Gone Shoppin'

"Brent,
Went shopping for food with Charlotte. Didn't want to wake you. Be back by 2.
Love you, Kaila.
P.s. I'll tell you all about it, tonight. I Promise.
XOXOXO

I smiled at the message, grateful that she had left it. I flipped on the coffee maker, which they had left ready, and rustled in the fridge for a moment, finding a bagel. I quickly toasted it on a frying pan, and then used some of the cream cheese we had brought to finish it.

"That smells good. Mind making me one?" Helen asked from the hall.

"Sure," I replied, opening the fridge to find another. We were already running a little short on food, so it was a good thing that Kaila had gone on the little trip.

"You seen Charlotte?" Helen asked as I handed her a completed breakfast.

"Went shopping." I handed her the note, which she scanned over quickly.

"It's not even ten!" Helen groaned, looking at the outside light. "I think..."

"Just after." I glanced at the DVD player, which read ten oh three.

"Charlotte and her shopping trips," she grumbled, taking a bite of her bagel.

"Well, we are a little short on food," I offered.

"Yeah, but she always takes forever. And she gets stuff that's not on the list. And I swear she reads every label."

"Oy."

"Tell me about it. You're just lucky that she's only going for food. If she was going clothes shopping..."

"Not into shopping?" I asked, enjoying the sound of her pleasant voice.

"Hell no. Too much crap you don't need for too much money. Get in, get out, do something else."

"Well, you know, it can be fun for some things." I recalled how much I had enjoyed shopping for a new computer several years earlier.

"Just not my thing." Helen shrugged. I noticed that she still wore the Seaworld nightshirt, but had added her tan shorts from the previous day.

"Is there some deep, dark secret why you don't like it?" I grinned at her.

"You really don't want to go there." She shook her head.

"C'mon," I cajoled her with what I hoped was a winning smile.

"All right, you asked for this. How many frilly dresses have you tried on?"

"Uhm, none recently," I joked.

"Well, imagine trying over thirty of them on in one sitting, while your mother makes you strike poses."

"That wouldn't be pleasant," I acknowledged.

"Yeah, well, Mom was into beauty pageants. I did two before I managed to convince my dad to let me do other things." She poured herself a cup of coffee, which had finally finished brewing.

"Ok, it's definitely legitimate." I nodded.

"Well, on the bright side, I got to go camping and hunting with my dad a lot more after that." She smiled at the recollection.

"That's nice," I said. I wasn't much into hunting, the thought of killing... well, better not to dwell on that.

"Most of the time you don't even get anything," she said, noting the uncomfortable look on my face. "But I do have an eight-point buck on the wall back at my folk's house."

"Is that good?" I asked, a bit cluelessly.

"Yes, it's good. Especially with a bow." She rolled her eyes at my ignorance. "Not that I do it much anymore. Too much garbage going on in my life."

"So, bow-hunting, beautiful girlfriend. Man, you're just living the Dianic ideal," I quipped, the urge to be a smart-aleck overpowering me.

"Hey. Fuck you." Helen tilted her head to the side, snorting softly after her words.

"I thought we already established that we weren't going to be doing that," I continued. I probably should have quit while I was ahead, but she had set it up too well.

"Ok, let me rephrase. Bite me."

"Where and how hard?"

"You'd probably lose a tooth."

"Only if you flexed."

"All right, I'm quoting your wife now. I can hurt you." She looked at me with a deadly expression, before a smiled cracked her features.

"That was fun," I observed, returning her good cheer.

"Yeah. Thanks for a laugh," she agreed, sitting on the closed couch. "Want to try again?"

"Naah, I think you need a better whetstone for your tongue," I opened, sitting down next to her.

"Truce," she said. "Let's just talk."

"Ok, what do you want to talk about?" I asked, beaming back.

"Doesn't it bug you?"

"What?"

"Your wife and my girlfriend, fucking?"

"A little. But I trust her, and honestly, it's a bit of a turn on." I shrugged, speaking openly.

"I just... ugh... What is it with you men?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why do two women getting it on turn you guys into drooling idiots?"

"Want the honest answer or the bullshit answer?"