Abbys Dad

I had only been driving for about 90 minutes when I had my "we're not in Kansas anymore" moment. I guess I had been concentrating on the road and singing along to my playlist the whole time, but when I finally looked around, everything looked different. The tall steel, glass and concrete buildings had been replaced by tall trees with plush leaves. Acres and acres of forest were mixed with acres and acres of farmland. The six-lane congested highway had become a two-lane road with few other cars. I started laughing at my lack of awareness of the slow transition from a downtown metropolitan city to the country.

According to Apple Maps, I only had another 25 minutes to go. After a few more county highways, I turned down a road bordered with more trees. After five more minutes, there was an opening, and the resort came into view. It looked out of place after seeing few buildings, with none of them more than a single story. The ten-story building had a grand, covered driveway with many young men and women in light blue jackets waiting to help the guests as they arrived. As soon as I opened my car door, a young gentleman greeted me, asking if I was with a group. As soon as I mentioned the Singer wedding, I was handed a ticket for my car and told there would be no charge for parking if I got my ticket validated at the desk. He asked if I needed help with my luggage, but I assured him I could handle my one rolling suitcase.

***

I met Susan Singer about five years ago, on the first day of my first job after graduating college. I was sitting in the HR person's office filling out paperwork to get my ID card and my computer. I was told all the other documents could be filled out online once I got my computer.

"We have a great mentor program here that we're really proud of. Every new employee gets hooked up with a more senior person to make sure your transition is going well - someone you can talk to if you have questions or even if you have issues with your manager, not that THAT would ever happen," she said with a laugh. She turned to her computer and started clicking away. "Let's see," she continued. 'Your mentor is...Oh my!" Then she just stared at her screen for a few seconds. "Is this right?"

She looked at me with a strange look that I didn't know how to read. Then she looked back at her monitor.

"Well," she started, and then paused for a few seconds, "it looks like your mentor is Susan Singer."

"Umm, is that a problem? You seemed surprised," I asked.

"Problem?" she replied. "Well, no, of course not. There's no problem." Then, after a pause that certainly seemed longer than the few seconds it probably was, she continued. "I've just never known Susan to be willing to be a mentor. She's just...," but she never finished her thought.

"You're making me nervous," I admitted. "What's wrong with Susan."

"Oh, there's nothing WRONG with Susan. She's just..." Again, there was a little pause. Finally, she continued. "She's just different."

"Different?" I asked. "What's THAT mean?"

"Look, I shouldn't be saying anything. Let's just say you might find her socially awkward. And she has no filter. Politically correct is not a term she understands. She'll always tell you exactly what's on her mind, and she won't attempt to soften it."

Okay, I thought. I can live with being told the truth. But socially awkward? What did that mean?

"I think we're all set, Courtney. Let me call your manager to come get you."

A few minutes later, Bob showed up and introduced himself. He took me to his office, and we chatted for a bit. He talked about the first project I'd be working on and said he'd introduce me to the team in the afternoon. He asked if I had lunch plans, and when I said no, he said we could go to the cafeteria together.

"Let me show you your desk, and IT should be up in just a little bit with your computer," he said.

My "desk" was better than a table out in the open, but not what anyone would call a cubicle. There was a classic, material-covered, cubicle-style divider on either side, but it only extended about six inches beyond the table itself. The walls went about two feet higher than the table, so when I was sitting at the desk with my chair pulled in, I couldn't see anyone else. But if two of us stood or pulled our chairs back one foot, we could have a face-to-face conversation. Based on some other offices I saw when I interviewed, this was worse than some but better than others.

The IT guy showed up with my computer shortly after I got to the desk. He set up my docking station and two monitors, gave me an extra charger to keep at home, and gave me my log-in credentials. I was filling out various employment forms online, when I heard someone yell, "WHO IS COURTNEY?"

I stood up and saw a woman a couple of rows away looking around. When she turned to me, I waved.

"You Courtney?" she asked.

I smiled and nodded when I said, "Yep!" in my cheeriest voice.

"Let's go," she said, and turned and started walking away.

I quickly locked my computer and had to run to catch up with her. We walked in silence until we turned into one of the few private offices on a different floor. The tag on the outside of the office said "Susan Singer". She closed the door, walked to her side of the desk, and sat down.

She looked at me and said, "Sit."

Like an obedient dog, I sat.

"I'm Susan, and I'm your mentor. Any questions?"

"Uh, no, not yet," I replied rather shyly.

"Good," she said, "because I probably don't know the answer. I'm supposed to

get to know you

," she said, using air quotes around "get to know you".

I understood some of the warnings from the HR person when Susan continued.

"I noticed you've got a tight ass," she said, causing my eyes to pop open. "Do you ever do Spin Classes?"

I slowly nodded.

"I'm taking one at 6:30 tonight," she said. "Do you want to join me and then we can

get to know each other

afterwards at a light dinner," again using air quotes. "Can you make that?"

Again, I silently nodded.

"Great!" she said. She pulled a business card out of her desk drawer and wrote something on the back. Then she stood. "The card has my cell phone number, and I wrote the name of the club where the class is. I'll put your name on the list as my guest, so just tell them when you get there. We can shower at the club and get something to eat."

I realized this was my queue to stand and leave. She handed me the card. Before I even took a step, she said, "I like you. We're going to get along just fine, Courtney."

She opened the door, and I left. When I got to the elevator, I started laughing. 'Did she really tell me I've got a tight ass?' I said to myself. I'm pretty sure HR wouldn't like hearing that, but I certainly wasn't going to be mentioning it to them.

Bob stopped by a little after noon, and we went to the cafeteria, which was much nicer than I expected. When we were eating, he called over a couple of other people on the team to introduce me. I liked everyone I met and was very excited about my new job.

After finishing all my new employee paperwork, I was reading a bunch of documentation about the project I'd be working on. Around 4:00, Bob stopped by.

"How was your first day?" he asked.

"It was good," I said. "I'm excited to be here."

"Good. I know that reading documentation all day can be boring. So why don't you head home now and be ready to jump in tomorrow morning."

"Okay," I said. "Uh, what time do people show up?"

"I tend to get here around 7:30," he said, "but most of the team shows up between 8:00 and 8:30. So whatever works for you."

"Okay, see you in the morning."

I went home to my apartment that I had moved into two weeks earlier. I met one woman in the elevator the previous week, but I hadn't met anyone else. I called my parents when I got home to tell them about my job, not that there was really too much to tell. I didn't mentioned Susan and her "tight ass" comment to my parents, but I did tell my girlfriend when I called her. We laughed, and I promised I'd call after the spin class.

After checking my social feeds, I changed into a sports bra and exercise shorts, threw some regular clothes in my gym bag, and headed to the club. I gave them Susan's name at the desk, and they let me know where the locker room was and where the class was being held. I looked around the club, and by the time I got to the class, Susan was there.

"Hi," she said. "This teacher tends to kill me, but since you're half my age, you might not even break a sweat."

I laughed, and we chose two bikes next to each other. The class started out slow, like they always do, but ramped up pretty quickly. I was able to keep up, but I was definitely working hard. Susan was obviously in good shape, and she never missed a beat. The class seemed to fly by, and I was surprised when it ended. We walked to the locker room, showered, and got dressed. I put on shorts and a tank top, but I didn't bother with a bra. I have small breasts, so I frequently go without.

Susan said there was a nice café down the street where we could eat outside, so we headed in that direction. We ordered and found a table outside. When Susan was sitting across from me, "unfiltered Susan" came out again.

"Wow, you have great tits. They won't be saggy like mine when you're in your forties."

I think I turned red and wasn't sure what to say.

"Sorry if I offended you. I kinda' say what's on my mind," she offered.

"Yeah, I heard," I replied, immediately mad at myself for saying it.

"Oh, really?" she asked. "And who told you that?" she asked, not in an accusative way.

"Uh, someone in HR mentioned it when they found out you were going to be my mentor."

"What did they say?" she continued.

"Just that you say what's on your mind, whether it's politically correct or not," I said quietly.

Susan laughed.

"Yep, that's true. And I don't mind anyone saying it."

"Can I ask you a question?" I said, not sure if it was a good idea or not.

"Sure."

"HR was surprised that you were going to be my mentor. They said you never do that. Are you not happy having to do this?"

"Ha! Well, it's true that I wasn't happy about having to do it, but my boss said I had to. So, I said if I had to do it, I'm going to pick my mentee. Then I asked for information on the new hires. But now that I found you, I think I'm going to enjoy it."

"Really? So you explicitly picked me? Why?"

"Cause I liked your tits," she said with a straight face. Then two seconds later, she started laughing, as did I.

"There aren't a lot of women in the department, and even fewer that are smart. You went to a great school and worked on some interesting research projects while you were there. I thought we'd get along. And now I know we will."

She gave me a warm smile, which I returned.

"So don't fuck up," she said, and started laughing again.

And so started my relationship with Susan. I learned she was a 45-year-old divorced woman with a 20-year-old son. He was staying at college over the summer to work in a lab. Susan had been working at the company since she got out of college and obviously had risen through the ranks. She told me she's not quite as crazy as people think she is, but she's happy to let them think she is. She told some great stories, and we laughed a lot.

"I take a spin class at the club every Monday and Wednesday. I'd like it if you joined me. No pressure if you don't, but I think we'd have fun. The club gives the company a discount for membership."

So, for the next five years, Susan and I got together twice almost every week. We also occasionally went out on the weekend. Susan called me the daughter she never had.

***

Susan's son had been dating his fiancé for a few years, and Susan liked her a lot. She was happy they were getting married and even liked the fiancé's parents. Her parents had money and said they would pay for the entire wedding, but Susan insisted on doing something. She ended up paying for the invitations and the flowers.

I checked in at the hotel and was handed a gift basket for those attending the wedding. The receptionist also asked for my car ticket so she could validate it for free parking. The room was larger than I expected with a beautiful view of the lake. The gift basket included some water, candy, cookies, some healthier snacks, and a review of the events going on. The ceremony was in one garden, cocktails afterwards were in another, and the dinner was under a tent in a third outdoor location. Fortunately, the weather was perfect for the outdoor activities: not too hot and not too cold, with no rain in the forecast.

I texted Susan to let her know I had arrived, and within two seconds my phone was ringing and her name popped up.

"You doing okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, so far. No major issues with Mr. Shithead," she said, using her favorite moniker for her ex. "I'm glad you're here. Is your room okay?"

"Yeah, it's beautiful. Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm good. I'll see you at the reception," she said before hanging up, not waiting for me to reply or say goodbye. Yep, that was Susan.

I had time before I had to start getting ready, so I went for a walk around the complex. It was quite beautiful, with plush gardens all around. I saw the areas where they were setting up for the ceremony and for dinner, and it looked lovely. I sat on a bench and looked out over the lake for a bit; it was very calming.

I went upstairs to start getting ready. After getting out of the oversized shower and drying off, I looked in the full-length mirror. Thanks to all the spin classes with Susan and some other times working out, I thought I looked good. When I was in high school, I hated my small boobs. I knew all the guys drooled over big ones, and even with a push-up bra, none of the guys was ever caught staring at mine. My mother told me I'd appreciate them later in life, when they didn't sag, but she didn't convince me. But now, I really liked them. I was

maybe

a small B-cup, with dark areolas that contrasted nicely against my pale skin. And I liked the fact that I could wear certain outfits without a bra.

Tonight, I was wearing a black, backless dress that had spaghetti straps and V-neckline. There was a sexy, thin crisscross across the lower back, and I thought it made me look good. It didn't show any side-boob, which would have been a problem for me if it had. I put on my strappy heels to complete the look, took one last look in the mirror, and smiled. I grabbed my small bag and headed downstairs.

The garden looked beautiful, and I got a seat on the aisle. The music provided by women playing a flute and a violin was perfect. When Susan walked down the aisle, she gave me a big smile. Of course, she didn't walk in with Mr. Shithead, and I was glad she didn't try to punch him when they each hugged their son. The ceremony was very sweet, and I was very happy for Susan and her son.

We were directed to another garden where waitstaff were passing hors d'oeuvres and there were multiple bars set up along the perimeter. There were also several highboy tables spread throughout the area where people could put down their drinks and appetizers while talking to people.

I was standing in line at the bar, when I heard, "Courtney?" I didn't know anyone besides Susan and her son at the wedding, so I was surprised. I turned around, and a huge smile greeted my own.

"DAVID!" I screamed, probably a little too loudly.

***

I hadn't seen David since the end of high school, so for about nine years. He was Abby's father.

Abby was one of my good friends in high school. There were four of us in our "core group", and we did everything together. We spent time at each other's house all the time, though we may have spent the most time at Abby's, especially after her mom died at the beginning of our junior year.

In the middle of our senior year, my dad was asked to transfer to New York. He convinced the firm to let him commute until I finished high school, and then he'd relocate. Less than a month after graduation, I said goodbye to my friends and moved east. Of course, we kept in contact, messaging each other all the time, but it wasn't the same as being there. Then, when the other three went to the University of Illinois and I ended up staying east, the communications dwindled. Since I went to my parents' house during breaks from college, rather than returning to Illinois, we eventually just lost contact.

***

David and I wrapped our arms around each other and gave each other a tight hug.

"What are you doing here?" we both said at the same time, and then we both started laughing.

"I'm good friends with Susan - the groom's mother. We work together," I explained.

"Ha! Small world. I'm good friends with Michael, the bride's father. A mutual friend brought me into his tennis group a number of years ago, and we hit it off. We play tennis every week, we have season tickets for the Commanders, and sometimes we go running together. He..."

"Wait!" I cut him off. "You live near DC?" I asked.

"Yeah, I moved five years ago, right after Abby graduated from U of I"

"Holy shit!" I replied, sounding very classy, "I wish I knew. I moved her right after graduation, too, and I didn't know a soul."

"I think you're up," David said, pointing behind me to the bar.

"Oh, sorry," I said to the bartender who was waiting. "I'll have a cosmo."

After he made my drink, David ordered a martini.

As we walked away from the bar, a waiter came by with a tray of sushi. I grabbed one, dipped it in soy sauce, and shoved it in my mouth. When another tray came by with mini-eggrolls, I grabbed one of those, too.

"Let's grab one of the tables," David said, "it looks like you might need a whole plate of appetizers."

We both laughed as we walked over to one of the tables. We started catching up, but I kept my eyes open for roving appetizers, excusing myself from David when I'd step away a couple of feet to grab something tasty.

I learned that Abby was recently engaged, with plans to get married in September. David got a great offer to move out to DC, and since Abby was working in New York, he decided there was no reason not to take the offer. He sold the house pretty quickly and moved here. I told him I got my degree in Computer Science and specialized in in processing massive data sets to find trends. I had a number of job offers, and I was very happy where I was.

I asked if he had picked up his place card yet, and he hadn't. Neither had I, so we walked over to the table and found our names. Surprisingly, we were both at the same table.

"Must be the leftovers table," David said, "for those people who don't know anyone else. But in this case, I lucked out."

We smiled at each other, and just then, they started asking everyone to move to the tent where dinner was being served. David placed his hand on my lower, bare back to gently direct me toward the path to the tent, and, for some reason, a warm current spread through my body. I involuntarily closed my eyes for half a second before turning and walking with him to dinner.

At the table, he asked if two chairs facing the dance floor were okay. When I nodded, he pulled out a chair for me and pushed in the chair after I sat. He then sat next to me.

The atmosphere in the tent was a picture of elegance. It was a warm, but not hot, evening. There were no barriers along the sides, so there was an unobstructed view of the beautiful gardens. The centerpieces were full of gorgeous, large, colorful roses, with multiple groupings of votive candles. The 12-piece band guaranteed there'd be some good music.

We met the other people at our table as they arrived, and as predicted, we were indeed at the "leftovers table". The other couples included a friend of Mr. Shithead's, an old friend of the bride's mother, and a coworker of the bride's mother. Everybody was friendly - even Mr. Shithead's friend.