27
...No, I would not give you false hope on this strange and mournful day... Mother And Child Reunion (Paul Simon)

	Monday and Tuesday slipped by way too fast.  I drove Rose to school each morning and picked her up each afternoon.  In between, while tending to things around the complex, I had plenty of time to relive our encounters of the weekend.  Marjorie's absence had been a mixed blessing.  On the one hand, having unlimited access to Rose had given me the most beautiful few days of my life; time that I wouldn't have traded for anything, and would have fought like grim death to hold onto.  On the other hand, I knew I wanted (needed?) to have that time and that space with Rose on an ongoing basis.  I had to find a way to make it work, had to find a way for us to be together the same way we had during Marjorie's absence.  Exactly how I was going to make that happen was, at present, beyond me, and that lack was torturing me.
	Wednesday morning, as I pulled up in front of the school, Rose turned to me with a wistful look.
	"Mom's coming home tonight, and I don't know how to feel about that," she said sadly.  "I love her, and I'm glad she'll be back, but I don't know if I can go back to sleeping alone.  Having you in bed next to me, all night long, is the safest, happiest, most delicious thing I can think of.  Well," and her sad look briefly gave way to one of her impish grins, "maybe the second most," and she caressed the inside of my thigh.  Then, "It's going to be harder than Hell to give that up."
	"I know exactly how you feel, love," I agreed, "because I feel the same way.  What are we going to do about it?"
	"I don't know, Jack, I just don't know.  Damn it, I don't KNOW!"
	"Well, let's just play it by ear for now.  Maybe the universe will present something, or maybe we'll see an opportunity somewhere.  Or maybe this is a test, to see if we can survive."
	"I don't want a test!  I want you!" she snuffled, throwing her arms around me and squeezing tight, as if she were sensing me slipping away.
	"Hey, hey, none of that, now.  I'm not going anywhere, Rose.  We'll get by, you'll see.  People adapt.  We're no different.  The only thing you need to keep in mind is that I love you more than life itself, and the rest will flow from that."
	She wiped her eyes and managed a weak smile.  "You always know what to say.  I think I'll be able to get through the day, at least, if I just hang onto that thought."  She gave me a soulful kiss, and as she exited the car and walked up the steps and into the school, I felt my heart threatening to tear itself loose from my chest and follow her in.
	Dinner that evening was a low-key, subdued affair.  We cobbled together a meal from leftovers and ate mostly in silence.  Marjorie's flight was scheduled to arrive at 9:35 that evening, and the knowledge hung over us like an angel with a flaming sword, barring our way back into the garden.  We tried to watch TV, but it was no use.  Finally, at 7:00, Rose and I turned to each other and, without a word spoken, we got up and drove to the airport to wait.  As we sat there in the lounge, sipping cappucinos and watching CNN on the wall TV, we held each other's hand and drew some comfort from that simple act.  Time seemed to fold up on us like a telescope, and before we were ready, Marjorie's flight had arrived.  At the sight of her mother walking up the ramp with a beatific smile on her face, Rose's mood visibly lightened, and they rushed into each other's arms for a timeless embrace that made me start to tear up myself.  Marjorie looked up at me, and before I knew what was happening, I found myself included in their embrace, the three of us with our arms around each other.  Marjorie smelled so good, and she clung so tight, and Rose did too, that I hardly knew where I was or what I was doing.
	After we reclaimed the luggage, we made our way to the car; Rose and Marjorie holding hands and me following along, carrying the bags and trying to feel happy for them.  After I loaded the suitcases in the trunk, I turned to hand the keys to Marjorie, but she just smiled and pressed them back into my hand, telling me I might as well finish out the day.  Rose climbed into the front and sat in the middle so she could be between the two of us, and on the drive home, Marjorie recounted some of her experiences in the class and what it was like to be a tourist in Atlanta.  All too soon, we were home, and after I carried the bags up to the apartment and deposited them in the living room, Marjorie dug through her suitcase to produce some gifts.  For me she had brought back an Atlanta Braves koozie and a bottle of peach schnapps, and Rose was gifted with a stuffed plush peach and a snowglobe containing a miniature Atlanta skyline that showered tiny peaches (instead of snowflakes).  For herself, she had only a glass in the cylindrical shape of the Westin Peachtree, a keepsake of the rum and coke she had ordered during her visit to the Sun Dial restaurant on the top of the Westin.
	It was close to 11:00 by this time, and as I turned to leave, Marjorie reached out and pulled me into a bear hug.  "Thank you, thank you, Brent," she whispered, "I knew I could count on you to be there for us.  I hope someday I can repay you for all you've done."
	"Don't, Marjorie, don't," I whispered back, "it was no sacrifice, staying with Rose was like a dream.  It was nothing but pleasure, please believe me."
	She pulled back and gazed at me with a strange expression, and my heart suddenly pounded as if it were trying to warn me of something; but all she said was, "I must have done something right, to have you in our lives.  Thank you, Brent, just... just... thank you," and she was starting to mist up.  I dared to give her a kiss on the cheek as I was leaving, and then I was out the door, Rose at my side as she walked me back to my room, her hand squeezing mine as if to say, 'I know you're still here, but it feels like I'm losing you anyway'.  Behind the safety of my locked door, we exchanged a long, sensual kiss, and as she left, I whispered to her, "I'll see you in a little bit, sweetheart, as soon as I fall asleep and start dreaming," and she smiled a brave smile and whispered back, "Me too.  G'night, Jack, I love you."

28
...we all need someone we can cream on, and if you want to, you can cream on me... Let It Bleed  (The Rolling Stones)

	Somehow, we managed to recapture our rhythms.  With Marjorie back and Rose returned to her role as a kid in school, our old patterns were a comfort, a source of familiarity that eased us up out of the valley of despair.  We were back to our nightly routines and once-a-week dinners at their apartment.  The coolness of approaching autumn was pushed back for a bit as Indian summer graced us with a last gift of heavy warmth.  The days pushed, amazingly, to 85 degrees, and the nights were beyond mild, approaching sultry.  It was almost as if Mother Nature wanted to let us know that even though the long dark of winter was ahead, She was still watching over us, caring for us and wanting us to experience joy.
	The meet and greet for November was a little livelier than usual.  Four new tenants showed up, and Marjorie was right in the thick of it when she learned one of them had been raised in Buckhead, an upscale Atlanta neighborhood that had been her favorite part of the city.  I don't know whether it was that chance meeting, or simply a little extra enthusiasm on her part, but Marjorie knocked back a couple more drinks than was her usual wont that evening.  She wasn't slobbering drunk, but she seemed to need a little help with simple tasks like sitting.  As the evening drew to a close, I found myself sitting at the folding table that had held pizza and chips, but now hosted only empty pizza boxes and chip bags, with Marjorie sitting next to me, sucking back the last of her most recent drink.  She was rubbing her eyes, as if they bothered her, or as if she was trying to get something out of them that she didn't want there; tears, maybe, or unwanted memories.  The room had emptied now, everyone having gone back to their apartments, and Marjorie swayed into me, then straightened herself out and set her glass down.  In the back of my head, I was aware of the sound of Rose playing Donkey Kong, but in the front, all I could see was how impaired her mother was.
	"Wanna tellya sumpthin," Marjorie said in the most heavily slurred voice I'd heard from her yet .  As her right hand slipped out of sight, her left hand collapsed onto the table and knocked over her glass.  Since she had already drained it, the only damage was a couple of ice cubes skittering across the checkered tablecloth and bouncing away on the floor.  With her right hand on my thigh, she squeezed earnestly, and I knew there was nothing overtly sexual in it, she was just trying to make sure she had my undivided attention and was using the most direct way she could think of at the moment to get it.  I left the hand in place and waited her out.  The pause drew out a few more seconds, then a few more, while Marjorie tried to marshall her thoughts.  When she recollected herself, she started over, "Wanna tell ya sumpthin," along with a repeat of the thigh squeeze.  "Th' reason I walked out on Stan was cuz my boss was movin' in on me, he was allays all over me, like, wenever we wuz alone, he just, he just look' so good, and he smell' so good, and he was so confident, like the world owed him, not th' other way aroun', y'know?  Not like Stan at all, Stan was s'damn laidback, just laidback an' let people walk all over him.  Let 'em..." she paused as the words choked in her throat.  "Let me.  Let me walk all over him.  Let me treat him like garbage."  The tears were on their way, I could see that from a million miles off.  Still she squeezed and massaged my thigh, and somewhere between her hand and her heart, it must have been transmuted into Stan's thigh for her, because she just kept kneading and massaging as if she were trying to love away some ancient injury that had never been tended properly.  "Let me screw aroun', and he never stood up for himself, never got mad 'bout me screwin' my boss, just kep' tryin' to talk it out, talk it away.  An' when I made him stop touchin' me, he never quit tryin', no matter how mad I got, he jus' kep' tryin' an' tryin' to hold me in his arms."  The tears were coming in earnest now, one after another, rolling down and off her face to make tiny splatters on the tablecloth.  "An', an' I wouldn' let him hold me, I told him I had a real man now, I didn' need him, an' I made him go.  I made him pack his bags and get out.  An' after Stan was gone, an' I was ready to move in with my boss, he dumped me.  The sumbitch just dumped me on my ass.  I made excuses, I told m'self it was my fault, I scared him cuz I had Rose, but inside, I knew the real reason, on'y I couldn't admit it to myself.  The bassard just didn't care.  He had better ass to chase, I guess."  Both hands were on my thigh now, rolling and moving through the flesh that I knew for her could only be Stan's.  "An', an' I was too scared, an' angry, an' ashamed of what I done to Stan.  I couldn' go back to him, not after what I done, not after what I told him, I couldn' face him.  I was still confused, I didn' think I needed him.  So I ran, tryin' to get away from what I done.  An' I was doin' the same dam' thing all over again, not thinkin' it through, just pullin' poor little Rose with me through my own private hell."  Marjorie leaned into me, laying her head on my shoulder, and still she kept massaging.  My leg was starting to feel pretty loose, and I wondered if it would be possible to move her hands to the other leg without breaking the mood or her frame of mind.  "Stan, I'm, I'm sorry, I'm so, so, so sorry, oh God, Stan, why did, why did ya have to go and d-d-d-die before I could tell you?  Dammit, Stan, come back!  Pleeease come back, I promise I'll be good, I swear, on'y please don't go!"  She was wracked with heaving sobs now, borne away on a tidal flow of guilt.  Her need was so great I couldn't ignore it.  As I wrapped my arms around her and laid a hand on her hair, I looked up to see Rose standing silently in the doorway, gazing at the pair of us with her head tilted to one side and tears standing in her huge eyes.  Marjorie heaved several more great shuddering convulsions before coming to herself and looking up into my eyes.  Slowly, she released my thigh as she focused on my face and seemed to come to recognition of where she was and what she was doing.
	"Brent?  Brent, 'm sorry to lay all this on you," she rubbed at her eyes to dry them.  "You been so good for my Rose.  'afore we came here, I was gettin' scared of what all our movin' was doin' to her.  Was like watchin' her die a little bit more ever' day.  'Til she found you.  You been her anchor, you been the on'y good thing in her life for a long time."  Marjorie took a glance at my arms around her, then responded by wrapping her arms around me and hugging tight.  "Which makes you the on'y good thing in my life, too, 'cause without Rose I got nothin'.  I done too many wrong things, I fucked up too many times.  I need help, Brent, I can't do it myself, I can't fix anything, all I know how to do is fuck things up.  So here I am, if you want me, you c'n have me, I still got a few good fucks in me, I'll suck on it ever' day, I promise, on'y please say you'll stay with us.  We need you."  She leaned in close and started to kiss my neck while rubbing my chest; but that only lasted for a handful of seconds, before the tears started falling again.  "Oh God, please love me, please love me Brent, you c'n love me like the way you love Rose, can't ya?"  I felt my heart skip several handfuls of beats at one shot; my face suddenly felt like ice.  I looked around to see Rose's reaction, but she was gone.  Nobody else was around.  As gently as I could, I scooped Marjorie up in my arms and carried her out of the shadow-haunted clubhouse, into the surprisingly warm Indian Summer night, across the courtyard and up the stairs of her building.  The door to her apartment was standing open; inside, Rose was sitting on the floor in the corner with her legs tucked up underneath; her face was dry, but it was obvious she'd been crying hard.  I laid Marjorie gently on the couch, and before I could wonder what to do next, I heard her snoring softly.
	"She's out for the night," Rose said quietly from beside me; I hadn't even seen her stand up or walk over.  A second later the front door clicked shut, completing the arc Rose had started when she pushed it.  "She won't wake up until morning."  Taking my hand, she led me to Marjorie's bedroom, sat on the unmade bed, and patted the mattress next to her.  I sat down beside her.  In the dark bedroom, I could just barely make out her silhouette.  She took my hand and placed it on the side of her face, kissing the palm briefly.  "Jack, do you want to... to fuc... do you want to make love to my mom?"
	I was startled and scared, touched and saddened, all at once.  "No, angel, I really don't.  You're all I need, you're the only woman I want.  Cross my heart," and I crossed my heart as I said it.
	"Jack, I love you so much, I don't want to share you, but I have to think about my mom, too.  She's so alone, in a really serious way, she's as alone as we were before we found each other.  Jack, do you think you could...?  I mean, would you be willing to... Jack, would you have sex with my mom?  Please?  For her?  I think she needs it so bad, she's hurting so much, I want her to have this, I really do."
	"Rose, I can't.  I don't want to do anything that will make you wonder about me, or worry about whether I love you.  If I have sex with your mom, you'll always wonder what it meant to me, you'll worry about whether I love you as much as I did before..."
	"No I won't, Jack, I promise, I swear to you, I know you love me, I can feel it in your touch, I can hear it in your voice."  As she said this, she started to unbutton my shirt.  "You'll always be in my heart, and I know I'll always be in yours.  Nobody can ever take that away from us.  But I have my mom in my heart too, and I have to think about what she needs."  She slipped off my shirt, pushed gently on my chest until I laid back on the bed, and started to undo my pants.   "I know you won't hurt me, Jack, you can't.  You said you trust my instincts.  Remember?"  She pulled off my pants and underwear in one smooth motion, then turned to drop them on the floor.  "Well, that's what I want you to do now.  Please just trust me and believe me."  In what seemed like one fluid motion, she removed all of her clothes, then stood naked before me as I lay back on the bed.  My erection seemed to be a long time in filling out, and she helped it along by stroking it gently.  "Rose, honey, your mom is right out there..." I gestured toward the open bedroom door; she put a finger to my lips and shook her head silently, then just as silently, climbed up onto the bed and, without saying anything more, climbed up on top of me, gripped my member and guided it into her moist, velvet spread, sighing deeply as I penetrated her.  She started out slowly, riding me up and down, but very quickly increased her speed. Rocking back and forth, sliding up and down, she rode me hard, bucking and pumping, gasping and grabbing my chest as I gripped her by the waist and held on tight.  The aroma of sex filled my senses, I felt like I was drowning in it, like being caught beneath a wave that keeps rushing over you and knocking you back.  I hadn't even had a chance to think about what we were doing, I just let Rose take the lead; and before I knew it, I was on the threshold, ready to cross over.  "Rose," I whispered, "sweetheart, I'm really close, I'm about to lose it, get off me now honey, before it's too late."  My words only spurred her to greater action; she was humping furiously, her soft breasts bouncing and rippling in the darkness above my face, riding me like a maniac and panting softly, "oh oh oh oh oh".  "Rose, no," I hissed, "stop it, stop it, I'm gonna... ohmyGod, here I go!"  And with that, I slid over the edge.  As I was spasming up into her, she collapsed on my chest and put her mouth over mine, shoving her tongue past my teeth and ramming it in and out, fucking my mouth with her tongue, a hell-bent little sex machine.  As the spasms subsided, she slowed and moved her mouth down to my neck, dragging her tongue across my shoulders, and still she was slowly sliding up and down on me, milking the last little tremors.  Then it was over, but she stayed on me, panting and sweating and lightly scratching my chest with her fingernails.  I couldn't move, couldn't even turn my head or speak.  My hands had slipped down to her thighs, and as they rested there, I could feel little bolts running up through her legs, making her quiver slightly at random for a long time afterward.
	When I didn't say anything for a while, Rose smiled langorously, "We'll be okay, I know it.  It's been four weeks since my last period, it's too late for me to get pregnant.  You'll see, I'll start bleeding in a day or so and you'll know everything is okay."  She kissed me on the chest and pulled the sheet over us.  "There, you see?  We covered our nakedness before the eyes of God."  I had to smile in spite of myself.
	"Still, that's quite a chance to take, sweetheart," I mumbled, not wanting to seem ungracious, wanting to take care to never seem ungrateful for such a powerful gift.
	"Well, I thought of it like this," she said slowly, her toes softly scratching my legs, "if you start doing this with my mom, I might not get to do it with you as often.  So I wanted to do it with you while I had the chance.  It was worth it, wasn't it?  I mean, I can still feel it in my legs and my butt!"  She slid slowly off of me, and in the darkness I could just make out the outline of her face and breasts as she lay back.  "OhmyGod, the smell!  Jack, will it still smell like sex in here in the morning?"  We opened the window to feel the slight chill of November that had crept in during the last hour and turned on the little fan on Marjorie's nightstand, and Rose lit the two candles on the dresser; Kona Coast Vanilla and Apple Blossom Cinnamon.