I thanked the last of the guests and showed them to the door before returning to the parlor where my Aunt Linda sat on the love seat. I sat across from her in a rocker and said, "Well, that was the last of them."
Linda looked up and forced a smile. "Your mother was pretty popular, huh?"
"Everyone here she knew from church," I said in way of a response. "I don't necessarily know if that equates to popularity or just the church looking after its own, as they are wont to do."
"Either way ..." she said with a sigh. She dabbed at her eyes with tissue before breaking down crying once again.
I was immediately at her side. I took the mangled and abused tissue from her and handed her my handkerchief in its place. "Here, use this."
She attempted a smile, but though genuine, she was too grief-stricken for it to hold any shadow of good will. Great sobs wracked her body as she lamented her loss, our loss. "If only we hadn't been so stubborn these past few years."
"You can't play that game with yourself, Linda."
"But, it's true," she said. "So many unresolved issues between she and I."
"So, what? Now you're going to use these new-found powers of twenty-twenty hindsight to 'What if ...?' your entire past?" I asked. "What if Tom hadn't died? What if Amelia hadn't died? Is that how it's going to be?" For the record, Tom was Linda's husband who passed about five years ago, and Amelia was her daughter who drowned at age nine.
Silence on her end, almost a minute's worth, then, "I'm truly alone now. I mean, I still have you, and you have me, but to what end? You will be leaving back for Georgia in a few days and I'll be returning to Louisiana. Is this where our lives end as well?"
She was speaking of Jackson, Mississippi, where my mother had lived and was just lain to rest.
"I ... guess," I responded. "I really haven't entertained any other scenarios, Linda." I stood and fixed her a glass of wine. "Here."
"I don't want it."
"Drink it anyway," I told her. She took the glass, then I headed off down the hall. Upon my return, I was surprised to see that she had drained the flute considering that I had filled it almost to the rim. "Come on," I said to her as I held out a hand. "I've drawn you a bath." I led her to my mother's bathroom then told her to turn. I unzipped her dress, unhooked her bra, then turned away from her. "Let me know when you're done."
I heard her undress, then she said, "Okay."
I turned to see her standing naked before me. Not the sight I had expected to greet me, but I chalked it up to her still being in mild shock over Mom's death. I led her to the tub and helped her in. It was my plan to sit on the toilet while she bathed, but something told me that she really couldn't fend for herself right now, so I removed my jacket, rolled up my sleeves, knelt behind her, grabbed a luffa, applied some Skin So Soft to it, and began to lightly wash her back.
"That feels nice," she said.
I washed her arms but told her that she had to do the rest. She eventually did, but it took another twenty minutes for her to even get started on that. Once finished, I had her stand as I wrapped a towel around her. She stepped from the tub and I led her into Mom's bedroom, where she had been staying. I dug a white bra and panty from her suitcase as well as a light flannel night shirt and told her to dry herself off and dress as I turned my back to her. As I turned around, I was happy to see that she had done so.
"Are you hungry?" I asked. "Want me to warm up some of what those people brought over?"
"Can you make me a bacon cheese omelet?" she asked.
"Sure. I'll bring it to you. Why don't you lay down and rest?"
I was about two-thirds the way finished when Linda came into the kitchen. She approached me, hugged me, and said, "Thank you for being a rock for me. I know this hasn't been easy on you, either." From the corner of my eye I saw her pucker her lips, so I did the same and turned half-way to meet her. She turned my head about twenty degrees more and kissed me on the lips. She lingered about three seconds, which did not seem inappropriate at all.
"Have a seat," I said as I folded the omelet in half and placed it on a plate. As the cheese melted, I fixed her a glass of milk before setting both before her.
"Aren't you going to eat?"
"I'm not hungry right now," I told her. "Maybe later."
She ate everything, drank all her milk, then said she wanted to watch some TV, so I gave her the remote and told her to pick whatever she wanted. We ended up watching an infomercial about "Songs from the Seventies" hosted by Peter Noon. "I think I'm ready for bed now," she said once it was over. I followed her to her room to ensure she got in bed without incident. As I was about to take my leave, she said, "Please stay with me tonight, Stevie."
I looked at my watch. It was seven-thirty. I really wasn't sleepy, but I didn't want to be a dick to someone who had been such a good friend to me throughout my life, who really needed me now. I smiled. "Sure. Okay." I stripped down to my T-shirt and undies, then crawled in bed behind her, laying on my left side.
Linda burrowed into me. She slid her feet between my calves and grabbed my right arm and looped it around her torso, holding it in place with her own right arm. "Thank you," she said. She squirmed just a little deeper, said, "Good-night," and was lightly snoring five minutes later.
Spooning with my aunt
, I thought, and quickly my mind turned to that kiss earlier. I really didn't think it was anything more than what it was, a lingering peck that showed her appreciation for me being there for her. You see, Linda was not the archetypal aunt insofar as my relationship with her was concerned.
She was the baby of her family, nine years younger than Mom and just fourteen years older than me, and while a generation separated us, she and I always got along more like friends than the relatives we were. We went on walks together, talking about anything and everything. Yes, even the topic of incest came up between us on more than one occasion, yet we both were of the mind that the dictionary's definition of "sexual intercourse with a parent, child, sibling, or grandchild" was apropos, meaning that sex between cousins or even aunts and uncles and their nieces and nephews didn't make the cut. I'll be the first to admit that I had entertained thoughts of she and I at various points in our existence, but not to the degree that I had attempted to pursue them, and apparently the same held for her. As I thought on this, I dwindled off to sleep myself.
I awoke before Linda the following morning. I made a pot of coffee and turned on the TV. I was a week behind on my shows, so I connected my laptop to the Plasma screen, pulled up my hulu account, and began to catch up. I heard Linda stirring in the kitchen a short time later. She joined me in the living room, cup of coffee in hand. Without a word, she squirmed deep next to me, drew her legs up, and watched the latest episode of
The Good Place
with me.
In the midst of it I wrapped an arm around her. She lay her head back against my chest. When the episode finished, she looked up at me. I used my free hand to move a few strands of hair from her face. She reciprocated, then allowed her hand to linger against my cheek. Whatever I saw in her eyes, she must have seen the same in mine. She lightly raised her chin as she closed her eyes. I moved my lips against hers and we kissed. It was a single, lingering kiss that lasted for all of twenty seconds. When I pulled back, she opened her eyes, smiled shyly, and then moved in for another. This one lasted about as long as the first, and afterward, there was nothing more. We watched a few more shows before I announced that I needed to do my dailies. She iterated the same, so we went our separate ways.
Once finished, I went to her room to find her dressed in a peach-colored dress. She looked amazing in it. "What do you say to brunch?" I asked.
"Sure," she said. "Where?"
"I haven't a clue. Let me go google it." I found what appeared to be a nice place downtown. Linda agreed, so we were off. We had champagne and caviar. Linda footed the bill. We walked around the mall afterwards. She bought me an eel skin wallet and I bought her a hat that accessorized her dress nicely. A quick stop to purchase some containers for all the food at the house, then it was back home.
I resumed my place on the couch and Linda resumed her place wedged into me. Without a word we began kissing once again, only this time it lasted for the better part of fifteen minutes. It wasn't hurried in the least. It was slow, natural, as if this is what was always meant to be. When she pulled back that last time, she said, "Do you see how right this feels?"
I smiled and nodded, because I did. We spent the next two hours making out. It was wonderful.
For dinner I heated up some brisket, mashed potatoes and gravy, and green beans. Afterwards, Linda and I placed all the leftovers in the containers and washed the dishes the church folk had brought over. I would call Reverend Reardon in the morning and have him send someone by to collect these things.
"I've been happy all day with you, Stevie, but what we're doing now? Getting these final little bits of business in order? I'm afraid of what tomorrow is going to bring, because I know that tomorrow is an eventuality just waiting to happen. You'll go back to Georgia, I'll return to Louisiana ... I'm never going to see you again, am I?"
Tears spilled out of her eyes. I wiped at them with my thumbs, then kissed her. "Why don't you go get a bath?" I suggested. "I'll be along when I finish up here." As she nodded and exited, I wondered what my next move should be.
It was going on eight o'clock when I finally made my way to Linda's room—yes, I had already begun referring to it as hers, not my mother's. She was lying atop the covers wearing the night shirt she had worn the night before. "Come on," she said as she patted the space next to her. I stripped down to my boxer-briefs and slid in next to her. We were facing each other. She smiled. She placed a palm against one of me cheeks, drew in close, and we began to kiss softly. Her hand slid between my legs. She pulled back and a devilishly delicious smile played at her lips when she found me hard. Without a word, she removed my underwear, raised her night shirt, then positioned herself above me, but just before fully committing she said, "You have to tell me it's okay, Stevie."
"It is," I whispered breathily. She slowly impaled herself on me, taking her time as she engulfed my penis to the hilt. We moaned in unison. Even once there, though, she pushed herself to take every millimeter of my cock that was available.
