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4. Sunday Dinner

SUNDAY DINNER

I havea few hours before I head over to my parents' house for family dinner and the Avalon paperwork is taunting me from my desk. I yank it off the counter and grab my laptop, I know if I don't do it now, I never will.

This is what I wanted. To try something new and exciting and learn about myself while also shielding my heart.

Since my heart might be located in my vagina most of the time, it makes the Key Club perfect for me. Anonymity is going to open a new world of exploration for me. Add in copious amounts of therapy and avoiding men like the fucking plague—I think I can do this.

Maybe one day I'll graduate to actually going into the club itself. But something about the mystery and this being a secret only I know about is empowering to me. While others might find it degrading or seedy, the primal nature of it all calls to me.

A lot of my previous sexual partners were very against the things I wanted to explore. This gives me the freedom with no strings, no feelings, and no fear. It can be my own little secret.

The site loads and I put in the username and password assigned to me as well as my main profile that is only accessed by Avalon employees, which includes my billing information, address, club status, and medical information.

I scroll through the different sections of the main club, and there's a lot that intrigues me, but nothing like the Key Club does.

My next step is to create an alias and my specific profile for Key Club that other members will see to potentially match with me. It looks like there are options to be set up with anyone, completely anonymous, or you can click through aliases and see who might work for you and request a meeting time.

I like the idea of clicking through to make sure they have the same interests as me, going all in with no idea whose on the other side is too nerve wracking.

I've been thinking about my alias name for days now and I'm torn as I sit here, the screen staring back at me. I don't want to use a common name; it feels like it should be more code than anything. Or perhaps, just something sweet.

I put my alias as Honey, and move on, not wanting to overthink it and wind up with something ridiculous.

As I scroll through the form, the common questions you would put on a dating profile are nowhere to be seen. You don't put your age, your photo, or anything that is personal enough to make you identifiable. But you put your limits, what kind of play you"re interested in, and what you want out of the experience.

The first row is formatted as yes, no, or maybe.

It's thorough and goes over things I never even thought about, like do I want to be able to hear the other person, which is a hard no.

God, how pathetic is that? I feel like I could fall in love with a complete stranger by just hearing them talk to me during sex. But knowing myself is part of my growth, so I stop my spiral and move on with the rest of the questionnaire.

There are a slew of questions about personal preferences, do's and don"ts.

The last section is where you can write what you're looking for from this experience and to me it feels like it's beyond the physical. It's about what I want not only for my body, but how I want to leave this place feeling.

I fill out the form and take a huge breath as I hit submit. I'll see the room on Wednesday and then I'll be able to schedule my first encounter. I'm as nervous as I am giddy, but it's been a while since I've felt so excited about something. As silly as it is, I feel like this is the right first step on my growth journey.

Lincoln gives me a silent,tense ride to my parent's house, which is only twenty minutes away. They haven't moved since I left the house years ago. Thankfully, when I fell on my ass, the first time I got dumped and with nowhere to live, they decided to gift me the apartment I'm currently living in.

I'm smart enough to know that if I didn't have the family I do, I'd be in much worse shape than I currently am. My parents have given me the world, and yet, I still don't feel good enough to be their daughter.

I might not be living up to the Carlson standard with where my cousins are in their life, but the Myers' standard is just as high.

"Penelope, sweetie, is everything okay?" my mother, Holly, asks as she gives me a big hug.

I scrunch my nose at the use of my full name and just hug her back.

"Everything's good."

"Aiden was telling us how much work you've put into the company outing you're planning," she tells me with a huge smile.

It's embarrassing, I'm hitting thirty sooner than later and my mother has to act like my planning a company function is a big deal.

All of my cousins are ridiculously successful. Aiden played in the MLB and is CEO of a company. Lincoln took over for my uncle and father when they stepped down from Carlson Commercial Enterprises. Even the twins are successful in the clubbing sphere.

Then there's me. Penelope Abigail Myers, front desk at Kemper's Sport Supply with my twenty-two college credits, embarrassing dating history, and no fucking clue where I want to go from here.

My mother pets down my hair and kisses the side of my head.

Holly Myers is as beautiful as women get. She's sixty-five, but you would never guess. She has perfectly dark hair, not a single gray in sight, her skin is tight and clear and her brown eyes still have a youthful sparkle.

I grew up constantly wishing I looked like her. That I looked like anyone in my family. It's not that I don't realize I'm attractive, I just never fit in. Anywhere she took me, strangers would ask about my blonde hair and what relative I got it from, and I didn't have an answer.

"I reached out to the PI," she says, interrupting my thoughts.

"You didn't have to do that, Mom."

My mom cups my cheeks and looks at me. I feel like I might cry. Why do moms have the ability to just make you want to shed your whole damn soul in front of them?

"Knowing this information doesn't change anything for me or your father, sweetheart. Nothing could change how much we love you. We should have started this process sooner. I'm sorry for that."

My eyes are welling up with tears as she touches my face.

"Unless something has changed for you. Oh, God. I'm not pressuring you, am I?" she asks.

"No, Mom. I still want to know."

I want to know because it's hard to not only not know where you come from biologically, but it's the fear of the unknown. Why didn't they keep me? How could they keep me until I was two and then disappear? And most of all, why has it been so hard to find them after all this time? I've signed up for every ancestry site and I still don't have any hits.

My mom pets down my hair. I know I have it good, beyond good.

Yet there's always this lingering missing piece that no matter what I do, I can't seem to stifle.

My parents were everything you could want parents to be; loving, kind, generous. But most of all, understanding. I never had to hide my feelings about being adopted, or try to shield them from my feelings of not fitting in.

They know by getting this information, they won't be replaced. No one could ever take away the bond I have with my parents. But there is this incessant need to know the whole story of where I come from.

"I'll give Loyd your information and he can update you on anything he finds."

"Thanks, Mom."

She squeezes me tight as she leads me through the house and to the kitchen, where the rest of the family is waiting for us.

Sunday dinnersalways wind up the same. Our parents hang inside and even though we're all grown adults now, we always wind up outside.

Gavin laughs as he passes me the joint and I take a deep inhale before handing it to Ben.

"How was Atlanta?" I ask, and Ben whistles before blowing smoke out of his nose.

"It's called Hotlanta for a reason. God damn."

"Do I even want to know what you two got into up there?"

"You definitely don't, little cousin," Gavin answers.

"You two are gross," I reply as they laugh at whatever inside secret they aren't sharing with the group.

"Disgusting," Gavin says jokingly.

"Degenerates," Ben adds on.

Lincoln rolls his eyes and puts his hand out, where Ben hands him the joint.

"I don't understand why you two are looking for an existing property when we could build you your dream club."

"You're not invited to the next rotation, such a buzzkill," Ben jokes and Lincoln passes it back to him.

"I'm just saying. Why fuck around with all of these older, dated buildings that need so much work to make them what you want them to be? Let's build the club the way you want from the start."

"He's got a point," I say and the twins roll their eyes.

"You two are still teaming up against us? Listen, we'll think about it. The Tampa club is doing well and so is the one in Ft. Lauderdale. But it's a lot of money to build a property from the ground up, not to mention the time and legislation." Gavin groans and glares at Lincoln. "You're really ruining my evening with all this work talk, to be honest."

"What should we talk about, then? How Aiden isn't here for the fifth week in a row? How Penny had me pick her up from some creep's house who hit her, or how you two are so codependent you can hardly be apart for more than a few days at a time?" Lincoln says, and I look to the sky for strength.

"I'm out," I say, hopping up out of the lawn chair and walking toward the lake.

I'm not far when Gavin reaches me and bumps me with his shoulder.

"What a dick," he says, handing me a beer.

"Who, the creep or your brother?"

"Both."

"I'm swearing off men for a while. Going to work on myself, figure out what I want to do, figure out who I am before I start dating again."

"That's very mature of you," he says.

I turn and glare at him.

"You think I can't do it?"

He sighs and throws an arm over my shoulder.

"You're the biggest hopeless romantic I know, Pen."

"I'm working on it."

He squeezes my shoulder as we sit at the bench overlooking the lake. The sun is nearly set and I take a deep breath while taking in the view.

"You deserve someone who doesn't change you, who lets you be yourself."

"What if I don't know who I am?" I ask, turning to face my cousin.

"You're Penny. You're caring, loving, always have a smile on your face no matter what you're going through. You're sunshine, and I don't want to see you with anyone who tries to dull your shine ever again."

I sniffle and bump him with my arm.

"You're actually quite sweet when you want to be."

"You better not fucking tell anybody."

"My lips are sealed."

"Good, now let's go back inside. I think your mom made cheesecake."

I laugh and nod my head, because honestly, cheesecake sounds amazing and any more introspection I might just combust.

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