyard of his mother’s house.

“Shrimp?” Emma asked and put her hand on his shoulder.

“My father spent every spare moment out there.”

Emma looked into the yard and noticed an old shed.

“He made things,” Marco continued, “and he could fix anything.”

It’s good to remember things like that, Emma thought, but before she could say it, Marco stood up.

“Never once,” Marco said, “did he show me how to use a saw or a hammer.  He never showed me anything.”  He put his hands on his hips, then in his pockets.

Emma still sat behind him, a pile of shrimp tails and cracker crumbs on her plate.  She followed Marco outside after everyone had left.  She watched him throw a match onto the sawdust floor of the shed.  He sat down nearby, his hands in his pockets. And the shed burned.  The flames took hours to completely dwindle.  Marco watched it the whole time as the flames danced the day away and the smoked curled in front of the sun.  Emma watched her husband watching the flames.  She felt the heat of the burning shed and the smoke shading the sun as Marco just sat there silent with his hands in his pockets.

“I’ll build my own shed,” Marco told Emma when they got back home the next weekend.  “I’ll start today.”

“Are you sure? You don’t know anything about woodworking,” Emma said.

“I’ll learn.”

“Are you gonna burn this one down?”

Marco paused.  Then he said, “He was flawed, but my pop was a good man who took care of the family.  I shouldn’t have done that.  I was angry.”

“Build your shed,” Emma replied.  They were a young couple – married less than a year – and they still had the ability to surprise each other.  Marco drove their red pickup truck to the hardware store and bought a small box of tools and some wood.  He began building as soon as he returned.  Marco spent much of his spare time on the shed, but for days the structure still looked like a crooked pile of wood strategically placed in chaotic patterns.  Emma enjoyed watching Marco work.  She watched his pulsing muscles as he pounded the nails.  On the hotter days, Marco removed his shirt.  His sweaty chest made her sweat.  He took breaks to drink the fresh lemonade she made.  He tilted his head back to pour the sweet juice down.  Emma liked when he spilled a drop.  It rolled down his neck, between his pecs, and followed the lines of his stomach like a maze that led to his tight jeans.  On those hot, lemonade nights, she almost couldn’t wait for him to come inside, when they made love before Marco showered, and before Emma lost the urge to feel a little dirty.

The crooked, chaotic pile of wood soon began taking shape.  The shed had walls and half of a roof.  Emma could clearly make out the entrance.  Friends visited the young couple one afternoon and Emma boasted about her husband’s shed.  She liked having a husband who could build things with his hands.  Marco had no time to visit with friends.  His shed still needed much work.

“You guys are young,” one of Emma’s friends, Janey, said to Emma.  “Do you ever spend time together?”  Emma and Janey sat at the kitchen table.  The door was open to let the breeze blow through the house.  The two could see Marco on his ladder, and hear the pounding of hammer against nail.

“Time?” Emma questioned.  She had only met Janey recently.

“You know.  In the bedroom?”

“Oh.  Things are great.  Something about the way he hammers I think.  His arms thrusting the nails, perhaps.  I don’t know, but it gets me all worked up.”

“I know what you mean,” Janey said.  “One time my Bill built some cabinets and I couldn’t get enough of him that night.  We were like animals.”

They laughed.  Janey left soon after.  Emma didn’t know Janey well enough to tell her the whole truth, that for the past few days, Emma hadn’t been able to provoke Marco’s sexual passion, that he seemed more and more distant.  When Janey left, Emma decided to do something about his dwindling desires.

Marco came in when the sun finished setting.

“I’m in here,” Emma called from the bathroom in a breathy voice.  Marco entered to a room full of candles and his wife waiting in the cast-iron bathtub full of bubbles, one leg hanging over the side, her hair slicked back from the water, her hands on her breasts. 

“Why are you in the tub?” he asked.  “Can’t I just take a shower when I come in?  I can’t believe this.  For a week I’ve been slaving away on this shed.  You know how important this is to me.  You know that I come in tired and ready for a shower.  Don’t you understand?  I just want a shower.”

Emma cried.  This wasn’t the first rejection, but it was the worst.  She did understand how important the shed was to Marco but, Emma felt it was getting a little ridiculous; she needed her husband.  Sometimes Emma made him lemonade and he asked her to set it in the yard next to where he worked until he had a chance to drink it.  Sometimes he never drank it and she couldn’t watch his neck as he poured it in his mouth, spilling drops on his stomach.

“It’s been a while, you know,” Emma said, thinking that their lack of intimacy was obvious to him also.

“A while for what?”

She didn’t answer.  This ignorance was worse than a rejection.  Emma had spent twenty minutes on the aromatic candles alone, making the sweet scent of the room just right.  Her leg, the bubbles, her slicked back hair, her breasts, the way she called him when he came in – he just didn’t notice.  She barely toweled herself off, threw on a robe, and went to bed.

“Thank you,” he called as he sent those erotic bubbles down the drain, “I’m glad you understand.”  The repetitive sound of Marco’s shower water sang Emma to sleep.  She dreamt of what could have happened.  Marco undressed and entered on top of her in the tub, kissing her as he did so.  He knelt, naked, facing her.  One of her legs still hung over the side.  She held his wrist and guided his hand to her chest where he cupped the waiting breast, her nipple between his fingers.  She then guided his hand down her body, past the bubbles, under the warm water, between her thighs.  He worked his fingers well.  She liked having a man who was good with his hands.  Emma released his wrist and held the back of his neck with both arms as she flung her other leg over the other side of the tub, spilling water and a moan as she did so.  Her gesture welcomed his fingers inside her.  She moaned again, louder…. 

Emma woke up when Marco finished his shower and turned off the water.

***

The shed had taken form over the past few months.  It was wide and tall for a shed – designed to look like a small house.  It had its own windows and its own porch.  Marco was now finishing the roof.  Emma barely watched anymore.  The constant pounding annoyed her.  Sometimes, she put in her favorite Lionel Ritchie CD and turned it as loud as it would go.  The hammering always seemed just a bit louder, and it never matched the easy-going beats of her music.

Emma went to an afternoon get-together at Janey’s house one Saturday.  Marco stayed home to work on the shed. 

“How’s Marco?” Janey asked when no one was around.  “You two still finding time for everything young couples need time for?”

Emma tried to play off the question with a laugh, but the laugh soon turned into a cry.  “It used to be so great,” she said as Janey held her hand.  “We did it all.  We did it for hours.  Now, he’s always working on that damn shed.”

“Tell you what,” Janey said.  “Why don’t you come out with me.  We’ll go someplace nice – I have the perfect place in mind.  We can go tonight.”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes you do.  You’re just scared.”  Janey picked up the phone.  “Now call Marco.  I have some clothes you can borrow.  Let’s go.”

Emma called Marco and left a message.  She knew he wouldn’t answer.

Janey led Emma upstairs and opened a closet filled with clothes.  She pulled out a tight, short, sparkling dress and handed it to Emma.  Janey’s dress selection was also tight, short, and sparkling.  Emma glanced in the closet and noticed that most of the dresses were tight, short, and sparkling.

“Do you go out a lot?” Emma asked.

“When I have a buddy to go with.”

“Where are we going anyway?”

“It’s a quaint little place on the edge of town.  It’s called Land of Forgotten Dreams.”

“That’s quite a name.  What do they serve?”

 “All kinds of meat.”

When the car arrived, Emma was glad to see that Land of Forgotten Dreams was quiet.  It was early and the sun had not completely set, but dark clouds made night come sooner than expected.  Wind picked up and rain came as the women stepped out of their car.  They hurried inside.  Emma gasped at what she saw.

“What is this place?” she asked, holding her hand over her mouth.

Janey pointed to a shirtless man wearing blue jeans.  He carried two menus and smiled as he approached Janey and Emma.  Emma blushed.  His smile grew.

“Two please,” Janey said.

“A seat near the stage?”  He was standing too close, Emma thought.  But she didn’t say a thing.  She liked his dark brown skin and his deep voice.  She liked his revealing jeans.  She liked his eyes and the way they eased upon her. 

“A seat near the stage,” Janey answered.  The man held out his elbows and escorted the women to their seats.  Emma blushed again as her hand brushed his.  He stared at her as they reached the table and he handed them their menus.

“Five minutes before the show starts ladies,” he said.  “Remember, no touching.”

When he left, Emma turned to Janey.  “I can’t believe you brought me here,” she said.

“You like him don’t you?”

“Yeah.  But Marco would kill me if he knew I was at a strip joint.”

“Forget about Marco for a little while.  We’re here to forget about our men.”

“Do you come here often?”

“All the time.”

“Does Bill know?”

“Are you kidding?  This is where we met.”

The lights went out.

“What’s happening?” Emma asked in a slight panic.

“Relax,” said Janey.  “The show’s beginning.”

A spotlight hit the stage.  Music began to play so loud that Emma could not understand the words or even really catch the beat.  She tried not to look at the stage when the curtain flung open, but Janey’s screams and the flashing lights made her curious.  When she looked she noticed the same muscular man who had led her to her table.  He had dressed up his blue jeans with a tool belt, and on his head he wore a hard hat.  He remembered Emma and flung himself to his knees in front of her.  Janey jumped from her seat and screamed, waving dollar bills in her hands.  Emma blushed again.  The man smiled as he performed a gyrating dance in front of her. 

The show seemed to slow down as Emma watched him in a trance-like, day-dreaming state.  The man reached his arm behind the curtain and pulled out a pitcher of lemonade.  He walked to the center of the stage and poured it on his chest.  The yellow liquid splashed in between his pecs and trickled in a multitude of drops along his hard body.  Lemonade rolled over his firm stomach and dripped from his elbows.  It soaked his jeans.  He noticed Emma staring and made his way to her again.  This time, he hopped off the stage, grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of her chair.  They kissed wildly, almost violently.  She removed his wet jeans and caressed the tight bulge in his underwear, licking the lemonade off his skin.  He poured lemonade on her and unzipped her dress.  After he pulled it off, he slid his hands up the outside of her, following the curves of her body until he reached her neck where she pulled his hand to her mouth and sucked the lemonade from one of his fingers….

The music stopped and Emma emerged from her state of arousal; the man was still on the stage, her clothes still on her body

“I’m sorry.  I have to go,” Emma told Janey as she grabbed her purse and hurried out the door.  Janey followed. 

“What’s the big deal?” Janey asked in the car.  “Here’s the way I see it.  If your husband’s spending all of his time on a damn shed, then you get to look at naked men in hard hats.  It’s not like Marco’ll notice you’re gone or anything.”

Emma clenched the seatbelt with both hands – partly because she knew Janey was right, and partly out of the anger that came from guilt.

“You’re a young couple,” Janey continued, “and, to put it plainly, you should be having a lot of sex.  You need to be a little selfish here, Emma.”

At the word “selfish,” Emma immediately released the seatbelt and took in a deep breath.

When they arrived at Janey’s house Emma quickly changed her clothes and drove home.  It was late now – around midnight.  Emma walked softly in the door and set down her purse.  She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and threw on her old pajamas.  Her eyes took a short while to adjust to the lack of light in the bedroom.  When they finally did, she noticed that Marco was not there.

“The shed,” she said before looking out the window to find the shed’s light still on.

As she approached the shed, she noticed a quietness about it.  The hammering and pounding that she was used to had ceased for the evening.  She noticed something else as well – the porch, the windows, the roof – the shed was finally finished.  She entered the small building and the smell of new wood engulfed her.  She could feel bits of sawdust floating in the air, softly striking her wrists and ankles.  Marco slept on the floor, exhausted from almost a whole year of building his shed. 

Emma moved closer, carefully trying not to awaken him with the soft clump-clumping of her slippers on the floor.  As she stepped towards him, the sawdust swirled around her feet and mixed with the breeze that came through an open window.  Emma knelt beside her husband.  She gently brushed the sweat from his face and laid her head on his bare stomach.  Without waking, Marco stroked her hair a few times and left his hand on her head.

The young couple slept there that night.

More than ten years ago, I published a short story collection called Evolvement. I’m going to republish the stories from the collection here. The book is available at all ebook retailers and the paperback version is available at Amazon.