The End of Summer (6 page)

I woke up at around nine, the previous night still fresh in
my mind and the sweet scent of Becca still covering my skin.  I immediately
gave her a call. When she didn’t answer, I sent her a message.  I guessed that
she was tied up in something with Lyn and she was not able to reply. It took me
another half hour of daydreaming and reliving the magic before hitting the
shower.

I checked my phone again as soon as I came out of the
shower, even before drying myself off.  She still didn’t call or responded to
my message.  While still in the nude, dripping all over my bedroom floor, I
called Lyn.

“Hey girl, missed you, what’s up?”  I asked when she picked
up.

“Lover boy, what did you do to my mom?” she asked.

“I didn’t do anything to her. What happened?”  She got me
worried.

“I’ve never seen her happier in my life,” she said.

“Oh! Nice to hear. So where is she? I tried to call her an
hour ago, and she didn’t answer,” I said, concerned.

“She left for Connecticut,” she said abruptly.

“Did she say why?”  I was surprised.

“Dunno, she didn’t say.”  She said and then she added, “Her
stuff is still here.”

“Ok, I will stop by in an hour.  Can I bring you anything?” 
I asked.

“Nope, see ya!”  She said and hung up.

Well, since Becca left her stuff there, it only meant that
she would be back soon.  I guessed she had something scheduled to do that day. 
Also, Lyn said that she was happy, so there was nothing to worry about.  What I
feared most is for her to start having second thoughts.

Brushing away my insecurities, I got dressed and went into
Dad’s cellar and found a 1987 Bordeaux. It was a great year, as Nick would put
it.  Joe sent me a message earlier asking for a nice bottle of wine to
celebrate.  He didn’t say celebrating what exactly, but since when do we need
an excuse to have a drink?

At around noon, I arrived at Lyn’s apartment.  Joe opened
the door, and he was shirtless.  Obviously, Becca was not home. “Hey man,” I
said to Joe. “In style, as usual,” I added.

“Hey,” he said, and then came closer and asked quietly, “How
was your date?”

“Here’s your wine. Where’s Lyn?” I asked, cutting him off
and ignoring his question,

“Inside changing her clothes,” he replied and took a seat.

Lyn emerged from inside, wearing a white, Marilyn Monroe-style
white dress and a blond wig and sang, “Congratulations to you, congratulations
to you, congratulations Mr. President, congratulations to you.”  She finished
the song and sat on Joe’s lap facing him and gave him a kiss on the forehead. 
Her red lips left an impression.

“What’s going on?”  I asked, standing, clueless, looking at
Lyn and Joe.

“They appointed him president of the company,” Lyn said and
gave Joe a kiss on his lips.

“You?” I asked in disbelief, pointing to Joe. “President?  
I can’t believe it!”

“Dude, you should have brought Champagne instead of wine,”
he proudly said.

“You asked for wine. Besides, you didn’t even reach the
legal drinking age, and they appointed you as president of a multi-billion dollar
company?” I said expressing my objection.

“I’m an expert on everything multi,” he said wickedly while
kissing Lyn’s neck and grabbing her butt cheeks and pulling her towards him.

“Yes you are, Mr. President, yes, yes, oh yes” Lyn screamed simulating
an orgasm.

“For fuck’s sake, I’m out of here,” I said, turning around
and going for the door.

“Richard, wait,” Lyn urged me.

“Richard, don’t wait. Come back in an hour,” Joe said and
went back to kissing Lyn’s neck.  “Mom left you something on the counter,” Lyn
said pointing to it.

I picked up the small bag.  I turned my back to Lyn and Joe
and opened it.  In it, there was a very small glass bottle.  Printed on it was,
“Romance”.  It had the logo of that little store she told me about. I wanted to
open it and smell it, but I could hear them getting wild behind me. Without
looking back, I opened the door.  As I was stepping out, my phone rang, and it
was Becca.  I stepped outside and kept the door slightly open in case she
wanted something from Lyn.  I took the call, and her shaky, tearful voice was
not a sign of good news.  After I hung up, I went back in.  Joe was on his
feet, carrying Lyn and kissing her.

The moment I shut the door behind me, Joe turned towards me
and shouted, “What the fuck, man? Get out.”

“Put her down, and both of you sit down,” I ordered, and Joe
complied, alarmed by the look on my face.

“What’s wrong?”  Lyn quickly asked, now standing on her feet.

“That was your mom on the phone,” I said slowly.

“Is she OK?” she asked with fear in her voice.  All of the
color had drained from her face.

“She is fine, but something bad happened. Please sit down,”
I said, while sitting down myself.

“Your dad was on his way to the airport this morning, when
he experienced chest pains. He checked into a hospital,” I said, as Lyn put
both her hands on her face waiting to hear the inevitable. “He had a heart
attack… and I’m afraid that he didn’t make it.”

The news had a devastating impact on Lyn.  After I told her,
she went into her room and stayed there.  She refused to talk to anyone or eat
and drink or even open the door.  Joe and I stayed at her house all afternoon
and took turns trying to convince her to open the door or even talk about it
from behind it.  All she would say was “Go away.”

Joe, on the other hand, remained detached and seemed unfazed
by the news.  He told me after Vanessa passed away, “After you lose your mom
and dad at the age of seven, you lose half of your feelings with it.”  I am
sure that Joe didn’t lose the feeling of empathy, but he lost the reactions attributed
to losing someone close, but if anyone would understand what Lyn was going
through right now, it was Joe.

I stood up watching him for more than four hours, sitting on
the floor with his back to Lyn’s bedroom door.  He was offering her support.  I
imagined her on the other side sitting in the same way, feeling the support of
her boyfriend.  I, on the other hand, didn’t know how to feel. I was completely
lost.  I didn’t know how I was supposed to support the woman I love.  How was I
supposed to console her for the loss of another man?  My heart sank, and I sat
down and started to cry.  I sobbed like a little child left alone.

As soon as I started crying, Lyn came out of her room.  She
came straight to me, hugged me and kissed my forehead, and started crying
herself.  I realized the reason why she didn’t cry earlier is that grief has to
be shared to be expressed.  No one wants to cry alone while the whole world was
silently watching and feeling nothing.

I received a call from Becca at around six in the evening.  She
was checking out on Lyn.  She told me that despite Miles’ father and brother
insisting on having the funeral on the same day, she refused to have it without
Lyn present to say goodbye to her father.

“How about you, how are you doing?”  I asked her.

“I really don’t know.  I can’t think right now.  It’s all
too much for me,” she answered in sad and confused voice.

“I’m sorry I can’t be there for you right now,”  I sincerely
said.

“It’s ok.  I’m fine, really,” she said with a broken voice.

“Wanna talk to Lyn?  I think she can talk now,” I asked her,
trying to change the subject.

“Yeah, yeah, if she can, don’t pressure her,” she urged me.

“Hang on a sec,” I said and put my hand on the speaker, went
to Lyn and said, “Mom wants to talk to you.”

She nodded and said, “Give me a minute,” and went to the
bathroom to wash her face.

 “She’s coming,” I said to Becca, “Please try to convince
her to eat something,” I added.

Lyn took the phone and went back to her room. She talked to
her mom for more than half an hour.  I could hear her cry and stop and cry
again before she emerged back and handed me the phone.  It was soaked with
tears.  She was about to dry it with her dress.  I took the hand that held the
phone and said, “Don’t ruin a beautiful Marilyn dress.”  She came in and hugged
me and put her head on my chest.  I looked at Joe and signaled to him to come
closer.  Then I slipped a couple of feet away and I said, “I’m gonna go get us
something to eat.”

“We can order in,” Lyn said.

“It will be faster if I go.  Besides I could use the walk,”
I answered and looked at Joe and said, “Joe.”

He followed me to the door, “Try to talk to her.  I will go
away for half an hour,” I said and left.

On my way down the stairs, I looked up the number for Lyn’s
favorite Chinese restaurant and placed an order.  I sat down on the third step
outside, waiting for the food to be delivered.  I didn’t want to take a walk;
all I wanted was to sit alone for some time.  I wanted to listen to my thoughts
without interruptions, without an audience.  I sat on the same step that Becca
sat on when I first saw her a few days ago.  Yesterday she was radiant with joy,
and today she was engulfed with sadness.

“Richard, hi,” a girl’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

“Caroline, hey,” I said with a fake enthusiasm.

“You never called.  You owe me a real date, remember?” she
said and put her hand on my knee.

“Do you remember anything about that night, anything at
all?”  I asked her.

“You stripped me down to my underwear and you left,” she
said.

“I removed the clothes you puked on and put you to bed,” I
said and saw the delivery boy coming closer.  I stood up and walked towards
him, completely ignoring Caroline, paid the guy, and came back.  Caroline was
upset and showed it to me by folding her arms and stomping her foot like a
pouting child.  I looked at her before opening the main door and said, “By the
way, your ex fights like a girl.  I hope he’s better in bed,” and went inside.

“A
Kippah
, it’s called a
Kippah
,” Joe
whispered in my ear.

“I have to put it on too, but I’m not Jewish?” I replied.

“All men have to put it on, you’re a man aren’t you?  Put it
on,” Joe ordered me.

I complied, and the rest of the funeral was uneventful,
except for a woman in her mid-forties who cried noticeably nonstop throughout
the service.  Becca was quiet, taking good care of Lyn and making sure to make
everything went as smooth as possible.  I kept my distance but made my presence
felt all the time.  Becca smiled to me every time our eyes met.

I left Joe to take care of Lyn and Becca to take care of
everyone else and went back to the hotel.  On the way there, I drove around New
Canaan, a beautiful town with very “liberal” shaped houses.  I came on a school
field trip when I was in ninth grade to see “Glass House”, a see-through home
built in the late forties by Philip Johnson.  It inspired so many contemporary
architects to build similar projects in and around New Canaan.  When I saw that
house for the first time, I instantly remembered a proverb my grandma used to
tell me, “He who lives in a glass house shouldn’t throw stones.”  I guess it
takes a great deal of courage rendering yourself vulnerable to everybody’s
prying eyes, while everybody else is hiding behind brick walls.

I took a shower and ordered some food in.  I don’t remember when
I dozed off, but at around five, I woke up.  Outside the blue sky was replaced
by a buildup of dark clouds, a sign that a storm was sweeping in.  I thought of
leaving the city.  I would not have the chance to see Becca much, and it would
be awkward every time we looked in each other’s eyes, and everyone would start
noticing the attraction.

An hour later, I checked out and headed towards my car.  It
was getting darker and you never know when it will start raining, so I gave
Becca a call before heading down to the city.  “Can you talk?”  I asked her.

“Yes, I waited all day to hear your voice.  I missed you,”
she whispered.

“I missed you too.  How are you doing now?”  I asked her, my
heart aching to be with her.

“Lyn and Joe are here keeping me company, told them to sleep
here for the night,” she said and then asked me, “Where are you?”

“I’m heading down to the city,” I said, feeling guilty to
abandon her in such time.

“Oh, don’t go, I want to see you,” she said, almost
pleading.

My heart sank and I asked, “Can you get out? I don’t want
anyone around us.”

“Pick me up in half an hour.  I’ll text you the directions.  Love
you,” she said.

“Love you too, sweetheart,” I replied, so anxious to meet
her, to touch her hand and kiss her lips and look into her blue eyes.

Twenty minutes later, I arrived at Becca’s house and
immediately texted her.  The house was a big version of the glass house but set
higher above the ground with more use of concrete.  It looked massive once I
parked close to it.  It was getting darker, and the garden lights were already
on.  A British Racing Green Range Rover was parked in the driveway, next to it
was a black Chevy Volt, and a few feet further was Joe’s BMW.

Then she came walking slowly towards me, smiling, making my
heart jump with joy.  She was wearing a knee-length black and white dress and
black shoes. She opened the door, looked at me and smiled more as I watched her
tired look relax, “Lyn is watching.  Don’t kiss me now,” she said softly.

I drove down to the intersection, and Becca signaled to me
to go right.  It was a country road with no streetlights.  A couple of minutes
later, she moved towards me, put her head on my chest, and started crying
softly.  I put my hand around her and caressed her softly and kissed her
forehead.  Neither of us said a word; everything was unspoken but clearly
understood.  Her calm at the funeral and her emotional reserve had all
succumbed to a full emotional breakdown.

“Shall I put the top up?”  I asked her.

“No, I need the fresh air,” she said softly, took a look at
the road ahead and added, “Take the first right and then up the hill.”

It was already dark, and the road reached the top of a hill
and disappeared into the woods as a dirt road.  Becca touched my hand and
squeezed it.  It was my signal to stop. We sat there for a while, listening to
the silent sounds of our thoughts. The breeze was getting stronger and cooler. 
I broke the silence and said, “Do you feel cold?  I have a jacket in the back.”

“Just a little.  I like it like that,” she replied as she
lifted her head and softly kissed my lips.  I responded and nibbled on her
sweet lips, and my hands rubbed her arms and shoulders.  “I missed you so
much,” she said.

“I missed you too baby,” I replied.  I wanted to talk about
everything, about us and about Miles, but it was hard for me to begin.

Becca took out a cigarette pack from her bag and a lighter and
told me, “I need a cigarette.  Join me.”

We both stood in front of the car.  Becca sat on the hood at
first, then suddenly stood up and said, “Oops, it’s hot.”   I came closer and
put my arms around her and held her in my arms in front of me.  From the first
puff, Becca started to talk.  Nicotine was like a truth serum for her.

“It felt so weird, yesterday and today,” she stopped for a
second.  She took a puff and continued, “Miles didn’t die yesterday, you know.  Today
was just his funeral.”  I tightened my arms around her as she said, “Miles died
the moment I told him that I was pregnant with Lyn, I messed up all his plans.  He
had just finished his MBA and became the second man in his company after his
dad.”

A teardrop landed on my hand, Becca stopped talking for a
second, and tears ran down her cheeks.  I kissed them away, and she took a deep
breath and continued.  “He came to the city to have a good time, met a naïve
college girl knocked her up and got stuck.”

“So you never loved him?”  I asked her.

“When I first met him, I did, but after I knew that he
married me just because his family made him do it, I stopped.”  She took a puff
and asked me, “Did you meet Abbey?  Abigail Hoffman?”

“I don’t think I did,” I answered her.

“She’s his high school sweetheart.  Bitch!”  She said.

“Is she that woman who was crying loudly at the funeral?” I
asked.

“Yea, that’s the one,” Becca confirmed. “She was his
personal assistant too.  He couldn’t live without her, so he gave her a position
to keep her close to him.  Eighteen years, can you imagine that?”

“Was he…” I started to ask when she interrupted me.

“Fucking her?  Sure he was,” she said with anger and
sorrow.  I held her even tighter and kissed her neck, I felt her knees getting
weaker and I could feel her body relax, as her breathing slowed in rhythm with
mine.

I was getting aroused myself, with her body against mine. 
Then I asked her, “Why didn’t you just leave him?”

“It’s not that simple.  I wanted what was best for my daughter. 
 Marilyn is my whole life.”  She took the last drag of her cigarette and got
rid of it.  She turned to me, put her hands on my chest and asked me, “Will you
be mine?”

“I am yours,” I said.

“Me, only me, no one else,” she said.  “Promise me,” she
urged me.

“From the first moment I saw you, I wanted you to be mine, I
promise that I will be yours, only yours,” I said passionately.

“I was planning on leaving him, you know,” she said, and
took a long breath and continued, “But he managed to ruin even that and left me
first.”

“When where you gonna tell him that?”  I asked.

“He was going to meet me in New York on the eve of our
twentieth anniversary.  I was going to give him a gift of being free from me, a
gift he was long due” She said with a very sad voice.

“Was it the package you bought from David’s?”  I asked.

“Yeah, it was a record by Miles Davis, ironically called,
Miles Fly Away, and that’s exactly what he did,” she said.

I kissed her neck and held her tighter, “It’s gonna be
alright.”

Becca turned to face me, leaned, her body against mine, and
said, “Would you kiss a smoker?”  She asked me with a change in tone.

Before she could finish her sentence, my lips were all over
hers. The taste of tobacco mixed with her sweet breath aroused me even more.  I
held her close to me, feeling her warmth against the cool night breeze.  My
hands ran down her firm buttocks and her thighs, finding the edge of her
dress.  She lifted her leg around my thighs pulling me closer, her crotch
touching mine, feeling my hardness. My hands caressed her bare thighs, going up,
reaching her thong.  She sighed as I ran my finger around the edge of her panties,
easing the elastic over the curve of her behind.  My hands firmly grasped each
cheek of her delicious ass and pulled her against my growing erection.  My
fingers wandered down, and she moaned as my fingers touched the warm wetness of
her pussy from behind.  She lowers her leg, her panties dropped to the ground.

We moved towards the passenger side door, I opened it and her
hand reached down and unbuttoned my pants.  My cock swelled against the fabric
of my boxer shorts.  She grabbed both my pants and boxers and pulled them down
at once.  She pushed me on the car seat and sat on my lap.  Our interlocked
lips now furiously devoured each other, and her wet pussy was rubbing against
my hard cock, lubricating it, making it ready to invade her.  She moved her hips
and my hard cock slides into her burning pussy, and with one synchronized move
with nature, lightning struck, thunder cracked and rain began to fall.

Making love in the rain was epic, with Becca’s hair drenched
and clinging to her neck.  Our clothes were soaked as we steamed ahead in
unison.  Her hips pumped up and down my shaft, as my hands gripped her hips,
our moans growing louder with every thrust.  We lost ourselves as the storm
around us fueled our desire.  Every clap of thunder and flash of lightning
seemed to energize and intensify our passion.  Waves of ecstasy raged through
our bodies as the thunder rolled.  She arched herself, driving my cock deeper,
and let out a screaming moan.  Her fingernails dug into my chest, and her pussy
throbbed around my cock as her orgasm landed with the intensity of the storm.  I
let myself explode inside her with a thunderous moan, mimicking the thunder as
the clouds burst above us.  Breathless, we collapse into each other and stayed
there soaking in the rain.

We struggled a little with the convertible top.  It was a
simple, old fashioned ragtop and hard to manage in the rain.  As soon as we
settled into the seats, we realized how soaked our clothes and the car’s
interior has gotten.  We laughed all the way back to her house.  The roads were
very slippery, since it was the first rain after almost three weeks of drought,
but I carefully maneuvered along the dark roads, carrying my most precious
cargo, my beloved Becca.

As we pulled into the driveway, Becca took her panties and
put them in my glove box and winked at me.  “Something to put under your
pillow,” she said with a sweet devilish grin.  I came closer and kissed her
lips.  Her hair was still wet, and her face looked tired but still radiant with
happiness.

“I love you,” I whispered softly.

“Love you too,” she replied and opened the door.

I rushed to her side of the car to help her out.  I shielded
her from the rain with my jacket as she got out, and we ran together for the
nearby shelter at the entrance.  We kissed again and hugged and said our
goodbyes.

“I’ll come to New York next week.  I will stay with Lyn for
a while,” she promised.

“I want to see you every day,” I said, then added with a
smile, “I will move in with Lyn too.”

She giggled, kissed my lips, and ran up the stairs.  I
waited for her to disappear inside the house, and I walked slowly towards my
car.  I drove out towards the city, still dazed by the amazing lovemaking and
the heavy rain that was pouring down nonstop.