Holy shit. She’s pissed at me! Jim and Helen are going to hate me for abusing their chef. My God, it felt fantastic holding her last night. It was so much like holding my Ariel. Instant tears pop out.
Helen has a smirk on her face, “So. Three times, you had to choke his chicken, huh. Why not turn him over?”
The chef looks enraged as she says, “Hey! You bring in a stud. You make him sleep alone. He’s got a great cock. Do you invite me to help him? Noooooooooo. You know damn well I love to suck cock. You have a stud here; he’s handsome and nice. He’s not cocky like many of the handsome ones are. He doesn’t understand his potential. You knew damn well what I was going to do. You knew I could not resist. So, fuck you!”
She turns around in a huff, slams a pan down, and starts on the dishes.
Helen looks at me, “It’s so hard to find good help these days.”
I’m watching this, and I know I must look like a deer in headlights. Is she mad? Which one did I offend?
Jim bursts out laughing.
He slaps me on the shoulder as a happy Jim says, “Peter, oh my Peter. Don’t ever believe anything you hear from these two regarding men and sex. Helen lives vicariously through Max, and Max loves having sex with strangers. She admitted this morning that she would not mind if you stayed around for a while. We had no idea that she liked cooking with others. We’ve been missing out on that for years.”
Max comes around, ignoring Jim and Helen, and wraps her arms around me. She takes a half step back and then gives me one of the most amazing kisses in my life. She then leaves the room to get dressed. She is still wearing her long sleeping pajamas.
Wow, what a woman.
Helen returns me back to the conversation. She has her cell phone in hand.
Helen is now nervous-looking, “I need the cemetery name and gravesite location.”
I am sure my face turned white in shock.
As if talking to a child, she takes my hand in both of hers, rubs my hand, and then says, “You have people that love you unconditionally. They know where you’re going, I know when we will be there, and they want to be at the right location and at the right time to help you through this tough ordeal. I understand that not everyone has met Ariel or your son. This is stressful for them as well. Please help me.”
I give her the information. Helen takes my hand and leads me out of the house. It’s a beautiful day. Not a cloud in the sky. It rained yesterday, so the air is fresh. I can smell the fresh-cut grass.
Sitting on the driveway is a single, large vehicle. It’s a maroon RV bus. The thing is enormous and looks almost brand new. I stop to look the thing over.
Jim shows off his pride and joy, “This baby sleeps four easy. Full kitchen, recliners, couch, king-size bed, toilet, shower, laundry, dishwasher, fireplace, air conditioning, it’s got it all. Let’s get in; John is driving. As soon as you sit, we’re on our way.”
I walk up the steps in the front. The view out the windows is fantastic. There is so much space! Two recliners, a couch, plus a dining table with bench seats. Refrigerator with beer and soda, snacks, and ice cream. This thing is loaded.
Jim adds, “The luggage is underneath. I can store enough for three months underneath or lots of toys.”
As soon as I sit in a recliner, we are on the way. It drives like a city bus. On the highway, these are a dream. Once in the city, it will be less fun. Fortunately, KC is loaded with highways
For an hour, they distract me by discussing the website. I get sleepy. Helen excuses herself to use the washroom, and Jim checks the driver. The next thing I know, I’m being woken up. Helen made a light lunch, and she wanted me to eat before we arrived.
Chicken salad on croissants with potato chips, a fruit salad, and a soda. It hit the spot. Looking out the window, I know we’re in Kansas City. Another twenty minutes or so before we get there. My nerves are frayed, and I’m getting flashbacks in my mind. The food is good, but I’m quickly losing my appetite.
Helen nudges me, “Hey. I want you to remember the good memories today. Think of all the funny things that happened as you grew up, having sex, and your child’s birth. We’ll discuss her death, but I want you to even out the bad with the good. Tell me a funny story.”
I wrack my brain, “There were so many.” I snicker. “There was one day that stands out. I think I was about six or seven years old. I had it bad for her. My mom and her mom were on their front porch talking and drinking something. I was there because of mom. Ariel was complaining when I got there. She wanted a puppy. Her mother ignored her. Ariel and her two friends ignored me and played tea party at the other end of the porch. It was covered, so it was cooler there. Her mother gave them some of her scarves and hats so that they could dress up.”
I stopped and texted Ariel’s parents with my intentions today. I would like to see them again. Her mother texted me back that my mom had already invited them; they were on the way.
I continue my story, “I was left to my own devices. I vowed to get Ariel a puppy. I checked all along the creek and found no puppies. I was devastated. OK, my next favorite pet is a frog.”
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