Kitchen Floors and Open Doors
by Demeter

chapter one

The doorbell rang, causing Joan to drop the plate she was holding to the kitchen floor with a crash. Joan stared at it in silence as it shattered into a thousand pieces.

"Typical," muttered Joan angrily, making no move to clean up the mess. She stood staring at it like it was the end of something precious and not a blue plate that had encountered an unfortunate accident. The door opened.

"Jane?" Adam stuck his head in the front door, "I heard something smash, are you alright?"

Joan turned towards him as he approached. "I really liked that plate," she said, her voice catching and tears coming to her eyes. She proceeded to bury her head in Adam's shoulder and sob like the world was coming to an end.

Confused and concerned, Adam gingerly put his arms around her, smoothing her tangled hair and murmuring in a vaguely reassuring way.

After a while she quieted and lifted her head, wiping furiously at her damp face with the back of her hand, looking around for something to dry her eyes. Adam reached to the counter and silently handed her a tissue, one arm still around her waist. She stepped away, avoiding his eyes as she composed herself.

"Sorry Adam, probably not exactly the reception you were expecting huh? …I must look awful." She gave him a watery smile.

"No way Jane, you're always beautiful," said Adam softly.

Joan made a noise halfway between a laugh and a sob. "Thanks," she muttered, dabbing at the damp patch on his sweater in embarrassment.

Adam stilled her hand with his own and ducked his head to look into her lowered eyes. "What's up Jane?"

"Nothing," she said unconvincingly between sniffles, "it's nothing…"

Adam, being remarkably intelligent for a seventeen year old boy and having some practice with the mystery that was Joan Girardi, said nothing and let Joan drop his hand and walk to the window. She stood in silence, staring at the broken plate on the floor for a long time. Adam was patient, in his experience Joan would talk when she was ready.

Eventually she looked up at him, arms held protectively across her chest and new tears tracking down her cheeks. "Grace and I had a fight." She said finally. "I walked in on her and Luke…umm…" she waived a hand in the air in an elegantly dismissive gesture. "Before, I mean, I knew that they had a thing but seeing it…it's like can open, worms everywhere!"

"You freaked" said Adam, more of a statement than a question.

"I freaked," said Joan, laughing morosely through her tears. "There was yelling, words were exchanged, things were said that can't be taken back and now Grace is mad at me for freaking out, Luke is mad at Grace for what she said to me, Grace is mad at Luke for defending me, and Luke is mad at me for getting him into all this!" Joan finished in a rush, making little gasping noises as she tried to hold herself together.

Adam stood still for a moment, but found himself at a loss for words. Instead he bent down and began cleaning up the pieces of the broken plate. Joan watched, her silence only broken by hiccupping breaths. Finally Adam went to stand beside her, close but not touching.

"Everybody fights Jane. Sometimes it's…scary y'know but…Grace and Luke…they fight all the time, yo. They're pretty practiced at the whole making up thing."

Joan managed a short laugh.

"And neither one of them is very good at staying mad at you. You'll work it out. You know you will."

"I know," said Joan, sighing and leaning on his shoulder as he put an arm around her. They stood, quiet, for a time. Adam idly played with an errant strand of hair, watching as it caught the summer sun.

"Adam?" asked Joan softly.

"Yeah."

"What if we fight…again? I mean a big fight. What if I make you so mad that you…just leave?"

Adam paused for a moment, not naturally good with words, or with upset teenaged girls for that matter.

"Never happen," he said finally and with finality.

"Oh," said Joan in a tiny voice, not sounding entirely reassured.

They stood in silence. Adam wished that he knew the right things to say, but he was new at this and not very good at it. He didn't know how to tell her that he loved her. Suddenly he felt incredibly stupid, watching her looking at the floor, arms crossed, eyes uncertain.

"Jane," he said. She looked up. "I love you." And that was it, he'd said it. He forestalled the awkward silence by leaning in and kissing her, always an acceptable alternative.

Joan thought she had gotten used to being kissed by Adam Rove. After three months, she had developed the ability to kiss him without her knees giving out, but now the window sill was all that was holding her up. Later, when rational though returned to her, she would think that for the first time, he let himself show her how necessary she was. He kissed her like he was drowning and she was the only thing holding him up, like she was beautiful and precious and like he was happy. She felt his hands in her hair, his body pressing up against her, and dimly she recognized the windowsill digging into her thighs. She realized with some surprise that one of her hands was toying with the soft hair at the nape of his neck while the other was tucked in the waistband of his jeans. Mostly, though, she felt his lips and his tongue and his mouth, telling her the same three words, over and over.

Eventually it had to end. They stood with their foreheads together, bodies touching, breathing hard.

"Wow," said Adam finally.

"Unchallenged," said Joan breathlessly. They both smiled. It was another few moments before Joan could think of anything else to say.

"Adam?"

"hmmm?" he mumbled, looking oddly unsure of himself, reminding Joan uncannily of the expression he wore the first time he showed her his conversations with the angels. She smiled.

"I love you too."

He light up like a light bulb, Joan giggled. Adam smiled like his face would split and silenced her with a kiss. Without realizing exactly how it happened, Adam found himself sitting on the kitchen table, surrounded by Joan, her hair falling around them like a curtain, her lips burning on his, her hands distractingly roaming around his back. He pulled her more firmly onto his lap with his hands rather indiscreetly on her rear end. Joan made a very interesting noise in the back of her throat that made Adam feel distinctly light-headed.

"Joan!" came a sharp voice from the doorway.

They both froze. Adam let go of Joan's posterior like it was on fire. He peered over Joan's shoulder at Mrs. Girardi, looking completely horrified. Joan slowly extricated herself, sliding off the table and looking thoroughly ravished and very guilty. Adam forced himself to look away and hopped down to stand beside her.

"uhh…hi Mrs. Girardi," he mumbled, flushing in embarrassment.

Mrs. Girardi burst out laughing. Joan and Adam looked at each other blankly then back at Mrs. Girardi who was laughing so hard that she was holding into the door from for support.

"Uh…Mom?" said Joan carefully, looking about ready to call the loony bin for a pickup.

"Oh…sorry…" managed Mrs. Girardi, catching her breath, "just the looks on your faces." She giggled rather immaturely. Joan stuck out her tongue, making a face at her mother.

"What's so funny? Asked Will Girardi, coming in behind his wife, laden with shopping bags.

"Oh nothing, nothing," said Helen waiving her hand dismissively. Will dumped the bags on the counter. He took one look at Joan and Adams' flushed and tousled appearance and rolled his eyes.

"Nothing huh?" he said suspiciously.

Adam looked distinctly nervous, Mr. Girardi was Italian after all. "Well, I….uh…better be going." He inched towards the door.

"Oh no don't," said Joan, grabbing his hand.

"I'm gonna see if I can find Grace, maybe talk to her. I'll see you later." Adam looked at Mr. Girardi carefully, backing towards the door.

"Okay," said Joan, "see you." She paused for a moment, looked over her shoulder at her very curious parents, then leaned in and kissed him quick.

Adam ducked his head, hiding a smile.

"See you Mr. Girardi, Mrs Girardi, Jane." He let go of her hand reluctantly and headed down the path, looking back three times at Joan standing in the doorway before he turned the corner.

Joan shut the door and sighed heavily before turning around to face her parents identical "we need to have a talk" expressions.

"What!" she said, throwing up her hands, "He's my boyfriend, we do the kissing thing!"

"Well," said Will quickly, looking distinctly uncomfortable, "I'll just be upstairs."

Helen watched him go rather helplessly. "Come on Joan," she said finally, "let's have a seat."

Joan sat down across the kitchen table from her mother heavily. "If you're gonna give me the sex talk, it's a little late."

Her mother looked at her I open mouthed shock.

"No! Wait!" said Joan, realizing her mistake, "I mean I already know about…stuff…we haven't….me and Adam…I mean we've done…and we might but…Oh why don't you just ground me and get it over with." Joan finished, blushing and hiding her face in her palms.

"I'm not going to ground you Joan," said her mother with amusement, "and I'm not going to demand that you inform me about your love life."

"You're not?" asked Joan, looking up in surprise.

"No I'm not," said Helen, "I'm going to tell you that you're sixteen. You're not a child anymore, hard as that might be for you're father to accept, and for me. You're old enough to make your own decisions. Now this does not mean that it's okay to be making out with your boyfriend in the kitchen."

"Mooooom" groaned Joan, blushing.

Helen grinned "Now just put your embarrassment at talking to your Mom about this aside for a moment. I see the way you look at Adam, Joan. And I see the way he looks at you. I didn't even know you could look at somebody that way until I was much older than you. So yes, I think you're a little young for a physical relationship, but there's nothing I can do to stop love honey."

Joan smiled genuinely at her mother. "Me neither." She stood up and wrapped her arms around her. "Thank you. I promise that I won't abuse your trust and I'll…make good decisions."

"There are two conditions to my level of coolness about all this Joan." Said Helen

Joan groaned. "I knew there was a catch."

"One, I expect you to come to me if you ever have any concerns or problems. I can't be supportive and helpful if I don't know what you're going through. Two, you're going on the pill immediately, whether you and Adam are having sex or not."

Joan flushed in embarrassment at her mother using the "s" word but nodded. "Deal," she said.

"And Joan?" said her mother, as she turned to go.

"Yeah?"

"For the record, I think you've already made a good decision. Adam is one of the good ones. You're really lucky to have him."

Joan smiled a secret smile that gave Helen the impression that Joan had more understanding that anyone ever gave her credit for. "I know."

Joan was headed over to Adam's, her internal dialogue running full steam, trying to decide whether to tell him about her mom's slightly disturbing but oddly comforting sex talk.

"Hello Joan." Joan nearly walked into God as she turned a corner with her head down.

She looked up in surprise. He was in what she referred to as his "hot guy" form.

"Oh no" groaned Joan

"Nice to see you too," said God snippily.

"Look," said Joan, hands on her hips, "I'm on my way to Adam's house, possibly for a very big conversation, but you…already know that." Joan flushed.

"Yes." said God, looking amused. "I do. And oddly enough, I'm not here to stop you or give you any assignments."

"You're not?" asked Joan in disbelief.

"No. I'm going to give you a few hints."

Joan rolled her eyes.

"Joan, relationships are one of the best parts of being alive. They can also be the hardest. Without honesty, it's like fumbling around in a dark room looking for…I don't know, something sharp, or possibly sticky," God cocked his head, looking for the right metaphor.

"So I should tell Adam…about the whole…prescription thing?" Joan asked

"No, it's like looking for a diamond in a dark room full of knives." God finally finished.

"That's one creepy metaphor. Not quite up to your usually standard," said Joan making a face.

"Well, love is a hard thing to describe Joan. Listen; even with the metaphorical light on, it isn't always easy. With love, there's a right time for everything. If you're looking, you'll know when it comes. It's good to be prepared, but you've also got to be aware. You never know what's outside the metaphorical door." God finished with a smile

"Yes, very witty," said Joan, but she smiled in return. "Hey, thanks. I mean, I'm still a little confused about the whole metaphor thing, but I think I got the gist of it. So, thanks…for the advice."

"You're welcome Joan," said God as he headed down the street.

Joan watched him go for a moment, then turned and headed resolutely towards Adam's shed.

Adam looked up as the door to his shed opened. He smiled as he saw Joan walk in. "Hey Jane" he said, pushing his protective goggles back.

"Hi" said Joan with a goofy grin.

"C'mere," said Adam, taking her by the wrist and pulling her towards his bench.

Suspended above it was an elegantly twisting loop of chicken wire, hung with carefully string bits of blue ceramic that tinkled musically as an evening breeze found its way into the stifling heat of the shed.

"It's my plate!" said Joan excitedly. "Adam…it's beautiful." She smiled, pulling off his goggles and smoothing out his hair. "It was broken and you made it beautiful. It's one of the things I love most about you, you make everything beautiful." They both paused enjoying the freedom of saying the words.

Joan leaned in and kissed him gently, a smile passing through their lips. Then suddenly it wasn't so gentle. Adam's sculpture shook, making music, as he backed Joan into the bench, full of the morning's interrupted passion. Joan gasped at the feeling of his lips on her neck and his hands on the skin of her back under her shirt. Her hands tangled in his hair and her fingernails ran lightly over his scalp, dragging a muffled groan from him which sent a thrill through her from her head to her toes and settled deep in her belly. One of his hands found its way between them and brushed up against her stomach, causing her muscles to tighten pleasantly.

"Adam" it was little more than a whisper, halfway between a plea and a question. He looked at her, his eyes dark and hungry and questioning. Unable to answer, Joan took his face in her hands and kissed him with tongue and teeth and lips. His hand under her shirt moved higher, brushing over the fabric of her bra, Joan gasped breaking the kiss and opening her eyes. They settled for a moment on the open door of the shed. It didn't register for a moment as she was too busy concentrating on exactly what Adam's hands were doing.

"Adam!" she said with urgency as the information finally clicked. She pushed him away abruptly. He looked up at her, flushed and confused and hurt.

"Oh…no, Adam!" She grabbed his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Um…it's just…door open, Dad home…" she shrugged helplessly, and looked up muttering "metaphorical door my ass."

"Oh…" said Adam looking at her oddly. "Sorry." He busied himself with straightening out her shirt which had been twisted and hiked up. Joan watched him endlessly smoothing out the hem against her stomach.

"So my Mom gave me the sex talk after you left." Joan blurted out suddenly, blushing as she did.

"Oh?" said Adam carefully. As a 17 year old boy, even an out of the ordinary one, in love, he knew exactly where he stood on the issue, but he wanted to tread with caution.

"Yeah, she was actually pretty cool about it. All `you're not a kid anymore' and `make your own decisions' and a lot of `Adam's really great' something my Mom and I agree on finally."

Adam smiled. Joan was babbling, a sure sign that she was trying to say something important. He said nothing.

"So," said Joan after a moment, "the long and the short of it is no sex in the house and I'm going on the pill" Joan finished in a rush.

"Well…" said Adam uncertainly, "I can go tell her that you don't need to …if you want…I mean I would never….never do anything you didn't want Jane."

"No…I…I think it's a good idea," said Joan, blushing, but not avoiding his eyes.

Adam looked at her with wide eyes, lacking anything eloquent, or at all, to say.

"Not…not now, I mean, there's a right time for everything…but we should be prepared…when the right moment comes along, y'know? But when it does, I…I want it to be with you." Joan finished.

"Me too Jane," said Adam, finally regaining the ability to speak. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath.

"Yeah," said Joan, fiddling with some wire on the bench, "that was heavy…the whole…talking about stuff is kinda new for us."

Adam smiled, "yeah…kinda heavy…but also kind of…liberating hey?"

"Yeah," said Joan, twisting the bit of wire into a heart and handing it to him without looking at him, feeling incredibly foolish but also intensely pleased.

Adam laughed. "Me too Jane," he said kissing her on the cheek and reaching up to twist the heart onto his plate-sculpture.

"Hey cool!" said Joan, "I'm in your art!"

"It looks good," said Adam, smiling. "I think I'll call it Love in the Kitchen, freak your mom right out."

"You might want to rethink that," said Joan seriously, "remember, my dad has a gun."

Adam looked at her like a dear caught in headlights.

Joan burst out laughing.

"Hey!" said Adam on mock offense, "That's it." He picked up a handful of Styrofoam chips from a box under the desk and stuffed them down the back of her shirt.

By the time the box was empty, there was Styrofoam everywhere and they were sitting on the floor, breathless with laughter.

Mr. Rove stood at the door for a moment silently, watching Adam halfheartedly throw bits of Styrofoam at Joan, doubled over and holding his stomach with laughter. He felt of a bit of a smile coming on himself. It felt good to see Adam smile again. He hadn't seen him this happy since before his mom died. That Joan Girardi was doing him good, and, if he was feeling honest, kinda starting to grow on him too.

"You look like a bunch five year olds, rolling around in that stuff," said Mr. Rove from the door.

Joan laughed and Adam lobbed a bunch of Styrofoam at his dad.

Mr. Rove smiled, "I'm headed out to visit your aunt Adam, you can get dinner?" Adam nodded.

"Come over one night when I'm home Joan, Adam and I make a fair hamburger," he shot over his shoulder as he walked out.

"Ooooh the dinner invite," said Adam, "he likes you, yo."

"Y'think so?" said Joan.

"Cha," said Adam, "how could he not." He pulled himself off the floor and offered her a hand.

Joan grinned taking his hand, "I am pretty likable, aren't I."

He rolled his eyes, "Come on, all this talk of dinner is making me hungry."

They headed into the house, hand in hand.

chapter two

return to Tales of Arcadia