Grandpa’s Nude Day: Past & Present

The love isn’t gone ... nor the excitement. But we’re back to our lives. We’re taking the first steps of integrating what’s happened over the previous days into the larger realities of our lives. We tease.

“Hah! And you better make sure that your nurse is in the room when that little hussy Lori comes for her first physical,” she replies to a gibe I make about not wanting her to go on any Nude Day parades when she gets back to the city.

“I’ll be a saint,” I promise.

“I bet! And make sure you don’t go to any church with that Italian girl,” she cautions.

“The Pope blessed her,” I answer with a smile.

“I’m going to have lots more questions for you,” my granddaughter promises.

“You ask too many,” I answer. I’m happy.

“Yeah right, like you let me ask any questions over the last two days.”

“It wasn’t my fault you kept wanting to put ‘Sir Joe’ in your mouth,” I teased back.

“I did not!” Amanda was grinning.

“Or between your magnificent breasts... or between your legs ... your bum ...”

“Grandma never should have sent you that Viagra.”

“You’re my Viagra,” I told my love.

“And do you know what my first question is going to be?” I shake my head no.

“I’d just like to know how long after your famous 1968 Nude Day swim with grandma did you lose your virginity? And to who? And where? What’s she look like? Do you have any pictures of her? And--”

“That doesn’t sound like just one question my dear,” I rebuked.

But then she knew. Something clicked in her brain. She knew who took my virginity. And when and where. I could actually see it in her eyes when it registered.

“Oooooh myyyyy gaaaaaaawd! GRANDMA!”

And so, as Amanda packed up and got ready to go I gave her an abbreviated version of the seduction of her virginal great uncle by her grandmother.

She had a million questions. And I suspect she would have stayed at least another couple of days if she hadn’t had a conference that she absolutely couldn’t miss scheduled for the rest of the week.

“You’ll have to come to New York for the weekend,” she insisted even as she was levering herself into the front seat of the car.

“Your cousins are going to be here,” I countered.

“Still--”

“I’ll call you,” I promised.

“Every day?”

I kissed my lover in reply.

My cell phone chirped exactly seventeen minutes after Amanda’s car had pulled away from the house.

“I have a question for you,” she says without preamble. It’s a question I’ve been expecting. It was the logical next question an intelligent person would ask.

“More questions? You’re worse than a wife,” I answered with a laugh.

“Ha, ha.” I wait. “Did grandma ever come back that summer. The summer you—“

I know what summer she means. And I know what’s she’s wondering, the thought that’s sprung into her head. Her mother had been born in May 1969. And that meant that her grandmother had been impregnated in August 1968, two months after my nude day frolic with her.

“No, she ended up in San Francisco that summer, in Haight Ashbury,” I lied. “When I got to New York in September she hadn’t returned for school. Didn’t come back til after Christmas.”

“Oh...” The line went dead.

The phone rang again ten minutes later. “You slept with her again though didn’t you? When she finally got back.”

“She was pregnant then.”

“Okay, but later, after mom was born,” Amanda insisted.

“She married your grandfather not long after your mom was born,” I countered.

“Still--”

Five minutes later my phone beeped again.

“There’s no way you two could have stopped.” She hung up before I could say a word.

Beep, beep. “We have a lot to talk about... the next time we see each other.”

‘Yes my love,” I agree.

I’m wondering what our children will look like when the phone chirps again. But this time it’s her grandmother. The mother of three of my children. But you know, that’s another story completely!

THE END

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