A Bettered LifeChapter 15
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Building A Better PastChapter 2 free porn video
Creak! Squeak! ‘What the hell! Our bed doesn’t squeak! Oh, that’s right. Things are different, now.’ I wondered how many times I’d wake up thinking it’s still 2009?
Let’s see ... it was Sunday. Except when he was working, Sunday mornings with my father meant either pancakes or French toast. We might not eat two other meals as a family all week but Sunday breakfast was a given. The only problem that I saw was that it would have to wait until Dave dragged his sorry ass out of bed. There wasn’t much to be done about that, though, so I decided to get up and see if I could work out how I wanted to handle meeting the Englemans. The best place handy to think was probably out in the yard so I pulled on some shorts and headed out the door.
My memories of doing this before were sketchy at best. I was pretty sure that April would be there but Karen wouldn’t. The other way around would have been much nicer. The only firm memories I had from the first go around were the ugly green carpet and Trish’s welcoming smile.
The carpet was inconsequential, but the smile was preying on my mind, reminding me of one of the greatest injustices I’d ever committed. After she had been so nice to me I tarred her with the same brush that April had earned. Sitting there on a lawn chair I swore that if I didn’t do anything else right this time I would treat her better. How to go about that was the question for the day.
I spent a couple of hours playing through various scenarios before the door opened and my father said, “Come on in. There are pancakes on the table.”
Over breakfast the only conversation was about the coming dinner.
“Do I really need to go to this dinner tonight, Dad?” said Dave. “You know Disney is on Sundays.”
Yep, that was my brother all right. A twelve year old addict.
“Yes,” our father answered, “you need to go and you will be polite. You won’t mention that you’re missing your precious show — unless you’d prefer to not watch it for a couple of months?”
“Dad,” I asked, “who all’s going to be there, and what should we wear?” I figured it would pay to appear interested, though not as interested as I actually was.
“I think that both April and Patricia will be there. I don’t know about Karen and Butch, he may be working.
“You’ll want to dress nicely but don’t go overboard. Do you have some slacks that still fit?”
Good question! I had no idea what clothes I had. “Um, I’m not sure. After breakfast I’ll take a look.”
“Let me know if you don’t and we’ll go shopping. You too, Dave. You both might also check your shoes. If they need polishing bring them around and I’ll do them when I do mine.”
Other than that breakfast was a quiet time. None of us were ever exactly loquacious and Dave was exceptionally sullen at the thought of an evening away from his electronic babysitter. I was normally the most talkative of us all, but I was lying low while I built up a background of things I could reasonably talk about.
A quick check of the closet turned up a couple of pairs of slacks for me — they were obviously not Dave’s since the waist was smaller than the inseam — and a quick test showed that they fit fine. I wasn’t at all happy about that. They looked like something you’d buy for a second grader. I hated being the smallest boy in my class but I didn’t see that changing until I got to high school.
Dave’s fortunes weren’t as good — he couldn’t possibly have fastened those slacks. I tried to beg off of the shopping trip but it didn’t work. I really tried to beg off of a McDonald’s burger for lunch but my father wasn’t buying it. Fortunately my younger stomach seemed to be made of cast iron — at 47 that grease fest would have run through me before we made it back home.
We got home with a couple of hours to kill before we needed to head out so I attempted to make a break for it. Not this time.
“Hey, Jeff, is something wrong?” my father asked. “You’ve been pretty quiet all day. Are you getting sick?”
“Not really. I feel fine. I’m just thinking about tonight. If you do end up marrying Helen, then I’ll have sisters. I’ve never had a sister. I know that I’d want them to like me, but what if they don’t?
“I’m also worried that if you do get married we’ll have to move again. I’ve been in three schools in the last two years. I’d like to be able to keep some of my friends.”
Lies, all lies. I didn’t want to keep any of my current friends. Hell, I didn’t even know who they were.
“Don’t worry too much about tonight,” he answered. “Helen’s very nice and I’m sure you’ll get along fine with her daughters. I understand about school so we’ll see if we can find some place close by, okay?”
So, I wasn’t the only one lying. Helen was a bitch and April had never had a good word for me. He did keep his promise to look for someplace close by, but the quarter mile that we moved — even though it was still in the same trailer park — put us going to a different school, so it didn’t matter.
“Okay, I’ll try not to worry so much about tonight. Right now, though, I think I need to just sit and veg.” As soon as I said it I knew that I’d made a mistake. I was pretty sure he’d never heard ‘veg’ used in quite that way and he quickly proved me right.
“Veg? Is that some new way of saying relax?”
“Yeah, I probably heard it at school. You’re right, though, what I really meant was that I need to relax some.”
“Veg, huh? Anyway, just make sure you get your shower taken before three-thirty. Helen’s planning dinner for five-thirty, but I want us all to have a chance to sit down and talk first.”
“No problem! In fact, I’ll go take my shower now so I don’t have to rush, later.”
‘Maybe,’ I thought as I stood under the water, ‘the little mistakes I’m making aren’t a bad thing.’
I hoped that small eccentricities, if they were explained away well enough, would keep larger ones from causing too much discussion. That strategy might even have worked that way, if I’d given it a chance.
After my shower I found one of the other books that my uncle had left for me. How about that! “Ringworld”! I grabbed the book but barely even looked at it. I was still churning through ideas on how to handle meeting Trish again for the first time. Wouldn’t you know it, after all that time and all that worry all that I came up with was to treat her nicely and play it by ear.
Four-thirty found us pulling up in front of a small house in Arvada, and there at the door to greet us was the battle-axe herself: Helen. She was, unfortunately, just as I remembered her: six foot tall, stocky build with brown hair, and a smile that never, ever, made it to her eyes.
“Helen,” my father said, “I’d like you to meet Dave,” with a not so subtle push he propelled my brother forward where he was enveloped in a hug, “and Jeff.” I didn’t wait for the shove, but there wasn’t a hug waiting for me. Instead she pulled the old cliché of pinching my cheek, all the while smiling with her mouth only. Despite knowing how things worked out I found her a little scary.
My discomfort apparently wasn’t noticed as we were all ushered into the house to meet her daughters.
“Dave, Jeff, this is April,” she said while motioning to her middle daughter. Probably 5’6”, dark hair, not slim but not really curvy, and not even a fake smile — just a perfunctory “Pleased to meet you,” to each of us in turn.
“And, boys, this is Patricia,” Helen continued, motioning to the younger girl standing near the back wall. She looked first at my brother, giving him the same easy smile that I remembered across more than 30 years. Her smile was still there when she turned toward me but, unlike my idiot brother, I returned it in kind. In fact, seeing her smiling and accepting again, rather than closed off by the jerk that I’d been, finalized my thoughts on how to handle this.
With my mind made up I crossed the distance between us and took her hand. Then, to the amazement of everyone else present, I bowed from the waist and gently kissed the back of the hand that I was still holding. Now for the moment of truth! I looked up into her eyes. It was with real relief that I recognized amusement and perhaps a bit of pleasure vying with the embarrassment that was causing her to blush so prettily. Her embarrassment wasn’t yet such that she wouldn’t meet my gaze.
So, deciding to relieve some of the tension, I said, “As you might have gathered, I’m very pleased to meet you, fair maiden.”
That seemed to do the trick as the first words that I heard her say on this timeline were, “And I, kind sir, am equally pleased to meet you.” This was accompanied by the batting of her long, dark eyelashes and a little tilt of her head.
We couldn’t hold it in after that! We both broke up laughing. I think it took a moment for anyone else to join in but when they did the stiffness with which we’d started this important first meeting evaporated.
The next thing I knew my father was pounding me on the back and saying, “I didn’t know you had it in you, son. I think you may have caught her attention.”
Before I could think of something to say Patricia beat me to it with, “Oh, he got my attention all right.” Turning to me she looked down at her right hand, still lightly held in mine, and said, “While I do appreciate the gesture, do you think I could have my hand back?”
She didn’t sound upset at all, and she wasn’t trying to tug her hand away, so I played it up a little. I brought it up for a second kiss, then relinquished it with a melodramatic sigh and a simple, “I suppose. But please consider allowing me to hold it again some other time.”
More laughter, this time from all parties.
Finally, I stepped back from Patricia and actually got to look at her. Maybe 5’3” — I knew she’d grow more but even at that she was the best part of a foot taller than me — with almost black hair, dark eyes, fair skin, braces on her teeth and a body that hinted of curves to come. Oh, and the face of an angel. I had remembered her as being easy on the eyes but my memory hadn’t done her justice. She was very pretty, and I had no doubt she’d get more so over the next few years.
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