Billy. Another Wrong Turn

Bathwater: Dad is on hospice at his assisted living facility.   He is very weak.  No one knows for sure but I would guess a week or two.  I know you would want to know.

Billy: I am sorry to hear that.  I have been going through a lot myself.

Bathwater:  Are you okay? I am always concerned for you.  You can always reach out to me.  After all we have been through together I would hate to lose touch.

Billy:  No I'm not okay..  I'm still using and I got pregnant. Going through the abortion process now..I'm just lost. Everything I wanted came too fast.. now its gone.

Bathwater: I am so sorry Billy.  You always have my ear and my love.  You can email me or call me.  I will listen.

Billy did not share anymore information.  Initially I was surprised but looking back when ever we were not together Billy tended to get in trouble or do stupid things.  Even when we were together some drama would happen, usually at the worst time.  Without me propping her up it will just continue to happen.  She hasn't changed.

Do you think she is starting to regret choosing to leave me?  I miss what we had but I can see now it was a dead end for me.  What does she see?

I invited Billy to my father's memorial but she said she had to work and could not make it.  My friends think that is for the best.  I would like to see her.  She where she is at inside her head.  An abortion is not an easy decision for any woman but to want the baby and be unable to have it because of your own drug addiction is going to be hard for her to handle. 

The only difference that I see
Is you are exactly the same as you used to be.  The Difference, The Wallflowers

Passing

A low level hum motor and a rhythmic pumping noise from the oxygenator fill the room with sound.  From the hall strands of fifties and sixties music occasionally filter in.  I am in a green lounge chair in my father's room watching him go through the last days of his life.

He has been on hospice for three days.  It is a slow legal overdose if you ask me.  I have been around an addict for years, this is no different.   The nurse assures me it is, that they are just keeping him comfortable.  In reality he is floating in a drug induced haze while his breathing slows over time.

My dad passed away Sunday morning.  I was not there for his last breath.  I am not sure I would wanted that.  He died peacefully and quickly once he decided he was ready to go.  The one thing I will take away from this experience is that everyone who met my father adored him.

Dad, I hope you are with mom now in what ever awaits us.

Fighting to the End

Fighting to live is ingrained in my father’s generation.  He is not ready to die.  I still cannot understand his motives.  My father is back in the hospital.  They are saying even if they stabilize him in the hospital he will crash as soon as he leaves and he will be right back inside.  I am trying to make him understand this.  He is weak and being closely monitored in intensive care.  He did not bounce back to any extent from his last hospital stay just a week ago.  Getting out of bed, staying warm and eating are all an issue.  His heart is working at 15%.  The hospital is subtlety suggesting hospice care.  I am hoping to get him to agree to palliative care that can transition into hospice

. 

The things that make life worth living in my book have all been taken away at this point; his wife, sex, food, the internet and his dignity.  He is left with only struggling to live.  It is not easy to watch.

My mother was supposed to be here.  She was the stronger one.  But she is not.  Cancer got her 6 years ago. 

We live too long.  All the medication these companies come up with can prolong our body’s ability to function but they do not seem to improve the quality of that longer life.  We need to do that ourselves and early on through diet and exercise.  I am personally going to refuse to take medications.  If I cannot fix it through a change in lifestyle it won’t be fixed.  When my body decides to give out, I am going to let it. 

My father went back into the hospital Tuesday.  The doctor said he almost died.  He will die once they stop the life sustaining medications.  He is in ICU but we as a family have decided to stop the medications.  He is going into hospice tomorrow.  The doctors are telling us he heart is very weak and he won't last long.

Departure

The Gymnast: Shall I come over for a little?

Bathwater: Lol, you know I have been thinking about fucking you all morning.  I won't be home till 5:30.

Gymnast:  I work from 5 to 8 so maybe after but I wouldn't be able to stay tonight.

Bathwater: Okay, but I am going to put the blindfold on you and tie you to a chair downstairs and go down on you until you cum.

Gymnast:  Sounds fine with me.

She never says no to my suggestions, which has my mind constantly shuffling through sexual fantasies.  Our most enjoyable encounters don't involve complicated porn scenes.  I like the mornings after she sleeps over.  She is not a morning person, but once she is up, we will cuddle in beneath the covers, and she will open up about her past.  She is a mixture of hardship and lack of direction, but she is smart and will find her way.

This week she leaves for a three-month trip in Europe with a friend.  I am going to miss having her around, but it is better not to get too attached.  We talk about going to Las Vegas in May.  We will see how she feels when she returns.  She sought out our arrangement after her ex-boyfriend died to make extra money for this trip.  Pretty girls don't stay single for long.  She will find someone and our arrangement will end.

I would like to find a more traditional relationship.  Just interacting with The Gymnast shows me how long it can take to become comfortable with someone.  I don't remember it being that way with Billy.  Being with Billy was constant drama. One problem followed the next.  It was a relationship forged through a sort of Stockholm Syndrome.

Book clubs and yoga are filling my time, but they are not introducing me to new people.

It is hard to let go.  I find myself wanting the eight years with Billy to have some meaning, but does it?  I am often bitter about how it ended.  It is easy to hate her when she is no longer a part of my life.  Do I erase all traces of her?  Should I delete all her photos?  What is the right way to move on?  My time with the Gymnast has shown me there is still fun to be had beyond Billy but is there another relationship?

The Gymnast’s departure is leaving me sad.  I am not emotionally attached to the Gymnast, but her departure is stirring up old memories.  She will be gone for three months.  Billy has only been gone for six months.  Life is a series of events.  Starting over seems to be the common theme.  I suppose I need to get used to it. 

Book Club

Tinkerbell texted me two weeks.  She asked if I was interested in joining a book reading club at our local library.  As part of my resolution not to say no, I accepted.  We are reading What the Eyes Don't See, by Mona Attisha.  It is about the Flint water crisis so it is somewhat local to me.   Our first discussion is was Thursday.

I have a bad preconceived opinion of our library.  It is not in a prestigious building.  It is tucked away in a light industrial park.  It has been awaiting a new location for years.

Tinkerbell can to my condo first.  She was dressed all in black.  I drove us both to the library.  The book club seemed very informal group of people but everyone seemed to know each other.

“It’s all old people,” Tinkerbell stage whispers to me as we approach the meeting room.  It was true.  She was definitely the youngest person in the group.  I was probably not, but felt younger than any of those who were.   There were a group of ten people including us attending.  The meeting was run by one of the library staff. For the most part, the discussions stayed on the book and the topics from within.  I felt it was good for Tink.  She gets nervous speaking in front of strangers when she is out of her environment.

Hospital Run

Monday morning the assisted living center where my dad is stay calls me.  My dad's oxygen level is low, he needs to go to the hospital.  I pack my computer warn my boss of my departure and head out of work.  This has become routine over the past year.

I get my dad dressed.  He is slumped in his wheel chair.  His false teeth are out and he is not making much sense.  I wheel him down to the Jeep and help him get inside the lifted vehicle.  It is a struggle for him but my younger brother still has dad's Buick and he is not prompt about such matters.  Fuck I cannot reach him by text half the time.  How is that possible in this day and age?

At the emergency room they get my father seen quickly.  They do not mess around when breathing or heart issues are present.  I watch them take dad's shirt off so they can get an EKG.  His arms and legs are so thin compared to his torso.  It reminds me of E.T.  I wonder to myself how can someones torso be so large when is arms and legs are so small.  It just reinforces in me how important exercise is as you get older and how I hate getting older.

My father's health is still fragile.  A cold can wipe out weeks of him building his strength up.  He wants to take more Chemo treatments.  I don't think the cancer doctor will recommend it.  The cancer is killing him but so is the treatment.  If dad gets out of the hospital I need to remind him that he should not wait to do anything at this point.  He is a fighter, but I think he tends to ignore the obvious.  He is weak and he could go anytime.

Winter Night (More Antics)

Tuesday afternoon, I sent the Gymnast a text.

Bathwater:  I will give you a sensual massage tonight until you are nice and wet. Then I am going to fuck you against the wall. I am actually getting hard just thinking about it.

Her only reply was to tell me she had bought me an edible to help with my stomach pains and relax me. Tuesday night, she came over after teaching gymnastics. She probably made another stop along the way. It was after 10:45 pm before she arrived. I was tired and already in bed watching TV.

 

I hear her enter through the garage and make her way upstairs. She takes off her hoodie, tosses her backpack on the floor next to the bed, and slides under the covers next to me. I am watching a series on Netflix called the 2000s. The episode ironically discusses the Iraq war and sounds like what is happening today in the region.

 

The Gymnast leans over the side of the bed. I admire the silhouette of her ass as she stretches out to retrieve her backpack. She wears a pair of black yoga pants and a bright turquoise tee with the word coach and her name on the back. She sits up and hands me the edible. I thank her and tuck it away in my nightstand for future use. She pulls a brownie out for herself and takes a bite.

"You are going to be asleep in no time," I tell her. 

"I'll be fine. I smoke a lot of weed." She assures me.

"I know. You were high yesterday when you came over."

I switched off Netflix and turned on Deadpool 2 from my Amazon account. I had her sit in front of me, between my legs, and began to massage her back under her shirt. It wasn't the sensual massage I had in mind, but I was content to watch the movie with her. I undo her bra, and she removes it in that skilled way women do without taking off their shirts. I spend time pressing my fingers into her back, massaging her shoulders, and occasionally cupping her breast before pulling her back to lay on top of me.

 

We watched the movie this way. She makes it almost to the end before she starts to drift off.   She feels me peeking over to see if she is still awake and opens her eyes. I turned off the movie, and we shifted positions. The Gymnast lays next to me on her back, and I am on my side regarding her. 

"Are we having sex tonight? You are not much of a morning person, and I have to get up early."

"We can have sex tonight," she replies, but her sleepy eyes do not reassure me.

She removed her yoga pants under the covers, and I rolled over on top of her. I gave her a quick kiss before working my way down her body. I go down on her till she is nice and wet before rolling over and having her reciprocate. It doesn't take long for her mouth to get me nice and hard, and I enter her missionary.   I fucked her with slow long strokes grinding her against me with each thrust.

It is not against the wall like I imagined, but the winter nights leave the bedroom chilly. I am not complaining, though. She wraps her legs around me, encouraging my thrusts with her legs and her kisses. I slow the pace when she cums and tell her to turn over.

 

"You are so demanding," she tells me.

I like to toss her into different positions when we are having sex. She gets up on all fours and spreads her legs wide so she is at the right height for me to enter her. Her ass looks incredibly round and inviting. I slide back into her. My pace is faster and more forceful, and I grab hold of her ass to control the rhythm. She knows it is all about my need to finish now, and she surrenders herself to me.   It is an intense climax for me, and I collapse forward onto her wrapping my right arm around her waist. Her body is amazing, hard, and firm in all the right places.

After we clean up, we regroup under the covers. I tell her I won't poke and prod her in the morning because we need to get up early. "Thank you for showing me life and fun are not over. I was having a hard time since Billy left."

"What are you going to do when I am gone?"  She asks. 

"I have something to look forward to. Your return, and not the way part of me wishes Billy would try to return just so I can say fuck you."

The Gymnast falls asleep in minutes, snoring loudly next to me. It takes me longer to fall asleep. In the morning, I get up and shower without disturbing her. She is not a morning person at 10 am, and it was only 7 am. I dressed and went downstairs to take care of the cat and make myself something to eat. I woke her fifteen minutes before we had to leave.

"I am sorry, dear. I should have thought about it. If you weren't parked behind me, I would just leave you here to sleep."

"It's okay. I will just go home and fall back to sleep."