Potential Part 20

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Read and enjoy, that’s why I do this.


Potential
by Bistander

Chapter 20
Mothers Know



Evan looked at his mother’s text again, “Went to airport. Go do any work you have to do. Everything is going to be all right. I love you.” Electronic communication without emojis was void of emotion and often misinterpreted. Evan tried to picture his mother typing the message. Had his father been standing there, forcing her to hide her feelings between the lines? No, Evan imagined his mother hiding in the bathroom, crying while her thumbs dashed across the letters. His father might walk in and read it, so she had to hold back what she really wanted to say. Was everything going to be all right because his father would be in China, or did she plan on handling his father again? That hadn’t turned out well, and Evan had no intention of ever letting it happen again.

His black eye was a dull ache that he hardly noticed. His crushed pride hurt like a broken arm that would end his racing career before it happened. Sadness and anger competed for control of Evan’s mind and emotions. He hadn’t taken a swing. He hadn’t even tried to get out from in front of his father’s fist. Had the sight of his mother’s tits stunned him or hadn’t he expected his father to punch him? Of course, he should have.

Evan knew eventually he would have to tell Deana how he fucked up their mother’s new found happiness, but he would postpone that as long as possible. He left the house right after his parents, too early to do anything except drive around and spin his thought like a spider’s web of shoulda, coulda and wouldas. In his mind, he walked through the scene over and over, each time the outcome more favorable for his side. Yes, he fought back, gave it to his father in words and fists, then he pulled Candy’s shirt closed over her chest, wiped away her tears, hugged her and kissed her while his father lay unconscious on the floor.


When Evan reached Ms. Style’s house, he saw no point in announcing himself because she knew he was coming. Nobody had seen him since his father decked him, and if it were possible, Evan would keep it that way until the evidence was gone. He didn’t want Deana, Gloria or Candy to see the purple-black sign of weakness painted on his face. More than that, Evan was afraid to see his mother’s neck. Had his father punched her, too? He couldn’t stop picturing her in a giant pair of sunglasses and a scarf tied around her neck.

Evan went straight to the old barn that doubled as Ms. Style’s garage. He had decided to handle the lawn first. That would give him an opportunity to step on an imaginary rake before he saw anyone. Unfortunately, unlike in the cartoons, a shiner wasn’t instantaneous, but it would be plausible later when he saw his sisters. Also, if he were extra toasty after the yard work, he could accidentally fall in the pool while cleaning it.

Before Evan opened the side door of the garage, he heard a splash. Ms. Style must know I’m here, he thought, so that meant she wanted him to see her in a bathing suit. Or, if she was a freak like Miss Tonya, she might be naked.

The plunk, plunk, plunk sound of a steady kick increased with each of Evan’s long, hurried strides. The rhythmic sounds were interrupted by a slosh and water droplets splattering. He paused for a moment. When the plunking and splashing resumed, Evan imagined the woman had gone under, reversed directions, thrust off the wall and glided like a torpedo below the surface. He ascended the grass slope, approaching the green, Cosmopolitan style three-rail aluminum fencing. The height was designed to keep kids out. Evan lifted his right foot over, grabbed the top rail and kicked his left leg. His body rotated in the air. His sneakers met the concrete that framed the pool without announcing him. All he could see was the stroking arms and the uplift of water the kicking feet caused.

After scanning the large backyard, he quickly crossed the eight feet of patio and looked down into the pool. It wasn’t Ms. Style. If there had been any logical context to support what Evan saw, he would have recognized the wake creating ass, but seeing a naked person in the communion line would have made more sense than seeing Darlene in Ms. Style’s pool. It was like seeing Mrs. Henderson, the cafeteria lady, out of her uniform, at Walmart. He would sense he knew her, but wouldn’t be able to say how or from where.

The powerful body doing laps like a seasoned swimmer activated his pleasure sensors, but the red ponytail slapping side-to-side triggered his mental search engine. One lap, two laps, two and a half—Evan’s brain gridlocked. What the fuck is she doing here?

Darlene stopped swimming and rolled over in the water. Her tits briefly broke the surface, then the redhead went under. Her bathing suit was a pale flesh tone that matched her skin, making her appeared naked. He gulped when she propelled herself with frog-like leg thrusts. He waited without making a sound.

The water stirred and Darlene’s hands wrapped around the shiny chrome ladder. Evan took a deep breath as she pulled herself up. Her head was tilted back, and her eyes were closed. Water and white flesh spilled from the bottom of her bikini top. The small triangles were stretched thin under the weight, revealing the deep red rings of her nipples. He watched their centers plump, then bulge.

Darlene pressed her hands against the bridge of her nose and squeegeed her face. Evan looked into that spellbinding spot between Darlene’s hips. The strings that looped over the rounded knobs of her hip bones were practically lost in the V-shaped grooves carved into her groin. The rest of the bikini bottoms were too small to cover the girl’s bush, if she had one.

Evan saw a moment of surprise when Darlene opened her eyes; then her face went back to the one he was used to. The one that said she didn’t know he was there. Without speaking, Darlene dug into her top and hoisted, juggled and stuffed as much tit as she could into the bikini. As far as he was concerned, all she did was take what overflowed at the bottom and made more spill out into her cleavage. He imagined her biceps would bump what pushed out to her sides when her arms swung. Her nipples were still growing.

Darlene said, “Evan, hi,” but her tone suggested she was annoyed that he was there.

He might have responded with an unintelligible sound, but it didn’t matter because Darlene turned away from him and started walking. The strings holding her top in place cut into her sides. He wanted to untie the bow at her spine and watch her gorgeous melons drop, bounce and roll outward.

The back of her bathing suit was a meaningless patch at the cusp of her ass cleavage; her cheeks were fully exposed. Darlene was barefoot, but her legs and ass moved like she was wearing four-inch heels. He watched the sway, the rise and fall, and the jiggle. It was an erotic GIF.

Darlene reached the lounge chair with a towel on it and bent at the waist with her feet close together. She paused longer than necessary to pick up the towel. Her thighs touched all the way up to the gap at the top of her legs where a textbook, porn pussy threatened to burst out of her swim suit. Evan had been imagining what the redhead looked like without clothes for a long time, now he pretty much knew. It wasn’t a huge, traumatic let down like finally seeing Candy’s tits had been.

While drying her face, Darlene straightened up and turned around. “Were you staring at my ass?” she asked and flipped the towel over her shoulders like a cape, but didn’t pull it around her chest. The red areolas were cresting, shoving their hard centers out against the bikini top.

Evan licked his lips and his first unfiltered thought spilled out, “Who wouldn’t?”

Darlene almost smiled and started toward him. He tried to swallow, but the walls of his throat stuck together. He had no reason to be nervous, but he was. When she was closer than she needed to be, the redhead looked up at him and said, “At least you’re honest.”

Evan’s thoughts scrambled around the sense of déjà vu he had. Hadn’t he already been close enough to Darlene to noticed how blue her eyes were, and minus some freckles, how familiar her face? “What are you doing here?” he asked.

Darlene said, “Swimming,” and started to walk away without saying anymore, just like at school.

He heard another voice coming from behind him, “Darlene, remember what we talked about.”

His head snapped around. Ms. Style was coming up the stone path toward the gate, glaring at Darlene. She was fully dressed in what looked like business attire; unfortunately, not a bikini. He turned his head back, and Darlene was directly in front of him. She said, “I’m sorry,” her chest bumped him, “it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t act that way.”

The kiss was so unexpected that Darlene’s mouth was moving away from his before Evan realized how good her lips felt. He wanted a do over, but she left without adding another word. Ms. Style smiled and ran her hand across Darlene’s stomach when they passed each other. Evan watched the redhead’s ass until she reached the door and disappeared into the shadows of the screen porch.

“You know Darlene?”

“I certainly hope so,” Ms. Style said. “If I didn’t, a strange girl was swimming in my pool and just went in my house.”

It annoyed him even though a sarcastic response was what his stupid question deserved. “How?”

“We’re friends.”

Evan waited for more, then asked, “What did she mean, it’s not my fault?”
“That’s not important now,” Ms. Style said. “Would you do me a favor?” Evan’s mouth opened, then closed when he realized it was a rhetorical question like the ones his mother asked him. “Give Darlene a ride home. I have to run.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a Ben Franklin.

“Thank you, of course, no problem, as soon as I’m done here.”

Ms. Style’s hands slid up his forearms and squeezed. “Thank you, you’re a sweetheart. Sorry I won’t be here to watch you work, but I know you’ll do a great job. Thanks for taking care of Darlene. Have fun.”

Evan was afraid his brain wasn’t capable of saying anything intelligent, so he just nodded and watched the woman leave. There was something about Style that excited him, but it wasn’t anything he could put his finger on.


Deana was awake enough to know it was a knee touching her stomach. Waking up with Rebecca’s body touching hers was going to be a hard habit to break when school started again. They’d have to go back to the occasional weekend sleepovers. Deana didn’t open her eyes. She wanted to prolong the lazy, hazy period between fantasy and reality and make sure Rebecca woke up in the same mood she was in. She smiled and laid her hand on the thigh that was attached to that knee.

The tips of Deana’s fingers glided up the warm skin. Her sleepy mind anticipated fondling that ass. Her hand moved under Rebecca’s night shirt, bumped through the fleshy groove and climbed the hill, then came to rest on a round cushion of ass cheek. Deana’s heart sped up. The full, round globe overflowed her hand; her fingers wedged in the gap between the two halves. It was hard to believe she could identify Rebecca’s butt by touch.

Deana squinted, peeking through strands of black hair, but she didn’t need visual confirmation to know that it wasn’t Rebecca she was touching. No wonder Evan was always handling Gloria’s butt.

Gloria was sprawled face down like someone who had fallen from a building, legs and arms bent at crazy angles. Her head wasn’t on the pillow; it was stuffed under it. The knee in Deana’s stomach was connected to Gloria’s left leg, which jutted out at a forty-five-degree angle from her body. It was one thing to appreciate another girl’s well-defined ass, but touching it shouldn’t make her warm between her legs. Did her body’s response confirm her fear?

Deana reluctantly moved her hand away from the ass that felt as good as it looked. A bit of envy stirred in her heart. “Wake up,” she whispered and lifted the pillow off her sister’s head. “Wake up, bedbug.”

“Aw.” Gloria’s head turned, and her eyes fluttered. “Oh, Dee.” Her legs pushed straight out and her body arched in a long stretch. “Mmm.”

“Why are you in my bed?” Deana asked.

Gloria did half a push-up, fell to her side and did a few full body shimmies to finish turning over. “You mad?”

“Nah.” Deana stuffed the pillow under Gloria’s head and asked the question even though she knew the answer, “Did you have a dream?” She turned on her side and faced Gloria.

Gloria’s face scrunched with concentration. “Mm-hmm.”

Deana knew she was Gloria’s second choice, and that didn’t bother her because she knew about the dreams. “Why didn’t you go upstairs?”

“Something happened to Evan, in my dream, might have been a fight, but he’s not home.” Gloria fidgeted and moved closer to Deana. “Dee, what’s a meddler?” she asked. “Is it a bad thing?”

Deana took a deep breath, put her arm over Gloria’s stomach and summoned the courage required to play the role of big sister. “Meddler, that depends,” she said. “Who said it?”

“Never mind.” Gloria looked away. “I, ah, I know.”

“Gloria, we don’t have secrets, sister’s tell all,” she lied.

Gloria shivered and hugged her chest. “Daah, Dad—”

Deana’s question was out before she could stop it, “Did he hurt you?”

“No, no.” Gloria’s head shook repeatedly. “He was in a bad, really bad mood. He said mean things, that’s all.”

“Good.” Wasn’t it ridiculous to be grateful that their father had only said mean things? “What did he say?”

“Dee, I’m scared. What if he makes me leave? What if he sends me and Mom back to the trailer park? He said that.”

Deana refused to cry. “He’d never do that, but if he did, he’d be all alone, because I’m going with you, Evan too.”

“He’s mad at her and me,” Gloria said. “He said I’m a meddler just like Mom. What did he mean? Did Mom do something?”

“What else did he say?”

Gloria rolled towards her. They were face to face. “Why was he so mad at Mom?”

“Listen to me,” Deana said, “don’t worry about that. He’s talking stupid. You’re not any of those things. Neither is Mom. She saved us from him. Saved me and Evan. If it weren’t for her, we would have been alone, stuck alone with him. Nobody to love us and protect us. She saved us.” The tears had their way, and Deana hated her father for making her cry, again. “Mom isn’t a meddler. She’s a hero. I’m sorry you had to get dragged into this with us.”

Gloria used the sheet to dry Deana’s tears and said, “I’m not sorry. I love you. We’re a team.”

Their hug was powerful, both girls trembling, neither willing to tell the whole truth. Gloria burrowed her face in the crook of Deana’s neck, and their legs tangled together.

“Deana?”

“What?”

“Does kissing Rebecca feel good, um, make you feel good?”

Deana squinted her eye. “What makes you think I kiss her?”

“Um, I guessed.”

“You been spying again?” Deana asked.

Gloria rolled on her back and stared at the ceiling. “Not really, I notice things and I—”

“You notice them because you’re looking where you shouldn’t be looking. Now admit it, you were spying.”

“Dee, I swear, I wasn’t spying. I might have forgotten to knock and might have seen something, but it wasn’t actually spying. I learned my lesson last time.”

“Did you close my door right away, or did you keep watching? If you kept watching, then that’s spying.”

Gloria said, “I think you’re trying to not answer my question.”

“Is that so,” Deana said.

Gloria smiled triumphantly. “It’s so!”

“How much did you see?” Deana asked.

“Enough to know you been kissing a bunch. ”

“You snoop-a-doodle, one of these days you’re gonna see something you wish you hadn’t seen.”

“Maybe I already did, but answer my question already.”

“Yup, it does, kissing Rebecca makes me feel good. Why, you wanna kiss her too? She’s totally into you. Said you got a better ass than me.” Deana took her turn wearing the victory face. Her little sister would learn to mind her business one way or another.

Gloria flipped on top of her. “Really? Will you be jealous if I do?”

Deana stared at Gloria’s face, searching for a hint of sarcasm. All she found was those blue eyes and a face that looked just like she remembered their babysitter’s face, before—

“Are you, um, are you in love with Rebecca?” Gloria asked.

Deana sighed and put her hands on Gloria’s butt.