Reunion

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When things couldn't get worse, they get a whole lot better.
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Let me start by saying that I am always willing to step up and admit when I've made a mistake. I also hate being wrong so I have a tendency to avoid situations where those words "I was wrong" would have to escape my mouth. That said, the phrase "This is stupid," kind of became my mantra as my minivan sped along the nearly deserted roads to the lake. It was too late to turn back so I let those cursed words roll around in the back of my mouth.

Every summer, Brenda, my ex-sister-in-law and very best friend in the whole wide world invites all the brothers and sisters, aunts, uncles, and cousins up to her cabin on Lake Lambert for a family reunion. I had the joy of attending fourteen of these parties with my now ex-husband and later with our two children. A bigger bunch of jerks you never did meet, but watching them all get totally shit-faced is entertainment beyond words.

I had missed the party for the past three years thanks to my lying, cheating lowlife of an ex-husband. Fourteen friggin' years I gave to that scum sucking, bottom feeding pig when he decided to check out early with the blond bimbo from the bait shop in the village. I'm not bitter or anything. Really. So Brenda, the asshole's older sister had thought it might be awkward to invite me the past few years and she was probably right. But I hadn't seen my best friend in three years and it didn't seem fair to keep the kids from seeing their grandparents and cousins and there was no fucking way I was leaving them alone in the influence of Tom the Asshole and his idiot brothers.

So here I am, driving along with two zombie children in the back seat. I swear, the day each of them turned thirteen it was like they were abducted and replaced by two alien beings that see me as some evil overlord. Kyler at fifteen has developed a great attention span... as long as you happen to be a firmly built, semi-naked blond goddess. He's decided that he wants to spend more time getting to know his father, but it seems rather coincidental that Tom becomes just as undesirable as I when Miss Bait-Bimbo 2004 is out of the house. Tova at thirteen has this look that makes you question everything that you have ever said or done. She has also cut all complete words out of her vocabulary, choosing text-messaging codes instead.

Anyway, we pulled into the driveway and I knew almost immediately that my mantra had been correct. Tom's shiny new car was parked just ahead of where I pulled in. I thought seriously about just turning around then and there, but I had just barely stopped the car when I heard two doors slam and my kids were gone. There were only about a half dozen other cars in the driveway so it seemed that I might be able to gradually immerse myself in the stupidity that was to follow. I cautiously crept around the side of the cabin straight into Brenda's outstretched arms and suddenly it all seemed worthwhile. A warmer, sweeter woman than Brenda you could never hope to meet. Our joyful reunion was cut short however with a loud bang and raucous laughter from the backyard. Brenda giggled nervously, ran a hand through her graying flyaway hair, and disappeared around the back corner of the cabin. I took a deep breath and followed.

Three middle-aged men were crouched close around a smoldering garbage can. Apparently they had taken the empty lighter fluid container from the grill and threw it into the can with a lit coal to see what would happen. How these guys ever made it this far without blowing themselves up is beyond me. Big Mike, Brenda's husband was just rushing out of the cabin with a fire extinguisher in hand and a frazzled look on his face. Brenda had the look of a pre-school teacher unable to gain control over a class of over-caffeinated toddlers. A few sprays of the fire extinguisher, a warm greeting and kiss on the cheek for me and Big Mike was back at the grill, peering over the top at the childish men with a look like a hawk.

The three middle-aged men staggered back to the semi-circle of lawn chairs set up facing the lake. The oldest of the three was none other than my charming ex-husband. And, oh look! There's Miss Bait-Bimbo 2004! The second his butt was back in the chair next to her she had her arms wrapped around him. I have to admit that I was a little pleased that he seemed more interested in blowing shit up with his little brothers than spending time with her. He was now nursing a small burn on his forearm as the other two, Rick and Rob were having a deeply philosophical conversation about boobs, ("If there were no men on earth, would women's tits all be the same size?") I'm sure this made some sort of sense in their drunken stupor, but I decided not to pay too much attention at the risk of being sucked into intellectual oblivion.

Rick was the middle child of all five of the siblings. His ideal woman, as he was sure to announce at any get together, was "Three feet tall with no teeth and a flat head." Judging by the looks of the woman on his right, two out of three ain't bad. She had no teeth that I could see from my post near the back door of the cabin and her head did look a little on the flat side. Eight or nine children of were down at the beach with my own two alien children and I imagine that at least five of them were Rick's. Rob, God willing, will never be given the opportunity to reproduce and I think I'll leave it at that. Bonnie, the youngest of the siblings had not yet arrived. Brenda said that she expected her the following day along with her parents and a few aunts, uncles, and cousins.

"I'm so glad you're here," Brenda said sincerely, taking a rare moment to sit on the back step. "Big Mike's been on the grill all day and Michael's gone in to the village to pick up a few things. You're my only link to sanity, woman!" She clutched jokingly onto my arm at this point. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all.

Ah, but it was too good to be true. The addition of a few cousins and a lot of liquor can make good things go really bad really quickly. A few more contained explosions, some really offensive jokes, and the constant parade of children rioting for attention made for a really fun afternoon. But the thing that irked me the most, and I know it shouldn't have, was the steadily rising voice of Miss Bait-Bimbo. It started with her announcing her engagement to Tom and showing off her new diamond ring (three times the size of the one he had given me, by the way, but who's comparing?). And as she seemed less and less capable of keeping the liquor in her glass, she became more and more interested in sharing every single detail of her sex life. "At least some of us know how to please a man," she stated firmly with a glance in my direction followed by a squeal of laughter. I decided at this point that it would be nice to do the dishes.

The cabin was cool and refreshing compared to the summer heat outside and I happily stood at the kitchen sink washing shiny clean holes in the paper plates while staring blankly out the window. "I'm going to go sit in the sun," Miss Bait-Bimbo announced. "It's colder than Kaye's tits over here." The boys roared with laughter. I scrubbed harder until I had only a handful of soapy pulp in my hands when a sudden voice in my ear made me jump about a foot in the air.

"You know, if there was any more plastic in that woman, we could wrap her up and sell her to a toy company," the deep voice said. I spun around, paper plate pulp flying in every direction. It took me a minute to recognize the man wiping pulp from his face. "Hello to you too, Aunt Kaye," he laughed. It was Brenda and Big Mike's son Michael. He had apparently just returned from the village and set the big paper grocery bags on the little countertop. I had to stand on tiptoes to fling my arms around his neck.

My little Michael! I had first met him at the first reunion to which Tom had brought me seventeen years ago. Michael had been three then, an adorable little boy with sandy brown hair and the brightest blue eyes. From that first meeting on, he and I were joined at the hip at every single reunion. I had watched this little guy grow to a very caring and observant boy to a painfully shy and gawky adolescent. And now here he stood, a gorgeous young man with the same sandy brown hair and the same bright blue eyes with no signs of the awkwardness of youth.

We both started talking excitedly, talking over each other but hearing every word. There seemed so much to catch up on and not nearly enough time to do it. We took a pause to catch our breath at the exact moment that Miss Bait-Bimbo was shouting, "Yeah, I heard it just shriveled up like a prune," followed by more raucous laughter. I just closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe.

"Has she been doing this since you got here," Michael asked, a small angry fire burning in his eyes. I nodded. It felt like I had been transported back to grade school where the snobby kids, or in this case the horse-faced bait girls could throw insults at will. "Want me to take care of it?" he asked. I opened my eyes. I wanted to laugh. It was just an absurd thought, having my Michael fight for my honor. But something in his face told me that if I gave him the word, he would take this bitch out in a second.

"No," I said softly. "Why don't we just take one of our walks?" As a tradition, Michael and I would sneak away each year to take a walk, just the two of us. We had the best of heart-to-heart talks. I even found myself confiding in him. On one of these walks, I think Michael was about eleven or so, we found our way to a little clearing in the woods surrounding the lake. He had gathered up a whole bunch of wild flowers, handed them to me, looked me right in the eye, and asked me to marry him. He had a similar look as just a moment ago that let me know that he was totally serious. I think I let him down easy, but our relationship was never really the same after that. We'd still take our walks, but the conversation seemed a little superficial. By fourteen, the walks had stopped and by fifteen I saw him only briefly as he greeted me politely and disappeared.

Michael smiled at the mention of our walks and nodded. I looked quickly out the window to check on the status of my children before we left. Kyler was sitting in a chair very close to Miss Bait-Bimbo, apparently hooked on her every word, but probably trying to sneak a peak down her shirt which was now covered in all the alcohol she hadn't managed to get to her sailor-like mouth. Tova was nowhere to be seen. My motherly fears kicked in as I scanned the lake from the kitchen window, searching for any sign of my daughter. Her laugh from high above let me know she was okay. There she was, hanging by one knee from a tree branch about ten feet above the semi-circle of chairs. I shouted out the window for her to get down and she quickly pulled herself upright.

And that would have been the end of it if little Miss Bait-Bimbo hadn't found the very worst thing to do. "You get down here, young lady," she slurred. "You have to listen to me now cuz I'm going to be your mother very soon." My mouth dropped open. Tova had leapt from the tree and landed with a soft thud. Miss Bait-Bimbo reached out her hand to my daughter. "And won't it be nice to have a mom so close to your own age? You know, someone who actually understands and cares about you." I grabbed the first thing I could find and headed for the door.

Michael grabbed my wrist. Brenda had just rushed into the kitchen. "What are you doing, Kaye?" Brenda asked softly as if I were some woman on a ledge about to jump.

"I'm just going to go and see how well Miss Bait-Bimbo's head fits in her ass," I said as calmly as someone reading a list of errands.

"OK," said Michael from behind me. "But why don't we leave the spatula here." I looked down at my hand. What the hell was I going to do with a spatula? So I dropped it. I was going to kill her with my bare hands. With the weapon gone, Brenda and Michael both stepped back to let me do what needed to be done. Apparently they had had enough of Miss Bait-Bimbo as well.

Now you'll be very proud of me here. I kept my cool. I simply marched up to the skank, got right in her face, and said, "Listen to me you snot-nosed, home-wrecking, worm-slinging, horse-faced, silicone-injected slut." You know how on sitcoms or movies when you have a really bad stand-up comedian with a flop of a joke? You know how the room goes silent except for the sound of a cricket chirping? Well, I swear you could literally hear the crickets as everyone turned around to see what was about to happen. "If you want to make fun of me, call me every name in the book, go right ahead. But if you ever dare to try to come between me and my kids again, I'm going to have to break your fucking neck." And I walked away.

For some reason, this did not seem to set well with the bait bimbo. "Is that a threat, you frigid old hag?" she shrieked. I chose not to respond. She knew it was a threat, I knew it was a threat, the whole world knew it was a threat, so why bother answering? I continued walking toward the cabin. "You're just upset because I can satisfy your man like you never could." Just keep walking. She made a little snorting noise that I suppose was a laugh. "Oh, I forgot. I stole both of your men."

I spun around just as she draped an arm over my son's shoulder and before I knew what I was doing I was charging toward her. Spatula or no spatula, I was going to tear this woman's head right off her shoulders. I'm sure some not-so-nice words came out of my mouth, none of which I would be proud to repeat. But no matter how fast I ran toward the bitch, I never got any closer. Suddenly the whole world swung around and I realized that my feet weren't even touching the ground.

Michael's arms were around my waist, pulling me away from the scene. "I think it's time for that walk now, Aunt Kaye," he whispered breathlessly onto my neck. I don't remember much for a while, but I know that Michael's grip on my waist gradually became gentler until I was walking on my own alongside him down the dirt road.

We walked along for a good twenty minutes, me ranting and raving about bait whores, Michael listening patiently and sympathetically. "It's just," I said with a shrug. I had been trying to avoid saying what I was about to say, but Michael was just so easy to talk to that it just seemed to slide right out. "It's like I spent fourteen years as a wife and that's over. I've been a mother for fifteen years and my children are looking for any reason to get away from me. I just feel so damn replaceable."

I walked a few more steps and was suddenly aware that I was walking alone. I turned around. Michael was standing in the road just a few feet away, staring intently at a clump of dirt at his feet. Then he looked up, an indescribable look on his face. "Follow me," he said simply. He spun on his heels and walked off the road into the woods.

We walked until the trees totally blocked any sight of the road and all the noises from the lake were muffled. Then walked until the trees thinned and we found ourselves in a field of tall grass and wild flowers. In the center of the clearing stood a single oak tree atop a small hill. I followed Michael up the hill to the base of the tree where he simply looked out at the waving grass. I noticed he hadn't even broken a sweat while I was trying to catch my breath. I sat down on the ground, my back against the tree.

After several long moments of silence, Michael said, "Do you remember this place?" I took a second look and knew it at once. "You brought me here when I was eleven. I picked you flowers and asked you to marry me." Michael still refused to look at me, but I nodded.

"It was one of the sweetest moments of my life," I said honestly. The corners of his mouth turned up in something that was almost a smile and came to sit down beside me.

"I was so madly in love with you back then," he said softly. "You never treated me like a little kid, never humored me. When I was with you, I just always felt so warm and loved and important. It's a feeling that I still have every time I think of you." He finally looked at me. "That's something that can never be replaced, not by a hundred bait bimbos, not by anyone."

I was terrified that I would just burst out into tears right then and there. I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my face in his shoulder. "You always know the exact right thing to say, don't you," I whispered, fighting to keep control of my voice. Michael's hands slid gently around my waist. I trembled. It had been so long since anyone had touched me so tenderly. He asked if I was okay and I nodded into his shoulder. I held him tighter. I felt so good to be in his arms, I never wanted to let go.

My mind and my heart began to race. This was no longer the little boy I once knew. This was a beautiful, beautiful man whom I could not see my life without. "I still love you, Kaye," his soft, deep voice whispered onto my neck, echoing through my body. I kissed him on the cheek. I'm not quite sure how it happened, but next thing I know our lips are touching in the lightest, most sensual whisper of a kiss. Oh it was exhilarating! Our mouths barely touching, it seemed more like we were breathing into each other, breathing from each other.

I wanted more. I wanted to pull him close to me, feel his body pressed against mine. I wanted to kiss him so deeply that our souls would touch. I wanted... this damn nagging in the back of my brain to shut the hell up! Instead it grew louder. And in a flash the moment was gone as a vision of Miss Bait-Bimbo with her arms around my son flashed before my eyes.

"Wait," I said, scrambling to my feet. Michael stared up at me in obvious confusion. Anxiety rose quickly and steadily. "This... we... how..." Michael got to his feet, his confusion now tinged with concern. I sighed heavily, thoroughly confused myself. "We can't... but... no, we can't... but you feel so good!"

"Slow down," Michael said kindly, putting his hands on my arms. I pulled away. I took a deep breath. Was it even possible to explain this?

"There is nothing I want more right now than to be back in your arms," I said, knowing full well that I was talking really fast. "I would love to make love right here in the grass. But how can I... how can we do... whatever the hell is happening here when the reason we're out here is because that damned bait bitch is trying to seduce my son? And here I am seducing a boy... a man... the son of my best friend... my nephew for god's sake!"

"First," said Michael. "You're not seducing me, though I would love to know what you've got in mind." I glared at him. "Okay, okay. Bad time to make a joke. Second, this is not remotely the same thing as Kyler and that whore. He's a child. I'm not. She's slime and you're the most wonderful woman in the world. And third, technically I'm not your nephew anymore. We just happen to be two adults who have known each other for a really long time."

The world was spinning. Was there really a difference? I couldn't seem to wrap my mind around it. True he wasn't a child anymore. In fact looking at him I saw the sexiest man ever. And he was in love with me! And I... How did I feel about him? I loved him, there was no question about that. I guess that was the big difference there. Miss Bait-Bimbo had no feelings for my son. Simple spite had caused her to say what she said. And Kyler, much as I hated to even think about it, was a horny fifteen-year-old boy. He had no inkling of love for this woman. But what did love have to do with anything? "Let's go back to the cabin," I said as my mind broke into a rather odd rendition of a Tina Turner song.

We walked back along the dirt road in silence, my mind still reeling and my body aching. Michael seemed distant. We arrived back at the cabin just as the sun was beginning to set to find only three cars in the driveway and a note on the door:

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