ALOHA

Foreword:

This work, right at 10,000 words is barely a novella, and might better be characterized as a novelette. That is the reason that it is posted as one document. It is more a narrative than a story and is all from the perspective of one person involved in a relationship which is suspect at best. There is no sex and anyone who expects otherwise is doomed to disappointment. For those who do not appreciate exitus tragicus, or dramatic endings, I will publish a short Afterword expanding on the lives of the characters after this narrative, a few days after the publication of the main document.

Chapter One

I'm Richard Tate, and my wife, Alecia Cahill and I spent a glorious two weeks in Hawaii for our twelfth wedding anniversary. We stayed at the Hilton Hawaiian Village, a suite, no less, and, when we weren't lying in the sun or swimming in the glorious waters off Waikiki beach, we were rushing around doing all the things that tourists do on the island paradise. We went to a luau and feasted on a roast pig; took a helicopter tour of the island, and a short flight up to the big island to see the black sand beaches. We couldn't miss the opportunity to go to Pearl Harbor to pay our respects at the U.S.S. Arizona Memoria and were awed by the sacrifice made by so many. But mostly we just lazed around and unwound from work and life.

I gradually settled down from my usual workaholic persona, while Alecia was her normal determined, unflappable self, smoothing out the bumps of the trip and making sure that everything went smoothly and enjoyably. Everything about Hawaii seemed to take everyday routine and cast a diaphanous covering over it seemingly a device of nature to calm one down. But eventually, the vacation days drew to a close and our departure day was upon us. We had a flight scheduled out at 1:00 PM, so we decided to leave for the airport at 10:00 AM. Arising early that morning, we had showered and packed our luggage, including the four monsters that Alecia had insisted on bringing with her, rationalizing that, "you never know what you might need".

Breakfast arrived at 7:30 AM, which seemed early to me. Alecia suggested that we eat out on the balcony to take advantage of the morning breeze, and the clear blue sky and golden beach that was the view from our balcony was a fantasyland. The food was great and the breeze with its smell of the ocean and jungle made everything perfect.

We had finished eating and were having coffee, and I was reading the Wall Street Journal when Alecia said, "Rich, you need to put the paper down and pay attention, I have something to talk to you about."

Smiling over at her, I said, "sure honey, go ahead."

Tilting her head, with a small smile on her face, Alecia said, "I won't be going back to Tate with you."

I raised my eyebrows, "oh, have you decided to go visit your parents, or stop in California at your Grandma's house?"

Shaking her head slightly, and with a mildly sympathetic look on her face, she said directly, "no, Richard. I mean that I'm not going back to Tate at all, and we're getting a divorce."

_____________

My family owns Tate Farms in northern Georgia, the largest independent chicken egg producer in the United States, and has done so for four generations. The farm was established near a small unnamed community originally, and eventually grew to a point where it attracted workers, and an actual town was established using the family name. By now, the egg operation has 2800 employees and a community of a little over 4000 population. As you can imagine, it's a real company town.

My grandfather was the President and Chairman of the board of Tate Farms, and my father Executive Vice President of Production. As only male offspring, it was taken as a given that I'd grow up in Tate, go to college where I would study business management, and would eventually become the leader of Tate farms with my son to follow, ad infinitum.

Alecia's family ended up in Tate when her father, Jason Cahill was recruited to take over the position of CFO of Tate Farms when both Alecia and I were thirteen years old. Part of the incentive deal offered him was a large new home to his specifications. Since the Tate family owned most of the land in the area, the company ended up building the Cahill home about a hundred yards down the road from where I lived with my mom, dad, and little sister Jan.

The Cahills came from money, owning one of the largest grocery chains in the mid-west, and Jason was encouraged by his family to come to our operation to broaden his experience and then go back home to Illinois at some point and run his family business. No one expected that he would be with us long-term. There was also money on his wife's side of the family, involving something to do with California real estate development.

I met Alecia that day in the July heat as they were moving into the new home, and it would be fair to say that she was not happy to be in Tate, Georgia. She enjoyed the suburban atmosphere of the Chicago suburb where the grocery chain was headquartered and was not a fan of moving to a hot remote little wide spot in the road in rural Georgia.

But even though she wasn't pleased with the move, she was pleasant and had plenty of questions about the area, mostly about school. I explained that we would be bused fifteen miles or so to a consolidated county school, but that it was new, and had good facilities. She wanted to know every detail about the science curriculum, but I had to tell her up front that was a topic that was out of my wheelhouse. When she found that I wasn't as enthusiastic about school as she was, our relationship settled into one of casual cordiality rather than true friendship. She was and is a beautiful girl and woman, then the embodiment of the very pretty girl next door with tawny-blonde hair and that creamy complexion that tanned so nicely.

In the fall of that year, when school began, it was apparent that none of the staff had ever encountered anyone quite like Alecia. Her grades were perfect, and in classroom discussions, it was readily apparent that she grasped the subjects easily as fully as the teachers. In short order, she was set up with the SB IQ test, and I heard my mom tell my dad that she was found to test at an astounding 163, a high genius level. Our school didn't have AP classes, so a collective effort was made to keep her fully, and intellectually engaged, and in the process, it was found that she was fully aware that she has a total photographic memory and near-total auditory memory. She was fully engaged in school life with the student newspaper and plays, she held student offices and volunteered for community service. And with all this, she led the grade-point average race by a substantial margin.

She wasn't, however, interested whatsoever in the sub-current of teenage social cliques, didn't care if she was popular, and refused to try out for cheerleading even though she was asked to do so; that more than any other thing marked her as an odd duck, and isolated her from the other girls in school. After all what teenage girl didn't want to be a cheerleader? Fashion didn't interest her at all, as a matter of fact in the winter, she wore long khaki slacks and a light blue top of one kind or another to school every day, and in the warmer months, khaki shorts and a light blue short-sleeved top. My dad said quietly once that she reminded him of a sales rep in her repetitive dress. Her take was that she didn't care what it looked like, and she didn't want to waste time every day deciding what to wear.

From the very first, I'd bet that she was asked out every single day, and as far as I know, she never agreed to go out with anyone. Parties, she said, were a waste of time when you could be doing something interesting, like reading.

I on the other hand was less than half as intelligent as she, and I fully participated in school activities, in part because I was strongly encouraged to do so by my dad, and his dad. They always impressed upon me that the key to business success was hard work and networking. So, it's easy to see that Alecia and I didn't travel in the same circles and didn't seem to have many common interests. I wasn't an asshole and tried to be kind to folks, but I also partied quite a bit and got laid more than most. High school was good for me.

So, it's easy to understand that, though we were "friends", the next-door type, were never best buds or romantic or anything like that. We got somewhat closer when my dad bought me a car for my sixteenth birthday, and I ferried Alecia and me the fifteen miles to school and back every day during the last two years of high school. We'd have long conversations on the ride, or rather she'd talk about the latest thing that she'd read in Foreign Policy or some other egghead magazine, and I'd nod and grunt at what I supposed were appropriate times. But, the relationship, while I'd describe it as cordial, was never what you'd term as intimate. I wanted to date her and asked a couple of times early on, but she had put a stop to that shit quickly. Oh, she was nice about it but said that she didn't have time for social life and that she had too much work to do before graduating. She was always certain that she was going to be a doctor, and she was focused on that goal like a laser.

The last two years of school sailed by, and prom season rolled around. A month beforehand, I was casting around, trying to decide whom I was going to ask. I was well-liked, came from a good family, and was OK-looking, so I figured that I would have my pick of the most popular girls. But then, out of the blue, Alecia asked me if I'd take her to the prom. I was completely flabbergasted, and straight-out asked her, why me? It didn't take long for her to burst my bubble by explaining that she thought that it was important to her social development "to have the prom experience" if nothing else. On one hand, I thought it was a great idea to be seen at the prom with the most beautiful and hot girl in the school, but on the other, I was a little reluctant because I was looking forward to a beer-soaked evening that might even include some sweaty fondling in a secluded place. So, I told her that I'd have to think about it. BUZZZZZZZ, wrong answer.

She asked me in the morning, and by that evening, I had been snatched up by my father and whisked in the dark of night (just being dramatic) to a meeting with my granddad. At first, I made no connection to Alecia, but then, granddad poured a third glass of bourbon, including me in a "men's" meeting for the first time. My dad left the talking to his dad as I gulped what they thought was my first-ever drink of bourbon. He beat around the bush for a few minutes with the discussion going everywhere from sports to business, and even I could see that there was more to this than just family bonding. Finally, grandpa got around to it.

"Your grandma and I have been talking about your graduation gift since it's about that time, prom coming up, and everything, and I wanted to discuss your plans. You're still set up for Kennesaw State, right?"

"Yes sir, mom and I have already been down there looking at apartment options since the dorm overcrowding situation has come up."

"Have you ever thought about commuting and working at the company part-time in operations or admin?"

"It came up with mom, but only because she couldn't face seeing her baby leaving home," I said laughing, "but since it's an hour-and-half commute from leaving to the classroom, that would take up too much time out of the day to be practical. If I did commute, losing that three hours in a day wouldn't leave enough time for studying and work anyway. Plus, as dad has always said, "college is 50% social education, letting you learn other people and how the system works."

"Hmmm," he said meditatively, as he rubbed his chin, "I was sort of thinking that you could work at the company while you were going to school, but I think can see another possible path to that Porsche that you've been wanting and that I was willing to give you for your commute."

My mouth gaped open. Since I was eight years old, I had been mesmerized by the Porsche 911 and had posters of them all over my bedroom to prove it.

"No, shit," I rambled excitedly, "you and grandma would give me a Porsche?"

He looked up at me deviously through his bushy grandpa eyebrows, "sure, if you can see your way clear to doing something for me."

"Anything," I said excitedly, "what do you want, an arm, a kidney, what?"

Smiling gleefully, he said, "oh, nothing as serious as that, all I need is for you to take Jason Cahill's girl, Alecia to that senior prom."

That stopped me in my tracks. "That's all, that's all you need me to do? I mean, sure, I can do that, but what's the big deal, why's it Porsche important?"

At that point, grandpa glanced over at my dad, who took over the conversation.

"Well, you see it's like this; from what I understand, Alecia asked you to take her to the prom this morning. Her mom knew she was going to ask because it had been a suggestion from her. So, when Alecia got home from school, her mom asked her how the conversation went. Alecia said that you turned her down in so many words but seemingly she wasn't too disappointed at the turn of events. Her mother, though, was another situation entirely. She called your mom, and while mom said that Faye wasn't outwardly angry, it was readily apparent that she wanted to know what was so bad about her beautiful, brainy daughter that a chicken farmer's son wouldn't go out with her."

I objected, "but I didn't tell her that I wouldn't go, I just told her I'd think about it, but, really, I probably wouldn't have gone with her. I mean she's beautiful and all, but she has the social skills of a 'possum; just wants to be left alone for the most part."

Dad and grandpa just looked at one, shook their heads a little, and chuckled.

Dad continued, "no, what you told her was that you weren't going with her, but that you just didn't want to tell her and hurt her feelings; at least that's what it sounded like when it entered her mother's feminine ear. And apparently, this is one time when Alecia doesn't want to be left alone."

"Well, I can fix that, I'll tell her tomorrow morning on the way to school that I'd be happy to go with her. And don't misunderstand me, there's nothing wrong with Alecia, she's scary smart and beautiful to boot, we just don't know one another that well, as real friends, I mean. But all that said, what's the big deal, here? Why's it so important that I take her to the prom?"

Dad looked speculatively at me, "OK, here's your first lesson in the ins and outs of big business. You know that Jason Cahill's family owns the largest grocery store chain in the Midwest. The reason Jason's here working for us is that his family can help our company in three ways: firstly, they wanted Jason to pick up some experience in the production industry, outside the area of their expertise, the retail sector; second, they agreed with us that if we found a place for Jason to do that, within our operation, they'd agree to sell our eggs exclusively in all their stores, including any new acquisitions; third, the head of the clan, Jason's father is going to be head of the Independent Grocers Association for the next four years and he can give us a great deal of help nationwide. When you add to that Jason's a financial ace, we can't take the risk of that valuable relationship being damaged in any way, including a daughter with hurt feelings."

"Now, Richard, Alecia doesn't know that her mother has talked to yours about this, so, it would be best if it seemed as if it were your idea. You get what I'm saying?"

"Sure, and it seems like it wouldn't be a problem since I told her that I'd have to think about it."

With that, Grandpa poured me another unheard-of drink of bourbon and I listened for another hour, strangely fascinated, as he and dad talked about the problems and quirks of the commercial egg business.

The next morning on the way to school, I cheerfully told Alecia that I'd like to take her to prom and the all-night parties afterward that had become de riguer among high school in-crowds. She looked at me solemnly, but appraisingly, and I almost expected her to cock one suspicious eyebrow at me, but if she knew about the parental intervention, she made no mention of it.

It seemed strange to me, but, leading up to the prom all the arrangements for color coordination of Alecia's dress and my accessories, and of her proposed corsage was conducted entirely through the moms, and though Alecia and I saw one another every morning, the subject never seemed to come up. We were, more or less, swept along by the tide of our mothers' planning, Alecia, because, I think, she just didn't bother herself with that kind of thing, and me because I was used to my parents making plans and major decisions for me.

The night of the prom arrived and when I went to pick her up, I was beyond stunned; Alecia was absolutely stunning. She wore a honey-bronze floor-length gown that was slit up the side to her upper thigh and was loose enough to move around showing plenty of her toned, tanned, legs. Who knew?

Her tawny hair, still moderately long at the time, was gathered in a loose chignon, and while it suggested a casual afterthought, its effect of exposing her graceful neck was genius. When we entered the ballroom of the venue where the prom was being held, there was no doubt that she was the most beautiful thing in the room. The cessation of movement, while everyone stopped to stare at her in amazed appreciation, was almost comical and approximated my reaction when I first saw her at her home.

We had a nice evening. We danced and talked to people, at least I talked to people while she mostly stood there with a placid, interested look on her face, making small responsive noises when she was spoken to, without saying much of anything at all. The only blip was when Carl Shelton apparently grabbed a giant handful of her ass and Alecia turned and slapped him so hard it sent him to his knees. Without missing a beat, she immediately turned back to the conversation that she hadn't been taking part in any way and resumed her previous politely attentive mien.

Despite that, I had a great time, and she maybe did, I guess, remaining attached like a lamprey to my arm when we weren't dancing, and making me feel like a god. Guy after guy came over to mention how beautiful she was and to wonder where she had been for all those high school years. I simply smiled and basked in the reflected glow of her glory as she simply took their tributes in stride. I half expected her to begin bestowing blessings on them and their offspring, but she only smiled placidly and nodded to each one.

After the prom was over, eight of us piled into a limo and drove the forty miles south into Atlanta where a hotel suite had been rented for us to drink and party the night away in safety. There was plenty to drink, and a music system with a preset maximum volume was supplied along with food, so we were ready to rock. Except that I didn't "rock".

Every glass of some sort of alcohol that I poured was soon, after a couple of sips, gently but firmly taken from my hand by Alecia, and either given to someone else or poured into the sink of the wet bar. I didn't understand what was going on and asked Alecia why she was keeping me from having fun.

She looked at me steadily, paused for a moment, and said, "I need to keep you sober."

I was shocked, "sober on prom, night? Why in fuck would you want to do that? I thought the idea was to come down here to party our heads off."

Heaving an indulgent little sigh, she responded, "because my research says that alcohol overconsumption can cause difficulty in maintaining an erection, and we're going to be having sex in a little while. So, I wanted to make sure you were up for your best effort."