Aunt Edna's Needs Ch. 01

Preface

I always thought my aunt Edna, well, actually, my great-aunt Edna since she's my grandmother's sister, was a tightly wound frump, to use the word that floated around sixth grade for a while. With her hair in one of those curled/bound piles on her head, her clothes with the blouse buttoned at the neck and barely an ankle showing, her general lack of showy jewelry, and her whole "I'm so holy" demeanor. Not to mention that uncle John was a preacher noted for his old-fashioned "fire and brimstone" sermons.

I always kind of liked the energy of their Friends in Christ Saviour church with the thumping and the singing and him all red-faced and hollering "HALLELUJAH." Aunt Edna would be sitting in the front row throwing up her hands with the rest of them. And sing. Goodness, she had a voice that made you think of Grace Slick with its purity and pure power.

My summers in that small town were so different from my city life. It was like I was at an extended summer camp. I learned to swim when I was 8 at the municipal pool and that's where I was at least 6 days a week unless it got a bit cold. I learned to shoot at 10 from uncle John and then to drink whiskey in an old pickup truck at 14 from my uncle Chet. It was, all in all, pretty darn cool.

When my mother's liver gave out when I was 16 I wasn't sure if I'd be sent to live with one of them or just go into a life of crime, the path I was clearly on. But fate, or paternal instinct, kicked in and my dad, who I hadn't seen in probably 8 years, showed up and took me back to Chicagoland. From being an only child, I was transported into a situation where I was one of five brothers. But I survived, actually graduated High School which kind of surprised me, and then enlisted in the Air Force.

I was in the Air Force for four years. One year was in Texas going to tech school. Then three years in northern Japan. I was in discussion with the National Security Agency (yes, THAT NSA) about a job but decided that I'd rather go to school.

And that is how I wound up back in small-town Colorado.

Chapter One

I felt silly knocking on the door. I had always pretty much been free to come and go as I pleased. But it had been six years since I had seen any of these folks and so I thought I'd better mind my manners. So I knocked and stepped back and waited.

When she came to the door she literally hadn't changed a bit. She was dressed in a dark dress with a fine little print in the material. The collar was buttoned to her neck and the dress was well below her calves. And that hair, that wonderful pile of hair on her head was still the same odd combination of frumpy and sexy I had always found it to be.

I could see the dawn of recognition and then she threw open the screen door and she was in my arms, hugging me and kissing me, and damned if I didn't have to sort of squirm around to keep my sudden erection from being obvious.

"DAVEY," she said, stepping back to look at me and suddenly smacking me with a hard punch to the shoulder, "FIVE years without so much as a LETTER?!"

I tried to look sheepish, which wasn't hard since I felt sheepish.

"I'm sorry," I said, looking her right in the eye so that she would know I wasn't lying, "I should have written, I know, but it was, well, you know, not a good time."

She started to say something but I held up my hand.

"Aunt Edna," I said, still holding her eyes, "I was an asshole and I am terribly sorry. Please," and I reached and took both of her hands in mine, "accept the apology of a known asshole."

As I had hoped, that drew a smile, that wonderful wide smile of hers showing those slightly gapped front teeth that made her merely pretty and kept her from being truly beautiful.

And suddenly there were tears welling in her eyes and then she was in my arms, crying softly against my chest. I held her, my hands lightly on her back, gently rubbing. I had no idea why she was crying, but she obviously needed the comforting and to be honest, I'd had a bit of a crush on her as a kid.

When the storm had passed and she looked up at me again, eyes red, mascara and makeup streaked, nose running I couldn't resist kissing her lightly on her lips and then taking her into my arms again.

"What's the matter aunt Edna?" I asked.

She sort of laugh/coughed and a felt wetness on my chest.

"Your aunt is a crazy old woman mostly is the matter," she said, giggling a little against my chest.

We stood like that for a few minutes while she cried herself out. And it felt kind of good. That thick mane of her hair was a little stiff with the spray she used to keep it in place. And, well, honestly I liked the way we fit together.

When the storm had passed and she quit crying she turned away, hiding her face.

"Oh God, don't look at me Davey but come in and sit down while I clean myself up," she said.

I chuckled, picked up my duffel bag, and followed her into the house. As she went to the bathroom I went to the bedroom I had always used and tossed my bag on the bed. Then I raided her refrigerator (her icebox she would call it) and got a glass of the iced tea I knew would be there and the little Tupperware bowl of sliced onions and cucumbers in vinegar that I also knew would be there. I sat at her kitchen table, listening absently to KOA out of Denver on the radio, drinking the tea, picking out cucumber slices and onion rings, and feeling like I was 13 again.

When she came into the kitchen her face was scrubbed and, for a wonder, her hair was down. It was spectacular too, thick and light brown well streaked with grey, hanging halfway down her back. She had washed her face but hadn't redone makeup and I thought that she actually looked better than she did all made up.

I smiled and said, "now, you wanna tell me what that was all about?"

She smiled weakly.

"Oh, nothing but silliness Davey," she said.

"I don't know that I ever saw you cry before aunt Edna," I said, "so give."

"Oh, I'm just being a silly old woman is all. It's just that I wish you had been able to make your peace with John. He was angry with you right until the end," she said.

I was stunned. I hadn't really thought about it but I figured that aunt Edna and uncle John were in their 60s, tops. And he'd always been one of those big, solid, permanent fixtures in the world. I was having trouble getting through the idea that he was dead.

"When? What? God. I didn't know," I stammered.

She sort of smiled weakly at me and said "Damn fool got himself electrocuted."

"Oh God," I said, "I'm sorry."

And she gave that throaty little chuckle of hers. "Not your fault Davey. I told him he was too old to be climbing on those poles but would the fool listen to me? Noooooo," and the way she said it made me laugh and that made her laugh and we were sitting there, looking at each other and laughing like a couple of idiots.

I finally got myself under control, and she did too.

"Thank you, Davey," she said, still stifling her giggles, "I needed that."

With the big news out of the way we sat and talked and reminisced. I caught up on the rest of the family. Cousin Margie was married, divorced, married, and divorced and now a single mom with four kids living two towns over. Cousin Bevvy was the town clerk. And so on down the roster.

And before long I realized it was getting dark.

"Come on toots," I said, "let me take you to dinner. Maybe I'll get you drunk and take advantage of you."

She giggled and said, "let me have ten minutes honey."

It took her 15 minutes but it was worth it. She was a vision. Hair and face perfect. Her blouse was still buttoned to the neck but had lace trim and her skirt was only a little below her knees. And to my amazement, she had high-heeled shoes on and they did very nice things for her legs.

I opened the door for her and liked her little smile when she saw my little car. The blue PT Cruiser Convertible is fun and actually pretty sensible. I offered my hand as she got into the passenger seat and then trotted around to the driver's side.

"Top down?" I asked as I got in and she actually grinned at that.

"Sure," she said and giggled a little as I flipped and twisted the release handle and hit the switch to lower the top. And she laughed out loud when my stereo kicked in, my I Heart Radio station hitting on Dion and the Belmonts doing Runaround Sue. When Lesley Gore started on You Don't Own Me she started singing along and her voice captivated me.

I took her to the only restaurant in town and when we walked through the door she was greeted by pretty much everyone in the place. I was surprised to realize that I recognized a few of the people and as we made our way to the table to which the hostess was leading us I exchanged a few words with several people.

We sat and I ordered a beer and asked if she'd like a drink. I was surprised when she asked for a beer herself. When she saw the look I gave her she said "WHAT?! Davey, this is the first time I've been out in over four years, I think I deserve a beer."

I laughed and threw up my hands. "No mas," I said chuckling, "besides, I told you I was gonna get you drunk."

And she giggled and for that instant, I could see the 17-year-old girl she had been on her wedding night.

Dinner was basic home cooking. Anything fancy would require a trip to Limon at least, but Denver would be more likely.

It was interesting having an "adult conversation" with her. After all, I had run to her with my stubbed toe when I was a kid and had only been 16 the last time I saw her.

And it turned out she was an interesting conversationalist. We shared many views. Our politics were similar, with her almost as wild-eyed conservative as I. We agreed that it was a good idea to keep a gun handy at pretty much all times. And we laughed. Often. And often loudly.

Before I knew it we had four beers and a healthy portion of meatloaf in us and she was getting the giggles.

I laughed and asked the waitress for a check, paid, and offered aunt Edna my arm as we headed for the door. She was obviously at least tipsy. Not falling down drunk, but she was at least "lit."

"So," I said after helping her into the car and getting in myself, "would you like another drink, or have you had enough?"

She giggled a little and said, "I think my reputation has taken enough of a beating for one night."

I grinned at her and headed back to her house. Once again she sang along with the oldies on the radio and when I looked over at her she was smiling broadly and that wonderful hair was flying in the wind.

I helped her out of the car and held her hand as we walked up onto her porch and then opened the door for her. It's small-town living and nothing was locked as usual.

Inside she turned to me and said "Thank you, Davey, I had a wonderful time tonight."

I smiled and bent to kiss her lightly.

"And so did I," I said, holding her hand for a moment longer. "It's been a long day and I think I'll pack it in."

I gave her another quick peck and went into the bathroom, did my business, washed my hands and brushed my teeth, and went into the bedroom I thought of as "mine." I unloaded the duffel, putting my few clothes into the closet and chest of drawers. Then I got out my Kindle, turned out the light, and started my going-to-sleep "process."

I started reading my current Jack Reacher novel, "The Killing Floor" if it matters, as my first step. Jack was as bad as ever and the bad guys were going down. I got up and went into the bathroom for the second and final time, completing that part of my "process" and then back to bed, laying on my other side, to read until I started falling asleep.

I didn't hear her so much as I became aware that she was standing in the door.

The lights were off but between reflected street lights and the various lights filtering in, I could see her standing there in that flannel nightie that covered her from throat to ankles.

"What's up?" I asked, looking up from my book and blinking the sleep from my eyes.

She took a hesitant step into the room and I could tell she was crying again.

I stood and went to her. It's a good thing, I suppose, that I sleep in my boxers.

"What's wrong?" I asked, taking her into my arms.

She wouldn't look up at me.

"Davey," she said softly against my chest, "can I sleep with you?"

When I didn't say anything for a few seconds she said "we don't have to do anything if you don't want to."

I couldn't resist a little chuckle at that.

"You make it sound like it would be a 'chore' to 'do something' with you," I said, "and it wouldn't be. But come with me and sit down for a minute."

I led her into the kitchen and sat across the table from her, reaching across and holding her hands in mine.

"What do you think you want?" I asked.

She finally met my eyes.

"God Davey, I don't know. It's not like I planned this or anything," and she looked at me with tears streaming down her cheeks.

I squeezed her hands and said "okay, here's the deal. You and I are sleeping together tonight and nothing is going to happen. We'll talk tomorrow, when we're both cold sober, and decide what, if anything, will happen."

I grinned and stood and helped her to her feet and then led her into the big feather bed in her bedroom. I held her hand while she got into bed and then went around and climbed in beside her. I snuggled close and took her into my arms, lightly kissing her tears away. We fit nicely, I thought, and as I was settling in, lightly stroking that wonderful mane of her hair I could feel her settle, and soon she was snoring softly.

I had never actually slept with a woman in my arms before, but it felt natural and soon enough I was drifting off myself.