This is a short story that has been bouncing around in my brain for a while.
It's a story of pure love, the kind few of us ever experience.
As with everything I've written there's sex embedded into the story, but only when it's an integral part of the plot.
The story is always more important to me than meaningless gratuitous sex.
I hope you enjoy.
Senorlongo
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"The best laid plans...." That was just about all I could think. My wife Beth and I had planned our retirement for years and had everything ready for my sixty-second birthday. But Beth had been experiencing what she called minor occasional abdominal pain for more than a year. She had pooh-poohed my requests that she see her doctor, claiming it was muscle spasms or maybe uterine fibroids. "They're nothing. You'll see."
Well, of course, they weren't "nothing." "Nothing" turned out to be stage-four uterine cancer by the time she saw her gynecologist. Uterine cancer is easily treated if you get to it early enough. Beth's cancer had spread through almost all of her organs by the time of her surgery. She lived for six more daysânowhere near enough to tell her how much I loved her and how much I would miss her--then I laid her to rest next to our son, Thomas, who had been killed while serving his country in Iraq. As I stood there looking into the deep grave I realized that I was truly alone...alone for the first time in more than thirty years. To tell this story correctly I have to go back, all the way to the beginning.
Albertus Magnus Cochran, IIIâwho the hell tags a moniker like that on an innocent infant? My sadistic father and mother, that's who; then they couldn't understand why I was in so many fights in elementary school and junior high. Albertus, the first, had founded the firm and my father had succeeded him. They were both high-powered attorneys. I was supposed to meekly follow in their giant footsteps, but I fooled themâmy father, anyway.
Grandfatherânever Grandpa or Papaâpassed just before my eighteenth birthday, leaving me a trust fund that gave me an allowance of $1,000 a month until my thirtieth birthday. I went to see an attorney the day he died to check on a legal procedure then cut school on my birthday so I could go to court to get my name changed. From then on I was Bert Mâno period, just like Harry S TrumanâCochran. My parents were livid. They refused to speak with me and when I joined the U. S. Army instead of going to college I was disowned. I still had the trust fund--they couldn't touch that--but everything else was gone. I didn't care even a little. My childhood had been spent with nannies and at boarding school until I had intentionally flunked out. My mother was almost a total stranger. My father was even less.
I served six years in the United States Army, reaching the rank of Sergeant First Class, and it was the best time I'd ever known. I'd seen action in Kuwait and Iraq. Then I used the GI Bill to attend collegeânot my father's alma materâa state university where I studied education and earth science. I was hired for a position in a middle school and, once again, my father viewed me as a failure. "Can't even teach in the big leagues; I guess you're not smart enough for high school," was the first thing he said at what was supposed to be a reconciliation meetingâmy grandmother's funeral. I turned on my heels and walked away, never to return. Fuck him! Fuck them all!
Truth was, I loved working with the younger kids and it showed. I never had a discipline problem and many of my students returned to the middle school to speak with me after moving up. It was at that school, during my third year, that I met Beth. She was a new teacher in the art department. We had lunch together during fifth period so we chatted along with the other teachers.
What turned out to be my chance came when the science department decided that every student should do an experiment and enter it in a school-wide science fair. I wasn't terrified, but I was concerned. I knew absolutely nothing about art and even less about putting together an artistic presentation so I went to see her after school, my hat in my hand. "Elizabeth? Help!"
I knew I'd need help with her. She was drop-dead gorgeousâtall at 5'9" and slender with large succulent breasts, a narrow waist and hips, but a firm round butt. Her hair was black as pitch and longâalmost half-way down her backâand her eyes were the brightest blue I'd ever seen. Did I mention that she was gorgeous? She wore slacks and a loose blouse most days, I guessed because of the need to move around in class. Yes, she was a beautiful sexy woman while I was an ordinary manâsix feet even and slender although I was still in excellent shape after my years in the Army. My light brown hair was shortâmaybe an inch at most with no part and no curl. It was a military cut that I kept because it was easy to care for. Hell...most times I cut it myself with a trimmer from Walmart.
I still remember the look she gave me. She put down the handful of clay she was carrying and turned to me with a warm welcoming smile. "What's the problem?" I explained and she laughed. "I'm glad you're having this project otherwise you'd never have gotten around to talking to me."
"I talk to you."
"Yeah, at work here or there when we're in the company of a dozen other teachers. I'll be glad to help you, but there's a price." She laughed again when I gulped. "You have to take me to dinner; nothing fancyâpizza will do--and you have to talk to me all evening."
"All evening?"
"Okay, almost all evening. How about Friday night? Do I have to pick you up, too? Do I have to treat?" She looked stern, but began laughing a second later. Soon I joined her.
"It's just that you're so beautiful and I'm just...."
"Isn't that for me to decide? I understand that you served in the Army."
"Yeah, six yearsâfour in Kuwait and Iraq--I couldn't see going to college when I graduated high school. Part of it was getting even with my asshole parents." I explained, starting with my ridiculous name which made her giggle, how I had changed it, and my parents' reaction. "They had me down to be a lawyer from the day I was born, just as I was supposed to attend Harvard. My father went there, so did
Grandfather; me, I went to SUNY Stony Brook. I gave up trying to please them when I was in junior high at boarding school. Sometimes I got poor grades just to aggravate them. I also wanted to get out of the boarding school they had sent me to and into public school." I looked at my watch and noticed that I had been talking to her for more than an hour.