Smut Anthology
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I woke to an empty bed. And a full bladder. Oh, well, it was time to see if this "I'm here to help" thing was real or not. "Ronni," I called softly.
"I'm comin', Dave," she answered. In a few seconds she showed up. Smiling. "See!" she tittered, "We slept all night in the same bed and didn't molest each other."
"That's the miracle of oxycodone, babe," I said. "How about helping me to the bathroom?" Five minutes later I was finished and settling into my recliner.
"I just put a load of laundry on, and Mom's bringing over breakfast. I'm gonna go change."
"Okay," I said. I thought, 'Yeah, please deprive me of the sight of a nubile seventeen year old body moving under semitransparent knit cotton.'
She bounded back into the room a couple of minutes later, brushing her hair when the doorbell rang. She let her mom in.
"Hi, Rena," I said.
"Hi, Dave," Rena answered. "You sleep good?"
"Yes I did. Drugs..."
She smiled.
"Uh, Rena, ' I said. "Don't ring the doorbell. Just walk in. I mean, I got your daughter in here."
"Yeah, about that," she laughed, "I doubt that YOU'RE somebody I have to worry about."
I was thinking, 'If you'd seen what was in my head when poor, plain little Ronni walked in wearing that damned t-shirt last night.' I said, however, "Sadly, I'm too crippled to be dangerous."
"You and me need to talk about danger one of these days, Dave. I brought you grits and bacon and eggs for breakfast, Dave. I hope that's okay."
"Gosh, yes, Rena. I'm gonna weigh 500 pounds if I keep eating like this. Calories in, calories out, and all that." Rena was a little on the plump side, an older, softer, rounder version of her daughter. A self-centered jerkwad might even call her fat. But she wasn't married to a self-centered jerkwad, nor did she have one for a neighbor. I found her quite pleasant to see. If that was where Ronni was headed in a few years, well, things could be much worse.
"Oh, I know ALL about that, Dave," she laughed. "You know how I battle with it. But you're recovering. You need to eat." Ronni was setting up the TV tray and her chair, preparatory to feeding me. "For heaven's sake, Ron, put your plate here too, and we can eat together."
Rena went in the kitchen and searched out the makings of a pot of coffee. This resulted in three mugs when the meal was finished. The three of us sipped coffee and watched a morning news show. Finally, Ronni said, "Mom, if you're gonna stay here for a minute, I need to run home."
"Sure, hon," Rena said.
As soon as the door closed behind the departing Ronni, I asked, "Rena, WHAT danger?"
"Never mind, Dave. That's a conversation for another day." She smiled.
"She's worth her weight in gold, Rena," I said.
"Did she ... uh, sponge bath?" Rena asked.
"Yes, she did." I answered truthfully.
"She told me that she and your sister got the nurse to show them what to do."
I looked at her. "Yeah, they did."
Rena sighed. "I thought she'd wait until your sister was here to do that."
"I thought so, too," I said. "But she was so confident-sounding." I related the rest of the story.
Rena shook her head. "We've had The Talk, Dave. And she's been baby-sitting for years, so she knows the difference between little boys and little girls."
"That's what she said. I think her exact words were 'Just like a baby, except more of it.' But she wasn't expecting ... And honestly, neither was I, Rena." I watched her eyes.
She sighed again. "I suppose that's a better introduction than drunk in a back seat, uh? I mean, YOU, I can trust." "I would NEVER hurt Ronni, Rena. I was more embarrassed than she was, I think."
"I know you wouldn't, Dave." Rena's smile was somewhat enigmatic. "She's a good kid. Even if she wasn't my daughter."
That's about the time that the front door opened and Ronni walked in with a paperback book and a canned drink.
"Hi! I'm back, Mom. I stirred the pot on the stove for you." She sat on the sofa.
"Ronni, when Deb calls, tell her to get you a case of those soft drinks. If you're taking care of me, I can at least give you your favorite drinks." I looked at Rena. "And I need to give you some money to pay for feeding me, and for that ramp that Alex built."
"You don't owe us anything, Dave," Rena answered.
"Thank you," I said. "But it's not a matter of me owing you. I appreciate everything you've done. And Alex. And Ronni." I smiled at Ronni.
And three days passed with just about the same level of excitement, except that Ronni's efforts at a sponge bath were a little more professional, as was my reaction to it.
My trip to the doctor's office was about as eventful as could be expected, too.
"You're actually doing better than I expected, Mister Johnson," he said. "No infection, thank God. And your bones appear to be healing ahead of the curve. In another week we're going to let you take the splints off long enough to bathe, but you put NO weight on that leg for another three weeks, at least, and then it's crutch time."
I endured having stitches removed from my scalp and the wounds on arm and leg, and the taping over my ribs was replaced. "Another week on the ribs," the doctor said.
And I was wheeled back out, into the car, then home. Back to a routine of sorts, rather painful at times, and damned sure inconvenient. The doctor visit left me sweaty, and when Deb and Ronni got me inside, Deb suggested a sponge bath. She and Ronni handled the task without a hitch, and it must be noted that when it came to washing around Mister Poky, Ronni handled that task with cool and entirely clinical aplomb. I wasn't amazed, but Deb was.
Nearing dinnertime, Rena appeared at the door with a meat loaf dinner plate for me. She sent Ronni home for her own meal. I was a little curious about this interruption in the normal routine, but shrugged it off. Rena helped me get through the rough spots of the meal, then sponged off the parts that missed my mouth.
"So what's up, Rena? Why'd you send Ronni home?"
"You and I need to talk," she said, her eyes serious.
"About what, Rena? You look serious," I said.
"Remember the other day I said that you and me need to talk about danger one of these days? Not really danger, Dave. Question."
Uh-oh. 'Serious mom' face. "What?" I asked.
"What's Ronni mean to you?" She regarded me coolly.
"Seriously? Best friend. I can trust Ronni to do her best for me. She's bright, adorable ... some guy's gonna be lucky to find her. I'm more than a bit jealous of not being eighteen my own self."
"You're a decent man, Dave," Rena said. "You need to know something. So you can decide what you need to do."
"That sounds serious, Rena."
"It is, Dave. Ronni's my daughter. I love her to pieces. I'm a mom. Goes without saying that I'd give my life for my kid. Or kill to protect her. But Ronni's telling me something and I'm not sure how to present it."
"I'd NEVER hurt Ronni, Rena. I'd die first."
"I believe you, Dave"
"What, then?"
"I think ... No, I KNOW Ronni's in love, Dave."
I felt a roaring my ears. "With..."
Rena's mouth was a tight straight line. "You."
"She said that?" I was incredulous.
"She SHOWS that. Has for years. But no, she didn't SAY that until two weeks ago. When the ambulance took you away and she was covered in YOUR blood and crying and sobbing in my arms. And you know what she was sobbing?"
I looked.
"Mom. I LOVE 'im. I REALLY love him. And I never got to say it."
"Ohmigod."
"Yeah, Dave. So now you've got Ronni staying in your house and now, you say, sleeping in your bed, and she's in love and YOU don't know it, and Dave, what exactly are you gonna do?"
"I'm certainly not gonna HURT her, Rena."
"Then what, Dave?"
Just get a gun and shoot me. I said in a low voice, "For gosh sakes, Rena, what am I supposed to do? I'm almost twenty years older than her."
Rena stared. "You don't ... you ... there's no chance that you and her ... you love her?"
"I do. You know pretty well that I haven't had anyone else in my life. I just figured that I was going to watch her until one day she walked into my house to introduce her new fiancée and then that dream would be over. She's been, well, untouchable."
"She's been afraid of the same thing, Dave," Rena said.
"Now what?" I asked.
"You're an honorable man, Dave. Go slow. As slow as you can. And no babies."
"That's another thing, Rena. I can't do babies. When Lisa had Brittney, those complications, they said it could be dangerous for her to have another baby, so I got fixed. What if Ronni wanted a baby?"
"You and she need to figure that out. Hell, adopt. Borrow some. Whatever. She loves you, Dave."
"What about Alex? What's he say about a guy his age and his daughter?"
"We talked. His take was "I'd rather she didn't bring home some slack-jawed, droopy-pants'd bastard with his cap on sideways that I'd have kill an' bury in the back yard. Said at least ya'll wouldn't be movin' in with us."
"Alex always was a 'cut to the chase' kind of guy," I said.
"Look, Dave, Ronni's gonna be back in a minute or two. So now you KNOW. And you know that WE know. So you don't have to be secretive or lie. So be good to our Ronni."
"I will, Rena. She's a doll."
"Uh, we haven't had this conversation, as far as she's concerned, either. I'm gonna make a pot of coffee, if you want."
"That sounds good."
So when Ronni walked back through the door, her mom was in the kitchen. And where else was I gonna be?
"Hi, babe," Ronni said. I saw Rena cock an eye at me and smile. She was right. A lot of things started making sense.
"Your mom's making me a cup of coffee, babe," I said.
"Me too, I hope," she smiled.
And I felt a lot different about that smile.
The three of us shared coffee and chit-chat for the next forty-five minutes and then Rena excused herself and left.
Ronni turned to me. "So what are we gonna do this evening?" she chirped.
I grinned. "Uh, I think we can take a pass on roller-blading, you know..."
Giggle. "Okay. So I'm guessing TV, then."
"Yeah. That too. D'you think we could do my laptop?"
"Yeah, I think I could probably navigate the complexities of modern consumer electronics."
"And you could be a huge smartass while doing it." I reached towards her. She saw that and stepped closer. Her fingers wrapped mine and squeezed.
"Lemme go get your laptop." She disappeared a minute and returned. Two minutes later the computer was plugged in, booting up, her chair pushed up against the side of my recliner, and I smelled a whiff of perfume as she leaned in towards me.
"I just want to see my email," I said.
"Oh, sure, I understand. You gotta catch up with all your online babes an' stuff."
"Yeah, and you can read every bit of that. And my work stuff, too."
My personal email was mostly hobby groups and ads. My work stuff, well, they officially knew of my status, but that didn't stop the email. Since I was relegated to right hand only, I dictated a few answers for Ronni to type. I had her add a line to my signature file to denote that fact, too.
There were the normal cute photos and jokes and we both laughed at a few and shook our heads at others, and I noted how close she was. Finishing my stuff, I asked, "D'you need to check yours?"
"Sure," she said. "If you don't mind."
I don't mind," I said. I sat back like I was giving her some privacy.
"Uh-uh," she said. "You showed me yours. I'll show you mine." Then she giggled when she realized what she'd just said. I watched her run through a bunch of Facebook stuff. She kept a running commentary about who's who among her Facebook friends. I noted several boys her age.
"ANY of them among your prospects?" I asked.
"Oh, no," she said. "Not even close. Just kids I go to school with. That's not what I'm looking for, babe," she said.
"Oh," I answered. I felt a little bad, knowing how she felt about me. "Hmmmm," I said. "You smell good." She did.
Her face turned to me, those brown eyes warm and caring. "Thank you for noticing, Dave. That's sweet."
"It's difficult NOT to notice, babe," I said.
Our eyes locked together briefly before she turned away. She closed the laptop and sat it off to the side on the end table. Turning back, her right hand touched my right arm. Her left went up to gently touch my forehead. "One of these days," she said, "I..." and there was a knock on the door.
She jumped up to answer the knock. Home health nurse. Late today, because of the doctor's appointment. Oh, well. The next forty-five minutes were filled with poking and prodding and an examination of my de-stitched head and arm and leg.
"When are you supposed to see the doctor again," she asked.
"In a week. How do things look?"
"Pretty good, actually. They did good work. You finally got those stitches out, and that'll help the way your arm and leg feels. Are you able to stand?"
Lynne
- 07.09.2021
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