Editor's note: this fictional work contains scenes of fictional incest or fictional incest content.
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Chapter 1: Fork in The Road
"When you come to a fork in the road, take it." That's just one of the many quotes from Yogi Bera that seem moronic when you first hear them but unquestionably obvious. Truism is the correct term for these sorts of jokes. Statements of the obvious but are often uttered with an air of profound wisdom. Another from the gentleman is, "It ain't over till it's over." That's one that I adopted as an important personal motto. It will remain so until the day comes when it truly will be "permanently" over for me. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
I'm sure most people reading this have little or no familiarity with Yogi Berra, a hall of fame catcher with the New York Yankees from 1946-1963. That's unfortunate because he was arguably one of the best "backstops" of all time. I myself was born several years after he retired as a player. Thus, I never got to see him in action other than in a few baseball documentaries. However, I do remember him when he was a manager, a coach, a product spokesperson, and a guest on various talk shows into the 1980's. But what do Yogi Berra's crazy quotes have to do with my story? Well, I guess it's nearly two years since I indeed learned that "it's not over till it's over". Sometimes you must trust your gut when you choose a direction at that "fork in the road". If you're lucky, it will be the right one. It was for me.
A little over three years ago, I thought my life, at least as I had been living it, was over. My wife of nearly 30 years died well before her time as a result of an insidious and aggressive disease. But then almost two years ago, I was presented with a fork in the road that indeed showed me that, "it ain't over till it's over."
I was born and raised in the city where I write this. I enjoyed my youth and my career here. My name is Dino. At first. I hated having such an ethnic name, but eventually I learned to love it, especially after people began telling me that I indeed looked a lot like Dean Martin.
"It's the eyes," they'd say, "The sleepy bedroom eyes or maybe the nose and the dark wavy hair."
"It's all that and the shit-eating devil may care grin," some would say. "You have that grin that says you have some very naughty thoughts in your head. It's the grin of sin."
Yep, I started loving my name especially as I realized the advantage it gave me with some of the young ladies I met. It was great that some thought it was fine to allow someone that looked like my namesake to pull off their panties and climb between their spread legs.
I am indeed a pure-blooded Italian going back at least five generations on both sides of the family. Not surprisingly, I have the stereotypical large family that includes a bunch of aunts and uncles and a boatload of cousins. Growing up, one cousin, Maria, lived only about a block away from me. She lived one street away, but the back of her house almost faced the back of mine across an alley. Since she was only about a year younger than me, we saw each other a lot and shared many neighborhood friends. We had a very close but innocent friendship for many years. We used to hang around a lot together and share things that we wouldn't dare tell others. Back then, it was all truly innocent. She was beautiful and sexy but it was strictly hands off between us. However, about a year ago that changed.
When Maria was in her mid-20's, she married a guy she met in college, moved to Connecticut, became a teacher, and had a couple of kids. Her family all stayed here in town. For a long time, Maria and I only saw each other at family events. I also married after college and remained in the area. Maria's parents and mine still lived in the same neighborhood where we grew up. As with many close Italian families, Maria was back in town for holidays, almost every wedding and funeral, most christenings, and other family milestones. As a result, she and I remained in contact over the years. I admit that had especially close feelings for her over all those years. It's one of the reasons that I felt a painful bolt of sadness when her husband died suddenly less than a year after my wife. It seemed that fate delt us both a super sad blow.
OK, before you start seeing all this talk about death as a downer, you have to remember that it's unfortunately a part of life, and we all have to deal with it. On the other side of the coin, it eventually led to that "fork in the road that" and turned out better than I could have ever dreamed. It showed me that as a middle-aged guy, life "ain't over till it's over".
For a couple of years after her husband's death, Maria continued to live and teach in Connecticut. About 18 months ago, she was eligible for early retirement and took the opportunity. She and her husband Jeff had done very well financially, and since their kids were grown and gone, Maria moved back here. Maria's widowed mom, my Aunt Costanza (or Connie as we called her), was getting up in years, so Maria decided to help take care of her. She felt that her brother wasn't up to the job. As it turned out, Maria bought a condo located only several miles from where I live. We often ran into each other at the supermarket or at the mall. One afternoon when we happened to meet, I spontaneously suggested that we have a "late lunch/early dinner" at this small ma-and-pa Italian place in the area. Frankly, I was a little surprised that she accepted so eagerly, seemingly delighted at the idea.
As we ate and shared a bottle of Sangiovese, we talked about the "old days", the old neighborhood, old friends, plus a lot of things about our lives over the years that we never discussed before. The wine certainly loosened our tongues and fueled a discussion that delved into the sorts of personal things we never previously explored. At first, we talked about our shared losses and how we had been coping. As the wine worked further to lower our inhibitions, it got downright intimate.
"Losing your partner is a terrible blow and hits you with a lot of changes," I said. "Unfortunately, I know you understand that all too well."
"No doubt about it," Maria agreed. "Initially there are the financial issues. Then there's dealing with friends and family that mean well but can soon become overly solicitous and intrusive. You just want to tell them to back off and let you work it out yourself. You feel like part of your mind and body has been stolen from you, but eventually you start to feel whole again. You move on with your career, your life, and start to feel like you aren't constantly treading water."