Finding Parker (16 page)

She truly was the yin to my yang.

PARKER.
Kenton paused and leaned onto the shaft of his putter, “I don’t make promises I can’t keep, and I’ll never say something I don’t truly mean. So, I will rarely provide assurance to anyone about anything. Inevitably something goes to hell in a hand basket and it later makes me out to be a liar. But let me tell you something Parker Bale. And I can assure you of
this
.”

Nervous of where this conversation was headed, I stood in wait. Kenton invited me over
to talk
. In our first post contract conversation he expressed his displeasure regarding speaking on the phone, and had always waited for me to make some type of contact with him. My uninvited arrivals at his home had become quite the norm.

“Victoria can cook like no other,” he smiled, looked down, and smoothly swung his putter.

This was a very difficult twenty five foot putt on a surface which was far from flat. As the ball appeared to be headed three feet to the right of the cup he turned away. Now facing me and smiling, he raised his right hand to his ear and closed his eyes.

“Listen,” he whispered.

I chose to watch.

As the golf ball topped the crest of the path it was traveling along, it began to gain speed and roll to the left. Now racing directly toward the cup, it was apparently on the right path all along. I grinned and continued to watch as Kenton stood with his hand to his ear and his eyes closed.

Ker-plunk.

“I love that sound,” he breathed.

“It sure didn’t
look
like it was headed in that direction,” I shook my head in disbelief.

“It was an easy lie to read, Parker. I figured it’d break about three feet. It did,” he said as he walked toward the cup.

“There was a number of ways for me to get there. None would have been wrong. Temperature, time of day, Downes’ maintenance of the green, the force in which my putter makes contact with the ball,” he paused as he pulled the ball from the cup.

“All of these things have an effect on the putt. We don’t all read the green the same, Parker. But putting is like making the commitment to have sex. Everything has to be perfect, or it’s just another stroke on your scorecard. Once you pull the trigger there’s no changing things. So, take all the time you need to prepare. And when you commit, know deep in the pit of your gut it’s what is right, because you only have one chance to do things properly.”

Kenton providing me with advice regarding the sacred nature of sex felt hypocritical at first. As I stood and considered what he said, and the fact
he
said it, I placed more value on the statement. His advice was sound and solid. I suppose there’s no one person more apt to provide accurate information on securing your home from a burglar than the burglar himself.

“I won’t have sex with Victoria,” I blurted.

“Ever?” he looked confused.

“Well, I shouldn’t say
never
. But I won’t until we’re married,” I rolled my shoulders forward and looked down at the surface of the green.

Feeling rather embarrassed, I stood quietly as I waited for Kenton to respond. Most don’t understand or agree with saving sex for marriage. When people learn the existence of a twenty-three year old male virgin, they immediately claim he is a liar. Upon assurance the statement is an accurate one they assume there must be something wrong with him. It’s virtually impossible for people in this day and age to digest such a thing. Almost always, upon learning of my virginity, the remark is something along the line of
why?

“Interesting. And, I must say, quite admirable,” he paused mid-stride and nodded his head as he walked toward the shaded upper deck.

“It’s how I was raised,” I said proudly as I followed him toward the deck.

“By your grandmother?” he asked as he sat down.

I nodded my head, “Yes sir.”

“You’re a virgin?”

“Yes sir.”

“And you expect you’ll wait to have sex until you’re married?”

“I don’t
expect
I will. I’m quite certain of it. I owe it to my grandmother. And to myself, I suppose. I’ve waited this long, I’m not going to sacrifice a lifelong belief for an evening of pleasure.”

“I admire you, Parker. I certainly do. So, how’s long has it been?” he asked as he positioned his face over the pitcher of tea and inhaled a breath through his nose.

The thought of Kenton admiring me was very reassuring. It provided me with a sense of achievement and filled me with self-worth to think of someone such as Kenton admired me for my choices in life. In our time together, he always provided me with two things – sound advice and a warm feeling in my heart.

“Peach. Fabulous,” he smiled as he raised the pitcher.

“What? How long?” I was confused by his question.

“How long have you been seeing Victoria now?”

“Oh, roughly seven weeks,” I responded.

“Roughly seven?” he chuckled.

“Yes sir.”

“Just a rough guess?” he smiled as he poured a glass of tea and pushed it across the table toward me.

“Seven weeks and three days, to be a little more exact,” I laughed.

“Your thoughts, in summary?” he asked as he gazed into his glass of tea.

“Regarding her? Us?” I asked.

He nodded his head as he continued to appear distracted by the contents of his tea glass.

“Well, the same as before, I guess,” I paused, wondering if there was anything new to offer since our last discussion.

“The fibers. The peach matter stays suspended in the liquid, like little floating hairs. It must be why I enjoy this so much more than the raspberry. The raspberries simply sink to the bottom of the pitcher,” he shook his head as he looked up from the glass, “my apologies. Continue, please.”

“I don’t know if I have anything new to offer,” I shrugged.

“Well, a reiteration will suffice. I enjoy hearing about you two immensely. Tell me about
the girl
, Parker. You’re beginning to bore me,” he chuckled.

“Well, her mother is dependent upon painkillers, an addiction that stemmed from an accident at work. One thing led to another, and she is now, in Victoria’s own words, a slave to narcotics. Sad, when you think about it. Victoria seems to find at least some satisfaction in caring for her. She really doesn’t complain about it. I think most would,” I said.

“I agree. It speaks volumes of her devotion to family and loved ones,” Kenton nodded his head as he leaned into the back of his chair and crossed his legs.

“There’s not much I can tell you about her you don’t already know. She loves to cook, but never does. She’s a little bit of a wild one, and definately not afraid to toss an expletive into a conversation to prove a point or get your attention,” I grinned and slowly shook my head.

“
Sit down, you big fucking brute, w
hen she said that I damn near pissed myself. You know, after you left that night, Downes and I talked at length. He told me he stood in the kitchen with her as she prepared the entire meal. It was at her insistence. She told him he intimidated her and she didn’t like it. But, as intimidated as she was, she chose to face her fear. In a matter of thirty minutes, she learned Downes is nothing short of a true gentleman. He can be rather stern, but a gentlemen nonetheless. I’m truly pleased she made friends with him.”

“She told me the same thing. She compared him to a well-trained German Shepherd – very protective over the people he loves, in a constant state of preparedness, and loyal until death. I had to admit I agreed with her,” I looked through the French doors hoping to catch a glimpse of him, yet saw nothing but my own reflection.

“I meant what I said wholeheartedly,” Kenton said as he leaned forward in his chair.

“Regarding?” I asked.

“Having dinner together made me feel like we were a family. It really did, and must say I enjoyed it immensely. I now yearn for it. I want you two to come here as much as possible. I’ve grown to love you, Parker. I truly have. And seeing you with Victoria,” he paused, raised his hands to his face, and turned in the seat of his chair to face the ocean.

After a very long moment of silence, still facing the ocean, he began to speak.

“You know, we fear what we
don’t
understand and find serenity in what we’re
incapable
of understanding. I find tremendous satisfaction in this; staring out into the ocean, that is. It’s endless. From what I can see from here, there is a well-defined beginning and no ending whatsoever. It just goes on forever. I find it…well, there’s nothing else that compares, Parker. The tranquility from this viewpoint is immeasurable,” as his voice began to falter, he inhaled an audible breath.

After an extended pause, he continued speaking.

“You and Victoria – how the two of you react and respond to each other is nothing short of magic. When I began this venture, I hoped to obtain a false sense of satisfaction that I had played a part in the forming of what could or would be a perfect relationship for someone. I had little hope, if any, that it would truly come to fruition. I expected to provide advice on gentlemanly behavior to someone who
needed
my guidance. You, son, need nothing. You’re the last of a dying breed of men, you truly are. Short of you choosing to part ways with me, I can make this statement without reservation,” he stood from his chair, gripped his putter, and looked down at the surface of the deck.

“I’ll be here for you, wholeheartedly,” he looked up from the deck, “until the bitter end.”

As Kenton faced me, I immediately noticed his eyes were puffy and red. In staring out toward the ocean, he had probably become emotional over the thought of Victoria and me being part of his adopted family. Studying his face, it appeared as if he had been crying. The thought of him obtaining this level of satisfaction from the two of us caused me to realize not only was Kenton Ward human, he was also invested emotionally. He felt just as I did. He found value in having me be a part of his life no differently than I found value in having him be a part of mine. The entire idea of him employing me had seemed ludicrous at first. Now, sitting here, it made perfect sense. Kenton Ward was living a vicarious life through Victoria and me – one that he had been incapable of living himself.

“The bitter end being?” I asked, not necessarily wanting to know the answer.

“Life itself,” he responded, extending his hand toward me.

As I stood and gripped his hand, it dawned on me. At this very moment, Kenton Ward and I were making a pact. He, at least in my mind, had adopted me as a member of his extended family, for a lifetime. Holding his hand firmly in mine, for the first time in my life, it was as if I was shaking the hand of my father.

Hand in hand, we stood silently and stared; both incapable of speaking.

And I began to weep.

VICTORIA.
Parker caused me to feel.

Simply stated, I stand afraid I’ll never be the same. I am forever ruined by his simple, caring, thoughtful, and often silent ways. Although I have never been in a position like this with a boy, and have little if anything to compare it to, I know Parker is special. It isn’t merely my lack of experience in being exposed to the male species; it’s the fact this particular male, of the entire species of males, stands out as being beyond exceptional.

For me, that is. I am not so foolish that I don’t realize Parker may not be for everyone. To be quite candid, I reserve hope all other women he may expose himself to despise him and view his humility as pretentious, and consider him a prick. If this were the case, it would eliminate any potential female competition, and solidify my relationship with him.

I desperately want him to be in my life forever. Our relationship is perfect for me, but something most women, or men for that matter, would not understand. We don’t have sex. We rarely kiss, and aren’t overly affectionate, especially in the presence of others. What we have is nothing short of spectacular, but it isn’t what most would perceive as
normal
.

There’s a part of me, and it is growing like a lump of cancer, that wants to pull Parker’s clothes off and fuck him into a coma. With each passing day, the desire grows. Some days it is far worse than others, but I fight it with every ounce of what I believe is my moral being. For me, sex will only come after marriage.

No exception.

I find one thing about Parker is more satisfying than anything else. He is truly satisfied with what he receives from me, or to state more accurately,
doesn’t receive from me
, sexually. Not only does he not desire more, he wouldn’t accept it if I were to attempt to force it upon him.

In the parking lot of the restaurant, we had been sitting and talking for almost an hour. Although I really needed to get home and check on my mother, I felt it impossible to leave him. Sometimes, when I have to do something I really despise, I count to five and just do it when
five
comes.

“I could sit and listen to you talk about absolutely nothing and find tremendous satisfaction in doing so,” he said softly as he raised my hair over my ear with his finger.