Several months after Tiffany left for college, Emily said she wasn't feeling well; she'd lost weight, had abdominal pains, and some nausea, so she scheduled a doctor's appointment. Many tests later, the doctors diagnosed Emily with a Stage III cancerous ovarian tumor. They advised us the prognosis wasn't good. Their advice was for us to make out our wills and funeral plans. Emily had both chemotherapy and surgery. She tried to be strong, but several months of chemo were pure hell for her. I tried comforting her the best I could, knowing we weren't going to be together very much longer.
The hospital medical staff provided excellent care, but I'm not sure the surgery and chemotherapy were worth it; it seemed they caused as much pain as the tumor, and they only prolonged her life a month or so. In late April, Emily, my wife of 26 years, succumbed to cancer. Tiffany came home for a few days, which helped me a lot--I really needed her support at that time.
You don't know loneliness until the love of your life is gone. Day after dreary day, I came home to an empty house and stared at the four walls. Nothing interested me anymore--life didn't seem worth living. Although I wasn't aware of the depth of it at the time, I'd fallen into a deep depression. At one point I'd contemplated suicide, and I might have gone ahead with it, but for Tiffany's sake.
George and Donna had been some of our best friends and neighbors when Mark and Tiffany were growing up. Emily and Donna frequently went shopping together; George and I were on the same bowling team. The Kraft's would frequently invite our family to their house to play cards, or we'd invite them to watch football or join a cookout in the back yard. After Emily's death, they continued involving me in their social circle, but I felt I stood out like a third thumb.
The last time I spent any time with George and Donna was at a Bengals football game in early November. When, for a month or so, I didn't hear anything from George or Donna, I assumed they were busy, because we were in the middle of the holiday season. It was as if they had disappeared from the planet. Then my neighbor across the street told me he'd heard they were getting a divorce. It surprised me because they'd always seemed to be a happy couple. Donna found out George was having an affair with his 28-year old secretary. Apparently, he decided he liked young pussy better than Donna's, so Donna divorced him in 2002. Donna got the house, the second car, and alimony in the divorce settlement. George had a substantial income from his insurance business, so Donna didn't have to worry too much about her finances.
Several months after her divorce, I met Donna at the mailbox; the mailboxes in our subdivision were all placed together, at the end of the cul de sac. I hadn't seen Donna for quite awhile. Her dress was rumpled, she wasn't wearing any make-up, her hair was disheveled, and she smelled of alcohol. She didn't resemble the same well-dressed Donna I'd known for the past ten years.
I don't know why--maybe I felt sorry for her--but I asked her if she'd like to join me for dinner at a popular cafeteria in town that evening. She accepted. By the time I picked her up around six, she at least looked presentable. As we drove to town, I thought to myself that it was good to be in the company of a female again. Donna didn't talk much over dinner, but said she hadn't been out much since her divorce. I told her that I hadn't been out much since Emily died, either.
Within a month or so, we started spending more time together. First it was just going out to eat together, because we were both lonely, and it was better than dining alone. Eventually, Donna invited me to her house for dinner. Later, I asked her to my house and grilled a couple steaks in the back yard. Little by little, we found ourselves drawn closer.
I think it was sometime during the summer when Donna and I had sex the first time. It had been several years since I'd savored sex with a woman. Donna said she enjoyed it, too. In a few more months Donna and I were regularly sleeping together, either at her house or mine. We'd make love whenever the mood struck us, which sometimes turned out to be more than once a day.
During my marriage to Emily, we'd always enjoyed extended foreplay. When I started having sex with Donna, she seemed surprised when I asked to give her oral sex. She said George was never interested in it. Anyway, I must have awakened something in her, because she'd get wild in bed, having orgasm after orgasm--George never knew what he was missing. Donna said she'd never given a blowjob, but wanted to return the oral pleasure I'd given her. She learned fast, and it wasn't long until she was swallowing, like a pro.
Occasionally during our foreplay, I'd give Donna a clit massage. I'd put a few drops of lubricant on her clitoris, then I'd tease her by slowly making little circles around and around it with my index finger, but never making direct contact on her clitoris, itself. After a few minutes, she'd be begging me to make her cum. When she reached that state of sexual excitement, it would only take a few feathery touches on her clitoris and her pussy would start throbbing, and she'd have a wondrous orgasm. The inner lips of her pussy were fairly small, so when her pussy would throb, they would pull together, and then they'd open up again. It was almost like her pussy was winking at me. She'd grab the sheets with both hands, her fingers drawn into claws, her eyes rolling back in her head, and her body shaking as if she were in an earthquake. While her pussy was throbbing during her orgasm, her anus pulsed in cadence with it, and she'd make funny little noises when she breathed.
Of course after Donna was completely aroused, she wanted to fuck, and I was more than happy to oblige her. We'd fuck like there was no tomorrow. One day, when Donna and I were naked in bed, having sex, I heard, "Dad, I'm ashamed of you!"
I'd forgotten Tiffany always had a key to our house; she'd come to visit over the three-day Labor Day weekend and didn't call because she wanted to surprise me. Now it was my turn to be mortified. Donna and I must have looked pretty embarrassed trying to cover ourselves with Tiffany looking on. I was at a loss for words. I don't recall exactly what I said, but it wasn't very intelligent.
Tiffany thought we should have a daughter-father talk. She said that if we wanted to have sex, we ought to at least get married first. I told her I'd deliberate on it awhile. Donna was undecided about getting married, since she'd already been burned by George's infidelity. We agreed we'd live together for awhile, as many couples do these days, to see if our relationship worked out.
Since Donna and I shared so much of our lives, our children came up often in conversations. Donna would mention something about Mark and I'd tell Donna what Tiffany had been doing. By 2003, Mark had achieved the rank of corporal and Tiffany was a junior in college. Now that Donna and I were in a relationship, the world seemed a little brighter somehow, and Donna had given up alcohol.
Although I truly missed Emily, Donna greatly eased the pain of her loss. Sometimes I even called her Emily, by mistake. She'd laugh and correct me. On several occasions, she forgot and called me George. However, we soon fell into a familiar routine with one another; I began learning her likes and dislikes, as she learned mine. The only unease I found with Donna was her concern for Mark.
In early 2004, Donna told me Mark's unit had been sent to Iraq. Donna was extremely worried about him, as well she should have been. In April of 2004, Donna received a letter from Mark saying his battalion was going to support several other Marine units at a town named Fallujah. A few days later, Donna received a phone call from a Navy chaplain that Mark had been wounded in combat and had been flown to Germany to recover. All she knew was that he'd received shrapnel lacerations during a battle, had been unconscious, and his hand was injured.
Donna was beside herself, tormented by all sorts of grim thoughts about Mark's condition, until Mark, himself, called several days later. His right hand had been amputated at the wrist from battle injuries. He said he'd had a concussion and a cut above his eye where a chunk of metal hit him. All his other injuries were relatively minor, according to him, although Donna found out later that he had numerous other flesh wounds on his body.
A few weeks went by, and Mark came back to the US on an Air Force plane and was sent to a military hospital in New Jersey. Donna flew there to meet him and spend some time together for a couple weeks. While Donna was visiting him, Mark was awarded the Bronze Star and Purple Heart medals for his service in Iraq.
During the time Donna was on the east coast visiting Mark in the hospital, I was attending Tiffany's college graduation, proud that she'd completed her studies. With her degree, Tiffany was eligible to take the national nursing licensing exam. She had become a confident, smart young woman. I thought to myself that she had come a long way since the unpleasant day of "the incident."
After graduation ceremonies at Ohio Stadium, I took Tiffany to a nice restaurant to celebrate. Over our meal, she told me she eventually wanted to get a pediatric nursing job somewhere near home. I mentioned Donna had gone to visit Mark in the hospital. Tiffany hadn't heard about Mark's injuries, but seemed concerned when I told her. I asked if she had any feelings toward Mark, and she said she wasn't sure, since it had been five years since she'd last seen him. The way she acted, I thought I sensed a spark of interest, but didn't push her anymore on that subject.
After Mark was fitted with a prosthesis, he was transferred to the Cincinnati VA Hospital for further therapy and rehabilitation. I accompanied Donna on one of her trips to visit him. My first meeting after all those years was a little awkward. I reached out to shake his hand, and he led with his left. I'd almost forgotten that he had a prosthesis on his right one.
One of the first things he said to me was, "Mr Jenkins, I really want to apologize about what happened the day you caught Tiffany and me together in bed. I've grown up a lot since then."
"I know you have Mark--I've forgiven you and Tiffany."
We talked for a little while about the Marine Corps. He didn't seem to want to talk about Iraq, so I changed the subject and mentioned what had happened in the neighborhood since he'd left a few years ago. I asked if he was dating. He said that he'd dated a number of women since he graduated from high school, but hadn't met anyone whom he liked as much as Tiffany.
