Another chapter in the ever incestuous Matson family. Sorry it took so long but life and a limited access to the internet has caused delays. Sorry, but that's life.
I would advise that you read
A Solder's Story
and
A Nephew's Story
before reading this. Whereas those two are more or less stand-alone stories, this one this one does
I want to thank TryingToTry for her help in editing this story.
*
Once again, Death had raised its ugly head and taken the one person who I had loved all of my life. This woman, who gave birth to me; who loved me; who took my virginity; who gave birth to two of my children; who gave birth to my sister, my wife, my Rachel; who loved me after I lost my Rachel; was taken from me in a senseless accident with a drunk driver, two and a half times over the limit. He walked away unharmed.
I wanted to kill him. I was no stranger to killing. I had been in the infantry in Viet Nam. I had done things I would never tell anyone about. Things I was not proud of. So, I knew that I could kill that bastard. And I wanted to.
But, the Courts of the State of Vermont prevented me from doing it by putting him in prison for twenty-five years to life.
I was devastated. Losing my Sarah all but destroyed me.
We had been living in the same house for the past fifteen years. To everyone we were Mother-in-law and Son-in-law. No one, not even the children knew the truth.
After mom's second husband, "Uncle Freddy" was killed, also by a drunk; Mom, Rachel and I with the children bought house large enough for all of us. We lived like this through the loss of Rachel to a cerebral hemorrhage, until my youngest, Melissa moved out.
Then Mom and I bought a small cottage and lived there together. It seemed the natural thing to do, a mother-in-law and Son-in-law living in the same house.
All of the children came to the funeral. Sally and Freddy; and Terry, Deborah, Robert and little Melissa. They were all there. Trying to help me and help to ease the pain. Sally and Terry, who lived in Great Britain, wanted me to go back with them, but I couldn't.
At fifty years old, I was alone, for the first time in my life.
I found relief in the anti-depressants that the doctor gave me. The Valium and other drugs whose names I don't recall. For a couple of weeks I was in a drugged stupor. Hallucinating, thinking I was still making love to my Sarah and Rachel.
My daughter, Deborah had stayed with me. Her husband, Dennis, was on an extended business trip. She nursed me back to sanity. She weaned me off of the drugs and forced me back into the classroom.
Did I say that I am a full professor in Astro-physics in a rather reputable university in Vermont? Well, I am. And Debby brought me back to that world.
It was difficult having Debby leave. I had come to lean on her and depend on her to keep me on the ground. But, when her husband returned, she went back to him.
I was alone again, but now I could handle it a little better. I lived alone, teaching, attending meetings and doing research. Back to my life.
One night, about three months after Debby left, I got home and checked my phone messages. Debby had left a message. She sounded upset. She wanted to talk to me; it was important.
I immediately caller her. She was really upset. She had a fight with Dennis. She told him that she was pregnant. He went ballistic. He didn't want children. He had insisted that she have an abortion. If she didn't have it aborted, he would throw her out. She refused to end the pregnancy.
I told her that she should come and stay with me.
The next day Debby showed up at my front door. She was standing there with her bags in her hands.
Debby was about 5'6, with short golden blonde hair. She had a small thin build, smallish breasts, slim waist, round hips with a lovely firm butt and wonderful shapely legs. Her belly showed the barest hint of her pregnancy.
She was my beautiful daughter. I took her in my arms and hugged her. She started to weep.
We went into the house and she went into Sarah's room. We sat on the bed and talked. She told me that before the marriage, Dennis said that he wanted to have kids. However, right after the wedding he changed his mind.
"I don't want a sniveling, crapping, little turd around. My time is far too important to be wasted on something like that," he told her with a laugh.
"I thought that he would change his mind when I told him that I was pregnant," she wept into my shoulder.
Five months later Debby gave birth to my grandson, Daniel. Debby didn't want any part of Dennis so she gave Danny her maiden name, thus my grandson was named Daniel Matthew Matson.
Shortly after Danny was born, Debby and Dennis were divorced. Debby got full custody of Daniel. Dennis gladly gave up all rights to him; in turn there would be no child support.
I had argued that the bastard should pay something, but Debby was adamant about it.
"I don't want him to have any connection with Daniel. Anyway I will be able to support my son all by myself," she told me.
Just before getting pregnant, Debby had received her doctorate in genetic engineering. Her paper, on something far above my head, was very well received and she was offered a number of very lucrative job offers.
After her breakup with Dennis, Debby accepted a job not far from the University where I taught.
Over the next year, Debby, Danny and I lived in the cottage. Having Debby and Danny at home was heaven. I wasn't alone and I couldn't ask for better company. Debby was wonderful, witty and charming. It seemed that we were always laughing about something.
After a bad or stressful day, I would calm down soon after getting home. Taking care of Danny was my joy, he was such a happy baby and although there were times he wasn't, they seemed to be few and far between (selective memory?).
Each night Debby and I would have dinner together after putting Danny to bed. I have never been one for early dinners and neither was Debby. We would enjoy leisurely dinners and sometimes break open a bottle of wine.
Afterwards, we would either do some work or sit and watch TV, doing more talking and laughing than watching.
I would usually sit in my stuffed armchair and Debby would lounge on the sofa. There were times, after she had a tough day that we would sit on the sofa and cuddle.
Sometimes, the three of us would go out to dinner. Debby wanted to take Danny, even when he was an infant because, as she said, "I want him to learn how to behave in a restaurant."
I couldn't count the times when the waitress or waiter would tell me how beautiful "my son" was, or what a lovely wife and child I had.
At first I would correct them, but I quickly stopped that and just thanked them, telling them that I wholeheartedly agreed. It gave me sort of a perverse pleasure to think that they thought an old man like me could have such a beautiful wife and son.
