"He now felt glad at having suffered sorrow and trouble, because it enabled him to enjoy so much better all the pleasure and happiness around him..."
–The Ugly Duckling, Hans Christian Andersen, 1844
*******************
My warm-hearted husband has always had a habit of picking up strays. I suppose that's one of the endearing things that attracted me to Donny in the first place. However, throughout the past 30-plus years, I can't count all the wayward dogs, cats, and even rabbits he "adopted" and I ended up nursing back to health. Thank goodness we were lucky to eventually find loving homes for these lost souls, or our house would resemble a zoo. Now that we're in our fifties, and basically empty-nesting, I figure my days of playing Florence Nightingale to his Father Flanagan were over. Apparently I figured wrong.
"Come on Honey, it's one thing to provide shelter to some kitten or puppy, there's no way I'm going to take in a full-grown stranger," I replied emphatically, after taking a sip of hot coffee.
"I know I'm asking a lot Barb, but we do have that spare bedroom, and it's not like he'll be here forever. Once he gets on his feet... hey, the least you can do is meet him; then maybe you'll understand," Donny pleaded.
Sitting out on the back deck, still in my low cut lacy nightgown under a long terrycloth bathrobe, I stared out across the long back yard and ten acres of mature trees. A brisk early October morning breeze swept through me. Clutching my elbows to buffer the chill, I bargained. "Okay, okay, you can bring him by the house sometime; but that doesn't mean I'm saying yes to this," I reluctantly relented.
"Great! I'll go get him!" Donny shouted and headed back in the house.
"What? You mean he's HERE? Not now, I look a mess," I said, knowing full well my hubby was prone to pulling such stunts.
"You look just great. We'll be right in." I heard his voice trail off, as he trotted off through the house.
I barely had time to check the mirror, before Donny's truck door slammed. Pouring another cup of coffee, I looked up to see his latest stray, and boy was he a big one. The bearded, scraggly-haired, overweight boy in his early twenties appeared older, as he warily raised his eyes through thick dark horned-rimmed glasses.
"Honey, this is Ben. Ben, this is Barb," Donny introduced. I made my way toward them, clutched the neck of my robe, smiled and extended my hand.
"Hi Ben, nice to meet you," I smiled up at the extremely shy, six foot tall stranger.
"Say hello Ben," Donny prompted, hearing no response from the youngster.
"Hi Missus..." he slowly began.
"Oh, call me Barb; everybody does. No need to be formal around here." I brought my smile to a grin, detecting the inkling of a smile from him.
"N-nice to meet you Barb," he finally got out and comfortably shook my hand.
"Okay then, how about some nice fresh coffee?" I suggested, pulling my hand from his.
The boy's smile broadened a bit. He nodded. The two guys took seats at the kitchen table, while I turned to get cups. Returning with the coffee pot, I hadn't noticed my robe had opened, giving them a nice long view of my cleavage as I poured.
"Those are hot now, don't burn yourselves," I warned, then catching sight of their eyes glued to my chest, I realized the double connotation.
Suddenly embarrassed by inadvertently displaying myself, I turned my back to them and cinched up my robe. "So Donny tells me you're doing some work for him..." I said, sitting across from them, folding my arms, and sipping my coffee.
The next half hour was spent prying Ben's sad story from him. He lost his family in an auto accident, when he was a junior in high school. After his aunt and uncle took him in, he graduated, and has been living on his own since. Judging from his shabby appearance, I guessed he suffered from poor social skills, and limited experience with girls. Although he was socially 'challenged', he seemed to relax more, as we continued to talk.
He ragged appearance and introvert tendencies were two hurdles I knew he could overcome with a bit of help. Whether or not we could affect his lack of self esteem was a concern. However, after chatting with the less-than-attractive, but intelligent young man, I could see why Donny felt inclined to offer him a place to stay.
Hubby and I excused ourselves into the next room. Following a short private pow-wow, we agreed on some basic ground rules. "I'm mostly concerned about the privacy thing, Honey," I admitted.
"Sure, I'll make sure he knows to keep his distance from our bedroom, bath and stuff; that's if you can keep from showing him your big tits," Donny laughed.
"Hey, that wasn't MY fault... oh forget it, you asshole!" I shook my head.
"Wow, this place is so nice and huge, compared to my apartment! I really DO appreciate this, Missus ..., I mean Barb," Ben's face lit up, as he hauled two huge oversized duffle bags to our spare bedroom on the second level, and just down the hall from our master suite.
"Here's a nice big bathroom Ben. Don't be afraid to use it," I smiled but made the comment with all sincerity.
"Yes Ma'am."
"Our bedroom is down the hall," I noted, more-or-less restating the section of our two-story house that was to be considered off limits.
He nodded. I explained more details about our schedules, and some minor things we expected from him. He was quite agreeable and seemed virtually thrilled to have the opportunity to stay with us.
*******************
Betty Lou Who?
After only a couple of weeks, I started to notice changes in the boy. When he and Donny were not at work, Ben spent most of his free time fixing things, and helping with household chores. He was bathing and eating healthy meals regularly, which improved his quiet demeanor dramatically. I determined that improving on his appearance might be the greatest challenge.
After dinner one evening I stopped by his room. I knocked on his door. After hearing some paper shuffling, he answered the door and let me in.
"So Ben, I was thinking," I started and noticed the covers askew on his otherwise neatly made bed. Sauntering to the bed to sit down, I smoothed down a raised edge. "WE were thinking actually... have you ever given any thought to attending college?"
"Sure, I've thought about it plenty. That's one of those things at the top of my list, once I can afford it," Ben admitted, glancing down at the ruffled bedspread.
"I believe you could possibly qualify for financial aid, if that would make a difference."
"Hmm, I should check that out. I only hope I'm smart enough to..."
"We're not talking Harvard here! Anybody should be able to get through Tech. Besides, I can tutor you, if you need some help," I offered.
"Damn, that's right, you used to teach didn't you Barb? That would be cool. I'll have to check out registration and stuff tomorrow after work."
"Great! I'm sure you'll do just fine. Let me know what you find out," I smiled and left his room, feeling glad he was excited about the idea.
The following day was wash day. With Ben gone, I headed upstairs to pick up any dirty clothes. I decided to strip the beds and Ben's room was next. Pulling the sheets off his bed, I noticed the edge of a magazine shoved under the mattress. My memory flashed to yesterday's conversation and Ben's awkward glance at the bedspread. After already raising a son, I figured the magazine would be the typical girlie variety. Boys will be boys. Once I pulled it out, I was somewhat reassured in my estimate. What surprised me was the title, 'Mature Bra Busters.'
The thought of a twenty-two year old male getting his jollies from a magazine full of golden oldies freaked me out at first. Then I felt a strange sense of pride, as I thumbed through the worn pages. I noticed one particular spread featuring a 52-year-old woman in various stages of undress. Although her (probably dyed) blonde hair was a bit longer, her body shape bore an uncanny resemblance to mine. Reading the accompanying - obviously fictitious - article, it was interesting to note that "Betty Lou" wore a 34-DD bra. It was even more interesting to note that someone (Ben) had underlined the size. Since my bra size was identical, how coincidental was that? "Better stop letting him help with that part of the laundry," I resolved.
Turning the page, there was Betty Lou in all her glorious nudity, spreading her legs to prove she truly was a blonde. With a sense of cynical interest, I read more of the article... "Betty - her name inked out, replaced with BARB - likes nude sunbathing on her boyfriend's boat and screwing two guys at once..." "God, who writes this crap? And he changed her name to BARB. Oh, my God!" Now I WAS embarrassed. I was clearly the object of the boy's fantasies.
Stuffing the magazine quickly back under the mattress, I collected the sheets and headed downstairs to finish the wash. "Just shake those thoughts out of your head, you fool!" I said to myself. "All boys have their fantasies. It's harmless," I reckoned, trying to dismiss any further vulgar images.
From behind me, I heard the back door, "Barb, you were right. Tech accepted my application!" Ben yelled over the drone of the washer.
"Hey, there ya go Ben. Good job!" I shared in his enthusiasm, putting whatever fantasies he might have for me on a back burner.
"Yeah, I start night classes next week. I've got a counselor, books and a schedule. Now all I have to do is get smart," his eyes rolled.
"I'm so proud of you. I'm sure you'll have no trouble with these courses," I stated, scanning his schedule, while clamping a motherly squeeze on his upper arm.
"Not as long as I have your help?" Ben's eyes pleaded.
"I said I would help, and I will, okay?" I responded and wrapped my arms around him in a full hug. Pressing my chest into his, I felt his strong arms wrap around me. His warm hands moved gently to pull me closer. I backed away, with his hands still around my waist. He smiled and nodded, before letting me break away.
"Damn, I wasn't here to help with the laundry. Did you find everything okay?" Ben asked.
"Sure, no problem. I decided to wash sheets too."
"Oh, okay," Ben acknowledged, before his eyes shifted toward the stairs.
Telling my husband about finding the seedy magazine would only serve to confuse him. Besides, there was something harmless and tender about the boy. I decided to keep that bit of information to myself, for the time being.
****************
Ugly Ducklings
I spent the following few weeks dedicated to cleaning up things outside. Bundling up for the approaching winter, I made my way through a glade of trees that led to our pond. "You gonna need some help Barb?" I heard Ben yell from the house.
"Always! And bring some twine with you," I hollered back.
