Joanie and me
My closest sibling Joanie was 9 the year I was born, I was an unplanned late in life oops baby. She was there, but at the same time, not there as I grew up. Once she entered her teens she was more like an occasional babysitter than a sister. I was ten when she left home at the ripe old age of 19, married to Rodney Gilpon, the local bad boy of our town. He owned an old Harley motorcycle, wore a leather jacket, had long hair and a scruffy beard, he was the epitome of everything my parents had warned Joanie not to become involved with.
Joanie had always been head strong and convinced herself she would be the one to tame Rodney's wild side. Thankfully she wasn't pregnant, that would have broken mothers' heart, literally. Mom was 46 when she had me, at 56 she knew all too well where Joanie's life was likely headed. Her only daughter was off to California with her hoodlum wanna be husband. We received a Christmas card for a few years, but never postmarked as being from California, and then nothing. She didn't return for moms funeral, I was 17 at the time and could not figure out why .
When I graduated high school my father was the oldest parent in attendance. Both my older brothers and their families showed up for my graduation, I barely knew them and certainly not their families, they lived hundreds of miles away in warmer climes. I hadn't even seen them during holidays, neither they, nor their families, wanted to be in cold weather at Christmas or Easter? Them showing up at my graduation was only the fifth time I had ever been in their presence. Though it was May, the temps where we lived were still chilly compared to where they lived. I heard nothing but complaints the entire week they were with us.
As they drove away I heard my dad mutter under his breath, "Thank God mother isn't alive to see their behavior. Ungrateful little shits."
Following high school I managed to get an apprenticeship working with Mr. Reynolds as an electrician, a job I thoroughly enjoyed. I'd been with him almost a year and a half when he keeled over dead on the job site. I tried frantically to revive him, nothing I did was going to bring him back, I learned later that day he died of a massive heart attack. Mrs. Reynolds put the business up for sale with no takers and me not having enough experience to go it alone, she simply closed the doors to the shop behind their house. His dad had begun the business shortly after returning home from WW2, after 59 years Reynolds Electric was no longer.
Not knowing what to do or where to go dad suggested I should consider going into the military. I didn't want to be a grunt or ground pounder which left the Navy or Air Force. The Air Force recruiter seemed to have more to offer in the electrical field, so I went in that direction. Like most military people in 2008 I ended up doing a pair of tours in the sandbox as part of a Civil Engineering squadron, doing what I loved, electrical.
Though I never saw combat we still endured the random rocket or mortar attack at night. Always at night, the cowardly little bastards that hid behind women and children during the day were suddenly transformed into heroes after dark. There were a few hits close enough to make one wonder if this was it, fortunately none ever hit my barracks. The closest I came to combat was when the airport runways would be hit and we'd have to repair the lighting, etc and were fired upon at times. Though I was never an active participant in battle I still saw the carnage of war all around me. Images you never get out of your head.
I was just past the ripe old age of 24 when I got out and returned to my sleepy Midwest hometown. I'd lucked out arriving in the spring of the year, everything was fresh and new. Fruit trees were in blossom and the ditches were awash with the brilliant yellow of Cowslips. It was the first time I had consciously thought about how much I loved this land, this little town, these big hearted and loving people. Dad threw a big party to welcome me home, most of my childhood friends were in attendance, either still in college or married with kids of their own.
Cindy Hladish was in attendance, we had dated off and on throughout high school. It never amounted to much, what lessons we had learned about love had been carried out in the back of my parents Dodge station wagon. Suffice it to say the lessons never went very far. In our senior year a new family of middle eastern descent moved into our area, their oldest was a senior. Cindy fell head over heels in love with this guy and from that point on we were no more than distant friends.
When I first saw her at the party she was carrying a pretty little girl who looked very much like the boy that had captured Cindy's heart so many years ago. We greeted, she hugged and told me she'd missed me. I mingled with others as the afternoon wore on, most of the guests had left by early evening, I was surprised to see Cindy's little one playing with a few other kids. I thought they had left hours prior. In the kitchen I found Cindy standing next to dad drying dishes as he washed.
When that was done Cindy followed me outside to begin putting away folding tables and chairs. Looking into the living room a half hour later we found Cindy's girl in dads lap, both asleep. She and I sat on the porch talking for a spell, the conversation turned from where I'd been and what I'd done to her life story after school. She had married Rashid in their sophomore year of college, finding herself pregnant within six months of the ceremony, which made no sense to her since they were using condoms. Their son Aamir was the first, followed a year and a half later by their daughter Adara. At that point she began to tear up. Not knowing what to do I asked if all was okay.
"Not really Ron. A year ago Rashid took Aamir to Lebanon to meet his grandparents, he's not coming back, I've lost my son forever. I have no rights in his country, he only wanted his son, Adara cried for weeks, now it's as though she no longer cares. Something inside told me letting him take only our son was going to end in tragedy, but I didn't pay attention to that still small voice inside. In one of our heated overseas phone conversations I inadvertently learned he had purposely altered the condoms so they would leak. After that call his phone number was disconnected, I have no idea where he or my son are."
I had heard of situations like this but never knew anyone it had happened to, until now. You can contact the American consulate, but they can do nothing of any significance. With my arm around her shoulders I did all I knew to do to comfort her. As she sobbed into my chest I had the wisdom to say nothing, just let her cry it out. When we heard soft conversation coming from the living room we went inside, Adara was awake, it was time to take her home. I noticed something that night I had not paid attention to previously, my dad looked old, not worn out, but old, fragile.
I was invited to have supper with Cindy and Adara later that week and accepted. With dinner finished I helped clear the table as she got Adara into jammies and ready for bed. An hour later she had laid her down and returned to the couch sitting close to me, close enough I could feel body heat. I hadn't been with a woman in nearly a year, it took no time for me to respond to her advances. It started out with soft tender kisses, followed by the eat your face off stuff you see in movies, something she initiated and I went along with.
I apparently wasn't moving things along fast enough because she grabbed my hand and shoved it under the shirt onto her bare breast, I took the signal and proceeded to help her out of her clothes. It was a fast and furious fuck which left me feeling like I'd just been used as a cum dispenser. By the time we finished she was pushing into me with every ounce of strength she possessed, crying out, telling me to fuck her slutty pussy.
This was an entirely new world to me. I'd been with girls, but not like this, something didn't feel right. She seemed a bit too eager to get my cock inside her and dump my load. Then I figured it out, she was looking for a daddy to Adara, if I got her pregnant, she had me, hook, line and sinker. As I stood she swiveled with her back on the floor and put her legs up on the couch. I knew the theory, keeping the semen inside longer in hopes that a sperm might make its way through the cervix and find a fertile egg. She was obviously ovulating, and I was the obligatory breeder. With her still on her back I bid her goodnight.
I lucked out and dodged the bullet when she had a period the next month. Cindy continued to invite me back for more food and pussy. My words, not hers, I envisioned it as entrapment and avoided her. Dad hadn't worked the land since the year before I went into the service, the majority was leased out to other farmers, he'd held back a bit over 50 acres for the purpose of growing enough feed to raise a few head of beef for the freezer. I spent the first few months helping him around the farm, there were fences to repair, spots on the barn roof to patch, along with numerous odd jobs he simply wasn't capable to do any longer.
I started doing the grocery shopping and errands for dad, it was on a Saturday morning shopping trip that I happened upon Mrs. Reynolds in the produce aisle. She didn't utter a word, she plastered a smile on her face, left her cart and walked directly to me, with arms outstretched she embraced me like a mom would a long-lost son. Pushing me back at arm's length she held tight and looked me over from head to foot before wrapping her arms around me for a second bear hug.
She stepped back and sighed, "It's so good to see your Ronald. (She and school teachers were the only ones other than mom to call me Ronald) I heard you were back, I was hoping I'd run into you somewhere. Why haven't you come by the house?"
"You know how it goes Mrs. R. I've been busy helping dad get the farm back in shape, I've meant to visit but you know how time slips away."
"Do you have many perishables?" She asked while gesturing toward my cart.
I shook my head, "Just some salad mixings, a few strawberries and a gallon of milk."
She squeezed my arm, "Goodie, you can throw that stuff in my fridge and have a cup of coffee with me. I baked a cherry pie yesterday, if I remember correctly, it's one of your favorites."
She knew and treated me like the mom I no longer had. I was looking outside through her kitchen window as we talked, it looked as though Mr. Reynolds old work van was parked next to the building that held his business.
"Is that Mr. Reynolds old service van?"
"It is, and you're old enough to call him by his first name, Bart. I was able to sell the newer one you had been driving but nobody wanted that one. It just sits there along with everything else."
I was confused, "What do you mean, everything else?"
"Well, I never did sell the business. They all wanted to steal it from me, and I wasn't gonna let it go that cheap. I know that some money is better than no money, but I don't need their damned money, they sorta pissed me off. Scuse my unlady like language. The truck, the inventory, it's all there, you should take it over. Bart would be lookin down with a smile on his face if you did that."
