Cryin' in the Rain: Conclusion

"It isn't you Patty," I finally told her. "It's just that... I lo... I loved her so much... And when I see you." I sobbed for a moment. I was too choked up to go on.

"Oh Dylan," she gushed. "I never thought about it. She looks just like me. It must be torture for you."

"It's worse than you can imagine," I said. "When I see you, I see the future I was supposed to have had. I see what Gretchen would have looked like after a lot of years together, and after we had our kids and I just start to cry because I almost imagine her as being as beautiful as y..." I never got to finish. She ran out of the kitchen.

I stayed and concentrated on making breakfast for the rest of my guests. I started on the bacon because I knew with four men in the house, plus Abby, we'd need a lot of bacon. A little while later, Jimmy's mom, Carla, came in to help me. She made the batter and started turning out pancakes that were so perfect that I was sure I could never duplicate them. She made them the exact same way I did. They weren't rough and irregular like the ones my mom made.

I asked her about it, and she laughed. "Of course, I make them the same way you do, dummy," she laughed. "I taught you how to make pancakes when you were sixteen. I've just had a lot more practice than you have." She thought it was hilarious.

I remembered it then. Back when we were kids, I would have breakfast with Jimmy's family every Sunday. I loved her large country breakfasts a lot more than my mom's cold cereal and toast breakfasts. My mom didn't like to cook on the weekends. She liked to relax.

So I would go over and help her cook most Sundays. Jimmy and his dad usually slept until we called them, it had been our time together. I often told her things that I never told even my own parents. As I thought back on it, I had special times with Jimmy's dad too. It had been he who had kindled my love for working on cars. My dad used to take our car into the shop to have the oil changed and to do all the routine maintenance on it. Jimmy's dad did it all himself. I learned to do brake jobs, tune ups and everything else, and before too long I did a lot of the work on our cars too. I always called him over when I had a problem, and he was consistently glad to help.

I realized then that a big part of the reason I had turned out the way I had was because I'd grown up with the benefit of having twice the normal number of parents. That bullshit that Hillary Clinton said about it taking a village to raise a child might've had a shred of validity to it.

My mom came down the stairs after that, with a smiling Patty. They had stuck Patty's hair up in a bun so it looked different from Gretchen's and Patty was wearing glasses. She usually only wore them for reading, but they made her look different enough that it wasn't nearly as painful for me.

We all exchanged gifts most of which were mine, and we had a great morning. I had given Gretchen's parents and Abby gifts, as well as presents for all four of my parents. Everyone was having a good time until I brought us all down.

My mom was on me in an instant. "Dylan, what's wrong?" she asked.

"This is the first year; that I can remember that I haven't gotten a present for Jimmy," I said, breaking my own rule about mentioning them.

"But you hadn't heard from him in four or five years," said Jimmy's dad.

"Every year he bought him a present and put it under the tree," said Gretchen's Dad. "After Christmas, he put them all in the hall closet still wrapped because he was sure that assho... Jimmy would be back."

"At least you didn't have to waste your money on Gretchen, this year," spat Abby. "Remember last year you got her that big assed diamond bracelet, and stuck it under the tree just to distract her away from the fact that you bought her a friggin' car!" No one said anything after that.

Mom decided that all the men should go out and play golf, including me. There would be no cloistering myself up in the garage on Christmas. She even told me I could give my Mustang her Christmas presents the following day. The women would all cook Christmas dinner together.

We decided that my dad and Jimmy's dad would be partners and Bernie, and I would play together. "Which team am I on," asked Abby. We all looked at her crazily. Abby, dressed in yoga pants and a tight, light jacket did not belong on a golf course.

"I don't know how to cook," she said, "Unless it has microwave instructions. And I can't think of anything more boring than staying here all day long watching the three of them, comparing recipes, and trying to decide who gets to make the mashed potatoes."

That Christmas set the tone for the next few years. They always included everyone coming down to Florida to spend the holidays with me.

A few weeks after that first Christmas, roughly six months after I had left Michigan, I was in the garage, as usual, working, not on my car, but a friend's. I thought for a second that I'd heard my door open and close. I listened for a moment and didn't hear anything further so I stayed under the car.

Even with my creeper, it wasn't easy getting under cars in my garage. In this case, I was installing an entire exhaust system, from long tube headers all the way to polished chrome exhaust tips on a late eighties Mustang. The owner of the car started the project with me. We were upgrading many of the car's systems, but his wife was waving the flag on too many late-night garage sessions.

By ten, I had the entire left side hung and ready for the tips. I decided to call it a night and let Greg help with the other side the next day. That was when I walked into my house from the garage and pulled my shirt over my head.

"Oh... my. It's good to see you're still staying in shape," gushed a female voice. I looked into my living room to see Abby sitting there. She had her feet drawn up under her on my sofa. She had all kinds of papers on my coffee table.

There was an open pizza box and candles burning in my dining room.

"Hi Abs," I said once the surprise wore off. "What are you doing here?"

"I came down for a break," she said. "I have a three-day weekend for Martin Luther King day on Monday. I figured I would stay with you Saturday and Sunday and fly home on Monday. That way, I could escape the sub-zero Michigan temperatures for a couple of days. It's okay isn't it?"

"Uh... Yep," I said.

"I mean it's not like you're re going to have a woman here or anything, is it?" she said.

"I actually do," I said. "It's kind of an awkward situation. It's nothing permanent. She uhm, belongs to another guy and..."

"Dyyyylaaaaann," she whined, drawing my name out to at least fourteen syllables. "You aren't supposed to do things like that. I mean even though someone did it to you. My sister and your... Br... friend. I refuse to call that asshole your brother... Anyway they're worthless. But, you're a good guy. Where is this skank? Is she out there in the back? Is that what you've been doing?" She went out the back door that I had just walked in from and into my connected garage. She turned the lights on and started laughing.

"It's the car isn't it?" she laughed elbowing me in my side. She stepped down the one step between the garage and the level of the house and looked at the car.

She was wearing a very short, extremely sheer nightie, and as she bent to try to see what was going on under the car that made it necessary for it to be raised on ramps, it gave me a view of what was going on under that silky nightie.

Abby was either wearing a thong or nothing. All I could see was the fleshy half globes of her ass cheeks and after at least five months without sex, they got a reaction.

As I've mentioned, Abby is shorter than Gretchen. Her hair is blond, not red, and it's straight not curly as her sister's is. Even though she's as thin as Gretchen is, being shorter makes her appear curvier and her boobs are at least a couple of sizes bigger. As she straightened up and caught me looking at her ass, she never said a word. Her lips drew into a smile though and let's just say that her headlights turned on.

"Dylan, why is everything on this car black?" she asked. She was trying really hard not to smirk.

"It's just a style thing," I said. "A lot of people really love that dangerous, predatory look that it gives their cars."

"Well it looks stupid to me," she said. "It looks like Darth Vader's Mustang."

She took my hand and led me back into the house. We ate pizza together and drank beer. We told each other jokes, and talked about our lives. Finally, she was relaxed and we went back into the living room. She kept moving closer to me on the sofa and laughing until I had nowhere else to move. Then she wrapped her silky arms around me and tried to kiss me.

I turned my head. "Abby, you're Gret's sister," I said.

"So fucking what," she spat. "You and Gretchen are over and done with."

"Abby, it's..." I began.

"Dylan, I've liked you for a long time," she said. "You and I are both adults. I'm twenty-five years old. I have a good career as a teacher. I have my own house. I'm not living in a shitty little apartment, barely getting by like Gretchen is."

"What!" I said. "She had all the money from selling the house. She also had everything I left her in checking and savings."

"She blew a lot of it trying to hold onto that house," said Abby. "She held onto the idea that you would come back, until the bank foreclosed on it. She lost all of your equity in the house, and it fucked up her credit big time. They moved into a shitty apartment, and she's trying to work for as long as she can before..."

"Before Jimmy runs out on her again right?" I said. "Well I don't care. With both of them working, they ought to be able at least pay to their rent. I don't want to know about them."

"Bullshit," she spat. "You should have seen the look on your face when I mentioned her. Dylan you need to get over my sister. She shit on you, plain and simple. I am so tired of being compared to Saint Gretchen that I just want to puke.

Do you know what it's like growing up in the shadows? Everything Gret did was perfect. If I equaled her, in school or in anything else I would lose, it didn't matter because she had already done it first. And if I fell short; then everyone acted like it was expected because after all, she was GRETCHEN.

I was supposed to do everything like Gret did it. I went through life not doing things because I wanted to be myself. I wasn't a cheerleader because Gret had already done it. She was captain of our high school team. Guess what I competed in gymnastics. I could flip rings around Gretchen. However, if I went out for the cheer team, all I'd have heard was, Gretchen this, Gretchen that.

I came here this weekend to help you get over my stupid sister. You need this weekend as much as I do. You're too fragile, Dylan."

"I'm fine, Abby," I said.

"Dylan you should have seen your face when I mentioned her, you're not fine. That's why no one wants to tell you..." she said.

"Abby, it was me who decided that I didn't want to hear about them. As a matter of fact, I get better every day," I said. "In fact, fact I've been thinking about it, and I realize that she was always Jimmy's girl. I guess maybe it was love at first sight for all of us. I loved her as soon as I saw her. She loved Jimmy as soon as she saw him. In the same way that I've had trouble getting over her, she couldn't get over him. It's just life."

"Dylan, she's pregnant again and I'm pretty sure he's cheating on her already," she said. "It's not them, working to pay their rent. It's her. Jimmy can't or won't get a job. He claims he can't do anything involving manual labor, because of his knees. He can't do anything else because he has no education and no skills. What he can do apparently is drink beer and watch TV."

I felt my heart suddenly speed up. Blood coursed through my veins so hard that I felt like I was blowing up like the hulk. I took deep breaths and didn't explode.

"Dylan, say something," said Abby beside me.

"I hope they're very happy," I said. "They both have each other, and now they'll have a child. Maybe this is the way it was all supposed to work out."

"Yeah," she said sarcastically, "A romance written in hell with the blood and pain of the innocents. She gets a life with an asshole that is already cheating on her. Now she's tied to him by a baby and hoping he doesn't run out on her a second time. She's wishing with all of her heart and soul that you'll come back for her. I told that bitch lightning doesn't strike twice. And he's stuck with a woman he has no respect for and no love for. Shit, he hits on me every time I visit her. So as soon as she leaves the room he's leering at me. Both of them ask about you all the time. No one, not mom, or dad. me, or even his own parents will tell either of them anything about where you are. I really feel sorry for that kid. It won't have a chance."

"Abby, Gretchen is an amazing woman," I said. "If anyone can make the whole nearly single mom thing work, it's her."

"Don't start that shit, Dylan," she said angrily. "My sister is not a fucking Saint. She shits, just like everyone else. Her farts don't smell like roses. And she fucks up a lot."

I was astonished at the anger in her tone.

"Abby why don't you like Gretchen?" I asked.

"Dylan, for once look at ME," she said. "Don't look at me as Gretchen's KID sister. I'm far more of a woman than Gret ever was." She pulled the nightie over her head, and as I'd suspected was completely naked under it.

Her breasts were above average size, but on her tiny frame looked huge. Her waist narrowed in and flared outwards to rounded hips that Gretchen would never have.

"Dylan; is my sister built like this?" she asked. I shook my head.

"I can do things with you, and for you that my sister would never dream of," she gushed. "Dylan did you know that Saint Gretchen was a virgin until she turned twenty-one and met Jimmy? Did you know that she's always told me that the best sex she's ever had was always with you? You're bigger and much better in bed than he is. She asked me for a few tips to make things better for you two and..."

"What," I asked in surprise. "Why would she...?"

"Why would she ask me? Why would she ask the KID sister for tips," she laughed? "I told you we're different. Dylan my sister is awful in bed. That's why Jimmy cheats on her. She really expects every guy that she's been with, all two of you, to feel like it's an honor to fuck her, while she lays there like a beautiful blow up doll." I was stunned.

"Remember when you two had been married for a couple of years and those first awkward blowjobs she gave you? I taught her or tried to. And you should know she has never, even now, sucked Jimmy's dick... And..." she was going to continue, but I held my hand up stopping her. It was all too much Info.

She sat down, in my lap and wrapped her arms around me. Her naked body and it's smooth, warm skin, along with her wonderful smell dominated my senses even as her words caused synaptic distress throughout my mind.

"Jimmy and I are the only..." I sputtered.

"Yep, it's kind of funny isn't it," she laughed. "I've fucked literally dozens of guys; I'm sure it's over a hundred. And she's only been with two, but she's a bigger whore than I'll ever be." She laughed, and I noticed that she was slowly rubbing herself on me. She was purposefully trying to arouse me even more than I already was.

"Abby, what do you mean dozens," I asked.

"I started college late," she said. "The summer after high school, I broke my femur and patella in a gymnastics meet. Two surgeries on the femur and one on the patella plus recovery time meant that it was eight months before I was fully recovered. By then I had missed the majority of my first two semesters. I was nineteen when I first started college.

I was also nineteen when I first had sex. "I just did it out of curiosity and because everyone made such a big deal out of the fact that Gretchen didn't do it. I told you she was a Saint. Who else would forego one of the greatest pleasures life has to offer just so everyone can brag about how pure she was? All the way until she met the devil himself in the form of your... scumbag friend.

So the first year at school I fucked about twenty guys. I did the same thing the second year. Now the thing that was different about those two years was you Dylan. The first year I was just experimenting. The second year, or partially through it, I met you in Gretchen's hospital room. I liked you instantly. I say like because I know that love takes time, but I wanted you from that first second.

I had heard Gretchen bragging about Jimmy, so my dad and I came to a couple of your football games. We never met you, because you were so God Damned shy. However, neither dad nor I was overly impressed with Jimmy. Getting back to my story, when you walked into the room, I was pissed. I mean, first off, I only went to the hospital, so I could see my parents read Saint Gretchen the riot act about getting pregnant.

Gretchen had spoken to me a couple of times about me coming to your school so the four of us could double date. I had hated the idea because anyone that Saint Gretchen liked had to be as much of an asshole as Jimmy. But that first day at the hospital, your eyes told me the story. I knew that given a chance you, and I could be great together.

I was doing that thing that high school girls do. I was imagining myself as Abigail Marshall and coming up with names for our kids. But then you walked into the room, and you didn't even see me or my mom or that pretty blond nurse in the room. You only had eyes for Saint Gretchen. I had on a low-cut top and a miniskirt. My hair was perfect; my makeup was perfect. Gret was completely covered, with no makeup and looked like hell.

But to you, she was the only person in that room. My mom and dad fell in love with you right then and there. Even on the flight back all they talked about was that the two of you would fall in love while you helped her recover. They were fully convinced that the two of you would get married.

I was pissed. Gretchen had a chance at two guys. She got first pick. She took your scummy brother. You were supposed to be mine. She gave you to me. But then her asshole ran out on her, and she took you too. I hoped for the rest of that year that Jimmy would come back the way you said he would. I wanted you so badly that I started fucking guys who looked like you.

However, you ended up with Gret, so I fucked more guys to get over you. None of it mattered, Dylan. It was all just college bullshit. I neither had nor wanted a boyfriend, what I wanted, was you. I didn't sleep with guys who had girlfriends and none of it was emotional. All of my emotions were tied up in you. It was only sex. Unlike Gret, I enjoyed sex and I'm really good at it, as you're going to find out in a few minutes."

"Nope, I'm not, Abby," I said. "Abby you were always, at least as pretty as Gretchen. And you're a lot sexier. You're built better and..."

"And what," she screamed. "Dylan, I know you don't love me yet, but all I'm talking about is sex. I'm talking about you having the best two nights of your life and then deciding if you want to repeat it. I'm talking about two adults doing something perfectly legal that we both need. I think we just need to spend some time together away from Gret and your asshole friend. My parents would love it. And you can take your time deciding about whether or not you love..."

"Abby, I don't need any time for that," I said. "I already love you. I love you far more than you know. I love you too much to take advantage of you. And maybe I'm just too old fashioned but for me to do that I would have not only to love you but to be in love with you. And right now my heart is just too broken even to think about that. So let's try to have a nice weekend together and make some memories for just us."