Informing Rene Ch. 02

***

Dinner was a happy and carefree affair. The food was good and the conversation easy. Covering subjects that ranged from current events to entertainment. All three gushed over live theater and while Renée thought 'Wicked' was the best thing ever, Sharon argued for 'Hamilton' while Paul held out for 'Pirates of Penzance'.

There was an argument over the bill until Renée butted in, "Dad what kind of caveman are you? This is the 21^st Century. Women can pay for dinner if they want." Paul threw up his hands in defeat. "O.K. Fine. Whatever. You'll let me get the tip?" Sharon just smiled cheerfully and put her credit card down.

***

It had been a hot summer day, but the normal off shore breezes came through as the sun went down. All three decided that a walk through the park where they met would be just the thing to settle their stomachs before they went home. Paul parked on the same block he had last Saturday and they exited the car. Sharon walked between Paul and Renée. Paul was holding her right hand in his left while her left was holding the crook of Renée's right arm. They had been walking in silent companionship for about 5 minutes when Sharon declared, "I want tell you about Jerry... and Steve."

"The Jerry you wanted to cuddle with?" Asked Renée.

"Yes." She answered.

"You can tell us anything you want to," said Paul, "or not, if you don't want. I'm not worried about your old loves. That you are here with me now is all that matters."

"What he said." Smiled Renée.

"I want to." Sharon said, "But first, I have to talk about my parents."

They were all silent for the next few steps.

"My mom and dad split up when I was 5." Sharon started. "Mom took me to live with her, I think mostly for the child support. She drank, a lot. The term they use is functioning alcoholic. She was an alcoholic, the functioning part is up for debate."

Paul looked grim while Renée gasped.

"She didn't beat me or anything like that." Sharon continued, tears close to the surface. "We had a house and food to eat. And every year we'd go to Target and buy clothes for school. But I was inconvenient. I know because she told me so, often. First day of first grade they had to call her to come get me. The next time she didn't show up I asked a kid I knew from the neighborhood if I could walk with her. When I opened the door, Mom's only comment was "Oh, good you're home. I've got to leave in a little bit."

A few weeks later she gave me a key telling me she wouldn't be home when I got there and there microwave meals in the freezer if I got hungry. After that she was seldom there when I got home from school. Sometimes she wasn't there when I left for school. When she was there, most of the time she was fucking some guy, often on the living room couch. I learned to quietly go to my room until they finished.

My dad wasn't any better. He took me every other weekend I think because mom made him. But he mostly ignored me for the T.V. He loved to watch sports. Any sport; football, basketball, soccer. He didn't like baseball all that much but he still watched it. I think he gambled on the games. But I don't know for sure. Then one weekend he just never showed. Mom called everyone she could but she could never find him.

Without the child support, money was tight but mom made enough as a secretary that she could pay the rent. And if there was no food, it was because she forgot to go grocery shopping. But there was money in an envelope so I could feed myself. When it got low I told her and she filled it up again.

Then, the summer before I turned eleven, we moved and got new neighbors. Mrs. Abagail Folsom and her husband Gunnery Sargent Gerald Folsom, retired." She said that last bit with a grin and a gruff voice.

"Abby and Jerry became the parents I should have had. I spent every moment I could at their home. I ate dinner there near every day. Sometimes breakfast too, I'd get up, get dressed, go to their house and Abby would make me food. There were always afternoon snacks, too.

After dinner Jerry and I would play games while Abby knitted. When I insisted that Jerry teach me how to play poker, it took him three games to figure out Abby was sitting behind him looking at his cards and telling me how to bet with a shake or nod of her head. Sometimes it was checkers or other board games, monopoly with all three of us. I still slept in my own bed, mostly. Sometimes I fell asleep on Abby's couch. Abby bought me some clothes that I kept in a box in the closet so I could shower and change before school. They never had children you see and I think, in their minds anyway, they adopted me. And I loved them both with all my heart.

Mom didn't care. She had met Abby and Jerry several times and like them well enough. She was happy to give up the responsibility of feeding me. Although she did reminded me that there was still money in the drawer if I needed it.

I mean she did try to do what she felt moms should do. She just felt that food, clothing and housing was the extent of the duties of a parent.

For five years I had the perfect family even if they lived next door. Then Abby got sick. She was tired all the time, often falling asleep in her chair. Finally Jerry convinced her to go to the doctor. The doctor said it was cancer. Apparently a very aggressive form and it was very advanced when they diagnosed it. Jerry and I were at the hospital every day we could be. She lasted six months.

Sometimes I dream about the night we got the phone call. I had been sleeping on the couch when I heard Jerry's phone go off. I sat up and felt a crushing weight in my chest. Then Jerry cried out. I hardly remember getting up from the couch or climbing onto his bed. I do remember wrapping my arms around him and him sobbing in concert with me.

The weeks after the funeral are hazy. I got up, I went to school, came home. And by home, I mean Jerry's house. But nothing felt real. Jerry and I kept each other company. Neither of us had a lot to say. But that didn't matter, we were together. We grieved.

I was drawn to Abby as a daughter to her mother. But Jerry I put on a pedestal. Jerry had taught hand to hand when he was in the Marines. And although he was retired, he still worked out every day. I use to watch him hit the heavy bag in the garage and was absolutely positive, that if he wanted to, he could punch so hard the bag would fly across the room and imbed itself into the wall.

When he did his Kata in the back yard. It was a beautiful, graceful dance. In my imagination he destroyed whole armies with his bare hands. He was the strongest, bravest and most dangerous man I had ever met. He was also the most generous, loving and kind. That..." Sharon brow wrinkled as she searched for the words she wanted.

"Dichotomy" supplied Renée.

"Dichotomy?" queried Sharon.

"It means two opposing aspects." It was Renée's turn to screw up her face. "Well, kinda."

"Then yes, dichotomy. That dichotomy meant I was perfectly safe when I was with him. I knew he would destroy whoever tried to hurt me and would never, ever do anything to hurt me himself. But my hero was gone. In his place was this old man I barely recognize as Jerry. He wouldn't eat, hardly slept and walked around like he carried a 1000 pounds on his back. I was frightened but Jerry needed someone to take care of him. I did everything just as Abby would have. I washed the laundry and cleaned the house. I bullied Jerry to take us grocery shopping and I used my meager cooking skills to make meals that I had to convince him to eat.

I also, subtly, tried to remove some of the indications of Abby being gone. I put her knitting out of sight and collected the mail so I could throw out her magazines before Jerry could see them. I tried to move her chair but Jerry kept moving it back.

About six months after Abby died, I came home and heard him on the bag in the garage. When I opened the door, he didn't even look in my direction. I watched him for a few moments before going back inside to do homework. When I came back an hour later he was sitting on the chair slouched over. His hands were still taped up and there was blood on his knuckles. When I walked over to hand him the glass of water I brought, he looked up and smiled. I wanted to scream and laugh and cry. I didn't though, I just handed him the water.

That smile looked just like my Jerry. Sad yes, but I knew that Jerry was back. "Thanks sweetheart." He said.

I knelt down before him, took the hand that wasn't holding the glass and started to unwind the tape. I motioned for him to switch hands and freed the other. When I finished I held on to his thick fingers, not willing to loose contact so quickly. He closed his fingers, trapping mine as I looked up at him. He studied me for a moment. "I'm sorry, Sharon." He said sadly. "You loved her too."

"Yes, I loved her." I said softly, looking into his eyes. "And I love you. You've worried me. Are you O.K.?

He took a big breath, staring off into nothing. "O.K.? No, not really. But I'm better. Thank you for taking care of me."

I kept my voice soft, "I would take care of you forever, if you needed me to."

His face firmed into the angles and planes that I recognized and he stood up to his full height without ever releasing my hand, pulling me up with him. "I know you would." He said sounding more like himself, "But let's see if we can make it less necessary." He smiled at me, "Let's go out to dinner tonight. We can go to Olive Garden, if you like."

Without releasing his hand, I used my other to hug his bicep to my cheek. "I love Olive Garden!" I squealed.

After that I would sometimes catch him looking sadly at Abby's spot at the table or her chair where she used to knit. But then he would stand straighter and turn in my direction. The joy that sprang into his face when our gazes met made me swoon inside. I went from a lonely, unwanted child to someone who brought happiness just by being there. I didn't have to do anything or be anything. I just had to be seen. It only made me love Jerry more.

Over the years my relationship with my mother had changed. Shortly before the Folsom's moved in, one of her fuck buddies grabbed me as I tried to get past them. Mom jumped up and started screaming and I ran away. After that Mom stopped bringing men home. I'm sure she still fucked them, just not at home. That meant that for about two years or so she and I saw very little of each other. I was with Abby and Jerry and she was wherever she was.

As I entered high school that began to change as well. First, she was home more and more often whenever I returned. About half the time she was passed out on the couch. The rest, she was this slurring drunk trying to be my friend. Honestly, I didn't know how to deal with it. I put minimal effort into talking with her and retreated to my room as quickly as I could.

I still made her buy me school clothes though. I thought it a fitting reminder that she actually did have a child, even if she was a horrible inconvenience. The spring after Abby died, when I told her that I needed some new clothes, she threw a tantrum. She screamed all kinds of mean and nasty things at me and threw the lamp before collapsing on the couch, sobbing how I never spent any time with her and how lonely she was. I didn't know what to do, I had never seen her that way. Although to be fair, I hadn't spent much time with her the past few years and hardly any since Abby died. Maybe this was her normal behavior.

I ran to Jerry and told him how my mother had acted and how frightened I was to be around her. He got the strangest look on his face. Then stared at me like he had never seen me before.

"Jerry?" I asked. "Are you alright?"

"You know I'm still having a hard time with Abby's passing, right?" He responded with a distracted air.

"It's only been a year." I said earnestly, "You're getting better. We've talk about this, we should donate Abby's clothes and maybe redecorate. It will make things easier."

"I don't think that will be enough." He said sadly.

"What would be enough?" I was eager to help him in any way I could.

"I think I have to sell." Jerry said flatly.

"Sell what?" I asked confused.

"Sell the house." His voice was quietly desperate.

"You mean you're going to leave me!" I cried. "You can't. I'll die."

"I want you to go with me." He said gently.

"I'll be 18 in a six months. We can go then." I sniffled.

"That was my original plan." He said. "But I bet we can go sooner."

I was excited at the prospect. "You mean run away?"

His voice turned grim. "I'd rather do this legally. But I have considered that option."

My confusion returned. "How can I leave legally if I'm not yet eighteen? You can't adopt me."

"I don't need to adopt you. I just need your mother's consent. I need to talk to your mother." He was still grim.

I deflated, knowing that getting permission was unlikely but still not willing to give up the chance. "Not tonight. She's passed out by now."

"Not tonight." He agreed. "I need to talk to a lawyer first."

First we had to get Mom to agree. I don't know everything that Jerry said to her. I know we threatened to take her to court, have me declared an emancipated minor citing her years of neglect, because I was there for that. I also know, because Jerry told me when I insisted, that money changed hands. She sold me, for five hundred dollars. But I didn't and don't care, I was better off with Jerry." Her tone put a lie to that statement.

"We decided on California as a destination," Sharon continued, "and started house shopping online. We left with our clothes, pictures and one duffle that Jerry kept from his years in the Marines. Everything else got sold, given away, donated or tossed."

The story had taken them all the way around the park and now they moved to a bench to rest.

"Is that the same house you have now?" asked Paul.

"Yes." Sharon responded with a sigh.

"You had a relationship with your adoptive father?" Asked Renée. "Is that why you encouraged me?"

"We didn't have the kind of relationship you think we did." Said Sharon a little put out. "And I helped you, because I saw how much you loved each other and knew it was only stupid rules that kept you separate. You aren't children. No one is being coerced." Then with a smile for Paul. "Only willingly seduced."

Sharon took a moment to collect her thoughts before continuing. "We moved into our new house the middle of August. We never register at the local high school and now I didn't want to. I argued that school already started and I could miss a year of school and go next year. Instead Gerald bought me a laptop to match his and found an online program for me to get my GED.

It was supposed to be a six week program but I wasn't enthusiastic about school and online it is easy to slack off. Shortly after my 18^th birthday Jerry pushed me to finish, "You're an adult now." He said, "You need at least your GED. Just do it. Get it finished and you'll never have to worry about it again."

I didn't like it but I didn't want to disappoint Jerry. So when he left to go golfing I got my laptop and sat down at the kitchen table. When I opened the lid I was surprised that the web browser was open to a porn site. It was then I realized I had grabbed Jerry's laptop instead of mine.

I wanted to close it but I was captivated by what I saw. So much that I never heard or thought of. I started to click around, looking at the different categories. One thumbnail showed a woman with all three holes filled. She was sweaty and nasty and her makeup was running down her face. When I viewed the clip, I was repulsed and fascinated at the same time.

I pulled up the browsing history to see what kind of porn Jerry watched. Women masturbating seemed to be what he sought out the most, although there was a fair share of other categories too. I did notice that he liked them blonde and big titted. I suddenly gushed and soaked my panties, they all looked like me! I closed the laptop and ran to my room. My clothes couldn't come off fast enough. Needless to say, I didn't get any work done that morning.

Now that I knew what he liked, the thought of him watching me jill off was on my mind constantly. The more I thought about it, the more turned on I got. I stopped wearing a bra when I was home. I bought shirts that were a size too small and the shortest short shorts I could find. I shaved clean because it showed my camel toe better. Jerry never said anything but I caught him looking. I found this bikini that was all strings with three pieces of cloth to cover me. The grin on his face when he first saw it was very satisfying.

I was desperate to lose my virginity but Jerry wouldn't do anything. One night I was in bed when I made the decision to go to him. I had stopped wearing pajamas weeks ago so had nothing to remove when I left my room for Jerry's. He woke up when I climbed into his bed.

"Sharon? What are you doing?"

I kissed him. "You know what I'm doing."

"Sharon. I can't."

"Jerry," I said with asperity, "I love you and I want you and I'm over eighteen. I've seen the porn you watch. You jerk off to women who look just like me. I'm offering you the real thing. I know it will be so much better. You know I'm on birth control to regulate my periods, you don't have to worry about getting me pregnant. You can teach me everything and I will never deny you."

"You don't understand. I can't." He repeated almost in tears.

I started to beg, "Please Jerry. I don't want some bumbling adolescent taking my virginity. And you're lonely. Please let me help you. And you can help me."

"Sharon, sweetheart." He said softly, "There is nothing I would like to do more than lay you down and help you remove the burden of your virginity. But I physically can't." He paused "You remember those scars on my leg?"

I was confused. "Of course. You said you got caught on the edge of an IED."

"I did get caught by an IED. There are more scars, higher up. You wouldn't see them unless I'm naked. I took some shrapnel that affected my ability to get an erection."

"We can get those pills they advertised." I said desperately.

"No." He said sadly, "There's nerve damage. There's no way to fix it."

I was even more confused now, "Then I don't understand why you watch porn if you don't jerk off to it."

"Because I still like to look at naked women." He said with a smile, "It's the only sexual pleasure I have left."

"What about when Abby was alive?" I asked.

"What about it?" He was being purposely obtuse.

"You know." I said exasperated.

"Abby would masturbate and I would watch her. We both found it pleasurable." He admitted.

"I would like to masturbate for you." I said decisively.

"Sweetheart," he said, "you should be with boys your own age. Find a husband, have kids."

"I'm not ready for any of that." I said with a smile, "Right now I have something else to do." I laid down on the bed and spread my legs.

The next night I left my bedroom door open and made sure to be naked and rubbing my pussy when he walked by. He stopped, watch me get off then walk away without a word. It became a nightly ritual.

We were watching TV in the family room one night when, on the spur of the moment, I slipped my off shorts and panties and started masturbating. He watched me out of the corner of his eye the whole time. After that I stopped wearing clothing around the house except when I was on my period and even then I would only wear panties. I would masturbate whenever I felt like it and he would watch. I would find reasons to bend over in front of him so my pussy and asshole were on display. I told him my nipples itched as an excuse pull and stretch them.

I learned he liked to touch almost as much as he like to watch. I would push my tits into him or sit on his hand and rub my clit on his fingers. He was the first to play with my asshole. Lubricating and stretching it with his big fingers.