Erotic Stories

by Karolina Rich

  He stroked her arm, a gesture that would have been comforting to a human.

  "You cannot change the past," he said softly. "You cannot make amends or get forgiveness from the dead. But you can move forward. That is part of being human. And you've taken the first steps."

  "Can I ever be human, Holland?"

  "Probably not. It would take us a lifetime to write all the programs necessary . . . and even then you'd be immortal . . . at least until your power supply burned out." He smiled slightly and took her hand. "I love you, Miriam. I love you for who you are, not what you are. I have committed many crimes because of my love for you . . . because I wanted you back. I only hope you see that."

  "I think I do." There was a contemplative look on her robotic features. "I . . . I love you, too. At least I think I do. Maybe that should be the next program we write."

  Holland Campbell took his lover in his arms. "I think it's already begun to write itself. You are a marvelous creation, Miriam Garcia. You've grown beyond your original programming and have become something more than an automaton or an android."

  They kissed tenderly.

  THE END

  * * *

  Forgiveness

  * * *

  "Do you want to tell her or should I?"

  The seconds ticked away while I waited for her response. I heard a false start or two. Pam was thinking.

  "You had better do it," Katie's sister finally said. "This isn't the kind of news anyone should get over the phone."

  She was right, of course. I scribbled down a few notes to make sure I got the details straight. With a sigh, I hung up, wondering what the best way to break this would be.

  The kids were—thankfully—oblivious. The rest of my morning was spent folding laundry, playing hide and go seek, and waiting for Melinda to come home. It was one of her early office hours days which meant she'd be back right after lunch. We'd corral the kids, put them down for their naps and finish our chores around the house. Melinda might sneak in a nap herself, grade papers or even write a little bit while I'd try and put the house back in order.

  Late afternoon, we'd get the kids up, wait for the older ones to come home from school, then feed everyone a snack (including us). Katie would come home right before dinner time and help either Melinda or I cook while the other one watched the kids along with the ever-present eyes of Mrs. Harris, our nanny. Immediately after the 6:00 news ended, Leah would come home and we'd all sit down for a meal together.

  Our lives revolved around a schedule that was pretty much written in stone, and that was a good thing. You see, we have eight children.

  Kaylee is eight and in the third grade. Gwen and Gabi just turned six and Bryan is five; all three are in kindergarten. The quads (Brooke, Serafina, Tempest and Terra) are rambunctious two-year olds and if not for Mrs. Harris, I don't know what I'd do (probably go insane). Since they were born, she's almost been a full-time member of our household. She shows up right when the girls leave for work and stays until the last of them come home.

  We pay her generously, but it's not enough for everything she does. She's a fit woman in her mid-50s. Widowed, she has grandchildren of her own, but for some reason puts up with us. Melinda met her through church and she has this matronly demeanor that is stern and loving at the same time. I've never heard her raise her voice, but she can get any of the kids (including the "adults" in our house) to do anything she wants with just a look.

  Her sole job is to watch the kids. She doesn't do chores, even when she offers or tries to pitch in. If I had my way, I'd make her the kids's fourth grandmother.

  As it is, I often turn to her for advice. After all, I'm a 35 year-old guy who's a stay at home dad and knows very little about parenting that wasn't learned through trial and error (and there have been a lot of errors). So in a quiet moment, when the little ones were at least in their beds for a nap, I asked her what to do. I listened, but the gist of what she said was, "You have to go with your gut."

  I know, not very helpful.

  The day played out as it always did. Melinda came home; I took her aside and filled her in. We decided to wait until the kids went to bed before talking to the other two.

  Mrs. Harris left and our evening routine was no different than any other day. It was dinner and then bath time, quite a trick with eight kids. It's a good thing we have enough bathrooms to accommodate everyone at once, especially if we bathe the younger ones in pairs. The older ones can pretty much shower themselves, especially since we've set the tankless hot water heaters in their bathrooms to a less than scalding temperature. Then we tucked them all in and sat around for an hour or two of peace and quiet (and footrubs and adult chatter).

  After American Idol, we retired to the bedroom. When Katie came out of the bathroom, I took a deep breath as she climbed into bed.

  "Pam called today," I started.

  "Really? What did she have to say?" Katie asked, puzzled. It's highly unusual for any of our family to call during the day. Leah's head shot around; this was going to be news to her as well. I guess there was something in my tone that sounded ominous.

  "She had some news about Carl." The words hung in the air for a long moment. The last time any of us had seen him was about thirteen years ago. He was Katie's high school sweetheart and they hadn't broken up on the best of terms.

  "What about him?" Katie asked softly.

  "He was killed last week at Quantico," I said tentatively. "Pam said he was in the Marines and drowned in some kind of training exercise."

  I stopped to let that sink in. Carl was Katie's first love. They were a good fit both in terms of temperament and common interests. But after our trip to Disney World, they both changed, and not together. Or for the better.

  Carl stalked her for a little while and generally was a jackass. He was also the one who blew the whistle on Katie's relationship with Leah to our wife's fundy Christian mother, who then pretty much disowned her daughter. Still, on balance he never treated her in an abusive way and I think after he saw what happened between Katie and her mom, he wished he'd just kept his damn mouth shut.

  If not for us, Katie most likely would have married Carl and they'd probably have been pretty happy. After all, they were supposed to be together. But life has a habit of not turning out the way you plan.

  I watched my redheaded wife's eyes darken. "Tell me everything."

  Even though I didn't have all the details, I filled in the blanks with the information Pam had given me earlier that day. None of us had kept in touch with him after we moved away. None of us wanted to after the way he obsessed over Katie following their break-up. But I don't think any of us thought of him as a bad person; he was just a jealous ex-boyfriend.

  "They're having visitation on Friday afternoon and then the funeral on Saturday," I said after filling her in. "I thought we'd at least send flowers. Pam gave me the address of the—"

  "I want to go," Katie interrupted.

  The other three of us shared the I-don't-think-that's-a-good-idea look. Leah's brow creased with worry.

  "Are you sure that's something you want?" Melinda asked diplomatically. "You two didn't exactly break up on the best of terms."

  Katie took a deep breath. "I know . . . and I hate that for us. I was in love with him, you know."

  Leah reached out and took her hand.

  "I always thought we'd . . . he and I . . . would be together. Forever," Katie continued. She paused for a long moment.

  Normally, Katie is the most passionate of us. She's the quickest to laugh and the quickest to blow her stack. Her temper is explosive and her anger fierce. And she also loves the hardest and is the most generous with her emotions. Introspection is not something she's given to.

  This news certainly caught her by surprise. Hell, it caught all of us out of the blue. Maybe it was because we hadn't seen or talked to him in over a decade. Maybe it was because we had grown together without him. Maybe it was because of the way things ended between him and Katie. And by extensi
on, how things had ended between him and the rest of us.

  I half expected her to either burst into tears or rant on and on about what an asshole he had been, but instead she just snuggled up to Leah, who has been her emotional rock since the two of them met. Melinda and I waited to see if she wanted to talk some more, but after a few minutes, I reached over and turned out the lamp on the night stand.

  I got the feeling that she was processing everything and would let us know what she was thinking later. So the four of us curled up in each other's arms reflecting on our friend and lover who was now gone.

  Melinda dozed off first. I looked over at the other two. Katie's eyes were closed, but I don't think she was asleep. Leah stared off into the darkness, her arms around our wife. Every now and then she'd look down at the woman in her arms, as if she wanted to say something. A couple of times, she glanced over to see me watching them, but none of us said anything.

  Eventually sleep finally claimed me. On one side, I heard the comforting sound of Melinda's rhythmic breathing. On the other, muted crying as Katie choked back tears.

  * * *

  After some last-minute travel plans, we packed up all eight of the kids and flew down to Jacksonville. Have I mentioned how nice it is to be well-to-do? I need to send our financial advisor a big fruit basket for convincing us to take most of the money we earned from playing the stock and real estate markets and put it into low-risk funds a few years back. Truthfully, we don't need to make any more money; we're taking what we have and using it to preserve the lifestyle to which we've become accustomed. Plus, even with girls working less than they were before, we can cover all of our daily living expenses (and then some) and not really have to dig into our considerable savings.

  On balance, with the high price of fuel, we've found chartering a private jet was preferable to flying commercial. Seriously . . . try booking a flight for 12 on a mainstream carrier and then match that price against private aviation. Then consider that we wouldn't have to catch a connecting flight out of Charlotte or Atlanta and we wouldn't have to go through security. Plus, it sure beats the hell out of driving from Asheville to Jacksonville.

  We were going to rent half the rooms at Embassy Suites or some place similar, but when they heard we were coming, Melinda's parents made us stay with them. I tried to warn them, but they insisted. They enlisted the help of her brothers and their families to help us entertain the kids.

  I drove the lead rental minivan and I hate to admit it, but I got turned around a couple of times. I guess that's what being away from home for 10 years does. Thank God for GPS. Still, it was good to be back in our old stomping grounds. Visitation was on Friday night and the four of us decided to go together; strength in numbers and all that.

  Katie had always gotten along with Carl's family. I had only met his folks once and neither Leah nor Melinda had ever encountered them. I thought they were nice people, but I didn't know how we would be received post-break-up. I also didn't know how much Carl had told them about the four of us.

  It turns out, I need not have worried.

  We arrived at the funeral home about half an hour after visitation started. Of course, we didn't recognise anyone. Melinda signed the guest book for the four of us. I held Katie's hand—mostly for the sake of appearances—but neither of the other girls was ever more than an arm's length away.

  The casket was open and the room was about half-full. People were huddled in small groups, talking quietly. No sooner had we stepped into the parlor than a woman rushed over to greet Katie.

  "I'm so glad you could come!" Her voice was friendly, and I could tell she was a lot more accustomed to laughing than crying. She was tall and thin, just like her son. She and Katie shared a warm embrace and spent the next few minutes catching up over the last twelve years or so. Katie introduced her to the three of us; me as her husband, Leah and Melinda as our "friends".

  Carl's mom was unfailingly polite. She had a combination of good, old-fashioned southern hospitality mixed with a compassionate demeanor that disarmed all those around her. I can only imagine how hard it was for her to be there, burying her only child. Soon enough, she gave Katie one more hug and then went to greet more guests, but not before exchanging email addresses and promises to friend one another on Facebook.

  We stayed for a few minutes, staring absently at the collages of pictures that were arranged throughout the room. The family who was gathered around the floral arrangements was careful to avoid letting a receiving line form. Instead, they circulated and visited with each group of people.

  I fidgeted nervously; funerals always make me uncomfortable, especially when I don't know anyone. Katie's eyes were fixed on a large flat-screen TV that was playing a slide show of pictures that covered Carl's life from birth through school and into the Marines.

  She drew in a sharp breath when she saw herself in their prom photo. I squeezed her hand gently. Leah put her arm around Katie to keep her from falling over.

  "Excuse me," a soft voice said. The four of us turned and saw a young woman standing there. She was about my height, but slender and fit. Her face was freckled and she had a full head of thick, auburn hair. "You must be Katie."

  "Yes," our wife stammered.

  "I'm Aubrey," the woman said. "Carl's wife."

  The four of us stood there, dumbstruck. Her resemblance to Katie was uncanny.

  "It's so nice to finally meet you," she said. There was sorrow in her eyes, but she seemed to be holding up well. "Carl told me all about you."

  "All good things, I hope," Melinda recovered the fastest.

  "Melinda, right?" Her grin pushed the sadness away for just a moment. She leaned in, her voice low so those around us couldn't hear. "I guess I have you to thank for teaching Carl that swirly thing he does with his tongue."

  The girls all giggled. I found myself liking this woman. Her friendly aura put us at ease. She could have very easily been catty or nasty to us all; it seemed Carl had pretty much told her everything about us. Instead, she greeted us as if we had known her forever.

  "Listen, I know you guys didn't part as friends," Aubrey said, the sorrow returning. "That was his one big regret in life. He couldn't live that lifestyle . . . and he couldn't just let you go. I tried to get him to call you a couple of years ago . . . but he wouldn't. Katie, you were his 'what if . . .' and I don't ever think he made peace with what he did to you. I know he wanted to say he was sorry."

  Katie reached out and took the other woman in her arms. They held each other for a long moment, each whispering in the other's ear.

  "I guess I should also thank you," Aubrey wiped her eyes. "He was the best husband I could ask for and I know it's because he didn't want to hurt me the way he hurt you. And not just you, Katie . . . he broke all your hearts and he wanted so desperately to make things right with you all."

  Leah and Melinda joined their embrace and Aubrey even gave me a warm hug. I made a mental note to send her flowers or something nice after all this was over.

  "I've got to go. Other guests to see; I'm the grieving widow and all that," she rolled her eyes at having to go through everything associated with the funeral. She obviously wanted all of her public duties to be over so she could grieve in her own way and under her own terms. This is going to sound really selfish, but when it's our time to go, I hope I'm the first; I don't know that I could bring myself to bury any of my wives. It will break my heart. Aubrey squeezed Katie's hand one more time. "Thanks again."

  Then she turned and was gone. We stood there for a minute with our arms around each other as Aubrey's words sank in.

  "Let's go," Katie said softly. She obviously needed some time to think and the quicker we got away from a room full of strangers, the better. We'd be back tomorrow for the funeral anyway.

  I led the way out. The girls were first through the door as I held it open for a couple on their way in.

  We were halfway to our car when I heard a voice from behind us.

  "Katie?"

  T
he four of us stopped in our tracks, wondering who would be calling. I turned and saw two women. One I immediately recognised; it took me a second to place the other one. Pam walked tentatively towards us, clearly uncomfortable. She smiled apologetically at us.

  "Mama!" Our wife ran past me and threw her arms around her mother. The other woman took a second, then embraced her daughter, whom she hadn't seen in over six years. I exchanged glances with my other two wives. There was a dark look in Leah's eyes. Melinda frowned. Both of their body language turned instantly defensive.

  "I'm sorry for ambushing you guys like this," Pam whispered to me. "But Mom was afraid you wouldn't come if you knew she'd be here."

  "What does she want?" There was a hard edge in Leah's voice.

  "I think she wants to make up for lost time," Katie's sister said quietly.

  "She's lost a lot of time." I couldn't blame Leah for the anger she felt. After all, she was the one who had to hold Katie's broken heart together every time her mother did something mean and spiteful. If looks could kill, Leah would have struck Katie's mom dead in her tracks.

  We stood there uncomfortably for a few minutes as Katie and her mom held each other. Both were crying.

  After a few minutes, they withdrew, but Katie still held her mother's hand, as if she were afraid to let go. They looked over at us, and the difference in demeanor between the two was remarkable.

  Katie was overcome with relief and joy. Susan appeared to be full of fear and apprehension.

  The six of us stood there awkwardly for a few moments. I reached out and gave Katie's mom a tentative hug, trying to break the ice. Melinda didn't move. Leah was willing herself not to reach out and throttle the older woman.

  "Would you all like to come back to my house for a little while?" Susan asked, clearly uncomfortable.