Chapter 3

I woke up with a pounding headache. I hadn't been drinking, really drinking, in quite a while, and I could feel the unpleasant fur in my mouth. I wanted to turn out the sunlight that streamed in through the small window of my bedroom.

I rolled to the side, and my hands naturally slid around Jess. Wait, Jess had left. What the hell?

I groggily shook my head, clearing it of the early morning fog. I looked at the woman in my arms, and realized that it was Trish. She and I ... We hadn't...

I thought back over the last night. It was indistinct, but it was there. We had. Her tousled hair and nude, sleeping form confirmed it. We had had sex. It was indistinct in my mind. I remembered some of it, some of it very vividly in fact, but there was something that was catching at my conscience. Something about a condom.

I noted a small foil wrapper on the nightstand, and breathed a sigh of relief. We'd used a condom. I wasn't wearing it though. I glanced about the bed, sitting up slowly so not as to wake the young woman next to me. There it was. Unrolled, on the floor, and with evidence of use all over it.

For a moment, I contemplated going right back to sleep, but a romantic urge struck me. Quietly, I slipped out of bed, pulled on some shorts, and headed for the bathroom. I quickly brushed my teeth, removing the disgusting hangover breath, and splashed some water on my face. A quick touch up with my razor, and then I moved to the kitchen.

Jess had left a few plates, as well as enough utensils for a single person to survive on for a couple days. It was a simple matter to make a quick breakfast, complete with coffee, even though I had to make do with instant. Jess had taken the coffee maker.

I quietly returned to the bedroom, and placed my surprise on the nightstand. I reached over, and gently took hold of Trish's shoulder, softly shaking.

"Morning, Trish," I said, smiling at her as her eyes fluttered and she took stock of where she was.

"Good morning, professor," Trish smiled, her body stretching in a casual yawn that caused the blanket to fall away from her.

"Hungry?" I asked her, proffering the cup of coffee I had made for her.

"Oh ... That's sweet," She gushed, accepting the cup with an eager grab.

"I think we need to talk," I sat down on the bed as Trish began to eat, not even bothering to cover herself.

"Shoot," she said, between bites of egg and bacon.

"I don't normally, do things like what we did last night," I was a little embarrassed, and didn't really know how to proceed. "I mean, you're my student."

"I wanted to," Trish answered me with a confident smile. "Don't worry; I'm not going to report you or anything."

"I didn't mean..." I realized that I was starting to sound like a damned idiot. Twasn't me Officer! Twas tha booze! "I had ... fun last night, and I hope you did too."

"Yeah," Trish smiled again, and my gaze ran over her body. I felt my desire for her starting to heat again, low in my belly. She was still lovely, even with her hair askew, and sleep still present on her face.

"I mean, I don't know if you'd want to..." I tried to think of how to put this. Date? Marry me? I was definitely feeling emotions that were more than just friendly affection.

"Are ... you want to do it again?" Trish smirked at me, and then rested her cheek on her head.

"I mean, not just that..." I stammered, trying to be diplomatic. "I mean, would you mind, uhm ... seeing me?"

"Like dating?" Trish giggled at the thought, before shaking her head. "I don't ... I don't think that would be such a good idea."

"I like you, Trish! Really," I mean, yeah I was older than her, and she was my student, and I'm sure that it would violate waaaaay too many ethics rules, but I wanted to see her again.

"Last night was, last night." Trish shrugged her shoulders, a look that I couldn't quite read on her face. "It was fun, but I ... I've got a boyfriend already."

"Oh," My heart fell as Trish took another bite, chewing slowly. She had a boyfriend, and last night really didn't mean ... anything to her.

"He doesn't make me breakfast though," she raised the cup of coffee, before taking a slow, delectable swallow. "If things don't work out ... Don't know. Maybe."

A thought went through my head. Of what my wife had said to me. She had called me a lesbian. An old joke about the first thing a lesbian says after sex came to mind. The moving van will be here in an hour. Was I falling for this woman? We'd been together exactly one night.

"I'm sorry, Trish, I didn't mean to make you feel..." I apologized, standing up.

"Hey! I didn't say I didn't want to do it again!" Trish spoke rapidly, noting the crestfallen look on my face. "Just don't get so serious, Henry. You're on the rebound, and you don't need to grab the first chick you sleep with for a girlfriend."

"I don't want this to be a one night stand," I knew that I had thought of her exactly as a piece of ass the night before. Today though, sober, I saw a lovely young woman who was enjoying life. I wanted some of that. I wanted ... her.

"Does this mean I get an "A"? I'm KIDDING!" Trish rapidly amended her statement as my eyes went wide.

"Not ... not funny," I bit back the instant reaction of insult.

"I know. I just couldn't resist," Trish finished the plate and placed it on the nightstand. "So, do you want to go one more round before I go home? My roommate's probably climbing the walls right now."

I was tempted, but we didn't have any protection. We consoled ourselves with a heavy petting session, which took a good hour. It was fun, and the happy smile on Trish's face as I walked her to the door made everything worthwhile.

"See you in class," she kissed me gently on the lips as she stood at the door.

"I'm going to be out for a few days. I've got a funeral to go to," I apologized to her again, but returned the kiss happily.

"It's cool. I have some things I have to do the next few days anyway. You never saw me skip, right?" Trish raised her eyebrows at me.

"I never saw it." I agreed, giving her one final hug. She turned, and descended the staircase towards the street. She turned one more time, giving me a friendly wave, before she entered her car and drove off down the street.

I stood on the stairwell for a long moment, dressed only in boxers and a t-shirt. I truly hadn't wanted her to leave. Trish's presence seemed to fill a void in the apartment. It felt too big when I was there alone. It felt like something was missing, beyond the huge amount of stuff that Jess had dragged off.

I guess I just really needed a woman in my life.

The funeral was depressing, as all such gatherings are. At least it was blessedly short. Mom had never been one for long, drawn out affairs, and as a result her funeral was a reflection of her life. One hour, performed in a deep red colored church in Pacific Grove. Following that, there was a quick internment, and then it was over.

I didn't do any of the classic things. I didn't sob, and I sure as hell didn't sit there after everyone else had left, mooning over the grave. I just went, and I dealt with my grief in my own way. I'd done enough crying to get through it, and just moved on.

At least that's what I told myself. I know that I was hurting, and it showed in other ways. I found myself snapping at others for little things that I shouldn't have been angry about. I found myself spending too much time in my apartment, just staring at that empty outline on the wall. I dwelled on Jess, most of all.

That's the part that I couldn't deal with. I still found myself wanting to call her, to talk to her. Even after I'd already slept with another woman, I still wanted my wife back. No, that wasn't exactly true. I just wanted a woman back in my life. I wanted a partner.

I called Trish once during those few days, and she was happy to make small talk, but there didn't seem to be any real depth to our discussion. She flirted, of course, but the warmth, and the connection, just didn't seem to be there. I didn't know why, but it felt like she was deliberately trying to keep her distance from me. A distance I knew I should be embracing, but just didn't want to.

The apartment just seemed less and less like home as I spent my days there. I found myself going for walks, just to get out, to try to find something else to do. I didn't have anything, except my job, and I was on leave from that.

So, when the lawyer at the reading of the will announced that I'd inherited my mom's house, well, I just about flipped out.

"Excuse me?" I thought for certain that mom would have given the house to her other two daughters. She'd had three daughters, after all, and I would have expected the division to be a little more equal.

"Your grandmother wanted you to have the house," the lawyer repeated, looking at me with an even stare. I glanced around the room, noticing the vicious stares that were being shot at me by my aunts.

I nodded, listening carefully as the lawyer read off the rest of the will. I still couldn't believe it; I was actually going to be getting the house that I grew up in. Mom had bought it back in the fifties, before the real estate in the area became prohibitively expensive. I still remembered the quasi-Victorian home, which sat right near the ocean. It was a bit run down, of course, but it was my childhood home. I'd always dreamed of being able to have it back, and now...

I didn't get anything else, but I didn't care. I walked out of that office with a light step to my gait. Mom had even put aside funds to pay the property taxes.

I spent one more night in my apartment. I only had the lease for another two months anyway, so the landlord was more than willing to let me out of it, provided of course that I paid for the entire period. It wasn't easy, but I did scrape up enough funds to pay him.

There was a lightness to my spirit as I drove down the highway towards the Carmel Highlands. Everything seemed to be getting better. Yes, my wife was gone. Yes, my mother was gone. But I had my home. I could start over. I could make it all work.

The road became windy, and I finally was forced to turn on my lights in the deep fog of the crisp morning. The road ran along the ocean, dropping off sharply not fifteen feet from the barrier. The fog made the ocean indistinct, but I could hear the crash of the waves, even over the hum of the Studebaker's engine.

It was a few miles past the popular turn off to Highland's Inn that I saw the small concrete driveway which led down towards my old home. It was covered in the deep rust-red of pine needles, and I slowed my vehicle to avoid the possibility of slipping. A few moments later, and I pulled the car to a stop, looking out at the front gate of my home.

The main gate was wooden, with small bits of lichen that sprouted from various cracks. It was locked with a shiny padlock that I knew was from whoever had stripped out the house. I slammed the Commander's door shut behind myself, slinging my small bag over one shoulder and grabbing up my laptop case with the other.

The padlock didn't want to open, and it was a few frustrating moments in the chill before I could get the damn thing open. I pushed the gate open, having to pull it up a bit, since the hinges were a bit loose and had dropped the edge of the gate into the ground. It made a deep scraping sound, tracing along the indentations in the tile that lay behind it.

The main entryway to the house was tile, covered right now with that same deep red carpet of pine needles that seemed to have always been present at the house. I glanced around at the various planters, and noticed that at least some perfunctory watering had been done on the foliage. It wasn't trimmed, but it was green, and that was a start.

I walked up to the French doors which were closed tightly, and pulled the keys out of the envelope which had been given to me by the lawyer. The door opened smoothly, leading directly into the main dining room. The layout of the house had always been a bit unusual, and even now, empty as it was, you could still tell that this had been a place for meals. At the far end, two more French doors opened onto a small balcony, which overlooked the ocean, as well as the small garden in the rear of the house. I turned to the right, noting that the door to the kitchen lay open. To my surprise, the major appliances were still visible to my gaze. They were a bit old, but if they still worked like they did when I was younger, I could save a bit of money.

I found the light switch, and turned it on. The power was still on, and I made a mental note to get it put into my name as soon as possible. I turned to the left, and entered the living room. It was empty, the huge amounts of souvenirs from trips now long gone, as well as all of the furniture. All that remained was a few shelves at the far end, as well as the river rock fireplace. The picture window that dominated one side of the room was shrouded in fog, but if you looked hard enough, you could still make out the crashing waves below the garden.

I stood there for a moment, remembering my discussions with my grandfather regarding history. I remembered the soft smell of burning pine as it heated the house, and I remembered how on clear days I could look out that window and see the sun set in the distance: beautiful times.

I closed my eyes, feeling the tears welling up in them again. Mom and Grandpa were gone. Jess was gone. A chill ran through me, not just from the air, but from the entire situation. This house: it was mine, but it wasn't my home anymore. Everything that made it a home, that made my life complete, was gone.

I shook off the feeling, looking about at the room, and making plans. I could put the couch there ... The desk there...

I moved through the house, taking the small stairwell down to the bottom floor. The house itself was built on a steep embankment, and so the top floor was in fact the ground floor. The three bedrooms below had also been emptied, but my memories of how the place had been were enough to put me at ease. The house had a total of three bedrooms: one master and two ancillaries, all of which had huge picture windows that allowed a gorgeous view of the ocean, at least when the fog wasn't present.