XVIII − Georgia's Story: Fairytale
My granddaughter, Lauren, has suggested that perhaps I should be the one to tell you the rest of our story -- or of our stories, I guess I should say. So, ...here goes.
My amazing granddaughter, Lauren, has already told you of how Ted, the husband of her old college roommate, and I shared a glorious night of lust together while I was up here for Lauren's and Matt -- Matthew's -- wedding, in August.
She also explained how the whole encounter was arranged by Ted's amazing -- amazingly loving and amazingly generous -- wife, Candace. She arranged this for the sole purpose of making sure that her husband could know the experience of making love to another woman. Candace knew that her husband -- who had never even looked at another woman in his life, since they had been together as teenagers -- had expressed, in his very reserved, respectful, gentlemanly way, that he found me -- 30 years his senior -- to be "a very handsome woman." And she knew that I (like every other woman who was sane and still breathing) thought her husband was "a fine specimen of manhood." And she felt that I would be "safe," in the sense that Ted wouldn't fall in love with me, and that I was experienced enough in the ways of love and sex that I would make him feel comfortable and make sure that it was a good experience for him.
What my granddaughter was unable to tell you was how I remember that night. And it was not the sex -- which was amazing and memorable! Or how gorgeous Ted really is, or what a fine fuck he is, or the incredible feelings I enjoyed with him.
No, what I remembered -- still remember -- most was when Candace and the children returned home and crawled into bed with Ted and me. What I remember, crammed together there in that big king-sized hotel bed, with Ted pressed up against me while he cuddled their daughter, Caleen, and 20-month-old Eddie trying to snuggle himself right into me, and Candace on the outside, leaning over Eddie and kissing my cheek and saying, "Thank you," was the overwhelming sense of contentment that came over me. The feeling that, somehow, I
belonged
there. That's what I remember most from that entire night.
And that's the way it stayed -- a memory, steadily blending into a lifetime of mostly good (and a few tragic) memories -- until the phone rang one evening about two weeks after I had returned home to Houston. It was a number I didn't recognize, and ordinarily I would have let it go through to voicemail. But for some reason -- maybe I was just bored and looking for something to interrupt the monotony -- I picked it up. I was totally disoriented, I guess is the best way to describe it, when I first heard a young woman's voice saying, "Georgia? This is Candace. I hope this isn't a bad time to call?"
It took me a few seconds to recover from my astonishment, but when I did, I realized that I was incredibly happy. For many reasons. First, I guess I might have vaguely entertained some doubts -- some feeling that Candace maybe regretted her decision to arrange that night together for Ted and me. Or that it might have caused some strain in their relationship, or worse.
Well, nothing to fear! This was Candace, remember? Candace has to be the most positive person I've ever met; and it took only about three seconds for her to begin telling me how wonderful it had been to meet me and to have me meet her family, and to thank me again for "helping" Teddy, and to remind me of the good times playing with Caleen and Eddie, and how they won't stop talking about me and asking when they can see "Nonna Georgia" again. And that's when she said,
"And that's kind of why I called -- or, at least, called now. First, I have to tell you that you can say 'No' if you have the slightest hesitation, but ... my company's asked me to spend two or three weeks with a client in the Netherlands later this month, and Teddy and I could arrange for childcare and he could juggle his work responsibilities a bit and it would be no problem ... but the reason I called is to see if ... if you would like to come and stay at our house and help Ted take care of Caleen and Eddie. If you'd want to. Georgia? Georgia??"
I actually couldn't speak -- for a couple seconds, I couldn't make my mouth and tongue work. Then, first, the relief that it was nothing bad; and then, the utter --
joy
-- at being asked to spend more time with those children. I finally managed to squeak, "I'd love to," my voice apparently so choked that I had to repeat, "I'd love to, Candace!"
Candace replied, "I'm so relieved. Ted and I were kind of afraid that asking you something like this was really out of line -- too presumptuous, taking advantage of a friend and stuff."
We talked about arrangements -- it looked like she would be leaving on the 25
th
or 26
th
-- and I could come any time before then. They offered to buy my airline ticket, but I would have none of it -- "Save it for the new baby." And then, Candace lowered her voice, not so much for privacy, but more like the serious voice you use when you're going to talk 'personal stuff.'
"Georgia, I know that you and Teddy like each other -- like each other a lot, really. And if you and Teddy wanted to be together while I'm gone -- I'd like that."
And there it was. A freely-given invitation to enter into "housekeeping" with her beautiful, loving husband. And, again, from anyone else, this would have been crazy. But I'd come to learn that Candace has the biggest heart of anyone I've ever known, and that there is no limit to her love for her husband -- and her gratitude toward anyone who makes him happy.
Despite the fact that I shouldn't be surprised by anything that Candace says, I was -- 'surprised' scarcely even says it. I managed to pull it together enough to say, "Thank you, Candace -- that's an incredibly generous thing to do for Teddy -- and for me. How about we set that decision aside for now? But there's no doubt that I'm coming to take care of the children."
A few more practical details, and we rang-off, agreeing to talk again when she had exact dates and we could make arrangements.
Well, I sat on the couch, a bit stunned, first catching my breath, then pouring a healthy glass of brandy -- something I almost never do alone -- and thinking about what had just happened.
The next thing was to call my granddaughter.
Of course, asking how she and Matt -- Matthew -- and the baby-to-be were doing, and then all about the rest of the 'family' in their household. But finally, I had to get to the reason I called: