On Sabbatical

"Oh, don't get me started, Carrie Ann." They both laugh.

After lingering a few minutes more, Emily downs her last sip. "Well, I better go. Your father might walk in here any second and I don't—"

"Speak of the devil," Carrie Ann says upon hearing the door open. Raising her voice, she says, "I'm in here, dad. Mom's here too."

They stand to greet Roland who wears his gym attire, blue shorts and a full zippered matching long-sleeve top. Cautious and tentative, he says, "Emily, nice to see you. Are you still staying with Deb?"

"Actually, I stopped to see Carrie Ann on my way home."

"We talked things out, dad. Maybe you and mom should do the same."

Seconds of knife-cutting tension pass. Then Roland speaks up. "I'm willing. Are you, Em?"

She shrugs and sighs. She feels better now, much better than she did the night she left for Debbie's. She can at least look at him, even talk to him without wanting to smack him. "I'll talk, Roland, but I'm not sure what there is to talk about, what there is to resolve. I'll never be okay with this, and Carrie Ann knows it. That said, I can love Carrie Ann unconditionally. She's let me back into her life." Tearing up, she throws her arm around her daughter. "And I'm very grateful. But I can't live with you on a permanent basis under these circumstances. Her I can forgive. You, not so much."

"I understand," Roland says. "Well, to say the least, we've got a very complicated situation here. Let's return to the house where we can be alone, where we can talk things out."

Carrie Ann nods. "Good idea, dad. Mom?"

Emily smiles warily. "It can't hurt, I guess. Besides, the house is still in both our names. You have as much right to be there as I, Roland."

Emily leaves first. After packing up, Roland follows. Carrie Ann is alone to ponder. She peels off her sweaty running attire, then jumps into the shower. The warm water sooths her tall, athletic body. She'd like to see her parents stay together. But that would mean giving up the fireworks, this incendiary thing she's got going with Roland. She doesn't want to give it up. She wants it to continue. She's thinking selfishly and it makes her feel bad. But still...

Oh shit, she's getting hot just thinking about it, about being astride Roland's lap and about that time they did it in the office. She rubs her breasts, slips a finger into her vagina. "Geez, dad, fuck me harder," she cries out loud. "Make love to me as only you can." She applies shampoo to stay lubricated as the jets pour over her. Her imagination runs vivid and wild and in no time she finds herself crying out in her climax.

Stepping from the shower, she wraps herself in a towel, then pads into her bedroom and sits on the edge of her bed. Grabbing her cell from the night table, she punches in Roland's number and gets him on the second ring. He's still driving, he says, but he'll put her on speaker.

"Listen dad, I called to say I'm hoping that you and mom can work things out. And if the only way that's possible is to cease what we're doing, then I'm willing if you are."

"We're on the same page, honey. Your mom and I have been together over twenty-five years. We have too much invested not to try, lots of emotional equity that's worth preserving. Of course, I'd be less than honest if I didn't acknowledge how tempting it is to carry on with you. Just seeing you in the office every day, staring at those long, gorgeous legs of yours or simply listening to the smart, eloquent way you frame an argument all spruced up in your natty business suit can get me going."

She crosses her legs and lets the towel drop to the bed. "You're not making this any easier for me." She pauses to make sure she hears what she thinks she hears. "Dad, are you breathing heavy?"

He laughs. "I'd be lying if I denied it." Pause. "Listen, we're two intelligent people who should be disciplined enough to do what's right. Right?"

"Roger that."

"So let's keep that in mind. We'll be on sabbatical, think of it that way."

"On sabbatical. The door isn't closed, in other words."

"It's closed, just not locked."

She smiles while she rubs the tops of her bare thighs. "I love your metaphors, dad."

"See you in the office tomorrow," he says, then hangs up.

Minutes later, he arrives at the house. Just days ago he didn't think he'd ever set foot in that house again. He sees Emily's car in the driveway. His good wife Emily is willing to give him another chance. He wants to do right by her, has every intention of doing so. He feels good about that. Feels good also about that door, closed but not locked.