My name is Abigale Young, and for me, the news hits close to home. Too close. A college girl (who shall go nameless) is being bombarded with hate-filled texts and emails regarding an alleged affair she had with her boyfriend's dad. Social media lights up with this story, much of it directed at the college student, telling her what a horrible person she is, that she deserves to die for what she did.
The girl and her family go public with vehement denials. She has no idea how the rumor started. She says her "life is destroyed."
Ohmygod, I sure hope not. Hopefully, this terrible rumor will blow over, and she will be able to live a normal life, free of the stigma that never should have been pinned on her in the first place.
It hits home for me because, well, because I'm becoming involved with Gary Brogan, father to Ken Brogan, my boyfriend. I should say ex-boyfriend. We broke up weeks ago. Like the college girl, I'm a nineteen-year-old college student. We even look somewhat alike. Petite. Straight blond hair, parted in the middle. Tawney complexion. I just hope that my life doesn't follow a parallel course with hers. I watch the video where she goes public to tell the world what the rumor has done to her life. It infuriates me. The girl doesn't deserve this.
You might be wondering how and why I'm about to hook up with a divorced man in his early forties, an ex-boyfriend's dad, no less.
It began with his son Ken. We met last year at a college fraternity party. We were both eighteen-year-old freshmen at different colleges, just a crosstown away from one another. He came up to me, beer in hand, telling me I was the "hottest" girl there. "This isn't false flattery," he said, "you really are."
The chemistry worked both ways. I like guys who are athletic, and Ken is. He plays lacrosse for Hopkins, one of the leading lacrosse colleges in the nation. He liked the fact that I'm an athlete also. I run cross-country in the fall and track in the spring. I'm no Parker Valby but I usually finish my running events in the top ten. We clicked, as they say, and began dating.
I met his dad Gary a few weeks later when Ken brought me over to his house, a large, older home with brown shingle siding, a slate roof, wrap-around porch and big lawns in a neighborhood of big lawns. Looks-wise, I could see that when it came to father and son, the apple did not fall far from the tree. Both have broad shoulders and stand a shade over six feet. Both are quite good-looking. I can see them as actors on a TV soap opera. Gary's a businessman, owns a GM automobile dealership and invests in commercial real estate. The family is well off, as anybody would know from the house and those expensive cars in the driveway. They also belong to a country club called Velvet Acres.
The summer when we were still together, Ken invited me swimming there. Gary was there also, sitting by the pool next to a woman he was seeing, someone around his age. Not to be conceited, but I look pretty good in a bikini. Some girls have the right figure for bikini wear and some don't. I do, and guys notice. Guys at the pool that day noticed, including Gary. He tried to be discreet as most guys would in the presence of their girlfriend. Later, I asked him if he had noticed me checking him out as well. He said he didn't. I thought he looked sexy in that Speedo swimsuit, all tanned and hirsute. He reminded me of an aging but still agile lion with plenty left in the tank. If you know what I mean.
Ken and I broke up over another girl, someone he wanted to date while he was seeing me. I'd have been okay with it had we been in more of a casual relationship. But it was more than that. It was intense. We were sleeping together. I was falling in love with the guy. To his credit, he was up front with everything. He didn't go behind my back. But it was either me or her, and he chose the latter.
*****
Exit Ken. Enter Gary.
It's not this spontaneous thing that just happened. Talk about chemistry; it was there when I first met him. I could see the way he looked at me, and I sensed that he could see that the attraction worked both ways. We even flirted. Ken noticed it. In fact, he joked about it. I harbored fantasies that I kept to myself, fantasies of seducing this hot, older guy. Not that I tried anything. I'm not that crass. But feelings are feelings. I felt what I felt. But I shied away from fully expressing myself in front of Ken. "Your dad's very good-looking," was as far as I went.
Some of my sorority sisters know how I feel about him. With them, I can express myself freely. Some laugh about it. Others tell me to be "careful." I'm still upset over the breakup with Ken, upset enough to where I seek solace in Gary's wise counsel. Not to start an affair, but to be comforted. He gives me insight into why Ken chose someone else over me.
Gary is supportive and soothing. "Affairs of the heart don't lend themselves to objective explanations," he says. "You shouldn't think that this girl is better than you in any way. Don't ask yourself, what does she have that I don't. You're a beautiful girl, Abigale, smart and a fine athlete. I know you're hurting. But in time, you'll pick yourself up, brush yourself off and move on. It's something that Ken's mom and I had to do when we divorced."
I keep calling and emailing. I don't feel like a pest because he encourages it. He asks me how I'm doing emotionally with the breakup. We also get into other things. I talk about my classes (I'm an economics major) and he talks about his business. We discuss movies we've seen, the music we listen to. I almost flip when he reveals that he's into classic rock. Boston is one of his favorite groups. Mine, too. Imagine that.
"Abigale, you're the kind of young lady that makes me wish I were a couple decades younger," he says.
"Oh, what's twenty years or so between people that communicate well," I say. "Besides, you don't look your age."
Then he says, "If I took you out to lunch, would you feel like my daughter?"
I laugh. "Not if you didn't feel like my dad. I hope that's an invitation."
It is. He picks me up in front of my dorm after my only class for the day. We both like sushi, so he takes me to the Azumi Grille. I'm dressed as I normally do for class, jeans, college logo sweatshirt and sneakers. Hair tied back in a ponytail. He's dressed business casual, long-sleeved, light blue shirt and khaki pants.
The sushi places I'd been to look more like glorified take-out joints: a few token tables and chairs that few customers use; dirty linoleum floor. The Azumi is a very different place, with well-appointed tables and chairs of leather and stainless steel, wood beams across the ceiling, hardwood flooring and picture windows. No surprise, the food is more expensive.
As soon as we take a booth, I ask if Ken knows about our lunch date. "No, I thought it best not to say anything," he says. "He does know we've talked on the phone."
"Is he okay with that?"
"Seems to be. He knows how upset you were. 'If Abigale feels better talking with you, then so be it,' is what he said to me."
"I'm not angry at Ken. Well, I was at first. But not now."
Gary smiles at me. "I'm glad you feel that way. Ken just needs to sew some wild oats."
Nodding, I say, "Yeah, that's the way I see it now." I peruse the menu for a few moments, then look up and say, "So how about you? Do you have any wild oats to sew?"
He looks up and grins. We both laugh. Then he says, "I didn't think so. But sitting across the table from a girl like you makes me rethink that."
I let that sink in. Then I say, "I'm not sure what to call you. I've been calling you Mr. Brogen. But somehow, given what we've shared so far, that doesn't seem quite right. And Gary...I don't know, I'm not quite there yet. If that makes any sense."
He nods. "I get it. To you, I was always Ken's dad and therefore, Mr. Brogan. But since you and Ken are no longer an item, and given these circumstances, as you said, you're not sure which way to go."
"These circumstances...Care to explain?" I flash him a teasing smile.
Hands folded on the table, he takes a deep breath. "Truthfully, I'm not sure. We have a good rapport. Plus, I'm madly attracted to you. And I get the feeling that you feel drawn to me too in that way. True?"
I raise my right arm. "True enough. No sense denying it. And I think I could be comfortable calling you Gary if these circumstances went further. Know what I mean?"
Chuckling, he says, "I think I do, Abigale.
