Brad Halstead had never heard of the band Fountains of Wayne, but when he heard their song "Stacey's Mom" playing in his teenage daughter's bedroom memories of a wonderful time in his life flooded back.
About fifteen years ago Stacey Keen was his best friend. There weren't many kids their age that lived close by, so they gravitated together much of the time. She was something of a tomboy and they played around the neighborhood together in the long, hot summers of their late teenage years. Stacey had short blonde hair and always wore torn jeans, worn tennis shoes and heavy metal t-shirts. It was easy for people around them to assume that they were dating, but the truth was that they were never romantically involved. It was just something that never happened for them, something they never thought about, until it was too late and they were separated by college campuses a thousand miles apart.
They were a good partnership, shared a dry sense of humor and could spend hours throwing a football or a baseball around the fields of their small town. Stacey had the best arm of any girl Brad ever met, then or since. Stacey and Brad went to the high school prom together, knowing that the evening would be unexciting (compared to what most of our peers had planned and had them believe) but it seemed very, very right for them to go together.
Stacey's mom didn't work and was always around her house, cleaning the kitchen, baking or reading. She wasn't a "coffee mom" and didn't appear to hang out with friends much, but she was always nice to Brad and made sure that both he and Stacey ate well and didn't get up to too much mischief. It didn't dawn on Brad at first, she was his friend's mom after all, but there was no doubting that Marianne Keen was hot.
Marianne was almost forty by then, but she looked at least ten years younger to Brad. She had lush dark hair that was full-bodied and bounced around her shoulders when she moved. Around the house she wore narrow glasses that were way ahead of their years in style, but gave her a very distinctive look back then. Her eyes always struck him as a little sad, but they were passionate eyes that saw everything (as it turned out) and were completely reflective of her personality, more than anyone Brad ever met. Her figure was full, brimming even. It might've been that her hips carried an extra pound (no more than that mind) but her flat tummy and large breasts attracted all of his attention. Her legs, often on show beneath her shorts, were long and fit. Marianne's smile was homely, welcoming and increasingly seductive as he got to know her better.
Brad and Marianne started talking more when they began swapping books. They both read a lot of thrillers and started to swap paperbacks when she sent him away with a handful one day. They would discuss the books a little when they swapped, but never for too long. Stacey was always dragging him somewhere to amuse them both and talking with her mom wasn't going to get that done. Stacey didn't read thrillers.
Brad didn't remember a particular moment when he started to take more notice of Marianne—it was more of a gradual thing. He was also at the age when an extra inch of cleavage or an extra-tight pair of shorts was more noticeable than they had been. Over a period of several weeks he started to notice that Stacey's mom was bending over around him more, and stretching across him more, basically showing more than he was used to in the way of cleavage and ass. He put it down to the fact that he was around more and virtually becoming part of the family. Another thing Brad noticed was the looks she occasionally gave him over the rim of her glasses. He never quite worked out what that look was, but he sure noticed how it made him feel.
Stacey's dad worked for IBM and spent many weeks away from home. These were the days before home working and even cell phones. He provided well for his family, but the house, compared with Brad's family abode, always seemed a little empty. Stacey was the Keen's only child and didn't talk much about either of her parents.
That particular summer Stacey had always planned to visit her grandmother in Des Moines but when her grandmother took ill Stacey was dispatched early to help look after her. Brad was lost, not knowing what to do with himself now that his companion was gone.
He called Marianne a couple of times, asking for news of Stacey but her planned week's stay with her grandmother quickly turned in to two and he could see the summer disappearing in her absence. Things got so boring he even started to drive his little sister around to horse riding events. Yes, looking back, those weeks were a pretty low ebb for Brad.
It was a Thursday evening when Marianne rang. Brad's mother called him to the phone and warned him to be polite talking to Stacey's mom. He shook his head at her—that part of moms never changed.
"Hi Brad," Marianne sounded bright and friendly. "Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you had any new books? I'm all out and could use something to read."
The appeal wasn't strange in any way, she was a voracious reader and always interested in what he'd read. "Sure, I have a few you can have. Want me to bring them round?"
"I can drive round collect them if you want."
"No problem. I'll come over." He was bored and any excuse to go out would be good.
"Okay, that would be great." Then, as an afterthought, she added, "If you've finished any of the last lot I gave you, can you bring them too? There were a couple there I hadn't read yet."
Brad gathered up a bunch of books and packed them in a bag, added a few extras for good measure and set off to the Keen's house. They lived on the same side of town as his parents, but their house stood by itself, a half-mile off the road and close to the edge of the forest. It was on a large plot of land that was mostly open lawn.
"Hi." Marianne met Brad at the door. She was wearing her glasses and had on her usual shorts and a powder blue blouse. "Come in. I just took some cookies out of the oven, so your timing is perfect."
Brad laughed and walked into the house. It seemed he was always in time for Marianne's baking and her warm cookies were always welcome, even if it was ninety-five outside. "Nice."
While she poured him some milk and threw some cookies onto a plate Brad unloaded the books onto the kitchen table. He was pleased that he'd managed to find so many in her hour of need. He also noticed that there was a similar pile of paperbacks on a chair, obviously ready for Stacey's mom to swap with him.
They chatted about a few things, Brad got news of Stacey and her grandmother and they swapped notes on books they'd both read. It was dark outside before Brad realized it and we moved on to a second round of milk and cookies.
"What did you think of this?" Marianne pulled one of the books she'd loaned him and handed Brad a beaten up copy of Herman Raucher's "Summer of '42".
Brad recognized the book immediately. He'd read it, but it stood out not only for the story, but the fact that it was unusual for Marianne to read something other than a thriller. "I liked it," he said, immediately feeling his face flush as he recalled the subject matter. "It was well written, very vivid and, I guess, ultimately a little sad."
"Sad?" She looked at him quizzically at first, and then gave him that look over her glasses. "Because Dorothy's husband dies?"
"I guess." He felt the flush continue. "But I meant that they shared that one night, and then never saw each other again."
"I can see that." She nodded knowingly. "You think it's a realistic story?"
Brad ran the storyline through his mind. The book's story was much wider than the night between the adult bereaved woman, Dorothy, and the adolescent Hermie, but that was the part of the book that stuck with everyone, and that was what he knew she was referring to. His heart began to race. This was not the sort of subject matter he was accustomed to discussing with anyone, let alone Stacey's mom.
