ANNIE'S SONG
I know, I signed off and said forget about it. The insults, the mockery, and the comment tool to improve content destroyed my interest in writing. But, like my second piece, I heard another oldie on the radio. I don't think I'd heard any John Denver song on the radio in 10 years. It was Annie's Song. It moved me and caused me to open Microsoft Word. Five hours later, I was here writing an introduction. So, here is my tribute to my Annie (not her name) but she's a real woman who helped me regain a sense of worth. The story is entirely fiction, built around a kind human being who is still married to her Bubba -- the rest was my imagination. Only a couple of references to sex in this story -- it's about learning to love in your 60's. Bear with it, it is long, but I hope you'll feel better when you reach the second half.
Please save the comments that it's too long. Yes, it is! I felt every one of them. I should have sought an editor, but I just went with the WORD edit function. My mistake if I've missed the need for changes.
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It's me -- Numbnutz -- a somewhat less than affectionate nickname given me by my father in my youth. Oh, it wasn't the only nickname I had, 'knucklehead' and another loving name -- Stupid! Don't get me wrong -- my parents loved me, and me being the first borne son, I gathered a lot more attention that the other 4 kids in my family. Most of it was good, some not so good, and a few times downright awful.
I remember one event like it happened yesterday. I misbehaved in 2
nd
grade and was given a punishment assignment -- I had to write out the alphabet 24 times on 3-hole paper. When my dad questioned what I was doing, I lied and told him that everyone in the class had to do it. Our neighbor's son was in my class, so Dad called him and asked about the punishment. He said, "what punishment". This was back in the fifties and my ass was beaten for almost 15 minutes when my mother -- always afraid of my father, pulled him off me saying "you're killing him -- STOP". It took another five minutes to calm him down. Turns out, it was part of a long history of me not hearing the instructions correctly. I was 7 years old and had spent four hours writing letters when the teacher wanted me to improve writing letters properly.
My father is long since departed and while he was my coach in sports, we stopped connecting emotionally in my teen years and any response to him was out of fear, rather than out of love for my dad. Why am I writing this? Because I'm dying -- but I'm now ready to accept my mortality! Why now, because the past 10 years have been the happiest of my life! How did I start to enjoy my life? I thought it was because I dumped the wife of 30 years, then worked to find the real me while living alone, and ultimately learning to enjoy each moment of life. No, I didn't do that by myself. I met someone who taught me what it was like to commit to a life -- body, mind, soul, and heart!
Let me tell you about those OK years, the normal ones, declining years, and then the awful ones. My wife and I met in the new melting pot of the US in the 70's -- Atlanta -- living in the same apartment complex. She lived across the complex from me, and the complex had regular 'get togethers' on Monday nights. Sometimes it was Bingo or Trivia and other times it was an actual party with a band. I don't think anyone used DJ's back in the day -- too many LP's and 45's to carry. It's OK if you don't know what they are -- ask your grandparents! It was at one of those parties that I met Penny for the first time. She was giving this guy a ration of shit -- after all, this was the era when "put-downs" were an artform and she could handle all the colors on that palette. He was with a friend who was laughing his ass off seeing his friend berated by a chic he wanted to fuck. Good luck on that. I assumed he must have deserved it, so I smiled at her and said, "Keep up the good work!" and walked away.
It was about six weeks later that I was at another party and noticed Penny. She was always very loud wanting to be the center of attention. I went over to say hello and was introduced to her friend, an ex-roommate from college. Her name was Janice, and she was crashing with Penny because she had a bad fight with her husband. She lived in Jacksonville and decided it was time to escape the marriage. After the introduction, I went over to grab a beer and noticed Penny at the bar locking lips with a guy from my building. I saw a couple of friends I hadn't said hello to yet so tried to move across the packed floor when Janice started eyeing me. She was cute, but a little chubby but had a beautiful smile. We started to chat, and I learned that her 2
nd
husband had abused her, and she said she had filed for divorce. With the sob story finished and me being a good listener we headed to the bar for drinks.
The clubhouse was jumping, and my hearing was less than ideal, I asked if she would like to go to my apartment for some wine and snacks. Now I considered myself a decent and moral person. But she did say she'd filed for divorce and five minutes later, I'm lying on the floor in my den and Janice had my cock and balls deep in her mouth. After bringing me to orgasm and swallowing the entire load (a messy one, it had been a while), she's moving up towards me. I'm thinking she's pissed that she swallowed a very messy load. No, she says "Let's go to the bedroom". That started the most amazing six weeks of my life to that point. I was in love -- I did that too often -- and I was trying to think how I could break it to my devout Catholic family that I wanted to marry a 26-year-old woman who was twice divorced. Turned out, I didn't need to worry about it -- she came to me on a Thursday night with the 'we need to talk'. She lied to me about the filing for divorce. She's still very married. OK, I can live with that! But what next? "Gary, I'm pregnant!"
'Oh, I am in deep shit' I thought. Then Janice spoke "Don't worry, it's not yours. I found out two weeks ago after having a couple of bouts of morning sickness. I went to the OB/GYN and found out that I'm about 8 weeks pregnant, maybe a little more. I'm going back to my husband to see if we can work it out." She was leaving as soon as she picked up her stuff from my apartment and I told her I appreciated her wanting to say goodbye. I had professed my love to her but also knew it was more the sex than the building relationship. I was sad, not angry, and wished her well. I got a card from her announcing the birth of her son, 9 months, 2 days after we had sex the first time.
Well after that short but hot affair, I went on a long cold streak. Penny called me once as she had tickets to a tennis tournament and would I go with her. It was boring but it was a night out. Two months later, it was the Atlanta Steeplechase -- a society event that was always crashed by us ne'er do-wells. That was enjoyable for an hour -- only it was five hours before we could leave. But eventually, I returned fire with Atlanta Hawks and Flames tickets (yes, they were in Atlanta then!). We were friends, but still hadn't kissed in a town where sex on the first date was a given.
I had dates but nothing clicked until I started dating a slightly younger woman who was cute as hell but said she wouldn't "fool around" as she was saving herself for marriage. At that six-week mark, all signals were 'go' and we were discussing our career plans. I figured this was the prelude to that next deeper question of 'do you love kids?
I looked at her and knew I could marry this girl. After a 10-day business trip, I called Christine to tell her I bought tickets for a Broadway play at the Fox Theatre and she said, "Sorry, I can't make it. I have plans for the next week that I can't change! Call me the week after next!" Her words were ice-cold. Should I take that as a family trip, a business trip, or a better offer. I took it as the latter. I may have chosen wrong, but she never got that next call from me. But I did have those tickets and called my fallback friend, and we went and had a great time. She sure could talk up a storm.