My Father Visits Ch. 12

"But my dad, on the other hand," I commented, with a wry smirk.

"Well..." she frowned. "It's not like that was a plan. I mean, I *did* think that sleeping with your dad would be the ultimate way to play the cuckolding game. And I do think he's less likely to go wacko, try to break us up, or bully or blackmail you, than some rando. But, yeah, I just didn't appreciate how this whole... psychological aspect... like, your de-evolution, reverting to adolescence... deconstructing your dad, remaking him into this different person, the alpha figure you never had..."

"Is that what we're doing?" I asked, although I had to admit none of her perceptive observations were anything that hadn't already occurred to me.

She shrugged. "I don't think you'd be reacting like this if I was just boffing one of the neighbors."

I agreed, but continued to just lie there and let her stroke my face.

"Are you having regrets?" she finally asked. "Do you wish we had never started down this path?"

"No," I responded quickly. Then, more thoughtfully, "No, I really don't. I don't know. I guess the scary thing was thinking my dad may never look at me the same way again. And maybe he won't. But it doesn't feel like we've done irreparable damage..."

"Uh huh," Michelle agreed. "And honestly, I think your dad is... well, let's just say I think he's a lot more self-confident these days."

"Yeah," I said. "So do you really think he's out banging a teenager this afternoon?"

"Dani's almost twenty," Michelle clarified. "But... I wouldn't be surprised. She's definitely got some kind of rebellious/rivalry thing going on with her mom."

Is that a thing, I wondered? I looked at my wife briefly tried to imagine her at nineteen, boinking some sixty-year-old man that her mom wanted to date, just to spite her.

"Anyway, what do you think's more likely?" Michelle added. "They're at the Chagall exhibit at the art museum? Or hotel out by the airport?"

She reached over and patted my hand. "Anyway, I'm not worried about losing your dad to Dani."

I chuckled, and suddenly had an image of myself as the best man at my dad's wedding... to his magenta-haired bride in hiking boots. And that made me laugh out loud. My wife asked what was so funny, so I told her. She smirked, and then added, "Best man? Or ring bearer?"

I rolled my eyes. "Still," I commented. "It's a step toward the inevitable."

"I suppose so," Michelle said. "Well, I said all along, if we wanted to play this game, we needed to do it before your dad got serious and settled down."

We were both silent for a moment. I thought about what I wanted to say, and suddenly pictured the scene in "Apocalypse Now" with Robert Duvall as the surfing lieutenant. Right after he gives the famous speech about "I love the smell of napalm in the morning." He then says, "Some day this war is going to end..." and trails off wistfully. Absurdly. I realized that's how I felt. So I told her that, too.

"Don't borrow trouble," my wife said, soothingly. "I don't think we're there yet."

"I just worry sometimes... this has been so intense, so much hotter than anything we've ever done before. It's like... am I always going to need some harder drug to get the same high? How are we ever going to match this?"

Michelle looked at me, thoughtfully. For a very long time. Then she spoke.

"Well... we've always got your brother..."