Barranquilla

“Hello, I’m Johnny’s dad,” my dad said extending a hand, “Mike Harris.”

“Kelly Mahoney,” Kelly replied, ignoring the hand and giving him a hug, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, after all these years.”

My dad looked a little decrepit but still had a full head of white hair on his wrinkled head. His stoop was noticeable, and he looked a little tired, but managed to maintain his decently intelligent disposition even in his dotage. He was wearing a mixture of a smile and a bit of surprise. Kelly looked herself in her jeans, turtleneck sweater, and open light jacket. It was the morning before Thanksgiving, November in North Dakota, so it was cold. Especially by outsider standards; Hornell could be cold, but it was on average about eight degrees warmer and had less wind.

Kelly herded us to her 2005 Mercedes E320 CDi, and let my dad have the front seat out of respect for his trouble moving, and put his bag in the trunk for him. The back seat was adequately spacious behind Kelly, though. Not so much behind my father, who still had the legs of a man who had been 6’1” in his prime.

She let me and my father off by the footpath to the front door, and then pulled the car into her garage. I helped my dad up the steep steps onto the porch of the old Victorian house, and then waited. I didn’t have a key to the house, so I couldn’t let us in. Kelly came back to the porch, digging in her pocket for keys.

“You forgot his bag,” I said, “Mine too, actually.”

“He isn’t staying here,” Kelly said, “None of us are, tonight, everyone’s coming in to Fargo for dinner at The Shack on Broadway, and then we are all going back to the Farm.”

“That would take a fleet of-”

“Jason bought a new car,” Kelly said, “a 1973 Checker Aerobus. It can seat twelve people, so they only need to take one car.”

“He’s really into older stuff these days, isn’t he?”

“Well, he restarted the farm using old and cheap farm equipment, and that’s worked well so he’s sort of committed to that stuff.”

Kelly let us in the front door and ushered us to the living room. She apparently had been shopping, since in addition to the two couches and two arm chairs, she had a few armchairs I had not seen yet against the chair rails of the room. We all sat down on the couches, with my dad facing Kelly and me. Kelly snuggled up to me.

“I’m done making judgements,” my dad said, “You win Johnny. That girl over there loves you. It’s in the eyes.”

“Of course I love him,” Kelly replied, “He can almost keep up with me.”

“Gee thanks,” I laughed, “The best part about her is that she can cook.”

“Is that the best?” She replied, sticking her tongue out.

“If you can cook,” my dad chuckled, “Can we do breakfast? I’m starving, the food on the train was less than great.”

“Sure thing,” Kelly said, “Follow me.”

My dad levered himself up from the relatively high Victorian couch using his cane, and we followed Kelly into the kitchen, and my dad and I sat down on chairs at the wooden kitchen table. Kelly went into the butlers pantry, and returned with a bowl of eggs, a couple of potatoes, and a package of sausages.

She grabbed a long-stick lighter out of a drawer, turned on the gas on one of the burners, and lit it with the lighter, then took a large cast-iron skillet off of a wall hanger, and put it on the burner. When it was warm, she put six sausages into the skillet and let it fry.

“I like cooking in this kitchen,” Kelly said, “But I don’t get to do it much. Only on the weekends, really. Or when Johnny is here.”

“Why not?” My dad asked.

“Because it’s kind of pointless to cook for yourself,” she said, “I eat at the professor’s dining room on campus most meals.”

“Oh, I remember Johnny telling me you were a professor,” my dad replied.

“Assistant dean of the mathematics department,” she said with more than a little pride.

The sausages was cooked, and she cracked six eggs into the skillet, and then turned the oven on low and lit it with the same lighter. She also lit another burner, and poured a large French press full of water into a teakettle and put the kettle on the burner.

“How do you like your eggs?” She asked, slicing the potatoes into little pieces.

“Over easy,” my dad said.

“Fr-”

“I know how you like your eggs, silly.”

When the eggs were done, she put them on plates and put the plates in the warming oven. Then she put the potatoes in the pan and fried them with spices. Meanwhile, she ground up coffee beans using a crank grinder on the counter, and put them into the French press. When the potatoes were done, she put them on each of the plates and put them back in the warmer. Then she took a loaf of bread out of the Hoosier’s bread box and cut six thick slices, and placed them in the still-greasy frying pan, and let them sit for a while, then flipped them.

She finally poured the boiling water into the French press, and then dumped out the rest into the sink, and stirred the coffee in. When the toast was done, she took out the plates, put the toast on the plates, and brought them, and three large coffee mugs, over to the table. Then she brought the French press over to the table.

“I assume,” she asked, “That like your son, you prefer your coffee black.”

“Yes,” my dad said, enjoying the food, “This kitchen belongs in a museum though.”

“So does much of the rest of the house,” Kelly countered, “And that’s the way I like it. I grew up on a farm, you know.”

“Cheryl’s kitchen is not this rustic,” I countered.

“No, but I really like antiques,” she replied, “I remember from the times we traveled you absolutely loved old stuff like this. It has a lot of character. I kind of fell in love with it myself. Also I thought you’d really like it.”

“I love it,” I replied, “If I picked this house out myself, I wouldn’t have wanted it any different.”

“I bet Jenny’s house isn’t like this,” she said. The tone was kind of cute.

“Not at all,” I said, “And I bought her that house. But I was a different person then, Kelly. I wanted something different out of life. I saw things differently. I’ve learned to appreciate different things.”

“I’m sure you’re going to move in there soon, though,” Kelly smiled.

“I can assure you I’m not,” I replied.

“You didn’t talk on the the cruise?” Kelly pouted.

“No,” I said, “We very much did talk, Kelly.”

“Then why aren’t you moving there?”

My dad looked like he was in the middle of a conversation that he didn’t belong in. But he did belong. It was a talk between his son and what I hoped would be his future daughter in law.

“Because I’m moving in here,” I said.

Her mouth dropped open. Then she closed it. Then it opened again. She had a swell of emotions in her eyes and her face.

“She’s waited for you for so long,” she choked.

“No, Kelly,” I replied, “She waited for someone else. Someone she met in Reno a long time ago. That’s what both of us concluded. We’re friends, Kelly. Of a sort. I’m not who she was waiting for. That’s what we both concluded.”

“So you’re going to keep wandering,” Kelly choked.

“A little,” I said, “But nowhere near as much. Someone else waited in vain for me, for a very long time, and was always there for me.”

“Who?” She asked, tears forming in her eyes. For a genius she was sure dense.

“You know who!” I replied.

“My mom?” She asked, cheering up a little.

“No, you obtuse doofus,” I replied.

“WHO!” She yelled.

“You.”

The expression on her face froze. It turned into shock and awe.

“You’re scared of it,” she replied, “You think I’m-”

“Not anymore,” I stopped her, “I’m scared, yes, terrified. Petrified that I will make the same mistake I made with Susan, and then Rachel, with you. I’ve been making it. No more. I love you more than life itself, Kelly. I live for you. I am happy to live ... for you. So if you’ll have me, I will live with you.

“Of course I’ll have you,” Kelly trembled, “I can’t believe it’s me you want.”

“It was always going to be you. I couldn’t imagine for the life of me why you kept obsessing over Jenny.”

She came over to my lap and hugged herself to me, crying tears of complete joy.

“I’ve been such a fool,” she muttered in my ear, “Can you forgive me?”

“I can’t,” I replied, “You acted only out of love. You’d have to have something to apologize for, for me to forgive you for it.”

When she had calmed down, I put her back in her chair, and started doing the dishes. My dad and her were talking about a variety of subjects. A lot of it was technical, and a bit over my head. I was glad they got along. When I was done with the dishes, we moved back into the living room, which was a bit more comfortable.

We talked for a while longer, and then we went back into the kitchen and Kelly fetched a game of Monopoly out of the closet. We played for a long time. We were all too good for a short game, and we had not conclusively finished it around three o’clock when I heard the family piling out of the nine door Checker Aerobus that had pulled up to the curb with a crunch of gears.

Kelly opened the door and the whole group of twelve of them marched into the room. Cheryl came in looking happy, but every one of her hard-worked 52 years. Single mom for most of her life until some of the kids got old enough to help- albeit providing more kids, it wore on her a bit. She was still an attractive woman- to me anyway, and I still liked the idea of sleeping with her. Weird, right? Might be the only one who would call her a GILF but ... Well, we had history.

Jason (32) and Samantha (30) looked good, although Samantha looked like kid number two was going to come out soon. Kimmy carried her 26 nicely, although she was almost the spitting image of her mother, being not so much younger than Cheryl when we first met. She immediately ran over the Kelly and gave her a big hug. They’d been best friends for years.

Sally, 20, was the first child born after I met Cheryl, and was the first child I really ever helped raise. She had the warmth of her mother, and looked like a younger version of her sister. I heard she had a boyfriend, though. I had not yet met him. Johnnyboy, as his mother always called him, to differentiate him from his father- that’d be me- was just 18, the second of my children to reach adulthood. He was planning on working the farm, and looked just like me when I was younger, except with lighter hair. He supposedly had a girlfriend but nobody had met her yet, either.

Megan (15) looked like a cute teenage girl. She had Cheryl’s straw hair, but didn’t look much like her at all, otherwise. She probably took after her father. She was a farm-body who had already started helping with the farm work, just like Kimmy, Sally, and Johnnyboy. Jared (9) was Jason and Samantha’s son and was a red-head freckle face like his mother.

Josh (8), Rachel and my kid, looked a lot like his mother, but bigger boned, and was very quiet in this company. Jeffery (8) was my second kid with Cheryl, and looked more like her then me. Little Rachel (7), the apple of my eye, looked like a much bigger-boned version of Kelly when I first met her.

Jimmy (23) didn’t come; he was going to be joining us for dinner tomorrow, along with his now-fiancé’s family, whom he was having Thanksgiving dinner with tonight, a day early, to accommodate our dinner tomorrow.

I introduced them all to my father, whom they all embraced warmly.

“Alright,” my dad said, “Which of them are my grand children.”

“We all are, sir,” said Jason emphatically, “Johnny is the closest thing to a father we’ve ever had ... well, except for Jared, he’s your great grandson.”

My dad started to fall, and Jason and Samantha caught him and led him over to the couch.

“I was being serious,” my dad said finally.

“So were we, grandpa,” Samantha chimed in.

“They never talked to me about this before,” I temporized.

“I’ve called you ‘dad’ for years,” Sally insisted, “Why wouldn’t your dad be my grand dad?”

“I am very touched and honored,” my father replied, a bit wet eyed.

“But tae answer yer quaystion,” Cheryl chimed in diplomatically, while pointing, “Johnnyboy, an’ Jeffery ore moine with Johnny, Josh is Johnny’s with Rachel, and Little Rachel is Johnny an’ Kelly’s.”

“I’m overwhelmed,” my dad said, looking boisterously happy.

After a long round of conversation, we shuffled into the two cars and headed off for the restaurant. The food was quite good.

“Moike,” Cheryl said, “Der is somethin oi raeally wan ta knew, an’ Oi don’t thin’ Johnny could aever really taell it t’be honest. What was he loike as a laddie?”

“He was a happy kid,” my dad replied, “But not very social. He was always smarter than almost everyone around him. We grew up in a blue collar world, and he wasn’t like most of the other kids. He was quite a little nerd, actually.”

“Thanks dad,” I laughed. Embarrassing conversation with parents ... I know, the dreaded horror of most people. But god, I missed this. It was ... warm and fuzzy.

“Susan was the only one who got him,” my dad continued, “They were thick as thieves since she was five and he was eight, or something like that. They were close friends almost to the exclusion of anyone else. Everyone but Frank knew they were going to fall in love, and they did. They actually thought we didn’t notice.”

“You didn’t notice,” I replied.

“You must be joking,” my dad replied, “I watched it happen in real time on the pool deck of the SS Norway.”

My mouth dropped open.

“She must have fallen soon after,” he continued, “Because you two were clearly in love when you were together on that cruise.”

“Yes,” I replied, “I can’t believe you noticed it. We were discreet.”

“You were as discreet as a pair of neon heart signs floating above your heads,” my father snorted, “Anyone who wasn’t dense to it saw it. Everyone in town but Frank, I think.”

“Mom didn’t notice,” I said.

“Not until I pointed it out to her once we went to bed on the first night of the cruise,” dad said, “Then she saw it clear as day once she looked.”

“Laura sure didn’t know,” I argued.

“She noticed it the same time I did,” dad laughed, “She came to me about it the next day. All three of us agreed that us trying to do anything about it was just fighting fate.”

“You probably thought we would be responsible,” I offered.

“God no,” dad replied, “We knew you were probably closer than you should have been. Did you really think I didn’t know what you were doing in the attic? But what were we going to do? Break apart your only friendships? Your mother was a bit reluctant, but Laura and I convinced her we had no good course of action. But we weren’t in the dark; it was almost as obvious as you and Kelly are.”

“Why didn’t you at least talk to us?”

“Because if Frank ever figured out we went behind his back,” my dad sighed, “He would have killed all of us. Plausible deniability. We were going to talk to him about it when he had calmed down. But you two jumped the gun. We owe you an apology for that.”

“Don’t apologize, dad,” I said, “Maybe some things would have been better, but look around this table. This whole family wouldn’t have happened. I wouldn’t give this up for the world, especially not the person Suzie has become over her life.”

Cheryl, who was seated next to my father, put her arm around him, hugged him, and gave him a strong kiss.

“Ya. We all luv ya,” she said. I saw the look in her eyes

I laughed to myself. God no. This woman was way too horny for sanity. Yuck.

We got back in our cars to drive to the Farm. My dad went in the Checker because of its easier access, and Little Rachel and Josh rode with us. I became lost in thought about the cruise with Suzie my dad had just brought up...

I was back on the SS Norway in 1983, eating breakfast at a buffet with Suzie and our parents. We had been blown a bit off course on our way to Cartagena, and were sailing past the Columbian city of Barranquilla. Due to the drug situation at the time, neither of our parents wanted to get off the boat in Columbia, so we basically had a day aboard with nothing better to do then ... well, I guess we could eat.

We were all a little tired from Suzie’s birthday celebration the night before. She was 14 now, a step closer to adulthood and her 18th birthday. You know, that moment where we could do whatever the heck we wanted, without her parents being able to stop us. The cruise line had even been nice enough to provide us with a custom-written cake, gratis.

After breakfast, Suzie and I went to the topside of the boat and enjoyed the sea air as we sailed along the South American shoreline. It was a beautiful day; a picture postcard day. The sea was a beautiful blue; the sky was a bright blue with just the perfect amount of little swirly clouds to give it definition. The weather was warm, perhaps a bit too warm, but the iced tea in my hand and the beautiful girl on my arm made that immaterial.

She was very beautiful, albeit a bit crossed with a lobster. She had spent far too much time in the sun on Stirrup Key and had refused, adamantly, to wear suntan lotion. She had a bunch of sun burn all over her back and arms and shoulders. She was covered in Solarcaine, actually. I know; I had applied it that morning to her naked back.

The gentle ocean breeze made the heat bearable, too. There was a movie being shown in the theater in a little bit, and Suzie and I intended to go see it. The swaying of the boat and its gentle rumble underway just made for a paradisiacal experience.

It was a difficult moment in our lives, I think for both of us. We were scared of our relationship being discovered. It sort of amused me that my fear of discovery was a waste of time; if my dad was telling the truth he knew immediately. But of course me knowing that was 26 years in the future, so we were definitely terrified of it. Particularly Frank; I didn’t know that my mother was that accepting of us.

Anyway, my watch told me that we had ten minutes to get into the theatre, where they were showing another movie from last year: “The Return of the Jedi”, which I had not seen. I had heard it was a great movie, though, so I wanted to see that. After that they were apparently going to show an adult only movie in the form of “Scarface”, which I wasn’t that interested in seeing. Al Pacino pretending he was Cuban made it more of a horror movie than a thriller.

So Suzie and I walked down to the theater aboard the ship. She moved with a certain grace that was uniquely hers, and it aroused me. I mean, I was 16 year old teenage male, just about everything on Earth aroused me. But this particularly so. I kept finding myself drifting back to the time a few days ago where we were almost naked together in the shower of our cabin and it made me long to be back there.

The movie was exciting and well done. The special effects were magical, the action impressive, the cinematography out of this world. It was a worthy third film to the Star Wars series, and I hoped that the next installment would be along shortly. I really wanted to see what happened between Han Solo and Princess Leia in the next installment, and the fact that Darth Vader still considered himself to be, first and foremost, Luke’s father was touching.

It was actually sort of like now. My father still considers me to be his son, even if I had done all the things I’ve done to him. He was willing to follow me to a world he’s never been to, to see the family I made for myself away from him and my mother. The one I didn’t have the decency to introduce them to a decade or two ago.

Anyway, as we were filtering out of the theater, we spotted all four of our parents walking in. Frank had mentioned something about wanting to see “Scarface”. I hoped they enjoyed it, and I pointed out to Suzie that they were there. She smiled her little smirky smile, and grabbed my hand and started dragging me along. I mean I came willingly but I was definitely being lead.

“Where are we going?” I asked her.

“That movie is really long,” she said, “Like three hours or something.”

“So?”

“We’re going to the cabin,” she answered, as if that explained everything.

“Why?”

“They won’t be interrupting us for three hours,” she said exasperatedly.

“You don’t know that,” I said.

“Yes,” she said, “I do.”

The warmth of her hand as she led me on was a bit of a turn on. The way her wild and wispy orangey red hair waved behind her as she speed walked was ... pleasant. The insistence and want in her voice were both titivating and a bit scary. She was so confident, so daring. She was scared of practically nothing.

When it came to losing our friendship, the fear was always overwhelming to me. I was willing to slow play everything, to wait until her parents’ objections were no longer important. To me the most important thing about her was she was my best friend. I could privately long for her body, and not have it, a lot more than I could sustain not having her friendship. I was timid.