© 2025, All rights reserved -- mimaster
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
I don't remember how long I stood on Ann's porch. I don't even remember going home. It was like I was transported from her parents house directly to my bed. I know that wasn't the case, since I didn't own a transporter. And if I did, I would have transported myself into Ann's bed... not mine.
What I did remember was that I loathed my alarm clock. Morning came at me with a vengeance. The sun hit my room like a cop's flashlight in the window of a car parked on lover's lane. I woke up startled, dazed, and more than a little confused. I looked around my room, wondering how I got there. I still had my pants on. I'd never been more disoriented waking up, and I'd only had two beers.
I didn't hit the snooze button, knowing I'd never wake up if I did. The shower was a paradox. Standing under the hot spray so early in the morning, I felt dead to the world, but it was that very thing that was bringing life to my body. I hated it, and loved it at the same time.
By the time I was toweling off, I felt better. I wasn't exactly rested, but I was at least upright. I stumbled out of the bathroom, back into my room to get dressed. After cleaning up my room, I headed down the hall, and could already smell the lifeblood that I longed for, brewing in the kitchen. God bless my mom for being the morning person I wasn't.
It was the first time I'd really sat down and talked to her since I'd gotten home from my weekend in Michigan. I'd been so nervous to have her ask questions about that trip, fearing I'd say something that would only lead to more direct questions. But that trip was a distant memory for both of us. Mom was a 'in the now' person, usually only concerned with what was going on at the moment. And my quick breakfast was no different.
"You've really been staying out late, Neil. Are you sure you're getting enough sleep?" she said in a motherly tone.
"Probably not. But your coffee makes up for that. Thanks for making it," I said as I took another sip.
"It won't make up for it that long."
"I know. I just have to get though Saturday. Then I'll probably be sleeping a lot again because I'll be depressed."
"Neil, don't talk like that!"
"I'm kidding, Mom. I just meant that Ann will be going home Sunday morning. I'm not looking forward to that. But it is what it is, and I'm going to enjoy every moment I can with her. So, if that means a few more late nights, I can deal with that."
"Well, it's too bad she doesn't live closer. Where did you go last night?"
"I took her to dinner at the Holiday Inn. And then we went dancing at the Starlight. They had a live band that was pretty good."
"On a Wednesday? I thought they only did that on the weekends."
"How would you know that?"
"Your dad and I have been there several times. Why?"
I shook my head and said, "I learn more about you two every day. Sometimes more than I want to know."
Mom laughed and said, "I'm sure that's true. We'll just stop with the dancing. I won't tell you what else we did."
"Ewww!"
"Hey, we're adults. And it's not our fault it's attached to a hotel. When you get to our age and the mood strikes, you have to take advantage of it. Actually, we've always done that. Age is just a number. And I'm always in the mood."
"Fine... can we change the subject now!" I said, but I couldn't get the image out of my head. Not that I was upset. The fact that my parents were still very sexually active gave me hope for my future.
"Okay, did you talk to Ann about coming over on Friday?"
"Yeah. She said she'd love to come. The only stipulation is that I have to do the same for her."
"What's that mean?"
"It means I won't be home for dinner again. I'm having dinner at her parents house tonight. She said dinner is at six, and she'd like me to come over to visit at five."
"Wow. Meeting her parents. That's a big step."
"Stop it, Mom. California; big plane; has a job; has a life away from this little town."
"So, are you thinking of moving to California?"
"WHAT! No... I can barely afford living here; I'm still living with you, remember. Stop talking crazy. And don't go being all 'matchmaker' when I bring her here. I don't need that, and neither does she."
"I'll behave. We just want to meet her, Neil. Like your dad said, you've been yourself again this week. And we'd like to be a part of the good times too."
That statement really hit home. My mom was right, and that hurt. They'd had a front row seat for the train wreck that was the end of my marriage, unable to stop it, or to look away. They'd sat ringside through the divorce, reluctant witnesses as the dirty laundry was hurled back and forth. They'd had to endure endless months of a mental bedside vigil as they worried and prayed about my well being as I slept away my life in depression; hence my mom's negative reaction to my even joking about the subject.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
They had been the casualties of the marital war I'd waged with my ex. They were part of the innocent civilians hit by the shrapnel from the verbal mortars that were fired, without concern for the welfare of the loved ones standing nearby the intended targets on either side of the front lines. And in some cases, they were even wounded by friendly fire, as I'd launched a verbal assault from close range, only to find my weapon had used the wrong coordinates.
My parents never picked up a weapon to join me in that unwanted war, much to their credit. But they did arm themselves with shields, willing to defend the honor of the family name and their wounded son, to the death if need be. In a town where the only blood relatives I had lived in the fortress I suddenly called home, and where those of the enemy seemed to be on every street corner, we were outnumbered. Yet that didn't weaken my parents resolve, or dissuade their efforts to defend me.
In a small town devoid of entertainment, rumors are sacrosanct. They race uncontrolled like a wildfire through a brittle, parched forest. The truth, on the other hand, is like a glacier creeping slowly through the valley. Sometimes the two never meet, and all that's left is the torched, barren landscape where life once was. But sometimes, all it takes is enough determination to fight the fire of lies, holding them off until the sweet rain of truth and justice comes to douse them. And that's what my parents did, day after day, until a change in the weather turned the fortunes of war.
An unlikely alley joined my private war, coming from a different flank, armed with an arsenal of truths that my ex didn't expect. She knew the armory existed, because she was the one that filled it.
My fellow soldier turned out to be the first husband of my ex. The rumors reached him even though he was a truck driver, and was often out of town. He had remained silent about what happened between him and, well, our ex. He didn't want to admit she'd cheated on him. So he didn't offer a reason, choosing to let the marriage die quickly.
When he heard what had happened to me, and the rumors that had poisoned the air, he approached my dad one morning at the local coffee shop. It was a meeting of strange bedfellows, so to speak. But he had just as much family in town as my ex, and the axiom of fighting fire with fire became his battle cry for the both of us.
It wasn't long after that when the tide shifted. The truth about her first marriage finally coming to light from a reliable source that was angered at the way she had callously treated two of us. Suddenly, the truth of what happened in my marriage took hold in the public eye. I was no longer viewed as the bad guy... my ex was.
After that, the war was over, so to speak; only the aftermath was left to deal with. The clean up was the easy part. It was the psychological trauma that was difficult. And my parents had to deal with that, way too up close and personal, behind the walls of the fortress. I would put on a happy face when in public, and try not to show the scars of the wounds. It was when I was home, alone with just the two of them, that the wear and stress showed, and the depression set in.
One of the biggest hurdles had been the fact that I wasn't raised that way. Divorce was not an option, in my view. That's why I had forgiven the first affair. I had this vision of my parents, weathering storms in their marriage, yet always coming through the other side. That's how it was supposed to be. I started the healing process when my dad told me that marriage wasn't the problem; it was whom I was married to.
So, after months, if not longer, of seeing their son languish in despair, I had finally come out the other side. I had weathered that storm, and I was happy again. Yet, Mom was right. I hadn't shared any of that happiness with them. Not directly, anyway. I hadn't been around. I was too busy having fun. Her simple request to have me bring Ann was for her and dad to heal too.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
I'm sure Mom and Dad had talked to the friends that were coming to town, telling them all that I'd been through. It was unrealistic to expect that my parents didn't look to their own support group while being mine. Bringing Ann would be like a victory party. My parents got their son back, home from the war and ready to resume with his life.
"You're right Mom. You should be a part of the good times too. Just don't go nuts on us, okay."
"Alright. You can go get her right after you get done playing golf. Just let her know we'll be eating shortly after, but it might be a little later than she's used to."
"We ate after eight last night, mom. She'll be fine, but I'll let her know. Just so you know, I'm going to ask her out on a date on Saturday. So I may not be around then either."
"What was last night?"
"It was our prom," I said as I walked out of the door.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
The early morning at work went fast. I spent the majority of it on the production floor, since I'd been off it most of the previous day. Things were going really well, and we were ahead of schedule on every piece of equipment.
When break time came, it was a pleasant surprise. All the machines in my department shut down, and I went to the lunchroom to grab a little snack. But someone had forgotten about the gossip machine, and it was still running. And all the rumors were about the sudden transformation of Nancy. I heard all kinds of wild stories; but the only ones that interested me were about what she was wearing.
I got back to my office a little later, and was looking around for a prop to use to go up front and check her out. I needed some excuse, and I was digging through my desk in hopes of finding some task I had put off to avoid making that long walk. As I was sifting through a pile of purposefully procrastinated papers, there was a knock at my office door.
"Good morning, Neil. May I come in?"
Nancy stood in the doorway, leaning up against the door jam with her arm high above her head, and her legs crossed. She had never looked sexier in her life.
"Of course," I said, unable to take my eyes off of her.
She was wearing a red top that appeared to be more of a camisole. It was satin, with two thin shoulder straps, and it scooped low in front to show a huge valley of cleavage. The fact that she wasn't wearing a bra only made me drool more. She also had on the shortest skirt I had ever seen her wear. It was red leather, and it came up to mid thigh, showing the bottoms of her stockings and the garter straps that held them in place. And the stockings were black fishnet, complete with five-inch shiny black pumps.
Her flaming red hair had been curled slightly, giving it a springy bounce as she walked to the chair in front of my desk. Her makeup was not slutty, but it was certainly heavier than she usually wore, including bright red lipstick.
"May I sit down. I'm still getting used to walking in heels this high. I'm surprised my nose isn't bleeding."
