It had come down in buckets for over an hour already and with the rain came the last of the copper leaves that had stubbornly clung to the branches past Halloween. The front yard would be a blanket of wet gold once it stopped but rather than see the beauty of it, he just saw more work. John sighed and shook his head after he let the curtain drop. He wondered for the hundredth time since Marianne passed if he shouldn't move.
He had argued both sides of the case for a while now and he knew all of the highlights. He had started doing it almost as if she were there to play Devil's advocate. He could see her arms crossed over her chest and he occasionally caught her scowling at him like she would do only once in a very great while. Family holidays were supposed to be in the pro category, shitty weather half the year was in the against. John felt that particular item held far more weight than family time but Marianne wouldn't have agreed. Quite often during the imaginary back and forth, John pictured her unable to resist a giggle. She had always been the cheery half, the better half in countless ways. More often than not she interrupted his soapbox with that little, pink bow of a mouth, puckered into a smile. Then she'd break out into a laugh.
Then he'd laugh.
The house was too quiet and that would have been at the top of the list for "Reasons to Sell". That along with the yard work that he'd grumbled about for going on forty years. The list went on to include this damn climate and the fact that his tricky shoulder was more like an unoiled hinge and the Chicago winter damp would settle into his bones, all the way to his toes and hang on until the middle of May.
When the doorbell rang, John made a face as he peered once more through the curtains. He kept his head down low. There was no need to answer and who the hell would be coming here in the middle of such a deluge? Who indeed, his eyes lingered over the intruder who appeared to be a young woman. Look at her, dressed like that and nothing more than a girl really. She must be a silly girl to be wearing such impossibly tight jeans. The ridiculous girl held a jacket over her head but it was too late, the water dripped from her waist length hair as if she'd just walked out of the shower. She was soaked all the way through. She beat on the door this time, really pounded on the screen door with her fist. "Come on, come on, please," she pleaded and jumped in place.
Dammit, it was nap time, he sighed his annoyance once more. On the other hand, how harmless could one girl be? He knew this would exhaust him as John eased out of the recliner and already wished he had gone to sleep in the bedroom rather than the living room. He pushed his feet into the worn, plaid slippers. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," he barked at the next volley of knocks. He shuffled across the wood floor and stopped at the transition to the entryway linoleum. Marianne would have had a rug here, something to soak up water and muddy tracks. Dammit, no one ever prepared him for all the ways that he'd miss her. "What?" he asked in his best gruff, old codger voice after yanking the door open.
The girl was sopping wet. She was wet all the way through her tee shirt and the outline of the see-through fabric stuck to her skin was a shock to the system. John sucked in his breath for a moment as his body jolted at the sight. Her breasts were perfectly rounded on top, bell shaped and heavy on the bottom. They would spill out of his large hands should he cup them and for a split second, he could almost feel the warm flesh between his fingers. The bra that they were strapped into was ruined and sheer from the water as well and John found it impossible to speak as his eyes outlined her form. "Mr. Gregory?" she shrieked and the salutation shook him from his trance. "Mr. Gregory, it's me Ashley. From next door. Can I come in?"
"Sure," he mumbled, although what he actually said was just garbled and really he'd just taken a breath, almost a wheeze. He took a step back and studied his memory. He was fairly certain that he would remember a goddess like this but nothing struck a chord. For years he had avoided the neighbors at all costs though so it made sense that there was no picture of a dark-haired beauty with gorgeous breasts there. Wait, maybe it was Ashley, the little terror with the curly, black hair that was always halfway down the block, just out of reach of one or more parent. Surely it couldn't be that Ashley. Since when had she gotten so much older and what did that say about him? Dammit, he couldn't be expected to keep up with birthdays and all of that crap, could he?
"Come in," he didn't sound welcoming but he waved her into the house anyway. He was half hypnotized by what he'd seen through the window, half annoyed that she was making a mess with those dripping, white tennis shoes. "Take your shoes off," John grumbled and put his hand out. It meant stop right there but it also meant don't take another step because I still haven't finished picturing the swell of your breasts. "Let me get the rug," he muttered as he tried to keep his eyes above her collarbones. Ashley, you don't say? She must have grown up quickly. This was a woman and a voluptuous one at that. She still had a tumble of inky, black curls down her back but that was the only resemblance. "Here, put your shoes on that," John had pushed the rug that Marianne kept in front of the couch toward the girl with the milky, white limbs.
"Thanks Mr. Gregory," Ashley said as she slid out of the dripping tennis shoes. "Holy crap, it's coming down hard," she added as she took the blue jacket off. She held it as it ran droplets of water steadily to the rug as she waited for further instructions.
John jammed his hands into his pants and his fists filled the pockets and made his change jingle. She was the first woman he'd seen in too long to remember. Sure, he saw women every day, at the grocery store, in the park, at the rec center where John still walked every morning. He made himself go, even though people still asked how Marianne was doing if they hadn't heard and it broke his heart just a little each time he had to repeat it. Women were still around, flitting on the edges but hardly noticeable at all.
It wasn't like this, like seeing Ashley.
This was a visual that he felt way down in the center of his body, in a place that had been asleep for far too long and now it was suddenly alive. It hummed with electricity like a piece of equipment that sparked and smoked and backfired occasionally. Noticing her was bringing back the feeling in places that were half dead and John wasn't sure if he shouldn't put her back out on the stoop. "Leave it on the floor," he nodded to her to come closer but stepped back just in case she got too close. "What are you doing out there?"
Ashley wrapped her arms around herself and all that did was press her magnificent, perfectly round breasts together so that John could watch the rain water trickle from her chin and collar bones down her cleavage. "Mom forgot to give me a house key so I'm locked out," she said in a sullen tone that suggested all the things she thought about her mother right now.
John had never been a fan of her mother either but he'd never shared that with anyone but Marianne and he wasn't about to change that. Not now, not with a girl who was a complete stranger. Even if she was stunning like that, covered in goosebumps and rivulets of water that touched her like intrusive fingers. Her nipples were clearly pointed and resembled flower buds about to burst into bloom through the completely see-through tee shirt and brassiere. He was frozen, unable to move from the spot. He could hear the drip as the little streams of her water splashed on the floor and yet he was unable to do one useful thing. "Why aren't you in school?" he mumbled like an idiot.
