This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to ANYONE is completely coincidental. Anyone who engages in any "activity" is well over the age of 18.
Author's Note: Authors love hearing from their readers and I'm no exception, it feeds our egos. I love to interact with readers (except the homophobes). Do you have questions? Please, ask away. I'll answer whatever I can. Hope to hear from you!
Some folks have guessed that I care deeply about my characters and they're right, I really do. I very much believe that if you have shallow characters, you have shallow writing. Keep the comments coming; they help my direction!
The one thing that I've found I regret is my story naming conventions. I wish that I'd have kept it simple or that Literotica allowed us to change titles 😊
Amy -- Celebrations & Family Moments
Part I
I awoke to the sensation of someone gently shaking me. When I didn't open my eyes right away the "gently" went away but the shaking remained. I popped one eye open to see my sister standing over me with an impatient look on her face.
"Up. Shower. Dress. Food. Medicine," she said.
I opened both eyes to see a fully dressed Amy crossing her arms. The look on her face was so close to my mother's face when she would wake me up for school that I almost shouted.
"You know, dear sister," I said, "you live here now. You don't have to rush out of the bed in the morning. It would be nice to wake up next to you for once."
"I must rush out of bed when I have a property settlement in two hours. UP!"
I muttered something relatively unpleasant and followed orders. By the time I joined the others downstairs, Amy was shoving various documents into a briefcase. I came into view in the kitchen and all eyes turned to me. Lys began shaking her head and Sophie rolled her eyes.
Amy looked at me and simply asked, "Suit?"
I remembered the only suit I owned. The last time I wore it was at Grace's funeral. Even with Lys and Sophie making sure I kept a (relatively) healthy routine, I was a good fifteen pounds heavier than I was three years ago. There was no way that suit would fit.
"It won't fit," I offered, lamely.
Amy looked at Sophie who nodded back to indicate that I was telling the truth.
"You're a grown man and you don't own a suit," Amy asked, clearly perturbed.
This is an argument that I'd had a number of times with my parents *and* Grace over the years. "Yes, I'm a grown man who gets to make his own decisions and I have long since decided that I don't need a suit."
Amy looked to Sophie for sympathy and I knew she wasn't going to get any. Outside of very special occasions Sophie and Rose agreed with me on the question of dressing up and the question was, "Why bother?"
"C'mon Amy," I said, "think about my life and my job. When do I ever need one?"
I could see that she wasn't happy with my answer but she was having a hard time disputing my logic. "Can you at least put on a polo shirt and slacks," she asked.
"Will do, Sis. After I eat."
I ate quickly because I knew I was holding us up. I changed just as quickly and was deemed acceptable. A few minutes later we pulled out of the driveway in Amy's Volt. I honestly didn't know that a Volt could move that fast and I can't say that I was comfortable with how fast we moved. Amy was in one hell of a hurry. We pulled up to the funeral home with fifteen minutes to spare until the settlement appointment.
The Feinbergs greeted us at the door and Mrs. Feinberg gave Amy a hug. I stood by as a silent sentinel. I don't recall if I said anything beyond a polite greeting. Mr. Feinberg had buried both my father and my wife. The only association I had with the man was death. I have no doubt he was a good person but I was uncomfortable in his presence.
Amy was excited and I was excited for her. I loved my sister more than I could ever describe. I loved her more than I should, if we're going to be frank but man, I was glad I was the "silent partner" because this place gave me a severe case of the willies.
The agent with the final paperwork arrived and after more signatures than I could count, Amy and I were officially the owners and the Feinberg's said their last goodbyes to the home they'd been in for decades. The older couple gave the home one last look and then they drove out of our town and our lives.
After the Feinbergs had left and with unvoiced reluctance, I agreed to walk through the property with Amy. She handed me a notepad and we went from room to room with her making comments. I took a lot of notes.
"There's a few things that need to be modernized before I can take any clients," she said, "and none of it will be cheap."
"It is what it is, Aim," I assured her, "we'll do what needs to be done."
We found our way to Amy's office. She'd already had a desk set up and some chairs from her house in New Paltz to sit on. Amy broke out an internet hotspot and her laptop and started to send a series of e-mails to contractors and utility services. I just watched her work, fascinated with the way her face scrunched up.
"I'm not even applying for any licensing until the work is done," she said over her screen, "yeah, legally the place is good to go but I want it updated first. It shouldn't be more than the money I knocked them down in the offer."
I reminded Amy again, that we would do whatever we had to do.
The doorbell rang and Amy's head sprung up, surprise. "Who the hell is that?"
I volunteered to go see who was at the door hoping like hell it wasn't a grieving family looking for someone to bury a loved one. When I opened the door, I was greeted by a forty something, pretty, red head.
"Hi, I'm sorry," she said, "I'm looking for Amy Fries."
"Uhm...she's in her office," I said, "come on in."
Once inside and out of the glare of the sun the woman was able to get a better look at me. I heard her gasp, "You're David! Jesus, its uncanny."
I took a logic leap and said, "I'm going to go out on a limb and say you must be Erin."
Erin was the friend Amy confided in when we first became a couple.
"You got it in one, handsome," she said, grabbing me in an ambush hug.
I heard Amy come into the vestibule from her office. "Hey, let go of my man you fire-haired slut!"
"You're banging your brother and you're calling me a slut," Erin laughed. She broke away from me and ran to Amy, sweeping her up and hugging her.
"Congratulations, baby," Erin said, "this was long overdue!"
"What was," Amy asked, "running my own home or really being done with Christopher?"
"Both," Erin exclaimed.
The pair carried on for several minutes acting as if they hadn't seen each other in months. I know they had dinner together at least once a week, though. One sentence caught my attention. Erin said that she was unsure if she had wanted to come to the door because there was a creepy no-necked guy watching the building.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," I growled. Erin looked at me in surprise and Amy just shook her head. I unlocked my phone and dialed my brother, Cal.
After a second, he answered, "yeah?"
"Cal, what the fuck are you doing?"
"Uhm. What do you mean, Dave?"
I walked to the front door and threw it open. It only took me a second to spot his car and his bald head behind the driver's seat. Our eyes met.
"For fuck's sake, Cal. Just come in."
I watched Cal climb out of his oversized pick-up truck and he crossed the street, holding a huge planter of flowers. Something didn't look right about the way he was walking. It looked like he was limping. No, it looked like he was almost stumbling, pausing for breath every few steps and then stumbling on. As he got closer, I could see that he looked generally unwell. Shit. His ankles looked like tree stumps. Cal was seriously ill.
"Are you okay, Cal," I asked.
"I'm fine. I wanted to,"
"congratulate Amy on getting the funeral,"
