Mike woke in the morning feeling chipper. The morning light seemed brighter this morning. He lay in his bed for a moment and realized he was happier than he had been… and it came to him - since the accident. But it didn’t crash in on him as it usually did. He wondered and puzzled at the change. He looked at the last few days and he knew what had changed. Amy was the change. And then he also knew that Amy had given him a reason to go on living, a purpose beyond just making it through the day. Mike smiled, put his arms behind his head and luxuriated in the feelings - of being needed, of loving someone, of being whole again.
A half hour later he was fixing breakfast when Amy appeared, smiling and wearing her new pajamas. “Those look nice,” he said.
She looked down and then smiled up at him, “They are nice. I usually just wore an old tee shirt or something. I never had fancy pajamas like these before.”
Mike smiled and said, “Breakfast is almost ready. Could you pour some OJ?”
Amy sat at the table after pouring a glass for each of them. “Mike?”
Scrambling the eggs Mike answered, “Yes?”
“That dream you had, you know about me and your wife. Why do you think you had that dream?” Amy asked.
Mike turned and looked at Amy. She was fidgeting with her hands as she watched him. “I’m not sure sweetheart. Why do you think I had it?”
“Maybe it was a promonition,” she said.
“Premonition,” he corrected. “You think so?”
“Things like that happen you know. Where somebody dreams something and then it happens. I saw this show once where a woman dreamed that her husband was going be in a plane crash and so she called him right before he was getting on the plane and he took a later flight and the plane he was going to be on crashed,” she said excitedly.
“Was that a real show or was it a fiction show?” he asked as he started scooping breakfast onto two plates. He brought them to the table sitting across from Amy.
“I thought it was real. I mean, the way it all happened.”
“Maybe… So you think my dream was a warning?” he asked.
“Not a warning like something bad was going to happen. But maybe something that would be good,” she said.
“Dig in,” he said pointing to her plate. Around a bite of toast he said, “Maybe. But you can’t just suddenly be my daughter.” Amy looked crestfallen. “Maybe this would work. I could say you are my cousin’s daughter. And my cousin passed away. I was your Godfather and so you had to come to live with me. I mean, we’ll have to flesh it out a little but that might work. What do you think?”
Tears started flowing, Amy dropped her fork onto her plate, jumped up and threw her arms around Mike’s neck. “Oh, Mike. You are the coolest person in the world.”
After the movie, Mike excused himself and went in to shower. During a remodel, his wife had installed a Jacuzzi tub for two and mounted two shower heads on the two walls. Originally they had planned for a shower curtain but found that the tub was so large, being designed to hold two people comfortably, almost no water splashed out. The shower curtain became pure decoration. It had been a while since Mike had someone join him for a shower.
Mike was half fantasizing and was washing his cock a little more than it needed. It had started to swell when he brushed the water out of his eyes and looked up. Amy was watching him. “Hey,” he yelped turning to the wall.
“What?” Amy asked surprised.
“You can’t be in here,” he said.
“Why not? I need to shower too,” she said.
“We can’t be in here together,” Mike said.
Amy looked exasperated. “Mike, you have two showers. Isn’t this so two people can take a shower at the same time?”
“Well, yes,” he said holding the wash cloth in front of his genitals as he turned toward Amy. “Hand me the towel.”
“You’re still soapy,” she said.
“Just hand me the towel,” he said.
“Mike, quit being stupid,” she said. That brought him up. “If we are going to be family then we are going to see each other. Jeez. It’s not like I haven’t seen men naked before. What’s the big deal?”
Mike stood, the water running over him, as he considered. What is the big deal?
“My mom used to do her johns in the front room. I’d sneak out and watch sometimes. I seen lots of guys naked. Guys are funny when they’re having sex.” She smiled at the thought then looked at Mike, “But you look pretty good.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think you should walk in,” he said.
“You hung up?” she asked.
“No, I think skin is just skin. I normally don’t wear much clothing at home, but with you here, that should change,” he said.
“Why?”
The question hung in the air. Those whys are sometimes very tough when you stop to really think about them. There wasn’t a good reason. Mike remembered reading a psycologist who opined that seeing their parents naked caused anxiety in kids. Mike had several friends who were naturalists. Every summer the whole family would vacation at a nude resort. Their children were less hung up about bodies than any other kids he knew. Mike figured that the reason kids got hung up on bodies was because of the way the parents acted when they were nude. Kids are very good at reading people emotions. It was the parents aniexty the kids picked up on, not some inate anxiety. If skin is skin, what was the problem? Mike couldn’t come up with a good reason, other than societal prejudice.
“You can’t come up with a good reason,” she said echoing his thoughts.
“Damn, I can’t,” he said.
Amy smiled, “Can I have a shower?” pressing her position.
Mike surrendered, “Sure.”
Amy started stripping out of her clothes. He considered remaining but he just couldn’t. He quickly rinsed and stepped out of the shower as Amy stepped in. Amy lathered herself as Mike tried valiantly to remain unfazed by Amy in his shower. Live up to your principles he ordered his mind. Much as he tried he found himself staring. Embarrassed, he turned and fled to his room. He finished toweling off as he walked down the hall. 'I guess I’m not as free of hang ups as I’d like to believe,' he thought. There is a difference between irrational emotions and rational ideas. He pictured Amy standing in the shower, the water running over her skin, her small breasts, the vee at the juncture of her thighs. He shook his head trying to clear it of the image. He crawled into bed. He thought about Amy and what he was going to do. Sleep came slowly, but by the time it came, he had an idea.
He was starting the bacon when it struck him. How much his life had changed in such a short time. Before that fateful moment on the mall when Amy had barreled into him he had shut off much of life. Just this morning he had turned on the radio first thing, something which he seldom did anymore, preferring a gloomy quiet. He was interested in cooking again, a passion before his wife had passed, but one that had died while he was living alone. His life was returning.
Mike thought of all that and remembered the moment when he had proposed and she had accepted. He remembered how everything had changed in that moment. Every desire, every plan, every expectation changed because, in his soul, everything now included two people. He was no longer alone. He hadn’t worked at it. It just was. After that moment, two were joined as one.
Mike realized a similar thing was happening with Amy. All of his thoughts and plans now included Amy. He was part of something outside his self, and greater for it. All of his self-pity and morbid thoughts were gone, replaced by the bright future he was planning. He was happy.
“Hello,” a warm feminine voice answered on the second ring.
“Hello. I’d like to talk with Deacon Jones please,” Mike said.
“Could I tell him who’s calling?” the voice asked.
“Tell him I would have made seven if I played the hand. He’ll know,” Mike said.
There was a pause, then a curt, “I’ll tell him,” then silence.
Another click as the phone was picked up, “Anybody can play a hand after they see all of the cards,” the Deacon said. “What can I do for you, Mike?”
Laughing, Mike said, “Got a question. Are conversations with you covered by Pastoral privilege?”
Suddenly serious, The Deacon responded, “They are if you ask. Have a problem?”
“Yes. Tell you what. I’ll stop by Wolfwicz’s Deli and pick up a couple pastrami on rye with dills and we can have lunch in your office,” Mike said.
“Mike, you always did hit below the belt. Tell them brown mustard. You know I can’t turn down those sandwiches. Noon work for you?” the Deacon asked.
Through a bite the Deacon said, “I shouldn’t be eating this garbage. But I can’t help myself.”
“I know. This will set my diet back a year,” Mike said.
“So Mike, why did you wish to see me?” the Deacon asked in that slight bit of British accent he still had.
Mike paused and said, “I need a favor.”
“Favors rarely require Pastoral Privilege,” the Deacon said.
“This one does because it is complicated,” Mike said. The Deacon nodded. Mike went on to explain that he had met a girl who had been subjected to sexual abuse by her Mother’s boyfriend and had run away. Mike had gotten the story from her only after promising not to return her home or to go to the authorities. He gave a brief outline of the girl’s history, perhaps picking out some of the more salacious details to help his argument.
“What about the girl’s mother?” the Deacon asked.
“I called her. Other than being able to curse better than my Army DI and telling me the girl was dead as far as she was concerned, nothing. Deacon, she pulled a knife on the girl when her boyfriend tried to rape her and she ran away from him. She was going to help her boyfriend rape her own daughter,” Mike finished.
A look of disgust covered the Deacon’s face. “How accurate do you think her story is? Runaway’s have been known to, um, exaggerate, let us say.”
“I talked with her mother. No exaggeration,” Mike shook his head.
“Why not the authorities?” the Deacon asked.
“She’s worried that the authorities won’t have any option but to return her to her mother. A concern I share. It’s all hearsay at this point. Plus, I accepted this burden. May I pass this Chalice to another?” Mike asked.
“We all wish sometimes we could pass the chalice that is responsibility, don’t we?” He paused for a minute then said, “Mike, I’ll be quite straight. I’m concerned that with her background she won’t do well in our school. This is a very rigorous curriculum.”
“Deacon, she’s not uneducated and she’s smart and well read. She’ll have to catch up but I’ll work with her until she’s caught up. And something else; despite her background she has an innate sense of good. She knew what her mom was doing was wrong and she didn’t want that for herself. Deacon, when I asked about her turning out like her mother, she said, 'I’d rather be dead.’ She needs a place like Saint Francis. I think she can make it or I wouldn’t be suggesting it,” Mike said.
“I must be off my rocker. But we do have to carry our own chalice. And it sounds like the one person who might make a fuss doesn’t care. The girl understands that she can never talk about this?” Mike nodded. “Right then, I’ll enroll her,” the Deacon said.
They shared a conspiratorial smile.
What Mike didn’t know was that Amy wasn’t a computer tyro.
Mike was about ready to finish work for the day when Amy IM’ed him from her computer. “What’s this file, Sitting for Kelli.doc?” Mike stared at the message. That was his all time favorite story by Hank Freeman. He considered it the classic older man young girl’s first time story. Mike used his computer for recreation as well. Being alone, he had need of it. And movies aren’t bad over a T1 line. He had a cache of his favorite stories and some of his favorite .jpg files and some of his favorite movies on his computer. What was Amy doing asking about that story?
“AMY! What the hell are you doing?” Mike yelled down the hall.
She came running down the hall. “What?” Then seeing his face she asked, “Are you mad?”
He was mad. “What are doing snooping on my computer?”
“I wasn’t snooping,” she said her chin starting to quiver. “You said I could use the computer and they’re hooked together. I didn’t know I couldn’t look. The story was right there…” Her voice had a quaver as well.
Mike stopped for a moment and thought. Shit, she was right. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of her getting on his computer so he hadn’t told her not to. He could see the tears start to form in her eyes, glistening in the afternoon light poring through his window. He realized he had expected her to know it was good manners not to look at someone else’s possessions, like a computer. But with a hooker mom she probably hadn’t been exposed to etiquette. She had good sense, but etiquette is learned, not innate. ‘Well, hell,’ he thought. ‘I need to fix this.’ He got himself under control and said, “Sorry I yelled.” Her tears started then. He held up his arms and Amy flowed into them. He patted her head, “I’m sorry for yelling.”
Amy burbled into his shoulder, “Mike. I didn’t know I couldn’t look on your computer. At home I could look at anything.”
“I know that now. You can stop crying. It’s my fault for not telling you.”
Amy pulled away and wiped the tears from her cheeks and then smiled, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to turn on the tears like that.”
“That’s okay. Pull up a chair,” he said pointing at it. When she sat he said, “Let’s set some rules. One of the basic rules is you should respect other people’s property.”
“But Mike, I respect your stuff,” she said.
“I know. That’s the general rule. But the application… Respect for someone’s property means not looking at anything that might be personal unless they say you can. For instance, you wouldn’t look in someone’s purse unless they said it was okay. Or someone’s drawers in their house. Do you see what I mean?”
Amy nodded, “Yeah. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not mad. I was, but I know before it was okay and so you weren’t trying to do something wrong,” Mike said. Amy brightened up. “So, what all did you see?”
Amy shuffled a little and then admitted, “I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to look…”
“I guess that means you saw a lot,” Mike said. Amy nodded. Mike shook his head.
Amy piped up with, “Mike, it’s okay. Mom’s boyfriend used the computer for all of the porno sites, free and pay. I used to use it when he wasn’t, so I saw all of the stuff. I’d look at all of the places he’d been and all of the stuff he stored... you know, the pictures and the movies and stuff. I seen all of that stuff. Your stuff ain’t like his. He had all kinds of really disgusting stuff. You just have a lot of beautiful girls. And regular stories.”
“Regular stories?” he asked.
“You know, where people are just having sex and stuff,” she said.
“Oh,” Mike said. Not sure where to go with this bit of information said, “Amy, please don’t look at my files unless you ask. It’s okay to ask if there’s something you want to see, but you need to ask before you go snooping around. Agreed?” She nodded. Mike smiled and said, “How about some dinner?”
“I could eat a horse,” Amy said. They both smiled remembering the last time she had said that. As they stood Mike put his arm around Amy’s shoulder and they headed to the kitchen.
During dinner, Mike got up the courage and asked Amy, “How many of the stories did you see?”
“You mean, like read them?”
“Yeah.”
“I only read a couple. I scanned a few and I read a couple,” Amy said.
Stumbling Mike started to explain, “Amy, it’s like this…”
“Mike, you don’t need to explain. I told you I have seen a bunch a movies and stories. Most of them are real bad. That’s why I liked Sitting for Kelli. I never read a porn story written like it was real. Most of them are so fake,” Amy said.
“Yes, it is a good story,” Mike agreed. “And it’s not porn - it’s erotic.”
“Huh?” Amy asked.
“I know. It’s just that porn sounds so trashy. Erotic has a certain highbrow appeal. I like to think I’m reading erotic stories,” he said with a smile.
“So good stories are erotic? I liked Kelli. It made me hope my first time was like hers. You know, a guy I really liked who maybe was older and experienced and would make it super special and nice. It kinda made me wish I was in the story,” Amy finished. Amy glanced up at Mike and then back down at her plate.
Mike hesitated and then said, “If you read the whole thing you know how it ended.”
“Yeah, but I like the way it ended,” she said.
“I don’t think we should talk about this anymore,” Mike said. “You’ve seen way too many things for a girl your age.”
“Mike, I’m old enough to know about this stuff. Jeez, everyone my age knows about it. It’s not just my Mom is a... you know.”
“You think you’re old enough. There should be time for a girl to grow up,” he said.
“It is part of growing up,” she said.
“Enough,” he said.
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