*Author's Note*
The fourth part. Remember, all comments, graciously accepted!
Enjoy!
******
Other People's Drama
Colorado (2)
It's been two months since Riley went home. My world is different, but I'm trying to make the best of it.
I'm on my way to see my shrink.
Something I do, every twenty-one days.
It's a 250-mile round trip to the VA Medical Center in Denver each time, but I do it, because the shrink says I need to. As dysfunctional as I am, I'm in no position to argue.
Telling her about the Gulf was easy - I needed to share it, in order to find some justification for it. I did a lot of scary shit over there.
A couple of months in, after I'd become pretty comfortable with her, (yeah, my shrink is a female) in the middle of a session, I sat up, and told her about Lilli. By the time I was finished, I was in tears.
Finally,
another adult knew what I had done.
"Why did it end?" Carolyn asked.
"It had to... common sense said it had to..." I mumbled.
"Do you think her issues were any less severe because she was 'just a kid'?"
I'd used that exact description at least 100 times during my dissertation. Carolyn was trying to make a point. It only took her a second to realize, I had no idea how to answer her question.
"Do
you
feel as though you took advantage of her, because she was 'just a kid'?"
"I don't want to..."
"Only you can make that decision. Nothing I can say, will help you."
"Do you think I was wrong?"
"Just like the last time you asked that question, I'm not going to answer it."
"I know... I know... You weren't there, or involved, so you don't get an opinion," I blurted out.
"And?"
"You're not here to judge or condemn. You're here to help me find my own answers..."
After a second, she smiled at me, and added, "If you had married her, I think it would have made an amazing case study for a bunch of social and mental health journals..."
It took another two months before I told her about Kirsten.
Her response - or lack of one - scared me. But, if it was time for me to pay the price for all my questionable deeds, I was okay with that. What I didn't know, was that Carolyn had contacted Kirsten that same day. She too, worked for the VA, so it wasn't all that hard to find her. After identifying herself, Carolyn started asking questions.
Kirsten's first words when she heard my name, were 'oh god... he's in trouble... isn't he?'
Kirsten admitted that she had no idea what had been going on at the time, but that shortly after I left, the girls had confessed all. She told Carolyn that, the sexual stuff aside, I had been the single most positive thing that had happened to the girls, since the day their father disappeared. She explained how she went from struggling to control an eighteen-year-old slut, who would fuck just about anyone, and a twenty-year-old who, unbeknownst to her, was basically a high-priced prostitute, to having two apparently normal daughters, the older of which, had actually been accepted to a major university. I find it interesting that Kirsten apparently never mentioned the six weeks Riley spent with me, in the mountains.
Needless to say, Carolyn was a bit taken back by the conversation. More so, when Kirsten told her that, if necessary, she and the girls will deny that any of it ever happened.
Weirdly enough, Carolyn and I never again discuss Kirsten and the girls.
After two more months of talking, Carolyn finally asks the question I've been anticipating since our sessions started...
"So, why have you chosen to isolate yourself up in the mountains?"
"Oh, come on...
seriously?
"
"Are you afraid that, if given the opportunity, you'll repeat past behaviors?"
"Wouldn't you be?"
I watch her scribbling notes on a pad in her lap. After a second, she again makes eye contact with me.
"Thing is, Doc, I think I have this weird obsession, and I'm not sure how to deal with it."
"If you find yourself exposed to young women again, will you follow the same path?"
"Uh... well..." I mumble, not willing to answer her question.
"They were all 'of age' - you do realize that, right?"
"Yeah, Doc... but does that make it 'right'? Oh just 'legal'."
"It happens a lot more than you think, Lucas. It's just not something most of the world is willing to openly discuss. Sometimes, humans don't get to choose who they are attracted to, or who they fall in love with - it simply happens. There was a time in history when large age differences were common, and widely accepted."
"Again, does that knowledge make it right - in our current society?"
"You need to decide that for yourself. Let's keep in mind that not all your escapades have been with younger women. You dated Penny on active duty, and she was within two months of you age wise. And, of course, there's Kirsten - she was a bit older than you."
I sit silently, staring at her.
"I'm honestly not sure that isolating yourself, in the middle of nowhere, is the right solution, Lucas," she continues. "You need to face the issue, and deal with it - not hide from it. The longer you stay up there, the more difficult coming back will be."
When I don't respond, she shakes her head, and continues.
"The dreams. You said they have returned - in earnest."
"Yeah, Doc, they have. But they are far easier to deal with, than the other issue. I wake myself up, and the dreams end. I get around girls, and..."
"'Girls' are not the problem. A lack of 'people' is. When we are done, what are you going to do?"
"Go home."
"Back to the side of a mountain, alone?"
The face I make, is enough to answer her question.
"I think you need to be around
people
, Lucas," she says, interrupting my thoughts. "And yes, women are going to be part of that. As long as they are adults, you will have to choose your course where women are concerned."
A number of strange images start forming as she is talking.
"If you have been honest with me, the women of your past have all sought you out - you didn't manipulate or coerce any of them, right?"
I nod, and give her a forced smile.
"I think interacting with people on a daily basis, will curb your mind's need for the dreams, and will help you recover some of the 'moral standards' you seem to believe you have lost - even if women become involved. We can also try some medications - if you have changed your mind, and feel you need to go that direction."
We've discussed the med thing multiple times. I'm trying not to go there, which is why I live on the side of a mountain.
"It will be a good test for you. If you feel you are about to become involved in a 'situation' again, you can always come talk to me."
"Yeah... I suppose..." I mumble.
"So, what do you say? Are you ready to try civilization again?"
With that conversation, I start the process of moving.
Again.
******
I manage to find a compromise to moving back to the city. It's a small, older, subdivision on the outskirts of a small college town. I'm now about sixty-five miles from the medical center. I still have the A-frame - just in case. One never knows when one might require solitude.
The house is twenty-five years old, and was the last home of a sixty-eight-year-old woman who passed from cancer. I get lucky in that I'm standing in the realtor's office the day the family comes in to list it. It needs some work, and they aren't in a position to take care of it, so they're willing to deal. Two weeks later, I have the storage company deliver all the stuff they are holding for me. It takes me another three weeks to get 'moved in'.
The neighborhood is pretty mellow. It's full of middle class/middle income, thirty and forty somethings, most of which have kids. There are a few teenagers, but most of the kids belong to the thirty somethings, and are of grade school age.
The oldest member of the neighborhood lives directly across the street from me.
Mr. Brock. He's ninety-three. He's a WWII vet. We sit on his porch, tell war stories (well, he tells the stories, I mostly listen) and drink one beer, every Friday afternoon. The house actually belongs to his granddaughter, who comes to check on him once a week.
A number of my neighbors have come and introduced themselves, and I've done my best to be personable. Carolyn says I need to 'interact', and being an ass, would make that difficult. The most comical thing about it all, is that two women - both of which are married - have already hit on me. And, neither was very subtle. In order to curb all that possible drama, I let out that I'm a war vet, who does in fact, have some issues. That bit of info changes a number of attitudes.
So, that drama avoided, a new one is about to present itself.
I'm sitting in a small book store, in Old Town, typing and drinking coffee, when I realize a girl two tables away from me, is diligently staring at me. This isn't all that strange in that almost everyone who meets me, has trouble believing I'm as old as I am. While on occasion, I have heard 'late twenties' (yeah, right), most guess 'thirties'. I just turned forty-two.
Thank you, military training... :-)
It's blatantly obvious she's a college kid - she has that cheesy, bubble-gum-look about her. I'm guessing she's older - about to graduate, or perhaps is already a graduate student. Although she isn't 'model gorgeous', she's definitely cute. Short brown hair, big brown eyes, little if any makeup, and a somewhat infectious smile - when she shares it. The one thing I do notice is that she's... well... 'plump' I think I'll call it. She's by no means overweight - she just has some meat on her bones.
Almost instantly, an image of Riley's eighteen-year-old butt, in the white bikini, pops into my head, and makes me smile. She sees me, and smiles back. I find myself wondering what she would say if I were to tell her she reminds me of an amazing nineteen-year-old, with an awesomely cute ass...
I let the thing between us go on for another ten minutes, making direct eye contact with her every so often. I find it a bit intriguing, that she doesn't make any attempt to hide the fact I have totally captured her attention. Finally, I call her out...
"Okay, this is getting weird. You have two choices. Come over here," I pause and, with my foot, push out one of the chairs at my table, "and join me, or turn around and face a different direction. Please?"
(uh oh... what am I doing?)
The girl blushes the most amazing red I think I have ever seen on a face. The moment she hears all the giggles, and realizes a number of other patrons are now looking at her, the color deepens. After a few seconds hesitation, she stands, picks up the books on the table in front of her, a backpack from the floor, and crosses the small coffee shop area. When she reaches the table, she puts her books on it, drops the backpack, and takes a seat next to me, rather than opposite me. She waits (I think for everyone to go back to their own business) a full minute or so, and then finally speaks.
"I'm pretty sure this is going to sound totally absurd, but I think I am mad-crushing on you, and I have no damn idea why."
I close my laptop, pick up my cup, take a drink of the now luke-warm coffee, and then put it back where I got it. Without saying anything, I lean forward and take her wrist, and she doesn't try to stop me. Once I find her pulse, I look up the large clock on the wall, and diligently watch the second hand. Finally, I let go of her wrist, and smile at her.
"Pulse rate around 182 while sitting still. You are either 'mad-crushing', or you need to see a doctor right away."
