Page 96 of Grown-Up Second Chance

I stared at her, stunned. I’d always thought Michael was the be-all and end-all for Kathleen.

“Why not? I’m not dead yet.”

“I guess that’s what a good marriage will give you,” I said. “Hope for the future.”

“We had our ups and downs. Especially at the end.”

“Illness can be hard.”

“Yep.” Her response didn’t quite have the finality it should.

“Was there something else?”

“What?” she asked. “No. No. Nothing else.” She picked up her knitting again and her fingers flew as yarn moved from one needle to the next.

I let it drop.

“What time’s the barbecue?” I asked.

“I told people drinks would start at four. I told Joe that, too. He said he should be finished prepping and dumping by then, but he wanted to get a shower in before he came over.”

“It’s a hot one. Good thing the awning and trees provide enough shade.”

“It’ll be hot no matter what site you’re at. There won’t be that many people, at least as far as I know.”

“You don’t know who’s coming?” I asked, visions of running out of food filling my mind.

“It will be enough no matter who shows up. Everyone brings a dish, their grilling choice, their drinks, and their chairs. The more people, the more choices for sides. Expandable party. Just like Mom and Dad used to have.”

I smiled remembering the spring and fall gatherings, as well as parties in the neighborhood for the significant holidays. The person with the biggest house or well-appointed barn held the Christmas gathering. Everyone was invited as long as they contributed something. Some people could only afford a bag of apples for bobbing, but they were welcomed with the same grace as those who provided a fully-cooked elk roast.

At least that’s how it had been when we were growing up. Liz had confessed it was changing now. People with expensive “second homes” were a lot more cliquish.

“Joe will like a pot luck,” I said.

“Still haven’t made up your mind about Joe? And what you’re going to do when this trip is over?”

“Not really. At least not to the point I want to talk about it,” I said. “Can we drop it?”

“Sure,” Kathleen said, focusing back on the growing garment in front of her.

“I’m going to change,” I said as I walked to the bathroom area, sliding the door closed behind me. Peeking into the back bedroom, I saw it was empty, so didn’t bother with that door.

Alone at last.

I stripped down to my underwear, then caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

Time hadn’t done me any favors.

While I didn’t have the stretch marks common to pregnancy, my skin no longer had the taut firmness of youth. Even with underpants, I could see my rear end sagging. A sedentary job hadn’t help keep it firm. With my bra on, I couldn’t tell how far down my breasts had gone, but perky no longer described them.

It had been a long time since I’d made love with anyone.

How had I thought having sex with Joe would be a good idea?

Because I hadn’t been thinking at all; I’d only been driven by desire. I didn’t intend a long, drawn-out, slip each piece of clothing off process. Just a quick slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am would be dandy, thank you.

But did it actually work that way for men at this age? Didn’t they need a lot more foreplay to … er … function? How long did one of those little blue pills take to work? And how long did they last?

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