The Ghost of Red River Falls

Wendy came out of the bathroom dressed only in a one-piece bright white teddy that looked absolutely amazing! I've never physically drooled over a woman before, even during the horniest periods of my teenage years. But the vision standing before me was none other than the absolute perfection of the female form.

Her blazing red hair seemed to glow as she let it hang in a free fall down her back and shoulders. She tried to be confident but was clearly just as nervous as I was.

She led me to our bed by the hand. I was dressed only in boxers. I initially intended to leave the bedside lamps on. I wanted to be able to see the woman I was making love to for the first time. But Wendy insisted on turning off the lights.

We wasted very little time on foreplay. Wendy took the lead in ridding herself of the barely-there thong that passed for her underwear while quickly doffing my own boxers as well. My cock was so rock-hard that I was almost embarrassed by it - as though she would think of me as boyish for getting so worked up over sex.

We kissed deeply and passionately for a while before she finally had me get on my back and she mounted me cowgirl style. It all seemed to be sudden and fast but I hoped that it was only the first of many couplings we would share that night.

My rigid member slid easily into her. She paused briefly, closed her eyes and said, "Oh, yesssss!" She established a slow methodical rhythm. It was obvious that this was the position she was most comfortable with and she began to steadily rock herself to a gentle first orgasm.

I could barely make out her lithe form in the darkness. What I couldn't see my imagination made up for. It was all I could do to concentrate on pleasing my new wife and not blow it. Surprisingly, even though it had been several years since I had been with a woman myself, I did an amazing job of not blowing it too soon.

Wendy started getting more and more into it and she threw her head back as another orgasm crept upon her, this one more powerful than the first. She lurched forward, slapping her hands on my chest to brace herself. She was mumbling under her breath and I could barely make out what she was saying - at first.

"Oh, god! Yes! You make me feel so good! No one makes me feel like you do," she whispered breathlessly. I picked up the rhythm and started to pound my rock hard tool into her even harder. Her body responded immediately and she was soon in the throes of the most powerful orgasm of the night. And then, my world collapsed.

"Oh, my god! You are so amazing! Oh, I love the way you make me feel, Kevin!"

I stopped thrusting almost immediately as my brain processed what she had just said. I lay there, nearly out of breath myself, but from an equal amount of shock as much as sexual fervency.

"What? What's the matter, babe? Why did you stop?" she asked, obviously eager to get back to what we were doing.

"Did...did...you just...call me...Kevin?" I stuttered.

"What? Why would...no! God, no! Why would I do that?"

I reached over and turned the light on. Wendy's face had a very light sheen of sweat built up on it. "Yes, you did. You did call me Kevin. Is that why you wanted to keep the lights off? So you could think of Kevin while we were making love for the first time?"

"God, no! Why would you think that? And why would you just stop in the middle? I mean, I was almost there, Kev!"

"Jesus! You just did it again!"

"I...uh...God! Now you're confusing me with all this talk of Kevin! I can assure you I didn't call you Kevin! I know who I'm with now, Jack!" She rolled off of me and lay next to me on the hotel bed. "God, Jack! Thanks for ruining our consummation!" Uh-oh. She was really pissed. Hell hath no fury like a woman denied an orgasm.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I know what I heard. Maybe you didn't mean to say it, but you did. And I will always go out of my way to be sensitive of your first marriage because you both deserve it. But I also gotta know that I'm gonna be first in your life, too."

"You are, Jack, you really are. I'm not sure why you thought I said Kevin's name. But I can understand why it would bother you." She turned towards me on the bed and snuggled up to me. "Look, it has been a really long week leading up to today and an incredibly long and stressful day for both of us. Maybe we should grab a little sleep first and we can pick up where we left off in a few hours, huh? Nothing a guy likes better than getting woken up for sex, right?" And she kissed me on the cheek.

Sure. Nothing better a guy likes better than wakeup sex. I reached down and grabbed my boxers and pulled them back on. Somehow, I was suddenly embarrassed by my rapidly waning erection. I turned towards Wendy, spooned her, and turned out the light.

I didn't get woken up for sex that night and I got very little sleep as my mind replayed the event over and over. I would have to live with the ignominy of knowing that I couldn't even finish making love to my wife for the first time. Worse yet, despite her denials, was the knowledge that she was making love to her dead husband instead of me - in her mind, at least.

Wendy and I didn't have much time for a honeymoon. We had decided to hold off taking a trip until the end of summer, when our respective work schedules could better accommodate it. The week following our wedding was busy with me getting all of my stuff moved out of the two-bedroom apartment I had lived in for so long and getting moved into the house with Wendy.

Hindsight is always 20/20 and one of the other major mistakes I made at the very beginning was allowing myself to be talked into moving into the home that Wendy and Kevin had shared. Wendy had made a lot of convincing arguments, including a list of pros and cons, as to why I should move in with her.

It goes without saying that I felt like a stranger in the house the minute I moved in there. Truth is, during the time that Wendy and I were dating I never really spent any appreciable amount of time there. All of the furniture was what they had bought together. Yes, even the bed in the master bedroom was the one that she and Kevin had shared.

I deftly tried to talk Wendy into getting new furniture and decorating the house in a style that was more reminiscent of who we were (or at least who I thought we were) as a couple. Wendy kept repeating how much money she and Kevin had spent on their furniture and belongings and how it just didn't make sense to spend so much money on brand new stuff. She also used the argument that she knew I didn't make as much money as a firefighter as Kevin had made as a personal banker.

And so, do my great discredit, I went along to get along. I held my tongue, kept my peace. And did it all because I absolutely loved and adored the woman I was married to.

A few awkward days went by after we had gotten married and settled into the house as a couple before we attempted to make love again. This time, it was slow and loving and I felt like I was finally making the sexual and emotional connection with Wendy that I desperately wanted. And this time, with an obvious amount of effort on her part, no names of previous lovers were mentioned at any time during the act.

The only thing that bothered me was that Wendy seemed to be really into the act - not because she was sexually aroused - but because she was determined not to have a repeat of our wedding night. I knew that Wendy didn't experience an orgasm that second time, probably because she was concentrating so hard on making things okay for me.

On one hand, I appreciated her effort. On the other, I couldn't help but feel deep down inside that it was pity sex and a silent apology. I knew perfectly well that Wendy knew exactly whose name she called out that night. And trying to make up for it now, without actually talking about it, only added a bit of salt to the wound.

Exactly one week after our wedding, Wendy and I were invited to a barbecue at Ed and Joanne Parmelly's house. All of the Parmelly clan was going to be there, including Greg, Bobby, Melinda and Nate as well as the Greg and Bobby's children.

I really, really, REALLY did not want to go. But I knew that there was no way I was going to win an argument against going. So, as usual, I kept my damned mouth shut, carried the pistachio salad Wendy had made into Ed and Joanne's house and did my best to act like some sort of invited guest.

Ed and Joanne, of course, greeted Wendy with hugs and kisses. Ed turned his back on me to go check on the grill, which apparently demanded his undivided attention at that exact moment. I reached for Joanne's hand, shook it gently and said, "Thank you for having us." Joanne just gave me a weak smile and then walked to the back yard arm-in-arm with Wendy as the two of them struck up an animated conversation.

I got in the back yard and was half-heartedly greeted by Greg Parmelly, who had only been a little over a year younger than Kevin.

"Hey, Jack," he said, extending his hand. "Glad you and Wendy could make it. Can I get you a beverage or something?"

"Uh, sure. Whatta ya got?"

"Coors, Bud heavy or Bud light. Take your pick."

"Bud light would be perfect." Greg handed me the bottle of blue yummy and I kind of awkwardly stood by and listened to an animated conversation between Greg and Bobby over the grain market, something I knew absolutely nothing about. Both Greg and Bobby worked in agricultural sales, with Greg an up-and-coming salesman for John Deere implements and Bobby as a seed dealer for Monsanto. Both men owed their living to the overall health of the farm economy and I'm sure their conversation was extremely important.

I excused myself from their company, which neither even noticed nor acknowledged, and wandered aimlessly about the back yard, watching the kids play on the trampoline and the swing set in their grandparents' yard. Something odd eventually struck me about the image of a grown man watching little kids play while sucking down a cold beer, so I eventually made my way back to the patio where the rest of the adults were sitting.

When the burgers were finished, Ed Parmelly called everyone to the table. Much to my dismay, there were only enough seats at the large table on the patio for Ed, Joann, Wendy, Greg and his wife Samantha, Bobby and his wife Tabitha, Melinda and her fiancé Reese, and good old Nate. Embarrassingly, I was invited to sit with the four kids at the picnic table.

Worst of all, I kept seeing glances from Nate looking at me with a goofy smirk on his face as if to say, "you poor pathetic bastard."

I laid off the beer the rest of the afternoon. Since I couldn't seem to engage or be engaged by any of the adults in conversation, I readily accepted an offer from Greg and Bobby's kids to join them on the trampoline and push them on the swings. We even rough-housed a little bit and played tag and kickball in the expansive back yard.

The last three hours of the gathering actually went fast and the little kids did their best to wear me out. As Wendy was hugging everyone and saying our goodbyes, Greg Parmelly's little boy, Tyler, came up to me asking to be picked up. He was a pretty cute little three-year-old with an absolute mop of dirty blonde hair.

"Thanks for playing with us, Uncle Jack!"

"You're welcome! I had a lot of -"

"What the hell did he just say?" demanded Ed Parmelly. "Did he tell you to call him that, Tyler?"

There was stunned silence all around.

"Jesus, Dad," Greg said in an exaggerated whisper. "Take it easy. He doesn't know the difference." Ed shot Greg an extremely pissed look. Then he looked back towards me and Tyler.

"Jack is your friend, Tyler. And he's Wendy's husband. But he's not your uncle."

Confused, little Tyler begged, "Does that mean Wendy isn't my aunt anymore?"

"No, Aunt Wendy will always be your Aunt. But Jack...," he said glaring at me, "well...Jack will never be your uncle." And then the old bastard turned and went inside the house.

All around, everyone just stared at me in horror. Even Nate, who had been giving me stupid smirks all afternoon, looked away in embarrassment for his father. I patted little Tyler on the back, thanked him again for playing, and handed him to his father.

"Come on, Jack," Wendy beckoned. "I think we should just grab our stuff and go."

Wendy and the remaining Parmelly clan all exchanged hugs again. It seemed like some of them wanted to say something to me, as well, but nobody had the words - or the balls. They were just too damned scared to say anything within possible earshot of Ed Parmelly.

Wendy and I rode in silence most of the way back home. Finally, as we neared the house, she spoke up.

"Ed Parmelly is an amazing man and an incredible father, Jack. You need to just give him time to warm up to you. He doesn't know you like I know you. He'll come around. You'll see, I promise."

I pulled my truck, a "new-to-me" 2012 King Ranch Ford F-250, into the driveway and said nothing. Wendy gave my hand a squeeze of reassurance and exited my truck.

As I walked into the house, the whole embarrassing afternoon replayed through my mind and was amplified as I walked into the front door. Suddenly, I was struck by the overwhelming sensation of being a stranger in what was supposed to be my home with Wendy. The realization that the only meaningful things I had brought with me to the home were my stereo and my clothes.

"We" (meaning, Wendy) had decided that none of the furniture I had from my apartment matched the décor of the house. Thus, it was sitting in a rented storage unit at this time. What I wouldn't give to at least just sit back and relax while watching a ball game in my old recliner. It was only a year old. But it had built in cup holders, a built-in TV remote so it never got lost, and also had headphone jacks and a built-in MP3 player so I could either listen to music or listen to a TV show or ball game undisturbed.

The basement of Wendy's house (I still couldn't think of it as "our" house) was completely finished. It was going to initially house a workout room. I decided that I needed to make a Man Cave.

I had to work a 24-hour shift at the fire station the day after the fiasco at Ed and Joanne's house. So, first thing Monday morning, I drove my truck over to the storage unit and retrieved my 60-inch plasma TV, my theater-style wrap-around sectional sofa and my good old mother-of-all-La-Z-Boys recliner.

I also retrieved my Foosball table and picked up a pre-owned 8-foot pool table with some help from my fellow firefighters.

Wendy was teaching summer courses that day and was also busy with faculty meetings at Red River Falls Community College. By the time she arrived home that night, the "Jack Cave" was ready. Okay, okay. That was a totally stupid name for the man cave. Sounds like a den of 24-hour non-stop masturbation, right? I promise I'll work on a better name, alright?

I also decided to put up all my Minnesota Vikings and Minnesota Twins posters and paraphernalia. I'm not huge into college sports, but I did buy and put up some Bemidji State stuff, too.

Wendy came home from work around 4:00 pm and was surprised to see my buddies from work there and was even more surprised to see what we had done with the basement. To say she was shocked was an understatement. She didn't say much at first as she saw guys playing pool and Foosball. We were even watching a replay of last night's Twins game on Fox Sports North on the plasma.

Wendy just smiled politely when I showed her the Bemidji State pennants and logos that I had put up along with the Vikings and Twins stuff. After a few moments, she just put her hand to her mouth and walked back upstairs. I wasn't sure at first, but I thought she might be trying to keep herself from crying.

My fellow firefighters could all see it, too. She wasn't happy. "Party's over, guys," was all I could say.

My brothers slowly filed out of the house and I went with them. "Thanks for all the help," I told each of them as they left. Once they were gone, I trudged back into the house with iron butterflies in my stomach.

I found Wendy in the kitchen, eating a banana - and not in a sexy way, either. She was reading today's newspaper and doing everything to avoid looking at me.

Finally, she spoke. "I see you decided to decorate the basement without me."

"Look, Wendy. I can explain."

"Can you? Can you explain? I thought we agreed that we were keeping the house the way it was."

"Look, sweetheart, I didn't change anything. There was all that empty space in the basement. The whole upstairs is exactly the way it was. Nothing is missing or moved. Everything is just the way it was when Kevin was here. I just needed a little space of my own, that's all."

"But you didn't even talk to me about it, Jack! You just went ahead and did whatever you wanted to. You never asked me if I had any plans for the downstairs. Do you have any idea how disrespected I feel right now? This has been my home now for almost six years, Jack! You've only been here a week and you just take over an entire floor of the house without asking!"

"I thought...this was my home now, too."

"Yeah, well...it is. But that doesn't mean you get to arbitrarily make a decision like this, Jack."

"Look, Wendy, I had a lot of my old stuff from before, too. Some of that stuff, believe it or not, is actually kind of sentimental to me. I mean, you have everything in this house that you had before we got married. I mean, before today, I had absolutely nothing in this house of my own. I just wanted some of my things. I wish you could understand that."

"And I wish, Jack, that you could understand how upset you've made me," she said, getting up from the table and heading for the bedroom. She closed the door behind her. I did not take that as an invitation for further discussion.

An hour passed. I finally got hungry and decided to make some supper. Even though it was summer and not really the best time for it, I whipped up a quick batch of spaghetti along with some garlic bread and a tossed salad. I mustered up the courage to knock on the door to the bedroom.

"You can come in," she said, dryly. She was lying on the bed reading a book. Wendy is a huge Isaac Asimov fan and has read all of his books at least twice.

"I made some supper, if you wanna come eat with me. Just some spaghetti, bread and salad. I thought you might be hungry."

Wendy looked up at me. She put her book aside and walked quietly out to the kitchen. She grabbed a plate and heaped a generous portion of spaghetti on her plate, snatched a couple of pieces of bread and a bowl of salad. Then, managing not to spill anything, she picked up the whole ensemble and deftly carried them back to the bedroom and closed the door with her foot - leaving me standing there with the obvious message that I would be dining alone tonight.

She might as well have told me to go fuck myself.

I was absolutely crushed. I had done what I did that day because I felt like an outsider in that house, which I was. I was just too stupid to realize it yet.

I ate my meal in silence, realizing that Wendy was not going to forgive me any time soon. I cleaned up the dishes and the kitchen and put away the leftovers. Around nine o'clock, I knocked on the bedroom door. Wendy didn't answer, so I carefully crept in. She had stacked her dishes on the nightstand by the bed. Wendy was already in bed and fast asleep. Worse, I could tell that she had obviously cried herself to sleep.

I took the dishes and cleaned them up, too. Finally, after watching the end of David Letterman, I decided to call it a night. I grabbed a blanket and spare pillow from the hall linen closet and made my way downstairs and decided to sleep in the man cave that was the cause of my pain this day. Less than two weeks of marriage and I was already sleeping on the couch.