The Unexpected End Of Love

"Dad, are you ok?" Jennifer asked, her voice full of concern.

"Yep," he answered, "I'm ok. When do expect to get here and do you want something to eat?"

"Probably about 30 minutes and we can order in later if we get hungry," Jennifer said.

Dexter made his way back up to their bedroom, thinking that soon he would have to think of it as only his bedroom. The machines continued their beeping and pinging like nothing was changing, only Dexter knew it was, minute by minute. He stood over the bed, looking down at Jen. There was almost nothing left of her, of who she really was. So thin and frail now, hair thinned to wisps, but he still saw her. The real her. He checked his watch. Another hour before the hospice nurse was due. Dexter sat in the big brown chair, exhausted inside and out, wondering how long it would be until he could follow her and what would happen to Jennifer when he did.

He reached down and stroked her cheek. For all these years, 22 of them, that was how they comforted each other. He wished more than anything that she could run her wonderful fingers across his cheek right now, look him in the eye and sooth him. He reversed his hand and let the backs of his fingers re-trace the path. The phone rang again, setting off a sprinkle of irritation for interrupting his time with Jen. The caller ID said it was Jen's brother, Oswald.

Dexter answered the call, "Hey Waldo."

"Any change?" he asked Dexter.

"Nothing unexpected," Dexter said, "Jennifer is on her way and should be here in a couple of minutes."

"I can't believe this shit. I can hear the medical stuff in the background. How you doing, man?"

Dexter glanced across Jen at the stand that held the Dilaudid drip and the vital signs monitor, beeping, beeping... "Ok, I guess. I will be nice to have Jennifer here. It's hard to do this alone, but life has to go on, right?"

Dexter could hear Waldo's voice shake, "I'm sorry I can't be there, it will take me a few days," Waldo told him, "We're all still here for you for the rest of your life. You're stuck with us, man."

"Thanks. I appreciate that, Waldo," Dexter tried to sound ok, "I'll let you know if anything changes."

When he ended the call, Dexter looked down at Jen. "What the fuck kind of name is Waldo, anyway?" He adjusted the covers on Jen and held her hand, listening for changes in the vital signs monitor, some sign that indicated she was at least aware of his presence. Nothing. "It's better than Oswald, though."

"I remember the fourth of July back about 6 years ago when you all thought it would be funny to get your brother and I matching tee shirts. His said 'I'm with Dexter' and mine said 'I'm with Waldo'. I never understood why you guys all thought that was so hilarious. No one ever game me a good reason why he was named Oswald. Poor guy to grow up with a name like that. Then again, I remember you asking if my parents hated me when they named me Dexter. Ironic, don't you think?"

"I love your family," he continued, "Everyone is so open and accepting. I didn't know what to do at first. Like, here are all these people acting like I mattered to them. Your parents were so amazing, both of them. I had no idea that was how it was supposed to be. I miss your parents. I felt so much loss when they died. But, at least there's still Waldo!"

Dexter stood and looked out the window at the late afternoon sun shining on their backyard, stretching his arms over his head, 60 years of accumulated creaks popping like small, muted fireworks. He thought that it would be nice if he could release grief as easily as letting trapped nitrogen out of joints. The backyard had changed over the years, but was still looked like a landscaper's house. Expansive Dutchman's pipe vines covered the fence on all three sides, the purple flowers shaped like ornate antique smoking pipes. Their garden, a raised bed to keep the rabbits at bay, had been lush through the summer, but now all that remained were a few die-hard red tomatoes determined to tough out the fall and withering cucumber vines woven up an ornate wooden trellis. Tomatoes. Dexter smiled to himself as he remembered the time they had gotten into a tomato fight.

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It was fall and time to pull the tomatoes out and plant winter brassicas. Most of the tomatoes were either over-ripe or fallen to start rotting in the soil, many half-eaten by birds. The day was abnormally warm even for September in Pennsylvania with lines of clouds cruising overhead. Jen stood behind Dexter with her arms around his waist, hugging him close.

"Is it supposed to rain today?" she asked him, one arm letting him go.

"I don't think so," he answered, "It's not going to rain until Tuesday or so."

She giggled, "Yes it is. It's going to rain..." and smashed a soft tomato on his cheek, "...tomatoes!"

She let go and stepped back, throwing another tomato at Dexter just as he turned around, wiping the first one off his face. This one hit him square in the forehead and was mushy with rot. "See?" she laughed and danced away, "Raining tomatoes!" She flung another at him that disintegrated before it hit him, covering him with chunks of tomato. Jen turned to run, but Dexter caught her around the waist with one strong arm and held her squirming.

"I heard tomatoes are good for your hair!" he said and crushed a giant beefsteak tomato on the top of her head, juice running down the side of face.

Jen spun and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into her. "And I heard tomatoes make you horny," she said, kissing him through the tomato debris on his face.

Dexter pulled away enough to speak. "Everything makes you horny."

"No," she said, sliding down his body to her knees, "Just you."

Dexter looked around, worried that someone might see them, but the yard was mostly invisible to the outside world. He was always more inhibited about sex than she was, but her sense of spontaneity almost always guided them. 'Ok, let's go for it,' he thought. She unbuttoned his jeans and fished the tip of his soft cock out, running her tongue over it and under the ridge of the head. "That's called the corona glandis," Dexter said as matter-of-factly as possible.

Jen stopped and looked up at him. "Do you mind? I'm trying to work here," and pulled the hardening head into her mouth before saying, "And how in the fuck of all fucks do you even know that?"

"Penile anatomy is kind of my thing."

Jen laughed his cock out of her mouth, "Mine, too!"

Sliding his jeans down to his knees, she let him fully harden in her mouth under the careful supervision of active tongue and began to bob her head on his shaft, not quite able to take his entire length in her mouth, cupping and gently massaging his balls with her hand. Dexter looked down to meet Jen's eyes, and had to stifle a giggle at the tomato drying in her hair. 'I hope that doesn't stain her hair,' he thought, 'better to not bring that up right now...' She broke up the pattern of her movements by periodically using her free hand on Dexter's butt check to pull him as deep in as she could handle, and hold him there while her tongue slid along the sensitive underside of his shaft to the head, giving him a jolt of pleasure. "Oh, shit, that's the frenulum," he explained. "Umm hmmm," she agreed through the cock in her mouth, and bit lightly down on him. "Youch! Ok! No more Gray's Anatomy!" he yelped.

She stopped long enough to strip her t-shirt and bra off, and smiled up at him as very loosely hold the shaft of throbbing cock, twisting it over the lubrication of her saliva to follow her mouth. Jen could already feel the insistent beat of his pulse through the thin skin on the top side of the shaft and knew he wouldn't last long. She paused long enough to ask him, "Do you want to come in mouth or on my tits?"

"Mouth."

She took him back into her warm mouth, and set a steady rhythm; her mouth, and hands working his shaft and balls. The salty-sweet precum mixed with her saliva to add to the lubrication for her twisting hand, his cock throbbing and getting impossibly hard, his breath stronger and deeper. His whole body became rigid as he came in her mouth, Jen continuing to work him, helping him hold on to the high for as long as possible. When the pulsing slowed down, she gently made sure he was clean and satisfied before pulling his pants back into their natural position. As she stood, Dexter embraced her in a deep kiss, and he could taste a hint of himself and, he thought, tomato...

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Dexter looked down at Jen, the contrast of his memory and her reality almost overwhelming. "That was before Jennifer was born," he said aloud. "You know, Jen, nothing changed when Jennifer was born. It was like you had this big reservoir of love and patience. I heard from the guys at work that having a baby would change things between us. It did, I suppose, but not in the ways they said. It was better. I always felt like there was a space inside you that was waiting for her. That's why you were always so patient, with me and her. You had enough for both of us." He could feel the grief rising again, his eyes filling with tears. "I only hope I gave you enough." Dexter looked back out the window, afternoon light filtering through the large trees that surrounded their house. 'My house now', came the painful thought.

The monitors next to Jen beeped quicker, and then slowed back down. Dexter could hear her breathing become quietly ragged. He reached down and gently held her frail hand, hoping that somewhere she found reassurance in the simple act.

"Jennifer was 14 when you turned 50," Dexter said. "She insisted that we have a big party for you. She goes 'Dayaddd! It has to be special!' Her hands were on her hips and she was looking at me like I was a simpleton. She asked me 'What do you want to get her?' and I told her I was going to get you time away from your nagging daughter. You remember how she would get indignant at that age? "Very funny, Dad. Not."

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"I'm serious," Dexter said, "I'm going to take her on a trip and you're staying with Gramma and Grandpa."

"Where?" she asked.

He replied, "At their house."

"No, I mean where are you guys going?" Jennifer said.

Dexter stepped forward and pulled her into an embrace. "Out to Colorado to walk around the mountains."

Jennifer's voice was muffled against Dexter's shirt, "Ok, as long as I'm not missing anything good."

The trip was spectacular. A day and night in Denver, a drive and long hike into the Pike National Forest where they camped in isolation. They were both exhausted by sundown that first evening in the forest, laying on their backs holding hands, looking at the vast swath of stars.

"I've never seen stars like this," Dexter said, "It's kind of awe-inspiring."

Jen smiled and said, "Have you ever looked?"

"I guess not lately. When I was a kid, I used to look at the stars, but they weren't like this. I used to wish I was somewhere up there instead of where I was, like I could escape for a few minutes."

Jen rolled on her side to look at Dexter. "Where do you want to be now?"

He rolled to face her. "I think the rest of the universe is out there looking at us, wishing they were here. I don't want to go away anymore. I'm where I belong."

She held his face between her hands and kissed him. Loving, sensual, and reassuring. Her tongue tested him, seeing if he was open enough for the intimacy she offered under the stars, the tip brushing feather-light on his lips. The fire cracked and an owl called out from nearby. 'Hoot-hoot-hoooot. Hoooot.'

Dexter whispered into Jen's ear, "That's a horned owl. He's trying to get laid."

She pulled back to look at his face in the light of their camp fire. "Um yeah, Mr. Suave, I know the feeling."

"I hope that owl gets some serious cloaca," Dexter laughed, "Then he'll hold his talon under all his friend's beaks so they can smell his cloaca talons."

Jen burst out laughing. "The art of romance," she said, sitting up.

"Awww, never fear, Jen. At least it's a for sure thing you're getting laid. That poor owl might have a case of blue cloaca in the morning."

She unbuttoned her light shirt from the top down, deliberately, "Oh, I know. And in the morning, too. And the afternoon..." She held her shirt closed when the all buttons were done. Dexter looked up at her washed in gentle golden orange firelight, with the stars as her background. "Ready?" she asked, slowly sliding her shirt down her arms to fling it aside.

Dexter slid his hands up her sides, feeling her stomach muscles, and around to her back, pulling her down so that he could unclasp her bra. Jen stood up, letting the bra fall away so that she was only in jeans, a look she knew was one of Dexter's weaknesses. He quickly wriggled out of his own clothes, feeling the hard ground through the thick blankets they had laid down. Jen stood over Dexter, allowing him to shimmy the rest of her clothes down her legs.

Kneeling down, she kissed Dexter for a long time, letting the head of his hard cock nestle against her pussy, entering just enough so that Dexter could feel her heat, before slowly sliding down to take him all the way in. They got into a slow rhythm; Jen on top and Dexter holding her hips.

"God, this feels good," Jen moaned, "I'm trying not come yet."

Dexter opened his eyes and looked at her. "Slow down." He could feel the walls of her pussy tightening around him.

She could feel every bit of him moving inside. "Oh, fuck, that's worse. I can't hold it. Is that ok?"

Dexter smiled and nodded, watching her eyes scrunch closed and her mouth grimace in ecstasy. He could feel her who tense and for a few seconds she stopped moving as her the orgasm sparkled throughout her body.

She started moving again, faster and with more urgency. "Don't stop, baby," she said, "I'm going to come again." Her body tensed again. "Oh fuck, right now," she softly moaned and ground her hips down on Dexter. He could feel a trickle of her come slide down his inner thigh.

Still holding her hips down on him, Dexter said, "That looked like it felt good."

"Holy fuck, was that huge," Jen breathed, "Give me second." She continued grinding her hips back and forth in tiny throbbing movements, a juicer extracting the last bit of juice from an orange.

"You've got one more in you," Dexter said.

Jen circled his cock with her fingers as she climbed off, letting her hand drag up the length of his shaft and over the sensitive head. Dexter jerked like a jolt of electricity had hit him.

"Ohhh, sensitive are we?" she asked, grazing the head with her fingernails and making him shiver in the warm mountain air. "I guess we'd better take care of that." She turned around on all fours, her athletic ass facing him, and looked back over her shoulder. "I want you to fucking pound me. But tell me before you come."

Dexter saw the firelight twinkle off her swollen pussy like the stars that surrounded them. His cock was so hard that it felt huge to him, a rare gift for a man to feel like that, thinking 'Enjoy it while it lasts!' and he slipped into her, pushing a small moan out of Jen. She was still looking back at him, her hand clasping his arm, "Now, baby."

She was so swollen with lust and orgasm that her whole pussy pressed against his penis as he pounded into her. Their gaze was locked together, intimate and erotic, and Dexter could feel her hand on his arm. Even what they laughingly termed 'grunting pig fucking' was so intimate that Dexter felt it push back the darkness in his dusty, pathology-riddled mental attic.

Jen's finger squeezed hard on Dexter's arm. "I'm gonna come again," Jen said in a matter-of-fact voice that belied was happening inside her. Her moan this time was long and loud, and her legs shook as she came. Dexter was barely keeping his own orgasm at bay as he slowed down to a more leisurely pace that made it even harder to hold back.

He finally had to say, "If we keep doing this, I'm going to lose it." Jen leaned forward to pull off him and turned around, still on all fours. She took his cock into her mouth, tongue working it over as she bobbed up and down, her hand following her mouth and twisting. She could feel the pressure building, like water threatening to burst a dam, until it finally let loose, flooding the valley of her mouth. Dexter's legs shook and she almost feel his knees give out before she finally slowed down.

Dexter knelt in front of her and kissed her. "I saw stars when you did that," he said.

Jen smiled and kissed him again. "I see stars every time."

A horned owl called out again. Hoot-hoot-hooooot. Hooot.

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"Wow, this really sucks," Jennifer said. She had pulled a chair alongside Jen's bed, a father and his daughter to sit final vigil. Dexter looked at Jennifer and saw so much of Jen in her; amber blonde hair and blue eyes, but he saw also the spark and passion that made Jen who she was, and it gave Dexter comfort to know that a part of Jen would still be alive.

Dexter stared without focus, and said, "I remember part of a poem from college, but I can't recall who wrote it. 'Out of the night that covers, Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be, for my unconquerable soul.'"

"That's Henley. A poem called 'Invictus'," she answered, and then smiled. "No, not Don Henley, either." Jennifer paused, and then continued, "In the fell clutch of circumstance, I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance, my head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears, looms but the horror of the shade, and yet the menace of the years, finds and shall find me unafraid."

"I remember now," he said, sitting up straighter, "'It matters not how strait the gate, how charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.' William Ernest Henley. I used to love that poem. It reminds me of your mother right now."

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Dexter was walking on a beach, the rhythmic surf gentle along the shore. It was dusk and the sky was a canvas of brilliant, flaming orange. The last fiery hump of sun sitting stubbornly on the horizon. Jen was standing next to him, holding his hand, their fingers entwined. Seagulls squawked and somewhere a dog barked. His dog. His friend. Dog bounded up to them and sniffed Jen in that shameless way of hers, like she was sizing up the competition. Jen stopped walking and turned to Dexter, her eyes bright blue and crinkled with smiles in the corners. "You still have things left to do. Jennifer needs you, at least for a while, at least until you're a grandfather. One of us has to be there." She placed her hand on his cheek and smiled. "There's a purpose for everything and for everyone, and I've done what I was meant to do, Dexter. Besides, I'll be waiting for you." She looked down at Dog. "We'll be waiting for you. We'll be right here when you're ready. I promise."

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"Dad." Jennifer's voice was pain and loss. "Dad, she's gone."

Dexter looked at his daughter. "I know."