My Sordid Life

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I had no sooner unpacked from my trip to Toronto when I heard my front door open. Suzanne had let herself in and she was in tears.

“Mom just called; Dad had a heart attack. He didn’t make it.” She choked on her words, “We should catch the next flight into Buffalo but it doesn’t leave until tomorrow morning.”

I convinced her to spend the night with me, we had to be to the airport before sunrise and I lived closer.

Our bother, Jeff, met us at the airport. It was a two-hour ride from the airport to Mom’s house in Auburn, it gave us a chance to catch up with him. He was still in school when I moved away and neither of us had really seen him except at Christmases.

Masses of people attended Dad’s funeral. Having owned the local hardware store for as long as I can remember, I think everybody in town knew him. Way too many of them stopped by the house afterward.

I went upstairs to find some solitude; the visitations were overwhelming. Mom kept all of our rooms the same as they had always been. I laid on my bed, staring through tears, at the same old wallpapered ceiling. The noises from downstairs reminded me of when Dad would throw his parties and chase us kids to bed.

I heard a friendly voice along with the knock on my door. I hadn’t seen or heard from Robby since I left for Florida at the end of high school. I never got back for our ten-year reunion and kind of lost touch with everyone from school. Even Sandy and I grew apart, I’m sorry to say.

We fumbled through the usual pleasantries associated with losing a family member, then just quietly stared at each other for a minute. I broke the silence, telling him about how often I would think about the drive-ins and all of our make out sessions and especially prom night. I had never forgotten about the first time when we had sex. He admitted to thinking about the same thing, remembering them all as good times, even the Poseidon night. And we both laughed.

“Look,” I said, “I don’t know what you’ve been up to all these years any more than you know what I’ve been doing, but… I don’t know if it’s the grief I’m feeling now or just seeing you again after all this time, but I’d really like it if you would hold me right now.”

We fell back onto the bed and without thinking, started making out like when we were teenagers. This time Robby was the aggressive one and I welcomed his advances. Before long we were naked and fucking. Except for a lot of kissing, there was not much foreplay, no groping, no oral, just straight old-fashioned sex. But Robby was tender and gentle and I could have let him do that all day, but all good things come to an end, and like the magical moment that it was, we climaxed together. I just had sex on my old bed!

I opened the door to return downstairs to the throng of visitors, and there stood my little brother Jeffy, leaning against the door casing, legs crossed and arms folded, with a shit-eaten grin on his face, and he said, “You do know that the springs creek on that old bed of yours, don’t you?”

I slapped him upside his head and told him to mind his own fucking business.

The kitchen was my next stop. I had just worked up an appetite and like most funerals, there was more food being dropped off at the house than we could eat in a month.

I had just gathered a plateful when I turned and who did I see standing in my kitchen? None other than my long-lost best friend Sandy. I put my plate back down and threw my arms around her, she grabbed me and together we both broke down and just sobbed. My Dad was like a second father to her, she was grieving too.

We wiped the tears from each other’s faces, laughing at the commotion that we just caused when Robby walked into the kitchen. Sandy immediately ran to him, gave him a big kiss and they embraced. I’m sure my chin hit the floor when she told me that they had gotten married last year. I just glared at Robby. I just fucked my best friend’s husband.

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