Hi Folks, A couple of weeks ago I ran a half marathon as part of my prep for my fall marathon. In the parking lot a saw a beautiful midnight blue Fox body Mustang. The driver of the car saw me next to my Boss and came over. There was nothing unusual about that. For the most part Mustang lovers are pretty friendly. But this guy who was in his mid sixties and had just finished the race proceeded to tear me a new one. His biggest gripe was that I hadn't written a story involving anyone older than their forties since OIND GILF. He also wanted me to acknowledge the fact that there are plenty of older people who are still active and leading full lives. Besides his beautiful car, his beautiful wife took my breath away. The funny thing was that this guy, in his sixties and married to a woman in her forties is probably me in roughly twenty years. So Ken, from Chicago, here's your story.
Thanks to Barney-R for his editing wizardry. SS06
I felt like I was carrying a piano. As I ran down the dirt road that separates my property from my neighbor's, all I wanted was a shower, a cup of coffee and a stack of pancakes.
For a sixty five-year-old man, I'm in pretty good shape, but staying there takes work.
So every morning, I get out of bed and hit the roads. I run between three and six miles, as long as the weather isn't too bad.
This morning, as most, I saw the beat-up pickup truck that was owned by my best friend and neighbor, Wilton Jones.
As the gasping, sputtering truck wheezed by me, Will smiled and waved at me.
Maybe it was because my exhaustion from the run I'd just finished had me over thinking everything, but I really didn't like the way he smiled at me.
He was giving me that smile that assholes give you when they think they have something on you.
The thing that bothered me was that Will wasn't some asshole. This was my best friend. There were plenty of assholes in town, but Will, to my knowledge, wasn't one of them.
It's funny how one insignificant fact can stay with you for hours after the moment has passed. And that smile, only differentiated from a friendly one by an extra quarter of an inch in lip movement and a subtle change in his eyes, stayed with me.
Looking back on things, it was that smile that really began the second phase of my life.
As I rounded the bend and ran onto my own property, I noticed my wife heading into the house from the garage as I called it. It was actually an old barn that I kept my cars in.
My house used to be part of a large farm. We bought only the house and the four acres around it that included a nice sized pocket lake and a small woodsy area. The rest of the land went to the farm to the north that had been bought by a large commercial farming concern.
Seeing my wife, Maddie going back to the house from that garage was a red flag. Not that she couldn't come and go as she pleased. It was just strange that she'd head out to the garage first thing in the morning.
When I stepped inside the house, she was coming down the stairs. She stepped off of the last step and leaned over to kiss me.
"I had to force myself to get out of bed this morning," she said.
"Are you just coming down from bed?" I asked.
"Yeah," she said sheepishly. "I just can't seem to get started this morning. Maybe I stayed up too late last night after the kids got here. But, don't worry, you go take a shower, and I'll have your breakfast ready by the time you get back down here."'
I just stood there staring at her. She took a healthy swat at my ass and grinned at me. "Come on grandpa," she gushed. "Maybe I'm not the only one with a little hitch in their giddy up."
Maddie isn't what you'd call classically beautiful. And at sixty-three years old, she isn't even as pretty as she once was. But I love her like there's no tomorrow. The crow's feet at the corners of her eyes always make her expression seem as though she's smiling even when her mouth is in a frown.
She's a county girl. She's remained whippet thin, although we've both gained a pound or two as we aged. She doesn't have huge boobs or a big backside, but her legs have thickened over the years. I love her body just the way it is, and I wouldn't change a thing about her for any amount of money.
Maddie has a good heart and nothing bad to ever say about anyone. After forty years, I can honestly look back and say that I'm glad I married her.
So, I put aside the fact that she has just told me a bald face lie and head up the stairs.
As I get to the top of the stairs, I see a vision that stops me in my tracks. Long wet blond hair resting on a robe covered shoulder. Two thin arms lift the hair and finger comb through it trying to prevent tangles.
I see a beautiful leg thrust its way free of the spilt in the robe and follow it up to an ass that is so rounded that it defies description. Above that ass, a waist so tiny that the belt for the robe could probably go around it at least twice, makes me want just to wrap my hands around it.
Innocent blue eyes find my face and belie the fact that their owner is nearly forty years old. She smiles as if she's just gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar, and although I'm ashamed to admit it, that smile fills me with lust.
"Sorry, Dad," she smiles. "I used your shower, because your son is shaving in ours, and I don't want those little hairs all over me."
"Any time beautiful," I say to the smartest thing my son has ever done. She rewards me with another one of those smiles.
At the same time, a ballistically energetic form dashes out of the room at the end of the hall. He dashes between us without a word.
"Dylan!" says the beauty, stopping my grandson in his tracks. "Have you forgotten your manners?"
"G' morning Mom. G' morning Grandpa, is there any food yet?" he asks. Without waiting for an answer he heads down the stairs.
Kate shrugs her shoulders and after giving me yet another smile, heads to her room to dress.
As the warm waster cascades over my tired muscles, my mind wanders. I can't get over the fact that Maddie lied to me.
Just thinking about it has me on edge. I dressed and went down to the kitchen. Maddie must've heard me coming down the steps because she set a hot plate with bacon and three of her fluffy pancakes in front of me as soon as I walked in.
As I sat at the table across from my son, Matt, and my beautiful daughter in law, Kate, Maddie came over and wrapped her arms around me.
Kate smiled at us and pointed across the table.
Both my son, Matt, and my grandson, Dylan, were too busy eating to look.
"When are you going to show me that kind of affection?" Kate asked Matt.
"As soon as I'm done with my pancakes," said Matt. We all laughed. Growing up Matt had the temperament of some breeds of dogs. Everyone knew not to bother him while he was eating. Dylan seemed to have taken after his dad.
"Grandpa, can we go fishing today?" asked Dylan between bites.
"I was planning on it," I told him. After breakfast, Maddie grabbed me and smeared some kind of goop all over my face and arms.
"What is this goop?" I asked her.
"This goop is called sunscreen," she told me. Then she kissed me. "I have to kiss this face for the rest of my life. I need to make sure it's taken care of."
"But we're just going fishing," I said. "We're not going to be lying out in the sun."
"Just let me worry about you a little," she smiled. "You're all I've got."
Dylan and I got into my truck. He looked at the barn longingly. "Grandpa, how come we never drive your car?" he asked.
"I don't want my interior smelling like fish?" I told him. He cast another glance back at my car. I didn't blame him, that year, 2008; my 1993 Ford Mustang SVT Cobra was 15 years old. I had bought it the year it came out and had babied it ever since.
Over the years, I've upgraded the rims, the supercharger, the stereo, the interior, and a few other things about the car to keep her current. She's also had a paint job or two. However, that car has always been my proudest possession, and I'm careful about who and what I let in her.
"Grandpa, what are you going to do with that car when you're too old to drive it?" he asked.
"Well, then I'll just enjoy looking at it," I said.
"What about when you die?" he asked. I knew what he was hinting around about and what he wanted me to say.
"I haven't given it much thought," I said. Truthfully, I loved my grandson, but he wasn't Mustang material.
We fished most of the day, and by the time we got back to the house both of us were tired from so much relaxing. I know it sounds stupid, but you really can get tired from sitting on your ass watching a fishing pole and talking.
After dinner, I went for a walk with Dylan and his parents. They always wanted to see what we'd changed around the house and the grounds. My son Matt remembers a lot of events that happened around the house and our small town while he was growing up and tells us about them as we walk.
Dylan asks question after question about my car as usual. Finally, I break down and tell him that I'll take him for a ride the next day, and if he's really good, I'll let him drive around a while. That seems to really do the trick.
After our walk, Dylan rushes up to his room while Kate and Matt settle in to watch TV on the sofa. Maddie says goodnight to everyone and then grabs my arm and pulls me upstairs to our room.
"Mad, maybe I wanted to stay downstairs and watch TV with the kids," I said.
"You mean stay downstairs and stare at Kate, don't you?" she said. "Besides, you know good and well that after all of these years I can't get to sleep without you, and I'm tired. You're also going to be dragging your old ass out of the bed at an ungodly hour in the morning so you can run. So you need your sleep too."
We changed and got into bed. Maddie moved over next to me and wrapped her arms around me. I turned towards her and wrapped her up too. Within a few moments, one part of me was clearly not ready for sleep.
"We're gonna have to keep this really quiet," said Maddie. "Your grandson is in the next room, and your son and your crush are just below us."
I rolled over on top of her. And her legs spread and wrapped themselves around me. I started kissing her gently and as we both closed our eyes, the magic began. There was just something about kissing Maddie that tuned the rest of the world out.
Her tongue in my mouth probing and teasing, as if daring, me do the same to her. My hands began to wander her body, although it was as familiar to me as my own. My hands reached the small swellings on her chest and the hard nipples atop each mound. Maddie's breasts were small, but her nipples were the size of double-A batteries, and almost as hard.
"Oh, Jesus you're good at that," she hissed. I lowered my face to those breasts and began to lick and suck her sensitive nipples. I could feel her toes flicking as they scissored back and forth.
One of my hands moved lower and found wetness. I was so amazed by the fact that Maddie and I, even at our age needed no artificial aids to have sex. Even though she was well beyond menopause, she still got wet without outside lubrication. And I didn't require any of those little blue pills to get or maintain an erection.
My fingers rubbed themselves in the wetness and moved further and further into the source. Maddie's moans began to increase in intensity and in volume. I had to plant my mouth on hers and locked our lips together to dampen them.
She reached down and grabbed my dick and slid it to her opening, pausing, and smiling. "Is this what you want?" she asked playfully. "Or do you want me to go down and get Kate?"
"Hmm, I'm gonna have to think about that one," I said just as mischievously.
"Unh uh, Buddy," she said, thrusting her hips forward and impaling herself on me. "Kate has one of these attached to your son to play with. This one is mine, all mine."
No matter how many times Maddie and I have done the same thing; it always seems to hold the same magic for me. The feeling I get when every one of the nerves along the surface of my dick sliding into that hot wet tunnel is almost indescribable. I always gasp at the pure pleasure of it. And Maddie giggles every time she hears it.
"Ya like that, don't cha?" She says as she starts to gently rotate her hips beneath me. Her arms wrap themselves around me, grabbing my hips and pulling me into her more forcefully. At the same time, my lips lock onto hers, and my arms go under her shoulders.
"It only takes a few moments of that before, Maddie, and I cease to exist as separate beings. My dick pulses and swells in time to the clutching of her pussy and our moans are shared. Sometimes it's hard to tell who was making the sounds.
Then Maddie begins to thrash wildly. "Oh fuck," she hisses. "Give it to me. Give me a baby, God dammit. I swear you're the best at that. No one else even comes close."
My dick wilted like an over cooked noodle. Maddie noticed immediately. "Ken, I'm sorry," she said. "And I know it was stupid, but it's something I can't help. You know that we're too old to make another baby ... well I am anyway. But when you do that to me, something primal happens and my womb wants to be filled."
I nodded, but my mind was working over time.
"Sometimes I wish we could make another baby," she continued. "You feel so good in there ... wait are you telling me that if we were younger, we couldn't have another child?"
"Maddie, we've done the parent thing," I lied. "We're almost done with the grandparent thing. What I want now is to retire and see a bit of the world with you in my arms. When we're done traveling, we can sit back in our rocking chairs and do the great-grandparent thing."
"I don't know if I want to travel the world with a man who won't at least pretend to get me pregnant," she pouted.
"Okay, I'll take Kate," I said. I rolled over onto my side to go to sleep. She rolled over me and grabbed my dick.
"I already told you this was mine," she said. "Don't make me go after my daughter in law. She's like the daughter I never had. But I'd gut her like a fish over you, Ken."
We spooned together like we always did, but my mind wouldn't stop. Maddie completely missed it. I know how old we are. I know that she can't have kids anymore. I also know how hot she gets when we have sex. I even remember that a lot of women who've gone through menopause begin to, on some level, want to have more children. It's a normal human reaction. It's kind of like men who go bald, wanting hair plugs.
What Maddie missed is what she said next. She'd said that I was the best, and that no one else came close. The problem was that when Maddie and I got married, she was a twenty three-year-old virgin. So the question on my mind was how she could have anyone to compare me with.
I drifted off to sleep with the buzzing from Maddie's snores in my ears. I didn't have nightmares or any type of psychic dreams. I slept like a rock. As usual, my eyes popped open without any type of alarm, first thing in the morning. I gently disengage my limbs from Maddie's and as usual; she seemed reluctant to let go of me.
The odd thing was that I had a feeling that I should have stayed in bed. Missing one run wouldn't turn me into a fat ass. And it wasn't like I was training for the Olympics or any kind of race. That morning for the first time I gave serious consideration to just staying in bed.
But I didn't. I collected my iPod, headphones, running shoes, a shirt, and my favorite Ray Bans to block the rising sun from my eyes and left the house the same way I always did.
I left the house as quietly as I could. I didn't need to awaken everyone else. As I stepped into the gray of the morning there was a slight chill in the air. It was perfect weather for running. For some reason though, my heart wasn't in it.
The first song that came up on my iPod was one that I hadn't heard in a long time. It was Whitesnake's, 'Fool for Your Loving." I started out down the road slowly, thinking that I would build speed and enjoy it more as the run went on.
It felt as though my legs were made of lead. The run was just torture and after only a half mile, I turned back. I ran even slower on my way back. I cursed myself and called myself all kinds of names for quitting on a run, and then I noticed the truck.
It was definitely Will's truck, but why the hell was it parked on my property. I slowed until I got closer to the truck. Then I noticed that the door to my barn-like garage was ajar. It wasn't all the way open. It was cracked just enough that there would be some measure of light in the garage. Why ... I wondered did he not just turn the lights on? And what the hell was he doing in my garage anyway? Will, more than most people knew that I didn't like anyone around my car.
Keeping myself from crossing the plane of the open door, I peered carefully into the gloom of the garage.
For a moment, it was too dark for me to really understand what I was looking at. Then it became all too clear. There was a whore plying her trade in my garage. The bitch was frightfully close to my car as she did it.
She was flat on her back with her legs kicking in the air as Will fucked her as hard as he could. Her hips continuously rose to meet him as he thrust himself into her. Then I noticed how enterprising the whore was. Another man knelt near her head feeding her his dick, even as she fucked Will.
There was no question that she was here of her own free ... will. They all were and I knew then and there that my life would never be the same again.
For most of my life, I've always been the even tempered and reasonable one. I was the person that everyone knew would think first and only fight as a last resort. I was the one who could be counted on to see both sides to an argument and let bygones be bygones. But if pushed too far, I had a hell of a mean streak.
Next to the door, I found a two by four that was about three and a half feet long. I knew it would be there because I used it to prop the wide barn door open on windy days.
I was always terrified if the wind blowing the door closed while I was moving my car in or out and damaging the body panels or the paint. At the same time, I liked the antique look of the wide horizontal closing door. And to tell the truth, I was just too cheap to spring for replacing the door with a modern vertical closing garage door.
I picked up a rock and threw it as hard as I could at the windshield of Will's truck. The windshield shattered, and the activity in my garaged changed. Three people suddenly gathered their clothes and put them on as quickly as they could.
"Do you think it was him?" asked a voice I knew only too well.
"I don't know," said Will. "But it sounded as if someone did something to my truck."
"I'll see ya in a couple of days Maddie," said Will. "I'm getting out of here."
"But I didn't fini..." began Maddie, whining.
"Let the kid finish ya," snarled Will. "This is weird and I don't want to risk getting caught."
By that time, Will was almost fully dressed. He had his pants and shoes on and his shirt in one hand. Even as he headed toward the door, I remembered the smirk he had given me as he passed me on the road. I wondered how long he'd been giving me that same God damned grin, and my anger increased.
Will threw the door open wide as he stepped out, and I swing the two by four with all of my might. I felt several of his ribs snap, and he screamed loudly enough to wake the dead. He fell back inside of the garage, and I kicked him several times.
He was moaning again but this time it was pain causing his moans.
Maddie threw herself between us as I stood over his body to deliver another blow.
"Ken don't," she cried. "You'll kill him." She reached up to stop my arm from descending, and as soon as she made contact with me; it felt as if I had touched something poisonous. I pushed her away from me. She fell back into the hay pile that she'd just been fucking on.
"Don't ever fucking touch me again," I sneered at her. "Where's the other one, Whore?"
"Ken, there's no one else," she said. "I'm so sorry. You have to let me explain..."
"Dylan get your ass out here, or I swear I'll lock you up in here and set the garage on fire," I yelled.
I didn't wait; I turned toward the door and grabbed the can of gas I used for the lawn mower.
"Ken what are you doing?" shouted Maddie. Behind me Will lurched to his feet. He was unsteady on them, but he got out of there. He knew I was serious. I started pouring the gasoline around the floor of the garage as Maddie looked on in horror.
"Ken, Honey, we can talk about this," she said. "It's my fault."
I struck a match and held it up. I was just about to drop it when Dylan came out of his hiding place. Behind us, I heard the sound of Will's truck starting up and driving away.
"I'm sorry Grandpa," said Dylan. I glared at him, my hatred, so thick it was all I could do not to hit him with the two by four I still held.
"I am no longer your grandfather," I told him. "I want you out of my house today!"
"But we're staying for two weeks," he said. "I won't do it again. I'm sorry."
"I don't care what anyone does with this whore," I spat. "I just don't want them doing it in my house ... I'll go wake your parents and tell them why you need to get the fuck out of my sight."
"No ... please don't," he begged.
"Ken, you can't do that," begged Maddie. She tried to stand between me and the door to prevent me from going.
"I got into some trouble at school," said Dylan. "That's part of why Mom and Dad wanted me to come here. We were going to all stay here for the first couple of weeks, and then they would go back to Chicago and ask if I could stay for the rest of the summer..."
"Ken, why tear the whole family apart over this?" begged Maddie. "We can work this out, I swear it."
I turned away from the cowering boy that I had passed my genes down to and turned towards the woman I expected to spend the rest of my life with.
"Why the fuck would I want to work anything out with you?" I asked angrily.
"Because ... we love each other," she said as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She reached out her hand to me as if she would take me in her arms and comfort me. She had done it so many times over the last forty years that I felt myself reaching back for her reflexively.
And then my rage overtook familiarity, and I reacted. "Bitch if you touch me, I swear I'll hurt you worse than you've ever been hurt in your life," I said. The very evenness of my tone alerted her to how serious I was.
"But Ken," she said as if I had actually struck her. "You ... you don't mean that..."
I turned and walked into the house, leaving her standing there.
As I watched Ken walk away from me towards the house, I felt as if there was a huge lump in my throat that I couldn't seem to swallow. This couldn't be happening. Ken couldn't have meant any of what he'd said.
But then he hadn't really said anything. Had he? He had called me a bitch and a whore, but that was just his anger talking. He told our grandson to leave. Surely he couldn't have meant that.
For the first time in forty years, I had no idea what Ken was thinking or what he would do. His attack on his best friend had left no doubt in my mind that Ken was angrier than I had ever seen him. I needed to go after him and calm him down before he did something that could ruin our family.
"Grandma, you have to do something," whined Dylan behind me. "Dad has already told me that this summer is my last chance. I can't afford to get in trouble again; especially not so soon."
"You should have thought about that before now," I said as I walked away, following Ken.
As usual, his mind was on the practical and the moment. As angry as he'd been, he still needed a shower. That was where I found him. I opened the door and looked at him as I had so many times before. His body was surprisingly firm and muscular for a man of his age. Thanks to his workouts and runs his muscles were still full, and I loved looking at his body.
Suddenly, I realized what I had risked. I forced the thought from my mind. "What do you want for breakfast, Honey?" I asked him as I did most days.
"Get away from me, Whore," he spat as if he didn't care who heard him. He grabbed the shower door and closed it.
"You don't need to be so loud," I said calmly. "And you don't need to close the door. I've spent the last forty years seeing you naked. You don't have anything I haven't seen thousands of times."
"You won't be seeing it anymore," he said. Then with what appeared to be a great effort on his part, he calmed down, got a towel, and wrapped it around himself. He opened the door and stepped out.
"What do you want Madeline?" he asked in a tone far calmer than his eyes told me he was.
"I think we need to talk about ... well you know," I said. "But maybe we should wait a while. I think that you need time to calm down. I need time to explain things to you, and we really don't want to wreck the kids' visit. We only get to see them once or twice a year. So maybe we should wait until they're gone, okay?"
"I don't want to talk to you," he said. "I don't want to calm down. I don't give a fuck about what you have to say. And lying to the kids or pretending to be civil around them is just another form of lying. Maybe you've gotten so used to lying and hiding things that you don't really know what the truth is anymore. But sooner or later, the kids are going to know about this. Sooner or later everyone is going to know about it."
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"The kids are going to want to know why we split up," he said. Suddenly, my heart was beating faster than it should, and I found myself growing faint. I staggered and then caught myself by grabbing the wall next to me.
Ken didn't even pause. For the first time in over forty years, I got the impression that he didn't care about my health or well-being. "I'm pretty sure that Chelsea is wondering what the hell happened to Will. I busted him up pretty badly. I might have to go to jail if he decides to press charges. I actually hope he does try. I'll tell everyone who asks me, what was going on and why I beat his ass. I'm pretty sure that Chelsea will throw him out. You know that their place has been in her family for generations. He has no claim on it. He'll be out on his ass before nightfall."
"Ken you'll ruin their marriage," I said. "You know they have kids. And Will has a business to consider. In a small town like this one, he'd probably lose at least half of his customers. He's been your best friend since the two of you were in middle school. Why do you want to ruin his life?"
"He ruined mine first," he spat. "And while you're so busy worrying about everyone else's kids and families and jobs and feelings. Did you ever consider mine? What about my feelings? What about our son and his family?"
"Ken, I'm sorry if I hurt you," I said. "That was never my intention. I love you more than..."
"If you EVER say that again, I'll slap the teeth out of your head," he spat. The look on his face was completely serious. Ken had gone from completely calm to irate in a millisecond. His hatred and anger were coming off of him in waves. I realized then how badly I had hurt him. I also realized my mistake.
I had for most of my life taken Ken's love, and the fact that we would always be together for granted. I never considered that I might lose that love, or that he would doubt for a second the fact that I loved him more than anything else on earth. Things were getting worse by the second.
I needed to do something to calm him down before he went out and ruined a lot of lives in his pain.
What I needed to do was to make things as normal as possible to give him time to work through his anger. I left the bathroom and went downstairs to start making breakfast. It was nearly seven by then, and Matt and Kate would be getting up soon. I wanted to keep them in the dark about everything that had happened.
As it was, I met Kate on my way downstairs.
"Hi Mom," she said. Looking at her, I could see why my husband had a crush on her. My daughter in law is beautiful. But her beauty isn't so much outward. Kate is one of the sweetest people I've ever met. Matt must've done something extremely great in one of his previous lives to end up with a woman like her.
"You're up early, Sweetheart," I said.
"Yet, I've still failed in one of my goals, " she smiled. Kate had the type of smile that can light up a room.
"What have you decided were your goals?" I asked. "You're on vacation, remember?"
"I wanted to discover the secret of how you make those delicious pancakes so easily," she said. "But my first goal was to get my fat butt out of bed and go to run with Dad."
I laughed at that. If Kate's butt was fat, the rest of us had no shot. Her ass was round and perky. It was as close to perfect as you could get.
"Honey, I'm sure that dad would love to have you run with him. But you might want to warn him first, so he can get out of his normal mode. He goes out there, and runs like he's getting ready for a race. You probably don't want to run like that until you've done it a few times."
She smiled then. I could see the wheels turning in her head. She was thinking that she could easily keep up with a man in his sixties. The poor thing had no idea.
"I had the weirdest dream, Mom," she said. "I dreamed that Dylan was in trouble, and I couldn't get back to sleep."
While I was still reeling from what she'd just said, she continued.
"I just had this feeling that Dylan was facing down a big, mean old bear," she said. "Dylan was terrified and the bear was angry. It seemed so real."
"Did you go check on him to make sure he was okay?" I asked.
"Yep, he was in the kitchen," she smiled. "All that boy does is eat. I had to tell him to go back to his room and wait for breakfast."
Kate and I had been in the kitchen for less than five minutes when Ken came down. He walked into the kitchen and hugged Kate. He told her he loved her and told her to tell Matt the same thing. He wasn't dressed for work, so I was worried. I worried even more when he didn't say a single word to me.
A few moments later, I heard the hellacious roar of Ken's Mustang. I'm not sure if Ken's anger was forcing him to drive more aggressively, or if the car, as Ken and many of his Mustang loving friends claimed, reflected his mood. If the latter was true, my husband was angrier than he had ever been in life.
I had mixed feelings. On one hand, I was extremely turned on. How many sixty plus women could claim that a man loved her so much that he got insanely angry at the thought of her with someone else? How many sixty plus women could claim that their husband had beaten someone nearly to death over her?
On the other hand, I was afraid. This situation, though minor to me, had the potential to damage my family. It all depended on how I handled Ken. Thus far, my efforts at reasoning with him had failed miserably. A different tactic was called for.
Breakfast was subdued that morning. I made excuses by telling Matt and Kate that Ken had a meeting with a supplier who had come into town at the last minute. I told them that it might be a long meeting if the supplier was really unhappy. They seemed to buy it, especially Kate.
Dylan, on the other hand, seemed uncharacteristically subdued. He kept his face down and ate. Most of the time he just pushed his food around his plate. Finally, he asked to be excused and went back to his room.
"Don't worry Dilly," said Kate. "Your grandpa just had to work today. You'll have plenty of time with him." She just shook her head.
"That boy loves his grand dad," she said. "Oh ... he loves you too, Mom. But it would take something big to come between the two of them. It's a pretty special relationship. I wish he'd had half of that connection with MY dad before he passed away."
It was funny, Kate had a very sunny personality. As beautiful as she was on the outside, it paled against her inner beauty. She was little Mary sunshine, but her words, though meant to be reassuring, hurt me deeply. They only underscored another thing that had been ruined by my actions. Even if I did manage to hold things together, the relationship between my grandson and my husband would never be the same. No matter how you slice it. I had damaged my family with my selfishness.
After breakfast, Matt offered to take Dylan fishing. Dylan reluctantly agreed. Kate opted to tag along. I noticed that she took her iPad with her.
Surprisingly, they were back after only a couple of hours. The previous day, Ken and Dylan were gone the entire day.
"What happened?" I asked, "Aren't the fish biting?"
"Dylan didn't feel like fishing," said Ken. That set the tone for the rest of the day. When dinner time rolled around, and I hadn't heard from Ken, I got frantic. I had no idea what to say to the kids about why he wasn't there.
I called him. The phone seemed like it rang a hundred times before he answered it.
"What?" he asked. The tone of his voice told me that I was the last person on earth he wanted to talk to, and it hurt.
"When are you coming home?" I asked.
"Who said I was coming home?" he asked. My blooded went cold.
"Ken do we have to ruin Matt's vacation?" I asked. "Can't we just wait and deal with this when he's gone?"
"You're the one who caused all of this," he said. "Why didn't you think about that when you were sneaking guys into my garage and fucking them?"
"Ken we need to talk," I said. "Can you please come home?"
"Why would I want to come home? Besides, I'm working on giving you what you asked for," he said. "I'll probably be here for another hour. Is your grandson still there?"
"Yes, but Ken, you have to give me some time to get him out of here, I..." I began.
"I don't Have to give you anything," he said. "For forty years, I gave you everything you asked for. I gave you my heart, my body, my mind and all of my love and look at what it got me."
The most terrifying part about the conversation was that he was no longer angry. If he had still been just venting his anger, I probably wouldn't have worried as much. But Ken was very calm, and he was speaking very casually. It was as if he had thought it all through and was simply telling me the facts he had derived from some sort of analysis or experiment.
Right after dinner, Ken got home. Matt and Kate ran to see him as soon as he came into the house. Dylan had already gone up to his room, complaining of not feeling well. I think I knew why he didn't feel well.
Ken sat down and spoke to Matt and Kate for a couple of hours. They talked about everything under the sun. I could tell that Ken was enjoying it. Kate asked about the picture we had on the mantle of Ken in a hospital gown with Matt on his knee.
Matt had been so young that he didn't remember the details. He just remembered that his dad had been a hero.
I remembered it though. And Ken had been a hero. A congenital defect ran in Ken's family. It tended to skip a generation and sometimes two, but when it struck, it was almost always fatal. Ken's brother had it. Ken had donated his bone marrow to his brother Ben in hopes of curing him.
The bone marrow transplant had been somewhat successful. It had given Ben another twenty or so years of life before the disease, a form of cancer, struck back with a vengeance.
As I watched Ken talking to Matt and Kate, I realized that I just had to be patient. Ken would always do what was best for the people he loved. He would eventually forgive both Dylan and me. It was just the way he was made.
Maybe an hour after that, Matt and Kate went to their room, and Ken came into ours. He was still dressed and barely even glanced at me.
"I just need to get a few things," he said. "I'll sleep in the..."
"We need to have a talk," I said forcefully. I had decided that the best way to handle him was to be direct and authoritative. The way I used to deal with school boys who couldn't share the toys, back when I was a school teacher.
Ken just looked at me. "Ken, we've been married for over forty years," I said. "We've been through good times and bad, but we've always been able to work out our problems. This isn't going to be any different. You stormed off this morning without even giving us the chance to talk about what happened. I think I deserve that much at least. You're supposed to be the man I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. We're married for God's sake. I think I deserve more than that."
"And I think I deserve more than to be married to the town whore," he spat. At least, he kept his voice down this time. "How long have you been fucking my friends? How many of them are there?"
"Ken, you have to give me a chance to explain this," I said. "It really isn't what you think."
He sat down on the edge of the bed as far away from me as he could get. "I'm not contagious," I said. "You can't get a disease from me. Only yesterday you loved touching me."
His not wanting to touch me or be near me hurt me badly.
"Yesterday, I didn't know I was married to a slut," he spat. "Yesterday, I didn't know my best friend was stabbing me in the back. Wait until I have my talk with Chelsea."
"I thought you were going to let me explain," I said calmly. He just sat back on the bed, edging even further away from me.
"Go ahead, I don't have all night," he said.
"Ken, you were the first and until this all started, only person I had sex with. When we first started, it was scary, and I never told you this but it kind of hurt. I actually only did it because you loved it so much, and I loved you, so I put up with it. It took a while, but it became pleasurable for me too. There were times when my desire for it spiked or ebbed, but I always enjoyed the feelings of being close to you.
It all changed when I hit my late forties or early fifties. Ken, I got to the point where I pretty much hated sex. You were great. You never pushed me or tired to force me. And you never complained. Slowly, things started to go back to normal and that's when the problems began. It had gotten to the point where I knew all of your moves. I could literally predict how you would touch me and where. It just became routine. I guess in a way it was boring, and I wanted more from sex than that. There was also the fact that you were getting older, and I just wanted it more.