Morning Shave…

Ben

It’s hard to concentrate with Eila staring over my shoulder, but I’m doing my best. I tap the razor on the sink as I rinse it but pause when I hear her voice. “Do you shave every single day?” I nod, concentrating on my reflection as I pull the razor through the shaving cream on one cheek. Eila pouts and walks closer, also looking at me in the mirror. “I think you’d look sexy with some stubble…”

I shake my head. “I can’t handle the feel of it growing in.” I shudder. “It literally makes my skin crawl. God, just thinking about it is upsetting.” I give my cheek another swipe with the razor. I used to have an electric shaver, but it didn’t get close enough to the skin. “Imagine feeling a thousand needles poking through your face skin, all the time.” I turn to the side and look at the real Eila. “You know how I feel about needles.”

She smiles and rubs a hand on my shoulder. I need to concentrate on something other than her touch if I’m going to make it on time for work today. “Fair enough,” she says. “Can I shave you sometime?”

I drop the razor in the sink, stunned. I’m flooded with an image of Eila in her overalls, sitting on the edge of the sink with her legs hooked around my naked torso, touching me all over. My god. I draw in a ragged breath. She bites her lip and says, “I think it’d be really hot.”

I nod, fumbling in the sink for the razor. “It would most definitely be hot.” I tilt my head up and begin to work on the underside of my chin. Eila leans an elbow on my shoulder, trailing a finger through my chest hair. “Eila.” I close my eyes and clench my jaw. “I need to concentrate.”

“Do you, though? All warm and soft from your shower, wearing just a towel…it’s enough to make a girl drop her trousers.”

I grip the edge of the sink, trying to recite city zoning codes with my eyes squeezed shut. “Eila, I can’t just be late for work.” This is one of those moments where I hate how my brain works. The most beautiful woman in the world wants to shave my face and have her way with me, and I can’t get past the anxiety of an altered routine, an unexpected deviation. 

Thankfully Eila must sense my hesitation. She backs off and leans against the doorframe. “I caught you off guard, didn’t I?”

I nod, thinking. “What about this evening? You could shave me before bed…”

Eila shakes her head. “We have family dinner tonight at my sister’s house.”

I swallow thickly. “Right. Okay.”

She brightens. “We could do it tomorrow morning before work. Set our alarms a little earlier…”

“Hm.” I take another swipe at my chin and rinse the razor in the sink. “That could work.”

Eila pulls out her phone. “Tell me what you’re thinking. I’ll make a note, so I don’t forget. I know you won’t forget.”

She grins. I love that she’s not teasing me. She’s acknowledging my need for planning and predictability. I continue nodding. Finished with the shave, I dip the washcloth in the water and dab my face. “We will need to go to bed earlier. You’ll probably need at least a half hour to shave me.” A vision flashes through me, again of Eila spread on the sink, but naked this time, letting me shave her. I drop the towel. Another time.

“We should probably plan for some sort of activity to make us drowsy if we’re going to bed earlier.” Eila tugs on one of her overall straps, letting it fall off her shoulder. She’s wearing a t-shirt with the cemetery logo on it, but she’s cut off the collar and both sleeves, leaving tanned muscled skin on display. 

“I can be drowsy.” I finish with my face and turn my back to the mirror, crossing my arms over my bare chest. She really has caught me in an awkward position to have this sort of conversation. 

Eila grins. “Another time, we should try some of Eden’s funny honey. That will knock you right out.”

I shake my head. “It’s illegal.”

She rolls her eyes. “Barely.” She presses off the door and slides her phone into her pocket. “Okay, I’m going to work, you’re going to work, and we’ll eat and run with my sisters, commence with drowsy activities, wake up early, and then I’m going to shave your face. You’ll wear just a towel.”

I nod. “You’ll wear just your overalls.” She laughs. “I’m serious, Eila Storm. Just the overalls.”

“It’s a plan.” She stretches to kiss me on the cheek and leaves the room. I hear her talk to Maurice on her way out the door. 

* * *

Seated around the table in Esther’s back yard with all the Storm sisters and their partners, it’s clear that Eila and I will not be leaving early. Our entire plan is thrown in jeopardy when Esther announces, “I heard from Mom. She wants to see us.”

Eila stiffens. Eden gasps. Eliza kicks the table leg and Eva slumps back in her chair. The sisters have a complicated relationship with their mother, which is to say Eila doesn’t want to see or talk to her at all but some of the others still cling to hope they might build some sort of relationship. I want to remind them that the last time their mother came through town, she just wanted them to give her money. I want to remind them that they’ve all worked really hard to build trusting relationships with people who show up. But none of that is for me to say.

I make eyes with Esther’s husband, Koa, and we both nod. For once, I think I understand someone’s nonverbal cues: he’s acknowledging that our ladies will be upset by this development, and we need to be strong for them. 

Esther takes a deep breath and continues. “I think she mostly wants to talk to Eva, actually. Something about your bio dad.”

The Storms have several different fathers, none of whom have ever been part of their lives. Eva frowns, her brow furrowed deeply. The group falls silent, and I feel a building tension the longer we go without speaking. Finally, I blurt, “Eva, you don’t have to talk to her if you don’t want to. You know that, right?”

Eva turns to me, blinking back tears. “She’s my mom, though.”

I clear my throat. “Right. But you still get to decide who has access to you and your feelings.” Eila squeezes my hand and rests her head on my shoulder. 

I wrap my arm around her and zone out while the gals discuss what to do, ultimately deciding they don’t want their mother to know where they live or work lest she bring the sort of trouble that seems to follow in her wake. I’m proud of Eila for suggesting a picnic at the park the following weekend, with an invite for their mother to stop by.

They’ll have each other. She’ll have me. 

It’s clear when we leave Esther’s house that our plans have changed. I don’t mention it out loud, but I’m proud of myself for recognizing that Eila needs a different plan after being smacked with an emotional blow. I make a small note to tell Dr. Morgan about it at our next session. For now, though, I crank up the air conditioning and climb into bed with Eila, wrapping my arms around her and planting soft kisses on the top of her head. 

“I’m not going to fall asleep early,” she mutters.

“Do you want to call Susan?” Eila’s been working really hard in therapy for the past year. She says she understands a lot more about herself now and how she responds to situations based on how she grew up. 

Eila shakes her head. “I just want you to hold me until I fall asleep.”

“Done,” I whisper, snapping off the light with one arm and then winding it back around her shoulders. As per usual, there is nothing predictable about life with Eila Storm. In fact, being with her disrupts everything about my ordered existence. Yet every day, I love and need her more. “I love you,” I whisper in the dark. Feeling her breathing slow as she drifts off to sleep, I smile in satisfaction that I’m able to give her what she needs. Separately, we’re each a mess, but together we’ve got something strong enough to weather any storm.

Thank you for reading Against the Grain! Planted and Plowed continues with Eden’s story in The Burgh and the Bees.