Chapter 3

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people is a sign that you, and they, need immediate counseling with a qualified mental health professional.

How I lost my mind, but found true love and happiness.

I got up early Saturday and spent most of the day at the marina where I keep my boat, making sure it was absolutely spotless and stocking it with plenty of food and drinks.

I really meant what I’d said about spending all day on the boat Sunday and wanted to make sure everything was ready.

It was late Saturday night when I got home and was just getting ready to go to bed when my doorbell rang.

When I opened the door, both Christy and Beth were standing there. Christy immediately jumped into my arms and wrapped her arms around my neck.

“John, I never thanked you for yesterday. Thank you for saving my life. John, I love you,” she said, as she gave me a kiss on the cheek.

“And I love you, too, Christy,” I answered. “How are you feeling today?”

She was still wearing bandages on her knees, but the bandages had been removed from her face. All things considered, her face didn’t look that bad. Some swelling, and bruising but I knew it could have been a lot worse.

“Not bad, but I wish everyone would just stop asking me that. Everyone treats me like a kid,” she complained.

She told me to put her down, so I did, then Beth and I just stood there looking at each other and smiling. We were standing about two feet apart.

Finally, after a minute or so, Christy said, “Well, are you two going to kiss or what?”

Then we were in each other’s arms and yes, we kissed.

“Took you long enough to kiss each other,” Christy said, and then smirked. “Maybe I should start offering suggestions on what you should be doing to each other?”

“That won’t be necessary, Little Sister,” Beth said with a huge smile, looking directly into my eyes, “I am sure we can figure out what to do all by ourselves.”

Beth said Christy refused to go to bed until she’d a chance to thank me and had been driving her crazy asking when I would be back home.

We talked for a few minutes about our boat outing the next day, then Beth and Christy walked back home. But not until Beth and I kissed again.

I frequently have trouble falling asleep at night but for the second night in a row I think I was asleep within seconds of my head hitting the pillow.

The next morning, I ate breakfast with Kevin, Rachel, Beth and Christy, then the two girls and I all piled into my Jeep Cherokee for the 30-minute drive to the marina.

Beth was wearing a pair of shorts that left VERY little to the imagination. If she just stood straight you could see the upward curve of her buttocks. And if she bent over??? Oh ... My ... God! I had to make sure Beth was not walking in front of me. If she was, I couldn’t take my eyes off her beautiful rear. I nearly walked off the dock once when she ran ahead, then bent over to pick up something off the planks of the dock.

Arriving at the marina, we walked out onto the extensive series of docks. The smaller boats were all near the entrance and soon we had walked past those and were walking towards the larger boats. Soon we had passed all the 20-foot boats, then 30-foot boats, and were now walking amongst the 40-foot boats.

“Umm, John, I thought you said you had a small boat?” Beth asked.

Before I could reply, Christy jumped in:

“Size is a relative concept, Big Sister,” she said, then added with a smirk, “Besides, they say size doesn’t matter.”

I instantly remembered a conversation with Kevin, Rachel and Beth several months earlier.

It was just a few days after Christy’s 14th birthday and Kevin and Rachel had invited me over for a cookout by the pool.

When I walked over, Christy was playing in the pool and the rest of the family was gathered around the grill, when they were all laughing uproariously at something. Beth was wearing another of her bikinis that should have been outlawed.

It was all I could do not to gawk. I remember it took incredible will power to tear my eyes away.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“I was telling Beth about a conversation I had with Christy from a couple of years ago,” said Rachel.

“It was a conversation I should have had with her even before, but I had been putting it off since I knew Christy would have a thousand-and-one questions. You know how she is, John,” Rachel said.

Indeed, I did. Christy had an insatiable curiosity, to go along with her above genius level IQ.

A simple conversation with Christy could turn into a deep psychological quiz at any second. Plus she knew things that no kid should already know at her age.

“Since she had just turned 12, I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer,” Rachel continued. “I knew it was time for ... THE TALK. You know, about sex.”

“I had spent a week on different web sites, trying to make sure I would be prepared for any questions,” she said.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Well, I told Christy it was time we talked about the bird and the bees, about human reproduction ... and sex.

“She put down the fractals she always studies as a hobby, put her hands in her lap, looked at me and said, ‘okay, what did you want to know?’”

We all burst out laughing. That is typical Christy.

“What happened next,” I inquired.

“Well, I spent several minutes going over some of the things the web sites suggested, but at one point Christy interrupted me and said, ‘you know, that is wrong. Dr. Anthony Schneiderman, in last month’s New England Journal of Medicine wrote that is basically a myth.’

“She then started telling ME about his research into human sexuality and common, but generally accepted, myths concerning sex – especially female responses to different stimuli. I was actually starting to ask questions, then realized I was asking my 12 year old daughter questions about sex.”

We laughed again.

“I am really going to feel sorry for any guy when she sets her sights on him,” said Rachel. “He’ll never know what hit him.”

“Yea,” said Kevin, “once Christy makes up her mind about something, her brain is like an unstoppable force of nature – like a tidal wave or hurricane. You can’t fight it, all you can hope for is to somehow survive it.”

We all laughed again, then enjoyed dinner, but hearing Christy’s comment just now about ‘size doesn’t matter’ triggered those memories.

Soon we were standing in front of one of the most beautiful boats in the marina.

It wasn’t the biggest boat there, but it was one of the most eye-catching.

It was an Italian-made Pershing 45 and just oozed sex appeal and quality.

“My God, John, that is the most beautiful boat I’ve ever seen,” remarked Beth.

It was then both girls noticed the name on the boat, “Nom de plume.”

“What an unusual name,” Beth said, “why did you name your boat ‘pen name?’”

I told them I would explain later and suggested we get on board.

I quickly gave them a tour of the boat, which included the two staterooms, each with its own bath, the galley and the sun bathing areas up top. All the cabinets were a beautiful cherry-wood and both staterooms were air-conditioned.

Christy was ecstatic about the boat and had her usual thousand-and-one questions, but Beth was strangely subdued and would barely respond when I asked her how she liked something or the other.

Finally, Beth couldn’t take it anymore.

She was almost crying as she looked at me and said, “John, I have seen boats like this before and I know they cost around $400,000! How can you afford something like this as a free-lance writer?”

I tried to explain that it actually wasn’t new, so I’d gotten a very good price from the previous owners.

That was when Christy piped up, “Yeah, he only paid $345,288.23!”

I was completely stunned. Just off the top of my head, I couldn’t have told you the exact price – not down to the cents.

Now Beth actually is crying, “Oh My God, John, you’re a drug dealer aren’t you? That’s the only way you can afford your house and a boat like this.”

Now I’m still trying to figure out how Christy knew the boat cost $345,288. And 23 cents!

“Don’t be silly, Beth,” Christy said, “He paid for it from his book royalties.”

If I was stunned before, now I’m shocked beyond belief. I mean, almost heart-attack inducing shock.

Beth: “Book royalties? What book royalties?”

Me: mouth open, but no sounds coming out.

Christy: “John, if you don’t close your mouth, bugs are going to fly in and breed.”

Beth: “What book royalties? What is she talking about, John?”

Me: mouth still open, no sounds coming out.

Christy finally reaches over and pushes up on my jaw, forcing me to close my mouth.

Beth: “What is she talking about, John? What book royalties?”

Me, completely ignoring Beth: “How ... how ... how do you know about the book royalties, Christy?”

Beth: “WHAT book royalties?”

Christy: “Well, I already had my suspicions, but I wasn’t completely sure until I hacked into your publisher’s computer.”

Beth: “What book royalties? What publisher?”

Me: “You hacked into the computers of the largest book publisher in the United States? They told me they had the most secure computer system money could buy!”

Beth: “What publisher? What book royalties?”

Christy: “I knew as soon as I tried it would be difficult, so first I broke into your house and hacked your laptop.”

Me: “You broke into my house? You hacked my laptop?”

Beth: “You broke into his house, Christy? What book royalties, John?”

Christy: “I broke into your house. I hacked your laptop. Book royalties for writing books, Beth.”

Beth: “You write books, John?”

Christy: “Yeah, he writes books, Beth.”

Me: “Yeah, I write books. HOW did you break into my house, Christy? I have a state-of-the-art security system.”

Christy: “Dad owns the security company, John...”

Beth: “It was the first one he ever started...”

Christy: “And Mom wrote the software...”

Beth: “And I could bypass your security system as easily as Christy could...”

Christy: “Dream on, Big Sister...”

Beth: “Well, almost as easily as Christy could...”

Christy: “Still, Dream on, Big Sister...”

Beth: “Well, I could still get in if I really wanted to get in.”

I was getting whiplash trying to follow the conversation.

Beth: “What book royalties, John?”

Me: “You could break into my house if you wanted to, Beth?”

Christy: “Yea, either one of us could bypass your security system. I can just do it a lot faster than Beth can.”

Beth: “What book royalties? What publisher?”

Then, WHAM! Beth hit me in the exact same spot on the shoulder where she had hit me Friday night. Only a lot harder!

Beth: “What FREAKING book royalties, John?”

Me: rubbing my shoulder because my entire arm almost went numb, I mean she packs a WHALE of a wallop, “I’ve written a couple of books, Beth. They were both bestsellers and both were made into movies. But I write under an assumed name, thus the name of my boat, “Nom de plume.”

Beth: “Who the hell are you, John?”

Me: “I am John. Look, I was going to tell you both today, but this wasn’t exactly how I’d planned to tell you. Uh, well, I used my father’s first name, his father’s first name and my mother’s maiden name.”

Beth: “What name, John?”

Me: “Well, I write under the name of Christopher Winfield Hunt.”

Beth: “Christopher Winfield Hunt? Oh My God, you are my favorite author. Your two books are my favorite two books I have ever read!”

WHAM! She hit me again ... in the exact same spot.

“I can’t believe I’ve known you for two years and you never told me who you are!” she said. “Oh, I can’t believe the man I’m going to marry is also my favorite author.”

Me: “Marry?”

Christy: “Wait until you read his third book, Beth, I found it when I hacked into his publisher’s computers and it is the best one yet.”

Beth: “He has a third book? Oh God, Christy, you’ve got to let me read it.”

Me: “Marry?”

Beth: “I can’t believe it. Wow! This changes everything! I’d planned that after we got married...”

Me: “Married?”

Beth, totally ignoring me: “ ... I was going to quit college and get a job so I could support my husband...”

Me: “Husband?”

Beth: “ ... as he continued as a free-lance writer. I know money would have been tight but we would’ve had love to keep us together. When I got home at the end of the day, after standing up all day long, my husband, John...”

Me: “Husband?”

Beth: “ ... would massage my sore feet, then we would make love all night long.”

Me: “Married? Husband?”

Christy: “Really, John, you need to close your mouth before bugs fly in.”

Beth: “But now, after we get married...

Me: “Married?”

Beth: “My husband...”

Me: “Husband?”

Beth: “Can spend all his time between writing by massaging my feet and making love to me. We have to have at least four kids...”

Me: “Kids?”

Beth: “Two boys and two girls.”

Christy, reaching over and pushing up on my jaw to close my mouth: “Do try to keep your mouth closed, John, you look like a complete idiot otherwise.”

Beth: “Thank you for pointing that out, Christy. I wanted to say something but didn’t know how my future husband would feel about it.”

Me: “Future husband?”

Christy: “You know, Beth, after you and John stop pumping babies out of your incredibly fertile body...

Me: “Babies ... fertile body?”

Christy: “Incredibly fertile body, I’m sure...”

Beth: “Thanks, Little Sister.”

Christy: “Don’t mention it, Big Sister. Yes, after the two of you stop pumping babies out, I should be 18 or 19 then with at least two degrees from MIT, so I think I will let John be the father of my children also.”

Me: “Your children?”

Beth: “Now, you Dream on, Christy.”

Christy: “Beth, have you EVER known me not to get what I want once I put my incredible mind to it?”

Beth: “Christy, I think I liked you better when you were a lesbian.”

Christy: “I might even let him take my virginity.”

Me: “Virginity?”

Then me: “Will you two nitwits stop it!!! I feel like a damn ping pong ball being slammed back and forth across the net.”

This time I was ready.

When Beth tried to hit me again, I ducked her punch. Unfortunately that left me wide open for Christy’s punch to my shoulder. Luckily it was my other shoulder and Christy doesn’t hit nearly as hard.

Christy: “He gets a little emotional, doesn’t he, Big Sister?”

Beth: “That’s one of the traits I most admire, Little Sister. It means he is very passionate.”

Me: “Passionate?”

Christy: “I figure I’ll stop after having about six babies with John.”

Me: “Six babies?”

Beth: “Six babies?”

Christy: “Yes, six babies. And they will all be girls and be just like me!”

Me: “Four babies with Beth and six babies with Christy? I need a beer...”

Beth: “Six little Christys running around?”

Me: “Six Christys? Oh God, I need a case of beer!”

Beth actually got me a beer, which I drank in one long swallow.

While the two members of The Looney Tunes Gang started discussing baby names, I muttered something about casting off and putting out to sea before I starting shooting someone – probably beginning with me.

They totally ignored me.

I cast off the lines holding us to the dock, then started the twin 610 horsepower engines. The deep-throated roar of the engines usually both calmed me down and yet also fired me up. I loved the sound!

Today, I especially loved the fact that that was the ONLY sound I could hear. Beth and Christy were continuing their discussion, about God knows what. I only knew I did NOT want to know what they were talking about.