A Merry Month of May
by
Trigudis
Dennis
News of Sanford Lane's death comes as a total shock. The Lanes, Sanford, his wife Abbey and their children, Edward and Alice, live just a couple blocks away from my family. Alice and her brother, away at college when they got the news, come in for the funeral.
The Lanes appeared to have a wonderful life. A wonderful life... It's a cliché (and a movie, I know), yes, but they really did. Sanford made a good living as a pediatrician. Edward and his older sister Alice went to private school before college. They belonged to a country club and drove nice cars. Then it all came crashing down when Sanford died at work from a massive heart attack. He was fifty-three.
Fortunately, Sanford built up a nice nest egg and bought a generous life insurance policy. Their house is paid for. Still, Abbey works fulltime doing secretarial work, more to keep busy than out of necessity. Edward and Alice are back at school, while their mom is all alone in that four-bedroom house. Attending a local college and still living at home, I see her from time to time, not blind to the grief etched on her pretty face. My parents have said that she looks a bit like the late actress Lauren Bacall. After seeing some of her movies, I agree. Like Bacall, Abbey is not only pretty but has a seductive sexiness about her in the way she walks and talks, in the way she sits, turns her head and the way she sometimes styles her hair.
I always look forward to summer, watching Abbey do lawn work in a sundress, shorts and sometimes even in a bikini. She's got the right figure for wearing skimpy outfits, even though she's now in her forties. When Edward lived at home, visiting him could be a challenge. How does a horny kid look at a sexy older woman in her own home without her or her son noticing? He can't, not really, though I did my best to be discreet. Abbey sometimes watched TV with us. We'd be on the sofa, while she'd be on a lounge chair a few feet away, often with her skirt or dress hiked up to mid-thigh. Invariably, she'd catch me looking and then break out into a sly grin, making it obvious that she enjoyed the attention. Edward pretended not to notice her erotic display and my attention to it. Not that I blamed him, for it would be embarrassing to any kid in that situation.
After Sanford died, many of the neighbors, including my family, made condolence calls, offering to help in any way we could. "Thanks, Dennis, I might one day take you up on that," she said to me.
Now, it's a couple months later, a late Saturday morning in early May. Abbey calls, asks if I can help her rearrange some of her furniture. "Sure, no problem," I say.
She answers the door wearing casual house attire, blue capri pants, a low-cut orange blouse and slippers. She looks sad, though she greets me with the sort of brave smile that the aggrieved sometimes wear to show that they are holding up, all things considered. When I ask how she is doing, she says, "Oh, getting by as best I can. Taking things day by day. It's not easy. There are so many memories here, too many. I'm thinking seriously about putting this place up for sale and then moving to a condo or apartment."
She turns away, looks like she's about to break down. But then she catches herself and says, "Anyway, enough of that. Let's get to work."
There isn't a whole lot of work to do. Just moving a few pieces of furniture that she doesn't think she can move alone, including a piano. While doing it, she asks me about college, what I do for fun, etc. She even asks if I'm still dating a girl that Edward had told her about. I'm not, I tell her, since Ilene, my high school sweetheart, and I split a few months ago.
After the "work," Abbey takes me into her kitchen. She fixes us both a cup of coffee and then we sit at her small kitchen table. She talks again about Sanford, how they met, the good times and not so good times. "But we loved each other," she says. "We were fully committed, rock-solid. We were able to smooth over the rough patches in our marriage." She begins to relate a humorous incident. "Sanford was a mostly serious guy but he could also be this lovable goofball. One day..." She swallows, looks down and then up. "One day, we were at the club..."
She shakes her head, unable to continue. Tears fill her pretty blue eyes, then run down her cheeks. I want so much to comfort her but I'm not sure how. Instinctively, I take her hand, lean over the table and hug her. "It's okay, it's okay. I'm here for you."
She pulls back and wipes her eyes. "I'm sorry, Dennis, I don't mean to burden you with my grief. It's just that I have these moments when I lose it and break down."
"That's understandable. You've suffered a major loss."
She nods, grabs a tissue and blows her nose. "Right, I know. I miss him so, miss snuggling against him in bed, miss his warm body next to mine. Now I'm alone in bed, with only memories to comfort me. Which isn't much comfort because the more I remember, the sadder I feel."
I think of keeping her company in that now lonely bed. I feel confident that I can make her feel better. Much better. Thus far, my heavy sexual experience has been confined to what I did with Ilene. Still, we did enough to give me that sort of confidence. Part of it is wanting to help Abbey through her grief. And the other part, forgive me, is pure carnal desire. Her still cute, youthful body and the way a wave of her fine, silky hair falls halfway over one eye, not to mention the sexy Bacall image and the tops of her boobs just a foot or so from my face, is major arousal material. A guy less sensitive to the woes of others might try to take advantage of a woman in Abbey's depressed state. Fantasies aside, this isn't me.
She reaches for my hand at the same time I steal a glance inside her blouse, taking note of her laced red bra. She catches me and grins. Then she says, "It's okay, Dennis. It feels good to be admired, especially in my situation." She squeezes my hand and winks.
At a loss for words, all I can do now is blush and gaze into her blue eyes. Finally, I say, "Look, I've always found you attractive and still do. But I know this isn't the time and place to talk about things like that."
"Not the time and place...hmm. My thoughts exactly when I got the call that Sanford was in the ER. It wasn't his time to die, I screamed. But of course, it was. Because he did."
As if to change the subject, she slides her hand across the stubble of my face. "Are you growing a beard and mustache?" When I nod, she says, "I think it will look good on you, will give that baby face of yours a more mature, distinguished look. That aside, I still think you're cute. A handsome kind of cute."
Baby face. Yeah, I still get carded and some think I'm still in high school. That's fine if you're pushing forty, I guess, but not so much when you're nineteen. But, me worry? Abbey just called me a handsome kind of cute.
She continues: "Anyway, what I was trying to say in response to your time and place comment, is that life can be so unpredictable, so fleeting. We all know that but it takes something like the sudden death of a loved one before it hits home. As for time and place, it's never right or never wrong. It just is. Like I said, it feels good to be admired. And while we're talking about attraction, besides your handsome cuteness, I also like your blondish, wavy hair. It reminds me of Robert Redford's thick locks." She runs her hand through those locks that she so admires.
"If only I could act like him," is the only thing I can think to say.
