Together with Troy

It was the champagne. Sure, it's a symbol of gaiety, but not for me. I always get sad with champagne. No, it was the wedding. Seeing my older brother's daughter getting married reminded me of my own wedding and of the intervening years. That's why women weep at weddings; I'm a great weeper. Actually, it was my own marriage that had fallen apart that led to this, my husband run off, my daughter and son pulled away by conflicted allegiances, and a possible future of aloneness for me. And then the bastard had the temerity to show up for his niece's marriage ceremony.

Face facts, Lori. It was all that stuff. None of it excuses you, so don't even think explaining is going to make it go away. You're naked in bed with your nephew. His cum is leaking out of your cunt. Even now his insidious sperm may be swimming towards your egg and in a few minutes you'll be pregnant. Do you really think any explanation is going to fix this? Like hell.

It was a beautiful wedding. It wasn't the largest wedding, but it may have been the prettiest. Trayne was as radiant as a bride could be. The groom was resplendent in his uniform. They were so obviously in love that it brought pangs of envy to many of the females in the congregation, yours truly included. The attendants were stunning. The chapel was redolent with the flowers of spring. As the early afternoon sun sparkled through the stained glass windows, a fortuitous shaft of ruby streamed down to light the united couple. More tears and sobs burst out.

At the reception, I certainly had a bit too much champagne. I knew how it would hit me, but I'd decided to enjoy myself. I deserved a chance to let my hair down. Not get looped, mind you, or even a shade more than tipsy, just nicely giggly. The weeps would come, but I'd handle them later.

As the reception went on and the band started up, men asked me to dance. I accepted every request. I like being in a man's arms. It didn't matter who the man was. There was nothing improper. I didn't lead anyone on, didn't even flirt, just danced. And kept full my glass.

My niece and her husband slipped away right after the cake ceremony, on their way to Cozumel. As guests departed, as things wound down, I had a quiet cry with my sister-in-law. Yes, the bubbly was winning. We were closer than usual, almost sisters. Her mother, her sister, and my mom joined us and we had a good old fashioned cry. The men-folk couldn't do anything but stare and wonder before going back to conversations about golf, baseball, hunting, whatever guys talk about when their women have shut them out beyond a veil of genderness.

About dark, the band quit playing. They packed away their instruments and amplifiers. They trucked everything to their two battered vans. A few hard partiers hung around but the keg was floating and most of the booze was depleted, so they drifted away. All that were left were family. The reception hall didn't need a complete cleaning, but we straightened things up.

Before the family sat down for a final reckoning on the day, my daughter caught up with me.

"Are you OK, mom?" Angie asked as she steered me to a folding chair. She had brought a half empty bottle of champagne. I thought that was sweet of her. She's really a darling daughter, couldn't ask for better.

Standard response to that question is "Do I look like something is wrong?" so I made it.

Angie bubbled up our glasses. She sipped.

"You don't drink."

"I'm a closet lush," I confided. "I don't like drinking in public."

"Mom! Be serious."

"OK." I pecked her cheek.

"I liked seeing you dance. You ought to get out and date some. Find a man." Her eyes leveled at me. She had her father's eyes. I thought I was going to choke up, but I composed myself.

"It's been over a year since dad left."

"Yeah, hasn't it!"

"You know you turn guys' heads. You're hot, mom. Get a man, damn it."

"There's not much chance of that here, is there?"

"You know what I mean."

"I know, dear. I'm just giving you a hard time."

Angie refilled our partially empty glasses and set the dead soldier on the floor between us. "I was thinking about going with Lee, but don't want to leave you here if you're not all right."

"I'm fine," I insisted. "You go and have a good time. Don't worry."

"I don't want you driving drunk."

"Honey, it's just champagne. Besides, if I feel I can't handle the car, I'll let Troy drive. He has his license."

"His learner's permit," Angie corrected.

"He's legal if there's an adult in the front seat. And it's not like we're driving to Colorado in the middle of winter. It's not ten miles to the house. You go and have some fun."

"You're sure?"

"Of course. And now that you and Lee have seen how nice a wedding can be, maybe y'all can start planning."

"I get the hint, mom."

"That wasn't a hint, honey."

She gave me a quick kiss and hurried to her beau. Lee was a good fellow, smart as a whip, mildly ambitious, and would make a good son-in-law. He waved to me as he led my only daughter out into the soft night.

It was time to stifle another sob, I decided, and almost succeeded.

I went to find my sister-in-law.

***

Liz was having a cigarette just outside the back door. She had quit smoking a year ago, but the pressure of the wedding had driven her back to the habit. Seeing me, she took a final drag and tossed away the cigarette. It disappeared in a flick of red.

"Last one," she told me. "Damn, I'll miss them, though."

"You've got a lot of self-discipline. You'll give 'em up again."

"Self-discipline? Me? Hell, Lori, when I saw Mark and that fake blond show up at the chapel door, I could've killed him! What kept you so calm?"

"What, make a scene and ruin Trayne's big day? You know me better than that."

"Still-"

I put my arm around her. Closer than sisters, as I'd mentioned earlier. "Besides, I left my pistol in the car."

She smiled. "Yeah, right."

"Sure, it was shock. At least the suck ass had the decency to leave as soon as the ceremony was done. I'm getting over him. Really, I am."

"Yeah, right," Liz repeated, but this time she didn't smile. She knew you didn't erase 20 plus years with a simple divorce decree.

"At least the son of a bitch chose a good looking slut to start a new family with."

"A new family? Don't tell me..."

"Yep, at least according to Drake. They told him last week he was going to be a big brother. Or half-brother, to be exact. He told his sister, Angie told me."

"Fuck, I would've killed him."

"It can still happen, you know." Venom filled her voice. "Let me know when it goes down. I want to see him scream!"

"Sure thing, girlfriend."

"Did Angie leave already."

"Yep, her and Lee. Drake took off, too. I don't think he's happy with his father."

"Good. I like Lee. I think he's good for Angie."

"Me, too."

"Listen, I need a drink. Let's go find one."

So it was more champagne. Between my daughter and her aunt, I couldn't get away from the delicious stuff. It still tasted good, too. The bubbles were starting to tickle my nose more than they had earlier. That, I knew, was a dangerous sign. I would cut back.

"Listen, thanks for putting up Troy," Liz told me. He was Trayne's younger brother. "With the house full of family from out of town, there just wasn't any room."

"No problem," I assured her. "In fact, I was looking for him. I need to be heading out."

"Last time I saw him, he was helping his dad with trash. There they are," she pointed. Liz waved them over.

"How you holding up, babe?" My brother put his hand on her shoulder and gave his wife a squeeze. Gary was a tall slender man, slowly building a paunch.

Liz sniffled, but smiled. She said, "I had my last cigarette."

"Good girl. Sis?"

I held up my empty glass. "And I had my last drink."

"Like hell. I want to have a drink with two of my favorite gals. Troy, go hunt up a bottle for your Aunt Lori. Hurry up, son!"

Troy grinned and left in hurry. He had been a slight boy and only recently had the reality of puberty set in. I knew my sister and brother-in-law were grateful. It was difficult having a boy his age who didn't need to shave. He was still slightly awkward, though. His long bones had really put on a spurt in the last year, his chest had broadened, and he was growing like the proverbial weed. He was already taller than his mom and would soon be able to look his dad right in the eye.

"Shit, Gary. I'm going to be blitzed."

"Troy'll look after you. Listen, sis, I coulda killed that son of a bitch."

Liz interrupted. "We already had this conversation, honey. Lori and I have everything under control."

"If you say so." The anger quickly disappeared as Troy appeared with a fresh bottle of champagne. How much had they bought, I wondered. I'd had a case already, I thought, and bottles kept reappearing like fecund rabbits from the hat of a vaudeville magician.

"OK, boy, do the honors."

Troy spent a minute working on the cork. The stopper, not cork at all, but a plastic toadstool, came out with a satisfying POP! He poured first for his mother, then me, and finally his father.

"I don't think," said Gary, "anyone will turn us in."

He grabbed a clean glass from among several on the table and gave it to his son. Troy poured carefully.

"That's it, OK?"

"Sure, dad."

I said to my nephew, "I'd like to be going in a few minutes. Is that OK?"

"Sure."

"Troy!"

The teen looked at his mother. He amended himself. "Yes, ma'am."

I smiled. "If you like, we'll stop for pizza on the way."

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Ten minutes?"

He looked at his watch. "Ten minutes."

Troy went off to say good-bye to his grandmother and a few other adults. I made small talk with my brother and his wife before going off to say good night to my mother and her date. Mom reminded me that we would have supper together the next evening. Then it was one last trip to the ladies' room. I ran in to Troy on the way.

"You have your driver's permit, right?"

"Yep." Away from his father, he could be informal, even with his favorite aunt.

"Here." I handed him the keys. You know the Honda?"

My nephew's eyes were bright. He knew what was coming next. "Yes, ma'am!"

"OK, get it warmed up. I'll meet you there in a couple of shakes."

A sliver of moon hung low in the east. The parking lot was empty of all but a few vehicles. I had parked the Accord at the end, leaving room closer to the door for regular guests. In fact, I had parked next to Gary's big four wheel drive Silverado.

Troy was waiting for me. He politely held the door for me. I thanked him. He had been well brought up. As I buckled up, he spent a few seconds getting the seat and mirrors positioned just right.

"Pizza sound good to you?" I asked.

"I'm OK."

Um, hum, right. I know how an eighteen year old can put away good pizza. He was almost as bad as a thirteen year old. "But I'm not."

I fished out my cell phone. There was a pizza parlor not far from the house that we used. I called them and ordered a take out. Extra large, bacon, black olives, mushrooms, extra cheese.

He started up the car, hit the lights, and carefully turned on to the street. He was tense behind the wheel. We didn't talk. I wanted him to get familiar with the car. He was more used to wheeling around in a big truck. The Honda was a totally different animal, lower, sportier, quicker handling. There wasn't much traffic; the street was four lanes.

I gave him directions. Troy became more comfortable behind the wheel. It was OK to talk about school. Troy had played on the frshman college football team, but needed to put some meat on his bones for the next season. He had made starting short stop in baseball. His grades were better than OK.

Our order was ready by the time we got to the place. We were only a few minutes away from the house, long enough to fill the car with the aroma of pizza.

I reached up for the garage door opener when we pulled in the driveway. It was a tight fit. Troy got it right, but it took some doing. He quickly came around to help me out of the car. I'd already retrieved the revolver from the glove compartment and stowed the weapon in my small purse. I had a concealed carry license, but didn't want to advertise the fact to my nephew that I'd been armed. Sure, he'd hunted and was familiar with firearms, but I didn't want him to know which guns I had or where they were.

"Almost forget," he said as I unlocked the door. He went back to the car and came out with two bottles of champagne.

"Oh, hell, Troy," I said.

"It was dad's idea. There was lots left. He didn't want it to go to waste."

I was exasperated. Damn big brother. "Yeah, right. It's not like it goes bad in a corked bottle. OK, put one in the fridge and open the other while I get glasses and plates. I wonder if champagne goes with pizza."

Paper plates and napkins were in the pantry. I set the small table in the breakfast nook. I had some appropriate glasses, actually fifth year anniversary gifts. Damn memories, I thought. I set the glasses next to the plates. The place settings were incongruous. Not that I cared. Troy was barely 18. Eighteen year olds don't notice such things.

It didn't seem right to caution Troy about drinking since his father had sent the booze, so I kept my mouth shut about responsibility. Instead, I loaded his plate while he charged the long stemmed glasses.

"Hey, this is neat, crystal and paper!"

So much for the perceptiveness of male teens. We sat across from each other and ate with silent gusto. As I had thought, despite his protests, Troy tore into the pizza. He ate six slices to my two. That was fine with me.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked between bites.

"Sure." I was discovering that champagne went very well indeed with pizza. I was on my second glass already.

"What's with you and Uncle Mark?"

"Nothing's up between us. He decided he wanted a new wife."

"Yeah, I saw her." He leered at the memory of her, caught himself, and concentrated on the food in front of him.

Damn shit, I swore silently at my ex-husband. Finding himself a sexy slut almost half his age and knocking her up. I forced a light hearted lilt into my voice.

"Oh, come on, Troy. Is she that hot?"

He looked up, saw my extended glass, and refilled it. His glass had hardly been touched.

Three for me, one for you, I thought. That was a good ratio for pizza and champagne both. He could have the food; I'd take the bubbly.

"Well, yeah."

"Now you're hurting my feelings."

"I didn't mean it that way."

I reached across the table and tapped his chin. "It all right. There's no way a washed up 40-something old dame like me can compete with some Playboy fold out."

He looked at me, shook his head, and said, "I think Uncle Mark's crazy."

I blushed. I swear I hadn't been fishing for a compliment. "Have you ever heard of the middle age crazies? Well, it hits some guys harder than others."

"This stuff is good," Troy said in a perfect non sequitur. He drained his glass, refilled it, and topped off mine. "Well, I think he's fucked up."

"He's got a right to be happy." Why was I defending that bastard? Maybe he did have that right, but didn't I, also?

"Maybe so. Uh, do you want that last slice?"

"Flip you for it!"

Troy's face fell.

"I was joking!" I pushed the box a few inches closer to him. "Don't mope, dope."

"Thanks."

I got up to put my paper plate in the trash. The breakfast nook turned under me feet ever so slightly. Sitting, I'd felt fine. Standing, I was a bit wobbly. Damn the champagne. I checked the clock on the microwave. It was only 8:30 and I was three sheets to the wind.

"Listen, Troy, it's still early, but I'm beat. It's been a long day."

"Sure, Aunt Lori. Don't mind me." He rose to help me clean up. There wasn't much to do except rinse out the glasses.

"If I'd thought I'd be flaking out so early, we'd have stopped and picked you up some movies. There won't be anything you like on TV." After Mark moved out, I had no need for the satellite dish and 600 channels that I never watched. I'd canceled the contract. I might watch the local news; otherwise the television was a plant stand.

"That's OK, if you don't mind me using the computer in the study."

"No problem." I looked at the empty pizza container. I smiled, "There's food in the fridge and frozen snacks in the freezer."

He almost stifled a belch. "Excuse me. I think I'm OK."

"For an hour, maybe...Well, you know where the stuff is. I'm going to take a bath. I'll see you before I go to bed."

"All right."

In the master bedroom, I hung my pale blue dress in the closet. It wasn't one I wore often. My high heels went in their box and were put away. Pantyhose went in the bag with some other delicates. In my slip, I brushed my teeth. Drawing water into the large tub - large enough for two and hadn't that been fun! - , I sprinkled some oil and beads in the hot water. My hair wasn't long enough to need pinning up, so I just dropped my lingerie off to the side and settled in the water.

I was tired but tense. I soaked, willing the water to ease away the pain I felt inside. Seeing Mark and his slut had upset me more than I wanted to admit. Goddamn him, I blasphemed, the sorry son of a bitch. Suck ass bastard to leave me the way he did. I'd never had a thought for any other man and he had the balls to sit me down one sunny day and explain how he'd been screwing a woman he'd met and he was now in love with her and wanted to start fresh. Twenty-plus years of marriage didn't matter to the fucker.

Shit, it had been a year. Was I going to be bitter the rest of my life? I needed to start fresh too, maybe. Big maybe, Lori. I closed my eyes and tried to think of fresh starts.

No new starts were in the offing, so I soaked until the water cooled. Climbing out, I wrapped myself in a large towel and briskly dried my dripping body. I rubbed until my skin glowed with health if not exactly happiness. I pulled on a long lush terry robe and stepped into slippers.

I went to check on my nephew. As expected, he was in the study. Silently, I poked in my head. There was flickering light from the computer monitor and the crash of guns and screams of victims. Troy had found some on-line shooting game and was tensed over the keyboard. Fingers stabbed out quickly while one hand manipulated the mouse. While I watched, he shoved himself around in the swivel chair as if evading an attacker. More screams and bursts from the game. Troy cackled.

He punched a button and the screen froze. He leaned back, arching his back in a long stretch. He sighed. He reached to his left , found something, and popped it in his mouth.

"Killing them all?"

He turned towards the door and me. "Hi, Aunt Lori. Yeah, I'm blasting the suckers. I'm already up to level twelve."

I supposed that meant something. I crossed over towards the desk. His eyes narrowed. Suddenly, I was aware of my nakedness under the robe; there was a practical reason for that, but I wondered if he sensed my state of attire.

He glanced away guiltily. He indicated the plate beside him. "You said I could hit the snacks."

It held some jalapeño poppers he'd found in the freezer and microwaved. I smiled, recognizing that I'd been correct when I guessed that the pizza wouldn't hold him too long. Being 18, his belly was the proverbial bottomless pit.

"No, that's fine. That's why I buy them." I leaned against the desk and smiled down at him. I touched my abdomen. "I don't need them."

"There you go, putting yourself down again. You oughta forget that stuff and get on with things. Just because Uncle Mark got stupid doesn't mean anything bad about you."

My smile broadened into a grin. "Someday, in about 25 years or so, your son may say the same thing to you. If things go to norm, you won't trust him."