The office moved downtown, to one of the five-story buildings that are as close to skyscrapers as Reedville is likely to get in the next hundred years. The sign on their ‘penthouse’ suite reads ‘WVS Innovations’ which explains why I had so much trouble finding the new address – Ame made partner while I was gone and they changed the company name. I’m not complaining ‘cause I think the fact that she’s a partner is cool. I grin at the sign for a minute before going in.

I greet the perky receptionist, ask for Amelia Wilson and admit that I do not have an appointment. She calls Ame and I watch her face as she announces me. Whatever Ame said must have caught little miss perky off her game because her eyes nearly pop out and she gives me the same smile you give when you find out that the murderer is standing next to you.

“I’m sorry Ms. Wilson is tied up at the moment. She’s asked if you would make an appointment and come back on another day.”

I lean on the desk and smile at the girl, “Tell Ms. Wilson if-n she don’t get’er lil’ round ass out here in five, Ima come back an’ get it.” She pales a bit. “Go on back an’ tell ‘er. I’ll wait right here fo’ ya.” She gets up and briskly scoots into the back office. Three minutes later, she and a pissed off Ame enter the room.

Her hair is twisted into a bun on top of her head and held there with a chopstick. It exaggerates how slender her neck is. She is the picture of a conservative executive. She’s already launching in on me about how dare I barge in to her place of business or some similar bullshit but I couldn’t care less. I completely ignore her. I grab her arm, pull her up to me and kiss her. I pull her hair down letting the sticks fall where they may and let go of her arm in favor of holding her head. I have been waiting – dying – for this since I left her.

When she crushes my nuts, I let her go. She squeezes so hard and so unexpectedly I nearly blackout. She asks, “Are you listening yet?” a couple times before I can answer. “Good. You may go home. When I call you, if – if I stress – if I call you, it will be there. Do not come in to my office without permission again.”

I watch her high heels exit the room and will myself to calm down. The pain was excruciating but I want to go, grab her and screw her on her desk. It’s a couple minutes before I can pick myself up off the floor. The receptionist is stunned, terrified. I shake my head. Already I can feel transfer from pain to pleasure.

“Thank you.” I manage to say to her – from out of reach of her desk, so that she’s not worried that I’ll attack her. “If Ms. Wilson asks, tell her that I’m staying with my Grandfather until I’ve made more permanent arrangements. I believe she has the number.” I can’t help groaning as I turn to the door.

“Umm, do you need some help? A doctor, maybe?” She seems torn between genuine concern and utter fear. I love southern girls.

“No, I’m fine.” I give her a half smile, “Believe it or not, that went better than I expected.”

“It did?”

“Oh, yeah. She threatened to cut ‘em off. With a razor. I figured she wouldn’t have one handy here, but you never know with that one. You take care now, here?” I take the elevator down because the stairs would be just a little more than I’m ready to face. I figure she won’t call today. Maybe next week. If she really missed me, she’ll call the day after tomorrow.

It’s a month.

I come home from the dock. Granddad is on the porch chatting with one of the neighbors, which is a good thing because I was beginning to think he was becoming a hermit.

“Hey, Mr. Hodges. Hey, Granddad; you take yo’ meds on time t’day?” Always have to ask him that.

“You aughta know.” He sneers at Mr. Hodges, “Sent his little barracuda ova ta’ check up on me.”

“Sent who?” Usually, if I send anyone, it’s Beth or Gracie since they’re in the office and close by. I didn’t send either today.

“That little witch you was seein’ up north. The little oriental one. I don’t know her name. Hell boy, need a god damned database t’keep up with all yor wimen.”

I stare at him for a moment. Granddad’s a bit off his game, but he’s not senile. “She was here? You sure?”

His eyes narrow at me, “I look senile ta ya, boy? Woman was here, checked ma meds, watched me take ‘em, said you kin call her, an’ left. You’d think George’d raise the boy with some respect.” He grumbled to Mr. Hodges.

“It not you, Granddad. I just didn’t think she’d visit. I’m a bit surprised.”

“Me too. Thought you’d rid yo’self uh that one.” He shook his head, “Never liked her. Cruel. You know the type, Ed, you ain’t never sure if-n the knife in her hand is for you o’ the fish.” They both laugh.

I clap him on the shoulder, “Yeah, she’s kinda like that. You ok out here?”

“Yeah, boy, I’m fine. Junior may be ova fer a spell this evenin’.”

“Ok. I’ll be back in a minute. I, uh, need ta make a phone call.” I drift inside.

She came by. She checked his meds. I take the steps two at a time.

When she picks up, all my smooth, planned greetings go flying out the window. It’s actually a couple seconds before I can even say hi.

“Pick me up. We have dinner reservations and we’re already running late.” She hangs up before I can respond.

It’s another minute before I realize that I need to get moving, shower, change and get to her place. I hope she hasn’t moved otherwise I’m sunk. Granddad laughs at me as I run past him. I stop just before I start the car and get out again.

“Uh…” I hate leaving him alone all night.

“If-n you plannin’ on doin’ yo’ business with that one, you’d best get a move on.” He says chortling.

What can I say about Granddad? “You the best!” I call out and break a speed law or twelve getting’ to Ame’s. She hasn’t moved. She doesn’t speak but then she rarely speaks in the car. The reservations are at Nam Tran – the only Vietnamese restaurant in town. She’s dressed to kill making me doubly glad to took the time to change clothes. After she places our drink orders, she looks at me and I find myself lost in those beautiful, hypnotic eyes.

“If you’re going to moon, you can leave right now.” Her tone is acidic and I snap to attention.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Now. You’re Grandfather looks well.” She sips her wine. “Charming as ever.”

“Yeah, he’s holdin’ up pretty well, all things considered.”

“I trust your parents are doing well also?”

“Oh, yeah. Mom’s retired but Dad’s still at the Fishery. Actually, my cousin, Jean – you remember Jean an’ Joan? – anyway, Jean’s gone into Accounting too an’ she’s working with him now.” I talk about the family for a few minutes until I realize that she isn’t even vaguely interested. “Yeah. Ok. How’s Amanda?”

“Well, I’m sure.”

“Good. Good.” I look at the menu. After she orders for us, we sit in silence until she’s ready to tell me why we’re there.

“I wanted to tell you first, how absolutely inappropriate your behavior in my office was. It was vulgar and rude and intolerable.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” I say softly, keeping my eyes on my plate. I love it when she berates me in public – it makes me all tingly.

“Secondly, you seem to have forgotten that you may not touch me without my express consent. I trust you were reminded of that?”

“Oh, yes Ma’am.” The thought makes me twitch and I sip my wine to cover the grin that threatens to break out.

“Finally, you should know that I am seeing someone.”

I nearly choke on the wine and barely avoid spewing all over the table. I get my napkin over my mouth in time and cough violently for almost a full minute. She waits patiently while I recover. When I find my voice again I only want to know one thing, “Who?”

“I cannot imagine why that should be any of your concern.”

“I wanna know who.”

“None of your concern. Lower your voice.”

I take a deep breath and flex. I can already feel the tension creeping along my shoulder and around my neck. “Why?” I ask again in a quieter voice.

“When you announced this football thing, did I not tell you that if you chose football over me, I would consider our relationship at an end?”

“Ame,” I gasp, frustrated to have this discussion again, “Do you know how many guys get a chance to play NFL ball? What was I supposed ta do – throw that away without trying? I didn’t choose football over you; you could have come with me.”

“Uproot my life to follow you around the country like a puppy with no purpose of my own?”

“It wouldn’t have been like that.” I say weakly. But I know, for her, it would have been exactly like that.

“Was I not clear?”

“You were clear.” I can feel the tension in my jaw now. Most likely she can see it in my face by now.

“Are you then upset because you’ve spent the last twenty-four months thinking of no one but me?”

“As a matter uh damn fact, I have.”

“Alone?”

I look back at my plate. I though of her nightly. But not alone.

“I knew there was no earthly way you could be trusted out of my sight to be anything approaching faithful, so I didn’t ask you to try. Why should I?”

I start to answer that but I catch myself before anything stupid comes out of my mouth.

“I thought I at least owed it to you to tell you in person.” She pauses as the waiter serves our meal. “That’s all. You may leave when you’re ready. Tonight I will cover the check.”

I wave the waiter back over and give him my credit card. “Please start an open tab for this bill. I may need to leave early and I don’t want my friend to be imposed.” He trots off and brings the card back a moment later.

“You didn’t need to do that.” She says.

“Yes, I did.” I eat my meal. “How’s the firm doing?”

“Well.” We talk about her work until the tension in my jaw make it almost impossible for me to speak.

“Is it serious?” I cut over what she’s saying.

She pauses mid-word. “They are all serious.”

“Are you planning to get married?”

“What would that have to do with anything?”

“Just curious.”

She’s silent for a while. “No.” she finally answers. “Were any of yours ‘serious’?”

“No.”

“Did any of them last more than a night?”

For the first time ever, I am actually ashamed to answer that question. “No.”

“Well. You must have had quite a time.”

“It was just sex.”

“Oh, surely you’re not going to tell me there’s a difference between having sex and making love. I thought you didn’t believe in such a thing.”

“I didn’t.” I take a deep breath; if this is hopeless, I might as well go with full disclosure. “I worked my way through all the cheerleaders, the groupies, the girlfriends, hell, a bunch of the wives. Fat chicks, skinny. One girl teaches yoga and we did it in a locker just ta prove it could be done. I tried a couple guys just for old times sake. I tried slow and soft. I tried rough. I…” I hesitate, “I tried a couple things I’m not sure I’ll ever forget or forgive myself for. I went back to ‘Alex’ before you met me an’ I was an evil little shit back then. But here’s my point. No matter what I tried, I still couldn’t find anything that felt as good as watching a movie on your couch.”

“Touching.”

“Not cute.” I snap at her. I take a breath and calm myself. “Here’s my problem: I love you.” She lifts her eyebrows in mock surprise. “Don’t give me that look.” I snap again, “You know damn well how I feel. I love you, I’m in love with you. I can’t figure out how I lasted ten minutes without you let alone ten months and I come back to get you – to sacrifice everything I am to you – an’ you say you seeing someone else! Amelia, please, tell me you don’t love him.”

She shrugs. “I don’t.”

If I’d been standing, Ida fallen. “I…you don’t?”

“No.”

“I thought you said it was serious.”

“It is. But it’s not emotional.”

“Then you still love me?” my heart’s pounding like I just ran a thousand yards.

“I never said I did.”

I close my eyes and flex again. She being deliberately evasive. “Amelia, how do you feel about me?”

“Again, I can’t imagine why that would matter.”

“Because it does.” I slam the table with my fist and the everything shakes. Several heads in the room look at us and I put my hand in my lap to avoid any further outbursts. “I need to know what you feel.”

“And I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“You don’t see how your feelings may be relevant to me?”

“I don’t see how my feelings could be relevant in light of the fact that our relationship ended two years ago.”

“Ame! Who fucking cares when it ended? I’m here now and I want you back. Do you want me on my knees?” I push the chair back and crawl beside her, “Here, humiliated in public for your amusement.”

“Get up.” She hisses, “People are staring.” I sit back down in my chair. I want to pick her up and fuck her on the table but that likely would not help my case. “I don’t feel anything, if you must know.”

“Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You maybe denying it, you may be hiding it but you feel something. For me, about me, whatever. Don’t tell me you don’t. I love you, Amelia. An’ I’m brave enough to admit it. You go on about strength, but without a few guts, there ain’t much ta be strong about. So, I’m going home now. When you figure out how you feel, call me. I promise, I’ll be waiting. I don’t have any choice ‘cause –“ I have this weird welling up feeling, like something inside me’s gonna burst. I swallow hard and push it back down. “You just call me when you know some thing.”

I get up and find our waiter, sign the bill and leave.

At home Uncle Julius and Granddad are drinking bourbon and reminiscing about the ‘old days’. Ordinarily, I would run screaming to my room. Tonight, I pour myself a glass and sit down. They stop talking for a minute.

“Finally got you with that knife uh hers, eh?” Granddad says softly.

“She just wanted to tell me that she’s seeing someone else.”

They both wince.

“Ain’t no woman the only woman.” Uncle Julius says after a while, “They’s always another one out there, somewhere.”

“I’ll tell Aunt Rachael you said that.” I muse, refilling my drink. I gesture with the bottle and both of them hold up their glasses. I pause for just a second before filling Granddad’s – some of his meds should not be taken with alcohol. Then I pour. If bourbon kills him, he’s not plannin’ on living much longer any how. “Bitch.” It slips out and I spend the next ten minutes calling her every name I can think of. They let me go on.

“Yeah, that’s about what I said when I found out ‘bout Ms. Rachael an’ Wilton.” Granddad states.

“Wilton?” I stare at him, then at Uncle Julius “Uncle Wilton? Yo’ freakin’ son, Wilton?”

Uncle Julius knocks back the rest of his drink like it was water and Granddad shrugs. “Sorry, Junior.”

“No need.” Julius refills his glass, “It was uh long time ago, now. I’m ova it.” He’s over it and I’m over Ame. Right. “Just ‘bout had heart failure at the time. But you learn ta move on eventually.”

“You uh lie.” Granddad says. “He ain’t never got ova it, he just too in love with Ms Rachael ta stay away. She coulda slep’ wit’ four-five men, he’d’uh taken her back if-n she was on fire.”

Uncle Julius purses his lips but doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then he looks at me, “Marcus wants to act like he ain’t just the same but you name me one thing yo’ grandmomma coulda done that’uh had him packin’.”

I think for a minute. I can only think of one thing. “I donno. Shot him. Had an abortion.” Granddad’s pretty far right on the topic.

Uncle Julius get an odd kinda grin – like I said just what he was looking for – and looks at Granddad, “Yeah, Marcus. Think you could forgive her that?”

Granddad looks away for a moment. “My Candice was a saint. Ain’t nothing she coulda done woulda torn me from her side.”

“Amen.” I say.

Uncle Julius pats his shoulder, “She’s uh good woman, Marcus. We all miss her.”

We go through another round of drinks, each of us getting that much more depressed.

“She won’t even tell me who.” I lament aloud.

“Whatcha need ta know that for, boy?” Julius asks.

“So I can beat the living shit outta him.”

“Might be why she ain’t tell you.” Marcus observes.

“Yeah.” He has a point. “Shit.”

We have another round before Aunt Rachael comes over to collect Julius. We’re pretty trashed and she’s pretty mad. I do manage to get to my room on my own but I wake on the floor when my alarm goes off.

I make it to the dock house by 4:30am and I’m not hung-over.

I’m still too drunk to be hung-over.

Aunt Rachael arrives while I’m trying to figure out how to make coffee.

“Give me that.” She takes the filters and coffee away from me and makes a pot. “Now, before I send you home, I had the two of them nicely trained. Two drinks, then JD comes home. So what happened last night?”

“Ame dumped me.” She coos and hugs me. “I’m cool. Ain’t no woman the only woman, right?”

“JD and Marcus told you that?” she chuckles “The two who’s vows were ‘until death do us part and then some’?”

I think about what I remember of last night’s conversation. “Actually they made a pretty good case for forgivin’ her and takin’ her back. Which isn’t actually an option.”

She frowns, “So what did they tell you, exactly?”

“I lot uh stuff I ain’t wanna know, for starters.” She looks a bit pensive, “Nothin’ I would hold against you or Grandma, that’s for sure. ‘Sides, you an’ I already know way too much ‘bout each others personal lives.”

“I guess that true.” She doesn’t look at all reassured.

“Hell, if-n I had the chance, I’d do Wilton, too.” She looks stricken. “Aunt Rae, I’m sorry. It’s a joke.” Mostly. I jump up to try an console her – or something – except I’m still not quite steady so I overbalance and knock us both to the floor. She laughs, which is a good thing.

Aunt Rachael’s a hot little freak even if she is pushin’ forty. Being tangled on the floor with her is way more temptation than I need. I push away from her as gently as I can.

“Yeah, so, anyway. Ame an’ me had this stupid fight about me bein’ in love with her an’ her not givin’ a damn about me – which is stupid anyway since she’s already seeing someone else, so what the fuck. But I came home an’ they was drinkin’ an’ I told them an’ it kinda went from there.”

She sighs heavily, “That would explain it.” She catches my confused look, “JD was pretty upset by the time we got home and we exchanged a few words.”

“Oh. Oh man.” My buzz is beginning to fade and with the clearer head is coming a horrible headache. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean ta start an argument. Marcus brought it up and Julius said it was ok.”

“You boys did get chummy, didn’t you? ’Marcus’ and ‘Julius’ now?”

I kinda blush. My family’s always been very formal about those kind of things. “We got pretty trashed.”

“I saw. Well, don’t worry about us. He’ll get over it. I just wondered what brought it up.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Alex, it’s ok, relax.” She ruffles my hair – like she used to when I was a kid, “You look wrecked. Skip the coffee.” She gives me her keys, “Go to the house, get some sleep. Come back when you can stand up straight for more than three minutes at a time.” I start to protest but she stops me. “Quit arguing. The crew will start arriving any minute. Shoo.”

“Aunt Rachael, you rock.” I kiss her cheek, take the keys and walk to her house.

I take a handful of aspirin and crash in the living room. I wake several hours later to the smell of bacon. It takes me more than a minute to figure out where I am and why. I wander into the kitchen feeling better than I did at the dock house. Uncle Julius is making breakfast for Willow and Caesar. I give him a hand. He doesn’t mention last night so neither do I.

As we all sit down, I get an odd thought, “Hey, how come she ain’t ‘Julia’?”

Uncle Julius is perplexed by that one, “Come again?”

“Julia, Caesar.” I say pointing at the kids.

He thinks for a minute, “Now that woulda been right clever.”

It sparks a big long discussion about all the names in our family and lasts even as Uncle Julius is ushering them out to the car and off to school. I clean the kitchen for him and head back to the dock house. I send Aunt Rachael back home and take over the desk. Not that there’s much to do at this hour – the boats are out and aside from a bit of filing and the phone, not much happens til they come back. Unless the weather changes.

Then it’s a whole different day. I wait until the last boat docks and every crewman signed out for the day, signs back in. Grandma told me that back in the 50’s and 60’s – when she first started working for the fishery – there were too many days that her last task of the day was to call someone’s family. We still have a trunk for doin’ a burial at sea – without a body. I confess, every time a boat is late, my eyes glance at that trunk. I’ve had a couple late nights on the dock, but I haven’t had to end any of them with a phone call. I pray I never will.

The next couple weeks are pretty much more of the same except Granddad an’ I start arguing about everything. The two of us pretty much argue with everyone. Finally, Peter meets me at the dock house as I’m leaving one day.

“Can I give you a lift?” he asks.

“Nah. Kinda in the mood to walk.”

He pauses, “Let me rephrase that. Alex. Get in.”

I look at him. He hasn’t use that command form since he married with Gwen. “This for my benefit or yours?” I ask him.

He doesn’t answer. He grabs my shirt and pulls me to the passenger door. I could make it a bigger fight for him but – I gotta admit – he still pushes all the right buttons for me. Of all places, he drives to the river.

“What’s the rule?” He asks as we get out of the car.

“No running, no jumping, no swimming.” I answer grinning. I had forgotten what a genuinely beautiful spot this was. How much we shared up here. “How’d we find this place anyhow?”

“Made a wrong turn heading home one night.” He’s looking at a tree where we carved our initials. I sit on the hood of the car like I used to and look at the water and the sky. And think of Ame.

I should have brought her out here when I had the chance. She hasn’t called, she hasn’t come by, she hasn’t sent a damned e-mail. I miss her so much, it hurts.

Peter sits next to me. “So. What’s up?”

I shrug, “Nada. Same old, same old.”

“Wanna try that again?”

“What?” If he wants to fuck, fine, but I’m not in the mood for twenty questions.

“You an’ Uncle Marcus fighin’ – what a shock. You an’ me? Again, no surprise. But Alex, you been fightin’ everybody. You yelled at yo’ Mom…”

“….Granddad was bein’ uh prick an’ she wouldn’t fuckin’ leave.”

“…at the crew? Crews?” he emphasizes the ‘s’.

“Shit heads.”

Ok, so what did Willow do?”

I don’t remember yelling at Willow. You have to a complete dick ta yell at Willow. She’s that kinda kid. “I don’t know! What the fuck?”

He hits me in the head, “Language.” He snaps.

I stand up, “Fuck off.”

He grabs me by the hair and twists my head back. “Is that the problem? Are you just so sexually frustrated that you can’t act civil anymore?”

“No.” I gasp. But really, I can feel the warm rush as the pain sweeps through me. Peter won’t hurt me – not the way Ame would – but his touch, the strength, the familiarity, makes me burn.

“No?”

“No, Sir.” I can’t help it; it’s programmed response.

“So if I made you blow me, you wouldn't feel better?” I swallow hard. I can’t breath. “You don’t want me ta bend you ova this car and fuck you hard?”

“OK!” I burst, “Yes! Shit, fuck me.” Instead, he lets my hair go. I collapse at his feet. “I am so fucked up.” I mutter.

“So just call her.” He sits on the ground next to me and strokes my hair.

“It’s not me this time. I told her how I feel. She’s seeing someone else. She couldn’t give flyin’ fuck if I’m pissed about it.”

“I’m sorry, Alex, I really am.” He pulls my head to his shoulder and I do something I rarely if ever do. I cry. In Peter’s arms, the only place other than my mother’s where it’s ‘safe’ to do so.

He waits til it’s out of my system and I try and push away from him. “Fag.” He teases with a light kiss.

“Takes one ta know one, pussy.” I answer back.

“Now here’s the plan.” He’s still holding me tightly, “I’m gonna let you go an’ you gonna find a branch I can beat your ass with. Then, you an’ I gonna go to dinner so you can tell me what the hell’s up with Uncle Marcus.”

I find a stick that’s heavy and twisted and he beats me til I cum. It doesn’t take long. It’s been so long since I’ve been truly hurt, I don’t think he gets to twenty before I am moaning and twitching. I blow all over the fall leaves, panting and growling. “Oh fuck!” I moan, “Oh god I needed that.” He gives me a few minutes to recover then, we head into town. My ass stings pleasantly all through the car ride and dinner.

“So, what’s with Uncle Marcus? They change his meds?”

“Nah. Livin’ with me likely getting’ under his skin.”

“It ain’t just you. He’s been in the office twice this month, poking around and actin’ like he own the place. Uncle George didn’t mention it?”

“Ima skip pointin’ out that he still do own the place.” Peter rolls his eyes. “And no, Dad, hasn’t mentioned it. He, uh, he an’ Jean both kinda pissed at me.”

He nods. “Yeah. That’s goin’ around I hear.”

“Alright! I’ll make some apologies. An’ Granddad’s most likely just bored. I’ll take him fishing this weekend. See if-n I can get Dad ta go with us.”

The conversation gnaws at me. The fishing trip is fine – Dad and I bury the hatchet – but I watch everything Granddad does like a hawk. As a result, he actually keeps me from hookin’ myself twice – which is good ‘cause it means he’s firing on all cylinders. Dad an’ I agree that he an’ Mom should come over for dinner more often. Just to say hi. That’s all. My Aunts all start dropping by during the day and taking him on errands or out to lunch.

Nobody wants to use the ‘A’ word.

Not until he shows up at the dock house looking for Grandma.

I call Dad. “Get down here.”

“You got uh problem son?”

“Yeah, Granddad wants ta know why Grandma ain’t workin’ the desk.”

“Come on, George,” Granddad says casually, looking at me, “just tell me where yo’ mama at.”

“Did he just call you ‘George’?” Dad asks, clearly shocked.

“Yeah.” I’m more than a little off put by that myself.

“Five minutes.” He hangs up.

I get up and guide Granddad to the bench. “Uh, Sir, I’m Alex, not George.”

“Alex?” he sounds confused and stares at me. Then he nods slowly, “Alex. Right. Oh God.” He chokes, “She gone.” The life seems to drain from him as he all but relives the day she passed.

Dad nearly skids at the door, “Dad?”

I gesture helplessly, “He remembered.” The radio flares and Dad takes over Granddad while I deal with the boats.

Even then, nobody wants to use the ‘A’ word. We just all think it real loud.

Aunt April - the nurse - manages to squeeze a series of appointments in for Granddad and Dad and Uncle Julius spend most of a day at the hospital with him. The Wednesday before Thanksgiving is traditionally a day off for the crews and the family all take the commercial shifts. Granddad shows up – on time – at 5am and works First Mate to Uncle Edward. As they pull out of dock, I wonder if this is his last time out.

When I get home, there are two messages on the machine – one from April. The second simply says, “We have dinner reservations at 6pm. Don’t be late.”

I thought I was self-absorbed. I thought I was spoiled and cruel and uncaring. I erase the message and call Aunt April.

“It’s very early stage one. Honestly, most people don’t even notice it at this stage; it’s usually lost under normal aging. We’re just all so used to him being so easy going most of the time that it sort of stuck out. But there are some short term things we can do – some prescriptions, memory exercises, get him out on the boats every so often, keep him as active as we can.” She goes on like that. I try to hold together. Men don’t cry; they break things. “Alex? You still there?”

“Yeah. I’m here.” I take a deep breath and hold it. Then I let in out in one huff. “Ok, look this stays between you an’ me til Monday. I don’t wanna screw up Thanksgivin’ for the whole family.”

“Ok.” I hear the call waiting tone and put April on hold. “Hello?”

“It’s 6:30. Should I presume that you are not coming?”

I bite my lip. There’s so much I wanna say to her at once, I can’t even think straight. Finally, I just blurt out, “wait”, switch calls and hang up with April. I take a deep breath before switching back. “Ame? Four months.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Four months since I have seen or heard from you. Four months. Then all of a sudden you wanna have dinner? Sorry. No. Not available.”

“If you have other plans, cancel them. I will…”

“No, you cancel them. You cancel any plans you have with me. Honest ta God, I don’t know what the hell I ever saw in you...” eternity and bliss, “...but it couldn’uh been worth the hell you put me and ever’body else through.” worth that and more. “Don’t call me.” please call me. “Don’t ever call me again.”

“I take it your plans this evening are important, then.” She says, cool as ever.

“Yeah. Tonight, I’m having dinner with my dying Grandfather and who ever else show up. Since ever’body been cooking fo’ tomorrow, Momma’s bringin’ ova big bucket uh greezy fried chicken. Most like we’ll sit on the livin’ room floo’, eat with our fingers, an’ smack like the savages we is. Uncle Julius will drink too much an’ Dad will tell a staggerin’ly bad joke an’ Willow, Caesar and Robert’ll run around like wild animals. And you know what, join us. What the fuck – come over for dinner tonight, Ame. But if you say one thing to insult my family – anything – so help me God I will punch your teeth in. If you can’t – just for once – put my needs before yours – just once – just, just go away.” I hang up.

“Good man.”

I turn around; I hadn’t heard the door but half the men in my family are standing there. Granddad claps my shoulder and give me a shake.

“High time you told that one what’s what.” He heads into the living room, “When yo’ Momma getting’ here with that chicken, boy?”

“Does yo’ Momma know she commin’ with a bucket of chicken?” Dad asks as he passes me.

Peter is already dialing his phone.

Two hours later, the scene looks more or less the way I described it with Granddad monopolizing the conversation – as usual, as always. April and I stick to ‘the results aren’t back’ and everybody leaves it at that.

I’m playing my guitar – something I haven’t done in years – when I hear her voice.

“Where should I put this?”

Ame’s in the doorway holding a box. Mom gets up and helps her, “Well, now that would depend on what it is.”

“Black-eyed peas, collard greens and some sort of squash casserole. I hope there’s enough; I didn’t know how many would be attending this little pot luck.”

“Here, I got it.” Uncle Charles grabs a plate in one hand and the box in the other and leads the way to the kitchen.

Beth pokes me.

“Quit it.”

“Was that Ame?”

“Yeah.” I start tuning my strings. That requires a great deal of concentration. Beth pokes me again. “Quit it.”

Peter grabs the guitar and pulls me up.

“Go on an’ set her straight, boy.” Granddad says. The whole family is waiting for me to go in there. “An’ fix me a plate while you in there.”

I can’t help laughing, “Ok. Alright, I’m going.”

In the kitchen, Uncle Charles and Mom are chatting with Ame about the design firm. Mom catches my eye and picks up a serving plate, “Well, I should get these out while they’re still hot. Charles, why don’t you help me?”

“Soon as I’m done.”

She swats him and hisses something in his ear. “Oh. Oh!” He says suddenly. He grabs his plate and the casserole and holds the door for Mom.

I am alone with Ame for the first time in two years. I had almost forgotten how stunning she is.

“I hope those are appropriate dishes.”

“Yeah. Thanks. You, you didn’t have to bring ‘em.”

“I would never attend dinner in someone’s home without bringing something.”

“Oh, yeah, that would be rude.”

She looks away. “I should go.”

“No. Wait. Sorry.”

We stand in silence for a while. She looks nervous. I’ve never seen her look nervous before. She tilts her head toward the living room. “Do you actually play the guitar or was that for show?”

A challenge like that, I can handle. I open the door for her, shoo my sister out of a seat for Ame and pick up the guitar again. Then I start playing – the flamenco pieces that I played so much of in high school. I’m actually surprised how much of it I remember. I remember Leigh as well – I haven’t thought of Leigh in ages. I get lost in the music trying to remember the cord progression for one of Leigh’s favorites when I finally hear a piece of the conversation.

Gracie stands up suddenly, “I know where that is. I got it.” A minute later, she reappears with Grandma’s photo album. She hands it to Ame.

“Hey, whoa, she doesn’t need to see that.” I protest.

“No, really, I think it would provide some insight to your childhood.” Ame says with a slight smile.

“You in it now, boy.” Uncle Edward says, “Come on, April. We got an early day t’mo’row. Who’s on deck?”

I answer that one before anyone else can, “Pete, Rob and Chuck.”

He nods, “Ya’ll best be on time. I wanna be in on-time for service.”

Aunt April makes sure Granddad takes his meds then they leave. Shortly thereafter, people start filtering out. Half an hour later, Gracie puts Granddad to bed and the last of the family leave.

I lean against the living room doorframe and watch her as she sips one of Uncle Julius’ mint juleps. She seems lost in thought and her features in profile show her heritage plainly.

I ache for her.

“I came to answer your question.” She says softly.

“What question?” I think back but I don’t know what she means.

“You asked how I felt about you and told me to call when I had an answer. I believe I have one. Of sorts. I still don’t know how I feel about you but I did realize something that-“ she pauses and takes a breath, “-that perhaps you were right about. I may have been denying to myself.”

“I’m stunned. I might actually have a valid thought.”

She looks at me sharply, “You always have.” I smirk and her attitude changes, “When have you ever said ‘no’ to a request and I did not honor it? Even without you reverting to ‘peanut butter’ to get your point across. You have limits and I respect them.”

“Yeah, right…”

“You prefer to lead when you dance – even when dancing with me. You don’t mind spending money if you have a rough estimate of what you’re expected to spend, but you will not give cash outright. You will do almost anything in public so long as it does not risk damaging your family name and I’ve seen you do a great deal if you believe you have somehow dishonored it. Or if anyone else treads too far upon it. Your Mother, Peter and your Grandparents are beyond reproach. You are downright territorial about men who pay any attention to me. And the only name you will answer to is Alex. Which is why I never call you anything else.”

“Come to think of it, you don’t call me anything.”

“You know when I’m speaking to you.”

I nod. I always do. I move closer to her and stand behind the couch. “So what’s the answer?”

“I need you.”

I think about that. I don’t know what I expected. Another evasion.

“Well.” She stands up suddenly, “That’s all. You asked a question; I determined the answer. I know you have an early morning so I won’t keep you.” I grab her arm before she can move out of reach. “I don’t recall saying you could touch me.”

“You didn’t. But you not gonna tell me you need me then walk out.” I turn her to me and her face is like ice. Closed, virtually non-expressive. “What are you, made of stone? What does it take to get through you?”

“There’s nothing to get through. Please don’t make this more than it is.”

“Don’t make this….” I can’t believe she actually said that. “Amelia, I would spend the rest of my life at damn near your beck-an-call. Don’t you make this less than it is.”

“Relationships like ours are not permanent. They degrade as power or confidence or simple interest changes. I’d rather end it now while we both appreciate each other then wait until later when it dies and we’ve lost any respect we had. Believe me, I’ve seen it happen.”

“I’d rather not. I’d rather marry you and have a bunch uh kids and see how long we can make this last.”

She laughs, “Children? Oh, I’m not having children. We’re incompatible. There maybe passion but it will never last.”

“Try it. See how far we go.” I sit down and pull her gently next to me. “Why do you say you need me?”

She hesitates. “No one says ‘no’ to me. Apart from my Father and my sister, at least.” She looks me in the eye, “You do. You set limits. You obey the rules, usually. But I know, one day, you won’t.”

“And you need that?”

“I can’t submit.” She stands up sharply and paces – which is a stunning statement of her distress, “It’s my own personal psychosis. I have never meet a man who’s limits I couldn’t eventually break down. I would have let you go to training camp, you know, once you missed the flight to be with me. I just wanted to see which you would choose. Everyone before you has chosen me. Over tennis tournaments, an ambassadorship, money. Submissive men can be spineless to the point of absurd.” She looks at me again, “But not you. You said, ‘I’ll be back’ and you left.”

“I had to.”

“That’s my point. You can submit to me without losing your whole self. And I need that. Because I can’t submit. So while ordinarily I have to be in control, on rare – very, very rare – occasion, I need to be taken by someone who won’t back down.”

I know an opening when I hear it. I stand up and pick her up.

“Put me down.”

“Not tonight.” I kiss her as I head for the stairs and bang the hell out of my shoulder on the doorframe. “Ow.” I mutter into our kiss.

“Alex. Put me down.”

My heart is pounding. Alex. From her, it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever heard. I take my eyes off her long enough to find the staircase. Then I use my elbow to navigate up and to my door. I don’t put her down until I reach the bed.

I rip her shirt – which is something I’ve always wanted to do but never had an excuse. She pushes back but I pin her arms down, hold her, kiss her, climb atop her and force her to moan as I suck her tiny little breasts with those huge, dark nipples. The smell of her skin drives me on.

She sweats. Delicate, composed Ame sweats like a pig when she gets really goin’.

I kiss my way down her smooth, flat belly, hold her legs open and eat her. No second hand taste this time. I ignore her protests and the scratching and hair pulling add to my enjoyment. She floods my face twice before I let her legs go; the second time, screaming for me to stop. While she’s lying there to exhausted to move, I strip, lie beside her, take her into my arms and kiss her again. She responds fully this time – rubbing her face and body against mine, digging her nails into my shoulder blades. I kiss every inch of her I can reach. She doesn’t stop me, just mews and whimpers and drips like a damn faucet. I’m working my way back up her body when I decide, I want a blow job. By the time my lips reach hers again, the desire is overwhelming.

“Ame” I murmur between sloppy, wet kisses, “it’s your turn.”

“No.” she sounds breathless, almost ethereal, “I can’t.”

“Yeah, you gonna.” I put my hands on her shoulders and push. She resists but I’m stronger. Her nails dig at my waist and she slides down my shaking body. She scratches my thighs and I wince. I grab a hand full of her hair and pull her face toward my dick.

She bites. Hard. “Oh, Jesus fuckin’ H Christ!” I scream. She lets go and laps me like an ice cream cone. She then proceeds to alternate between teeth, tongue – pain and pleasure – until my body is twitching, and my head is spinning. I do not let go of her hair. Not until I can feel the pressure, the imminent release. “I’m gonna blow, baby, where do you want it?”

“I don’t.” She says stroking the shaft with her hand.

“Tell me where you want it or you gonna swallow it.” I snarl.

“Oh, God.” She moans, “Please.”

I do not have the patience for this right now. I push her flat, shove my dick back into her mouth and fuck it. She moans and whimpers then digs those nails into my ass. I spasm, jerk and growl, cumming hard. I can feel her swallowing my jizz and that only prolongs my orgasm.

“Oh shit.” I finally breath. Then I realize how horribly I just used her. I try to pull back from her but she sucks hard and scrapes the head with her back teeth. “Oh – my – God. Oh…Ame…” She sucks until I’m hard again – hard and sore. When she pulls back to use her tongue, I push away and lie on top of her. I brush her hair back from her face and kiss her deeply, tasting my own seed, “That was one of the most evil things you have ever done to me. I’m gonna fuck you til you bleed.”

I hold her wrists in one hand over her head. With the other hand, I part her legs. I glide my fingertips up the inside of her thigh and find it wetter the higher I go. Her pussy’s so drenched I’m not sure it isn’t sweat pooling. Not til I slide a finger into her. Even as wet as she is, it’s a tight fit. Virginal tight. I finger fuck her for a while enjoying her squirming and moaning under me. When I switch to two fingers, she winces and her brow knits. I let my hand rest until her face settles then move slowly until she’s writhing with pleasure again.

“I wanna fuck you, Ame.” I hiss, “You wanna get fucked?” She groans. “You like this, don’t you?” She groans again. “Tell me you like this.” I’m getting nervous. If she not enjoying this, it’s rape.

“You make me like this,” she whispers, eyes closed. “You make me cum over and over. I don’t want it. I don’t need it.”

More adrenaline floods my nerves and I ram my fingers into her savagely. She jumps and another river of cum soaks my hand, “You don’t want me to slide my cock – my big hard cock just waitin’ fo’ yo’ slick wet pussy.”

“Oh god.” She pants over and over.

I position myself just at the entrance. Not in but where she can feel me. “Amelia. Tell me you love me.” Let my lips rub past hers.

“Please don’t make me.” She arches her hips but I have leverage.

“Say it or I’ll get up right now. I’ll get up and I’ll leave and I’ll never see you ever again. I love you, Ame.”

“I love you, Alex. I love you I love you I love…” I cut her off by clamping mouth against hers and plunging in. She fairly screams but I can’t stop now – I can’t even slow down. I hammer her hard and fast and when I cum, we both cry out like wild things.

I collapse beside her and let her arms go. She doesn’t move just lies there panting. When I can move again, I roll over and put my arm around her. She pushes it away.

“I’d like to shower now.” She says calmly, “Get me a towel. And change the sheets while I’m in there.” She almost favors me with a smile. “You may sleep with me if you shower as well.”