by Jamie Knight
I idolized him in scattered moments. But I really didn't know my father.
For the first few days that he was home, I would yelp, startled when I walked into a room and he was there, or if I was in a room and he would walk in. I could tell that he was embarrassed when it happened.
I could only imagine how he might feel, feeling like a complete stranger in his own house. But, the fact was that he had spent so little time there, it was almost like he was a stranger.
My mother acted like he had never left, though. Despite her waning health, she kept in great spirits. When the cancer hit hard, the doctors had put her on so many medications that she was hardly alert at all most days. Her best days, though, were the ones in which she was able to see my father. The nurses said that those were the days when she would smile the most.
On days when she didn't see my father, they said that she was withdrawn and irritable, that she didn't want to cooperate. Those were the days when we would get the calls from the hospital, begging us to have someone come down and help with her, to talk to her, to soothe her.
I would always go, of course. I’d be by her side constantly, just like she had always been by mine. But I knew that all she really wanted was to see my father.
But, when he couldn't come, when it would just be me, Mom acted like I was someone that she didn't know. The doctors explained to me that the cancer had spread to her brain and that she had a condition similar to dementia. For the most part, she knew who I was, but sometimes she would be delirious or just not be herself.
One day, when my father had been out of town for a brief trip, I got a call and went to the hospital. When I got there, my mother’s face was red. They said that she had been throwing things. They had her barricaded in one of the rooms and they were waiting for me to arrive. I went into the room and saw my mother sitting there fuming like a raging bull.
“Mom, what's going on?” I asked.
“These fucking idiots aren't letting me have my ice cream. They told me that I could have my ice cream if I let them fucking poke me with the needle and now they're trying to tell me that they're fucking out of ice cream. They can all suck a bag of dicks!”
She was fuming mad. I had never seen her so upset. She was usually happy and liked to get along with people, and she rarely cursed. But, I knew that she was not herself. And that whatever had brought on this change in her attitude had nothing to do with ice cream.
“It's okay, Mom,” I said. “I can take you to go get some ice cream when we leave here.”
“I don’t want your fucking ice cream!” she screamed, even louder now. “I want the ice cream that they promised me!”
There was no reasoning with her. She started to throw more things in the room, tissue boxes, her slippers. I had to dodge a book that almost hit me in the head. I slipped out of the room just in time to hear a glass crashing against the door.
I broke down and cried once I got home. My mother lived a few more months after that, but I always thought of that day as the one in which I had truly lost my mother.
After she passed, it was hard dealing with the realization that she was gone. Even though I had heard the doctors tell me some years back what was happening with her, it didn't really sink in until after she was gone.
I remember my grandmother coming into town for about a week. She made a few pans of lasagna and asked me if I wanted to come stay with her and my grandpa for a while. I told her that I didn't and she didn't really push the issue.
When she left, it was just me and my dad in the house. At first, we didn't say much to each other. We simply coexisted.
My father had been given a few weeks of leave to decide what he wanted to do. He had already been gone from active duty in the Air Force for a year while he was caring for my mother.
From what I could tell, they had been really understanding about everything that was going on and told my father to take all of the time that he needed. I guess they figured that all he needed was a week more to decide on what he wanted to do for the rest of his life now that his wife was gone.
Of course, that was a silly thought. So, he just kind of sat around the house, staring, sometimes at the TV, sometimes at his plate if he attempted eating, and other times at the blank wall of nothing. I stayed around the house, partly because I was so lost, of course—but also out of sheer curiosity.
I didn't really know enough about my father's personality under normal circumstances, let alone how he might react in crisis. I didn't know the extent of the relationship that he had had with my mother, or his end of things. I just imagined that he couldn't have been too emotionally invested if he had to spend as much time away from her as he did. But I suppose her death hit him just as hard as it had hit me, even though it was difficult to see it at the time.
Eventually, he chose to go back to work, and threw himself into it even more than before. It was just his way of getting through his grief. It meant I was home a lot by myself, but I got used to it. I had school, and Grace, and my other friends, and knew that I too would just have to find a way to work through my own grief. But, boy, was it lonely sometimes.
Chapter 7 - Natalia
Just then, the honking of the truck out front broke me out of my swirling thoughts of parents and the past. I ran outside to meet the driver, seeing that my car was hoisted up on the back.
My mouth fell open when I saw the driver. Here I was expecting a middle aged, overweight guy covered in gray hair with a gut hanging over his belt, dirty with grit from towing cars all day. That’s what his voice on the phone had sounded like.
What I saw, though, was something else altogether. He was a guy about my age. He looked like one of the football players that I'd gone to high school with, the ones with whom I’d wanted nothing to do, because they were so mean and full of themselves.
“Well, hello there, gorgeous,” he said, throwing me a charming smile.
“Hi,” I answered back, flatly. It was disappointing to hear such a boyish approach when I was sitting here on the verge to full womanhood. Well, maybe not entirely full…
“How lucky—a hot guy like me running into a hot girl like you?” he said, brushing his long, blonde hair out of his face.
I rolled my eyes at his bad attempt at flirting. I had to stifle laughter as he stepped closer to me, fanning his neck so that I could get a whiff of the cologne that he was wearing.
“How do I smell?” he asked.
“Pretty good,” I said, patronizingly.
He leaned back and smiled, fully satisfied with himself.
“I bought it from the mall. It's called Man Musk. It's aftershave. Because I shave now.”
I couldn't hold back my laughter. I could see his shoulders droop a little as he started to realize that his hotness was not getting him the sizzle that he was looking for.
He shrugged and walked away, heading toward the back of his truck where my car was. He unlatched it, lowered the flat bed, put my car in neutral, and backed it onto the driveway. He shoved a clipboard toward me, mumbling for me to sign it. I did. He threw the keys in my direction, jumped back in his truck, and drove away.
I was slightly amused at the way that the tow truck guy had acted. If the shoe had been on the other foot and I was the one getting laughed at by someone with whom I was shamelessly flirting, I would probably feel embarrassed or angry, too. But, I didn't really care.
There was only one person that I was thinking about, the one person that I probably shouldn't have been even thinking about. That was likely why I was having a hard time thinking about much else, other than him, even knowing that there would be so much trouble if it was found out.
My father would have been disappointed at the very least and be very angry at the most. But, I couldn't help but feel a burning attraction, one that I couldn't control and wouldn't want to even if I could.
Bradley.
My father told me that one of his Air Force buddies was going to be staying with u
s for a while, but I didn't remember when he said that he was coming. I had been going out so much lately that I really wasn't spending a lot of time at home, anyway.
My dad had called me yesterday, saying that he was going to be leaving town soon and that he wanted to have dinner with me at least once before he left. I told him that I would be there and would have been early if my car had not broken down. He didn't mention that we would have a dinner guest, though, so I was slightly caught off guard when I saw him.
Sure, he looked older, but not in an old man kind of way. He looked seasoned, like he had had some adventures in life, like he had seen amazing things that he couldn't wait to share with others.
He had dark hair and a serious face. His eyes were sharp, but kind. He held his head with an air of confidence that drew me to him. I could feel his eyes watching me when I walked in the door. When I came over to the table, there was a warmth exuding from him, almost like a fire.
Who was this man?
When we talked for a bit, for the few minutes that my father had walked away, I felt a calmness just listening to him. There was almost a seductive way that he talked to me, making me want to talk to him more, to be in his presence.
I tried to tell myself not to think about him in that way. He was much older than I was. I knew that my attraction to him was nothing more than a fantasy. I was sure that he looked at me like a little kid, not as a woman that he could entertain in a sensual way.
But, even knowing that didn't stop me from thinking about him, from imagining the unimaginable. There was no one who could compete with him.
He was handsome in a way I hadn’t noticed in other men before. I’d always been attracted to guys my age, I guess, like most girls I knew. So I never really noticed other men like Bradley before, not one bit, really. But he was like a magnet to my eyes.
He seemed both experienced and fresh; he didn’t feel as old as I guessed he was. There was something exciting about him, even with his air of calm. Like he knew about life, but he still wasn’t boring or all self-absorbed.
I laughed, thinking about how crazy I was being. But still, I was more disappointed that there was no chance of anything with Bradley. I had a feeling that there would be more disappointment to come, since the only person that I wanted to flirt with and to want me was so out of my reach.
When I got home, I went to my room and threw the keys on my dresser. My phone made a sound letting me know that I'd gotten a text message. It was Grace. I had texted her the night before, filling her in on all the details about Bradley. She told me to keep her posted on the details. I hadn't had anything to report yet, but as usual, she couldn't wait to get a juicy tidbit.
Grace: Have you made your move yet?
I laughed, thinking back on our conversation from the night before. Grace told me that I needed to stop letting my life pass me by, that even though I was young, I wouldn't live forever and that whenever life gave me the chance to grab it by the balls, that I should reach out my hand and give it a squeeze and stop being so scared.
I told her that I would give life a huge honking squeeze when I saw the opportunity. She asked me why I shouldn’t try to make things happen with Bradley, since I liked him so much?
I didn't respond when she asked that. So, now I took the opportunity and texted her back.
Me: No, I haven't tried yet.
Two seconds later she texted back her response.
Grace: Well, what are you waiting on? A dare? Fine! I dare you to make a move with Bradley.
I shook my head. It was nothing but Grace being Grace, but that didn't mean that I had to be pulled into her taunts. I didn't want to respond to her dare, so I turned my phone off instead.
It was stupid, anyway—just a silly crush. I didn't have hopes of it going anywhere. There were just too many reasons why it wouldn't. Why it shouldn't, really.
Chapter 8 - Natalia
I figured that my imagination was best spent wrapped up in the romance novel that I was reading. That way, at least I knew that it was a piece of fiction and I wouldn't entertain thoughts of it being real. Especially the ones that I liked to read.
This latest one was about a love affair on a pirate ship. It took me so far from my current reality that I felt like I was transported to another place every time I opened up its pages.
I found myself reading about one of the pirates getting the girl in the story alone.
He wasn't bad as far as pirates go. In fact, he looked rather handsome, his chiseled features glistening in the hot sun. I could see his muscles bulging underneath his open loose shirt as he stood in the doorway, his eyes focusing into the dark room where I sat cowering in the corner.
I couldn’t help but imagine that he was Bradley. And my heart quickened as I realized that he was looking at me. He started to walk toward me, each determined step matching the pounding in my ears. He closed the door behind him, making an air of quietness envelop the room. It almost felt as if no one was there except for us, not a whole crew of pirates running and yelling all over the ship.
He beckoned for me to come closer, his extended hand held out like a beacon as he stood as still as a statue. I stared at his hand, not sure if I should take it, but knowing that I didn't have much of a choice.
I reached out for his hand, my hand shaking so hard. He pulled me up toward him. I could smell his scent hot in my nose. He smelled of sweat and rum. As afraid as I was, there was something about this pirate, this man that was Bradley in disguise, that drew me to him, that excited me. His hands were all over me. I wanted him so bad...
I fanned myself as I grew excited right along with the heroine. I knew that feeling, of being turned on by someone, but feeling like you shouldn't be. That was exactly how I was feeling about Bradley. I put my hands between my legs and could feel heat emanating from them like I had been sitting on an oven.
I kept imagining that Bradley was the pirate and I was the girl in the story. I thought about what it would feel like in his arms, kissing him, letting him touch me all over. I crossed my legs as my pussy moistened and throbbed, my excitement growing more and more.
I opened my legs and put my finger into my panties, inching my way toward my hardening clit. It danced as my finger flicked back and forth against it. I pulled off my panties and let my pussy free, feeling a light breeze across my pubic hairs. I rubbed inside of my lips, feeling the slippery soft skin inside. I wiggled my fingers, touching the walls of my pussy, my hole gripping my fingers.
I moved my fingers in and out of my pussy, stopping only to lick my juicy wetness from my fingers, and plunge them back inside. I circled my hips, pumping them faster and faster. I imagined that Bradley's dick was inside of me, pushing deeper and deeper into my wet pussy. I moved my hand faster and faster until I came, whimpering as the waves of orgasm washed over me.
“Bradley,” I whimpered softly, the orgasm pulsing through my core.
The pleasure peaked and then started to fade. I lay still, enjoying the feeling of it reverberating through my body. As I stared at the ceiling, trying to catch my breath, I let my mind wander.
I started to imagine what life would be like if I could have what I really wanted. I always told people that I wanted to go to school to be an interior designer. But, that wasn't really the truth. That was just what I said because I felt like it was the responsible thing to say. It made me feel like I was doing the right thing, making a real plan for my life that would make things better, so that I wouldn't be wasting my life or whatever it was that everyone was afraid that I would be doing.
What I really wanted was to be a stay-at-home wife and mother. And now that I had met Bradley, I started to think about what it would be like if I could have that with him. I imagined us living in our own beautiful home as husband and wife with a few babies scampering around.
I thought about all the barbecues we could have in our backyard, all the decorating that I could do, all the cookies that I could bake and then send to
work with Bradley, or in our kids' lunch boxes for school. My smile was so big it almost hurt my face thinking about how happy I would be—how happy we could be.
But, the truth was, that could never happen. That was just a silly fantasy that would likely stay a fantasy forever.
Or would it?
My father would be gone for a while, like he always was, so Bradley and I would have plenty of time to spend together, hang out, and get to know each other. And if more than that happened, well, then, it happened.
I started thinking about Grace's dare. As crazy as it sounded at first, I was starting to think that maybe it wasn't such a crazy idea after all. In fact, the longer I lay there thinking about it, the more I thought that it might be something that I would want to do.
I smiled as I drifted off to sleep, my mind already beginning to devise a plan.
Chapter 9 - Bradley
I woke up the next morning excited to see what the day would bring. I knew that James would have been long gone by the time the sun got up, but my excitement had nothing to do with him, anyway.
It was about Natalia. Even though I told myself to stop thinking about her, it was almost impossible. She was the star in my dark night sky.
When I woke up, reality started to set in a little bit more as I tried to get out of bed and almost fell over, pain shooting through my knee and down my leg. It was becoming regular, waking up and finding myself in pain. It was a steady reminder of my condition, the one that aged me beyond my years.
I was sure that Natalia probably had a good scoff at my expense, thinking about the poor old man that her father had pitied enough to take into their home. She probably felt bad about telling me no to fixing her car. I was certain that she had already taken her car to a mechanic, rather than taking her chances with the old crippled guy who was so bad off, he was staying in her father's house.
But, I wanted to be a man of my word, so I pulled myself out of bed, got myself dressed, and went out to the garage to see if I could help with anything. To my surprise, the car was already there, and no work had been done as of yet.