The first time I noticed the bulge of a man’s penis flopping inside his pants leg as he walked toward me burned the image into my memory. His flaccid state appeared longer than my husband’s erection. The way the fabric pulled across it defined the bulbous head. I looked up to see him smiling at me as we passed. That night, my mind pictured him naked, getting a ridiculously large erection, and entering me. He remained fodder for months of masturbation.
Why were these societal practices becoming noticeable lately? One has to be looking for them, I reasoned. Was it a thrill to tease, to expose? Where did they get the nerve? As years passed, I noticed more things during my limited times in public and developed an active imagination. Imagination was essential to me because I had little situational experience to draw upon. Yet my limited past meant I imagined missionary sex.
* * * * *
Matthew had what seemed to be an illness that lingered for over two months. With a persistent cough and general malaise, he tried over-the-counter remedies but they didn’t provide curative results. I suggested that he see a doctor but he dismissed the idea as unnecessary because prescription medications to cure a simple cold do not exist. Because he was directing several large projects, he wouldn’t stay home to rest either.
Getting ready for work on a Monday morning, he was perspiring and panting just from getting dressed. He planned to call the doctor that day but work demands took up all of his time. At supper that night, he complained of indigestion and didn’t finish his meal. When he stretched out in his recliner, I helped remove his shoes. I was concerned about the swelling of his feet and the clammy feel of his skin.
At work Tuesday, a coughing spell that left him dizzy and short of breath motivated him to call the doctor’s office. Impatient to attend a meeting, he ascribed his illness to a severe cold and made an appointment for the following afternoon. Had they been able to assess all his symptoms, I think they would have directed him to go to an emergency room instead.
Matthew left early for work Wednesday to get important things done before leaving for his doctor’s appointment. I was leading my morning class when the studio phone rang. My assistant had arrived to prepare for her class so she answered. She stepped out of the office to call me aside. The look on her face told me it was worrisome news. On the line was Matthew’s executive secretary; she advised me he had collapsed and paramedics were on the way.
Mothers took their children home from the early-ended session while my assistant called clients to cancel my afternoon session. As I drove in early lunch hour traffic, I was in touch with his secretary via my cellphone to control my impatience. Her voice sounded stressed when she advised me he was still in his office but didn’t offer any updates about his condition. She was shielding me from receiving devastating news over the phone while driving.
I encountered a gathering outside his office that consisted of uniformed firemen, paramedics, his secretary, and faceless others. My knees were weak with dread, believing as they sat me down that they were going to tell me that he had died. Stunned to silent tears, I don’t remember much about what happened after that.
I’ll never forget viewing his body before a coroner arranged his removal. Covered by a sheet on a gurney, they exposed his face so I could kiss him goodbye. I wish I hadn’t; I had nightmares. His bluish skin was already cold.
I was in a mental fog for weeks. I could not have made all the funeral and financial arrangements without the help of several people. Matthew’s retired father arranged and officiated over his funeral. Interment was in family plots behind the church; a plot next to him belonged to me.
* * * * *
Owning our home free and clear in addition to six-figure liquid assets, I didn’t have to worry about solvency. I could live comfortably on my income without touching investments or retirement accounts. Adding to my ample resources, I collected Matthew’s two hundred fifty thousand dollar personal life insurance.
I knew he also had company paid life insurance but not that he had exercised options to increase the benefit amount with each promotion. I was shocked when I found out the policy would payout one million dollars. The chief financial officer of his firm was invaluable to me beyond collecting the life insurance money. He provided sound investment advice and ongoing assistance with setting up accounts and filing documents.
Added to the insurance moneys, our personal investments, home value, and my business assets put my net worth just under two million dollars. I didn’t rush to make changes to my life but I knew I had more money than I would feel comfortable spending.
With the CFO’s help, I set up endowments to build classrooms in the Fessler name at his father’s former church and the local church we attended. Without children of our own or siblings to share or inherit my windfall, I set up a performing arts scholarship trust fund at the University of Georgia. Over time, I made outright charitable donations or specified allotments in my will.
I went back to work at my studio to have a daily purpose which helped me get on with life … for a while. After almost two years, I began to consider major life changes. I decided to close my dance studio business because I wanted to start a different lifestyle.
The mother of one of my then students, who had attended herself as a child, got wind of my plans. She expressed her interest to buy my business. To that end, she spent extra hours watching sessions and discussing operations with me.
My business had few hard assets beyond office furniture and studio operational equipment such as lighting, sound system, hand rails, and mirrors. My long history of business success provided the most value, but in order to pass the value on to the buyer, I agreed to include everything associated with the studio in the sale.
I granted the buyer the rights to the studio name, the telephone number, the Facebook page, and especially the waiting list. My assistant ran her classes as an autonomous business, paying rent for shared space and resources. We started on a handshake basis and never changed; it worked for us. With lawyers involved, a legal contract with the assistant became part of the sale.
The buyer appeared more interested in teaching than maximizing profits. I could have received a sale price well above what I asked for, but I didn’t need to make more money. I was thrilled to see my legacy provide continued opportunities for children to learn and love dancing.
After the official sale, I led my classes for another ten days until the sessions finished. The new owner was there every day to meet all the parents. She impressed me with the way she interacted on a personal level with the parents and students; she could still dance fluidly. Together we planned the performance for families, which she in turn directed. I received flowers from almost every parent, making the final goodbye tearful and bittersweet.