Mrs. Wrong Last Name

Chapter Nine

She was packing like a maniac.

It was still two weeks until Italy but you never could be too careful. If she waited to pack until the night before what if she missed something? Couldn't find it? It was dirty? Oh HECK no that was WAY too much of a risk. For big international trips she started packing about a month out.

And truly she wished she wasn't wired that way but she simply was and couldn't help it.

"There may be medication for that," she mimicked Liza telling her.

"Yeah, yeah Liza, and there's also medication for hearing people that aren't there but if I took it that would get rid of you, the friendly reminder of my own personal crazy."

The little kid stuck his head in door to see who she was talking to. She smiled and shrugged. He shook his head and went back to the living room with his ipad.

She hummed along and sang to Maxwell Ascension. Dang Maxwell was awesome. And one beautiful man. What ever happened to him anyway?

An entire doctoral thesis could be written on her musical choices. During her youth her Mother loved Christopher Cross and Peter, Paul and Mary. Her Dad was more into Motown and Stax.

Products of their environments she supposed. But her mother happily listened to country in the 80s and adapted to newer musical styles. Her dad did listen to some newer stuff like Toto, Joe Cocker, ZZ Top, but for the most part he liked his 60s soul.

And for the most part she liked her 90s new jack swing/neo soul.

Was she stuck in this genre because of what it represented to her? Should she adapt?

She thought about the only thing she could stomach adapting to was Adele or Bruno Mars, and Adele was right out.

A couple months before the ill-fated Boston trip she met Mr. Wrong Last Name in Baltimore. Was a good place since it is an airline hub and they were both on their way to somewhere else. She added a couple days on to the end of her trip and he added a couple on to the beginning of his. She got a room, and so did he. Separately- in different hotels- by her request.

Because their meeting four years ago had gone so badly, and because she really didn't have high hopes for this encounter, she wanted to be sure she had her own space and could get rid of him if need be.

He text her when he was on his way. He text her while he was driving. He text from the parking lot, and he knocked when he got to the door.

It was about 11pm and he was in sweat pants and one of those shirts guys wear that have the sleeves and sides cut out. What is the point in that? She wondered now. But at the time she didn't.

He had a New England hat on backwards and some Nikes that weren't laced. He had a gym bag in his hand and his sideburns had some gray in them. She got up and walked over to him slowly. She put both hands on his belly and her head didn't even come close to the top of his shoulders.

He immediately kissed her, forcefully.

Her back arched as much as it could and he leaned full in. She was thankful she had drank an entire bottle of wine before he got there. Liquid Courage.

He ripped his partial shirt off immediately and it went from there. He told her how much he missed her. He was super attentive and responsive to her. He laughed like crazy at her accent and made fun of her dirrty south terminology.

"What the heck does that even mean?" he asked.

"What? 'You had me like?' or "feeling some type of way?' Umm I don't know if I have to explain it it kind of ruins it. It means daaaaaamn!"