Longings From the Past

"However, I told her there was no way I could raise another man's child, one that was a result of infidelity, especially one that... well, that clearly wasn't mine. This was before you could get paternity testing done with a blood test during the pregnancy, and none of us was willing to risk a child's life with an in utero test.

"So the three of us went into limbo. Julia and I were married but sleeping in separate rooms. Trevor was almost entirely out of our lives but waiting to see if he'd have to step up. And then you came, and that was that. My marriage was over, my best friend had cuckolded me, and I was in a job I didn't particularly care for. I applied for a master's program in California and, well, here I am."

Luisa choked out, "Oh god."

"Have a drink. Take a moment." She nodded and sipped her coffee, shaking as she tried to get herself back under control. I softly said, "This doesn't change anything about you, Luisa. Your parents still loved you. They lied to you because they loved you. You're their daughter, and your dad did the right thing."

She laughed, a short, sharp bark of a laugh. "Yeah, after he..." She shook her head in disgust. "How are you... why are you defending them?"

"I'm not defending them. I'm defending you. What they did was wrong. It was the single biggest betrayal of my life, and, until recently, the worst pain I've ever felt." I frowned. "But Sue's death totally eclipsed that pain. And even ignoring that, it was..." I laughed and gestured towards her. "It was a lifetime ago. I haven't been married to your mom for something like seven times longer than I was married to her. What kind of misanthrope would I have to hold onto my anger for that long?

"Don't misunderstand, I was bitter for quite some time. Angry at the world. Furious at your dad. I hated him. He'd stolen my wife, my life, and my chance at a child. But I came out here, and I made a new life for myself. I followed my dreams and became a professor. I met Sue, and she helped me deal with that pain. She gave me two great kids and a wonderfully happy marriage." I shook my head. "What your parents did to me was terrible. But how things ended up? I'm happy. If I'm honest? I'm probably happier than I would have been if none of it had ever happened."

Luisa tilted her head. "But you loved her so much. The letters..."

"... Were written by a kid to a kid. Yes, I loved her fiercely. Desperately. It was a love like a wildfire. Everyone should have at least one of those in their life. But wildfires burn out. If you're lucky, maybe they become something more stable. Better in the long term. What I had with Sue..." I smiled at the memory of my beloved wife. "That was the type of fire that warmed a house, one we could build a life around. Maybe the wildfire I had with your mom would have turned into that, but I sincerely doubt it. There just wasn't enough in common between us for it to work in the long term."

Luisa and I sat quietly for a time, then our food arrived. We ate slowly and in silence. When the bill came, I paid it over her protestations. She didn't protest very hard; she was still a starving college student, after all.

Afterwards, she pushed the shoebox towards me, and I pushed it back. "No. I appreciate the offer, but no. I got rid of her letters to me a long, long time ago. I don't need or want these. You keep them."

"Thank you. Not just for the letters, but for... well, for everything." She bit her lip. "Would it be okay if we talked some more later? I don't want to dredge up bad memories, but I'd like to know more about what they were like when they were young. Only if that's okay, though."

This had felt good. Telling the story to someone that needed to hear it, instead of telling it because I had to, to a therapist or so that Sue could help me with my anger. In relating it to Luisa, it felt almost like an exorcism. Or perhaps it was just that, when examining my pain now, it was so lessened that I instead found myself mostly remembering the friends of my youth and remembering them far more fondly than I thought I ever could.

But I think that, most importantly, while what had been done to me was awful, good things had come of it. My marriage to Sue. My career. My children. And, most directly, the smart, lovely young biochemist sitting opposite me. I don't believe in platitudes like "all things work together towards good," but in this case? They had.

"Sure. I'd be happy to."

Our friendship was tentative at first. I thought that we had little in common besides my past and our mutual love of literature, but bit by bit we became more enmeshed in each others' lives. Luisa was a bit of a fitness fanatic, and I began to join her occasionally for morning runs; I didn't manage to keep up very well, but she was patient. I guided her through the new realm of office politics that always gum up postgraduate scholastic careers. And, as we got to know each other better, we found additional common interests: she loved to cook, and I was a bit of a foodie; we both adored old movies from the golden age of Hollywood; our musical tastes coincided; and what turned out to be many, many more little intersections of personality and preference.

She slowly became a feature at my house, coming over at least once a week, sometimes to cook, sometimes to help Lewis with his chemistry homework, and sometimes just to spend time with my family. Then once a week became twice a week, which became three times a week.

By the fifth month that we had known each other, I could tell when something was bothering her. But on that day, the day that all of our lives changed, anyone could have seen that she was troubled. She didn't want to talk about it, but ultimately I dragged it out of her.

"He's just... when I moved in, he seemed like an okay guy. I told him I was only looking for a roommate, and he said that was okay, but now he's hounding me, saying we should be more, and..." She swallowed. "I don't feel safe there anymore. But I don't know what to do, I'm on the lease, and I'd either have to find someone to take over my end of it or pay the fee to break it, and I just don't have that money. And then I'd have to find a new place to stay, and--"

"Luisa."

"--Get together first and last month's and then I'd need to find another roommate and--"

I put my hand on hers. "Luisa." She looked up at me. "Why don't you come stay with us?"

"What?"

"I have the guest room. The kids love you. And I've had a great time with you, getting to be your friend."

Her expression was guarded but hopeful. "I... David, I can't do that. It's your home, and you barely know me. I appreciate it, but..."

I laughed. "Are you kidding? I've known you your whole life!" She blushed at that, her skin darkening just a touch. "I'm serious. Come and stay with us."

"How much do you want for rent?"

I patted her arm. "Cook dinner some nights, tutor the kids, put up with my movie choices. We'll call it even."

"David, no! That's too generous! I need to--"

My hand went up in a gesture for silence. "You need to say yes. Now, when can you move in?"

She smiled and looked at her hands. "Thank you, David. Thank you so much."

I went with her to collect her stuff. There were only a few boxes, and she was moved in later that evening; her roommate was pissed, both that she was moving out and that she'd shown up with another man. We had words; I wasn't the hotheaded youth I'd been, but I could still intimidate when I needed to, except that now I used words instead of my fists, words like "expulsion" and "stalking" and "police." He piped down, I paid to break her lease-- which drew another round of protests from her-- and we left.

The kids were, as expected, overjoyed. They would no longer be stuck with dad's cooking, for one thing. For another, I hadn't realized how much the household had lacked having a woman in it. Yes, she wasn't their mother and never could be. Instead she occupied the role of a much older sister or a young, hip aunt, dispensing advice to Dana on subjects ranging from her changing body to boys to bullies at school (which was the first I'd heard of it). For Lewis, she tutored him not just in his studies, but how to dress and talk to girls.

Luisa would cook, and I would wash the dishes; she'd sometimes join me, laughing and joking. We'd sit around after the kids went to bed, sipping wine and talking about college politics or new movies coming out. It was comfortable, and became more comfortable the longer she lived with us. It became so comfortable that, like the frog in the pot of boiling water, I didn't notice when things between us changed.

Our occasional morning runs became daily. She'd taunt me as she ran ahead, and I'd try my best to keep up. And it was on these runs that I first recognized a problem with her living with us that I hadn't before: she was absolutely gorgeous, and it had been some time since I'd been with a woman.

There are some young women that don't know the effect their beauty has on the men around them; there are others that know exactly the effect and use it to their advantage at every turn. As a professor, I'd been around both, and had unfortunate run-ins with underperforming students of the latter variety before. Luisa, though, was of the kind that knew how beautiful she was, and chose to not trade on it at all, more than the world required her to.

But when she was at home with us, and especially when I ran with her, none of that mattered. She was in skintight lycra shorts and a sports bra, sometimes supplemented with a t-shirt. As she ran in front of me, her beautiful curves enticed me, taunting me as much as her words, but towards different ends.

Luisa's voice implored me to improve my health, but her body awoke a hunger that had largely lain dormant since Sue's death. When I had time after our runs, I attended to my needs like a teenager in the shower; I had to, or I'd be thinking of her all day. When there was no time, I took a cold shower instead, but it wasn't nearly enough

I sound like a dirty old man, I know. But none of my students had ever had this effect on me. Sue and I had even tried a little roleplay a couple of times, where she was a student that desperately needed her grade changed, and she would do anything to make it happen. It felt more silly than sexy to me. In my classes, even the most beautiful of students didn't inspire the "look, but don't touch" alarm bells in my head, and hadn't since I was a teaching assistant in my twenties.

But with Luisa, I had an emotional connection. She was already in my life, and we grew closer daily. There were times when we'd be washing the dishes, and she'd hipcheck me or slide behind or in front of me, and I'd need to focus on my task to prevent the erection that began to grow. She would go out with friends, and I would be fine. When she went out on dates, I found myself getting a little jealous. Later, trying to do something about this resurgence of my libido, I would go out on my first dates since Sue passed. As I left each time, I thought I saw a hint of sadness in Luisa's eyes.

In Luisa's eyes. When we first met, I saw so much of Julia in those eyes and in that smile. When I looked at her, as time went on, it became like that optical illusion, the old woman or the young lady. I would look at her one time and see a shadow of my first love. Then I'd look again and see only the beautiful young woman that so often occupied my mind in the present.

It was unfair to her. To us. I knew it was irrational, but my longing for her felt almost incestuous. For the first 22 years of her life I could have defined her almost entirely by what she was not: my daughter. That single fact changed the entire course of my life. And yet, even though she was not my daughter, she was the daughter of someone I'd loved, someone I'd married. And while that heartbreak had long since healed, while I'd long since found and lost love again, I still felt uncomfortable when I sometimes looked in her eyes and saw the woman from my past instead of her.

She was young. She was the daughter of my ex-wife. She had a whole life in front of her, one that should be spent with someone who could grow old with her. She'd never shown an outspoken interest in me as anything more than a friend and mentor, perhaps even a surrogate father figure for the one ripped from her life. And, to top it all off, while I told myself my fondness was for Luisa, I always worried that I was projecting my feelings for Julia onto this woman that resembled her in so many ways.

I cared for her well-being. I was the responsible older man. And so I put my feelings aside and left my fantasies of her as just that, disguising my romantic affection as nothing more than platonic affection for a younger friend.

But then events conspired to remove that disguise.

The kids were at school, and Luisa and I ran, as we did each morning. Sometimes I'd run abreast of her, when she was going easy on me, but most often I'd lag behind her by a few steps. I'd learned to keep my eyes on her shoulders and head as I ran; allowing them to stray lower were the reason I started wearing basketball shorts for our morning exercise.

We stopped at the sidewalk to my house; our house now, the one she shared with my family. She was family now, really, the way that she'd integrated with us over the months we'd been together. Ten months after meeting her, five after she moved in, and she was the ill-defined but irreplaceable fourth member of our household.

She panted, "Almost caught me that time, old man."

I didn't respond, instead huffing and puffing as I tried to catch my breath. I had been nowhere close to catching her, except when she let me. But I knew that, after our time running, I was still in the best shape I'd been since I was her age.

Once inside, she tossed me a bottle of water from the fridge, then took a long pull off of hers. I slightly averted my eyes; watching her bring the long slender bottle to her lips, the way her skin glistened with perspiration, the trickle of liquid escaping down her chin, the loud gasp after drinking too deeply for too long, all brought to mind a much more intimate act.

Our post-run ritual on Wednesdays was so set by now that we didn't need to talk about what came next. I would shower while she did a little light cleaning in her room, then I'd leave for my 10 o'clock class; she would be on her way a little later and, if we had time, we'd meet up for lunch.

Patting her shoulder affectionately while walking past, I headed upstairs to my bedroom. This was one of the days when I didn't have time for more than a cold shower. It didn't help nearly enough, as usual. But I was able to get finished, get dressed, and be on my way at my usual time; I'd deal with my biological urges later.

I called out my goodbye but heard no response. Luisa regularly worked with earbuds in, so that was no surprise. However, a surprise did come as I drove to campus, in the form of a call from a colleague. One of the construction crews working on the interminable renovations of the English building had hit a gas main; half of campus had been evacuated, and there was no reason for me to come in.

I was only ten minutes down the road, so I swung back around and thought maybe I'd take Luisa out for a late breakfast. But when I came through the door, I heard her loudly calling my name, as if in distress. My laptop bag hit the floor as I ran to her room; the door was ajar, and I barreled through.

Luisa lay on the queen mattress, almost completely naked, earbuds masking any outside noise. The only scrap of fabric on her body was a pair of comfortable panties; her right hand was inside the waistband, frantically moving as she moaned and called my name again. Clenched in her left hand was a familiar sheet of paper, one of many that usually resided in the shoebox she'd brought with her the first day we met.

Her eyes were closed tightly as she gasped and groaned. "David! Oh, god, David, Oh... oh god, oh god!" That lovely body tensed, a fresh sheen of perspiration making her dark skin glisten. Her voice turned to a low series of grunts before she howled, "I love you!" Luisa trembled as her orgasm overtook her, shaking like a leaf, her right hand moving faster still as she tried to extend her climax.

She was so beautiful, easily outstripping the fantasies I'd contented myself with in the shower or in my bed late at night. I stood transfixed, unable to move, unable to even look away. Even if I'd been able, I don't think I'd have been willing. It was wrong to see her like this, I knew. But she had called my name. Said she loved me! How could I just walk away?

Then Luisa saw me, and the spell was broken. "Luisa, I--" She quickly moved to cover her nakedness, grabbing the sports bra that lay near her head.

But then she saw my arousal, the hardness tenting my pants. Mouth opened slightly, she licked her lips. "I-- I thought you were gone." Her breathing was shallow, whether from her self-love session or a new excitement I couldn't be sure.

I found it hard to form a coherent sentence. "I, uh, the, um, the school... there was a gas leak. Closed."

"Oh." She slipped the sports bra back over her head. "You..." Embarrassment etched on her face. "I didn't mean for you to see that. I'm sorry."

I could only laugh. "You're sorry? I--" I sighed. "I heard you calling my name. I thought you were... hurt, or, or I don't know. That you needed me."

Luisa slid off the bed and walked towards me, a bashful, hopeful smile on her lips. "Well, I do, actually." Her face was so close I could lean down and kiss her. "I just didn't know how to tell you. Maybe it's better this way." She closed the gap, standing on tiptoe and delicately brushing her lips against mine. "I do need you, David. I love you."

"Luisa, I--"

"Shh, David. Just let me explain?" I nodded, and she led me to sit on the edge of her bed, not quite close enough to touch. "What I told you, all of it, was true. My parents' death, how I found the box of letters, all of it. But what I didn't tell you..."

She looked down and smiled. "When I started reading them, I thought they were lovely. So sweet. The ones you wrote when you were younger were... well, they were quite rough. But so impassioned. And as you wrote more, as you got older and your love for my mother deepened..." She chuckled. "I was infatuated. Jealous, even. I'd never had someone feel like that about me. Or maybe I had, but I'd never felt like that about anyone else.

"When I got to the end and the letters dropped off suddenly, I'll admit I got a little obsessed. Why had they stopped? How had something so intense faltered? Did my mom do something to drive him away? Or were they just pretty words from a deadbeat that bailed on her? And then when I thought more about it, about the possibilities, especially about the notion that you might be my father..." A rueful little laugh and a sidelong gaze. "Well, I'll admit, that put a bit of a damper on the infatuation. But not the obsession with knowing what happened. Like I said, though, I eventually gave up and decided to live with the idea that I'd never know."

She put her hand on mine. "And then fate intervened. Or luck, or whatever you want to call it. I stumbled across that picture of you. Found out the truth from you. And it broke my heart, just a little bit. That my mother would reward that kind of love with such disrespect. That my dad would be so... dishonorable, I guess. I finally understood where the falling out with grandpa happened, I think. He was so big on loyalty to friends that his son doing that..." Luisa shook her head.

"But when I met you, and I found out the story, it made me feel... I realized my infatuation had never completely gone away, the affection for this boy, then this young man, for the way he poured out his love in these beautifully written letters. And then... and then I got to know you, really know you. The man that you'd become since you first wrote these. Kind and sweet. Generous with your time to someone you didn't know from Adam. A great dad. A devoted spouse. So intelligent. So funny."