Innocent Milf

The story so far:Eighteen-year-old Matt Baker and thirty-three-year-old Cary Woodley meet in Arizona in 1993. The two form a bond over their love of history and art--Matt plays the mandolin and Cary is a professional painter. Together with Matt's best friend Jack, they are the 'Three Musketeers' who do everything from Bowie-knife fighting to bowling together. Matt realizes he is beginning to form a deeper connection with Cary when he rescues her from a compromising situation engineered by her manipulative husband at her birthday party.

Over the months Matt helps Cary come to grips with arranging for her divorce. They eventually become a couple on his graduation day after Matt chases off her drunken ex-husband. The pair go to a graduation party for Matt's rich friend which turns out to be a swingers' party. Navigating the sexy challenges without betraying each other's trust, the new couple spends a magical first night together. Soon they are involved in the process of integrating their new unusual relationship into their daily lives.

Encountering some resistance in more conservative 90's Arizona, Matt and Cary nevertheless enjoy a passionate summer. From attending a long-anticipated Mountain Man Rendezvous to a surprise prehistoric getaway Matt plans for Cary, the new couple keeps finding opportunities to make love and cement their fledgling relationship even further. When Matt goes to college, Cary comes to visit him as often as she can, surprising and impressing Matt's new college friends. However, Cary's traumatic past has left her anxious about relationships, and it seems that the more Matt loves her, the less secure she feels. Matt returns for Christmas break, and Cary needs reassurance despite being happier in the relationship than she has ever been.

Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Making love quietly so as not to disturb Cary's kids a few rooms over was a challenge, but one we both relished. Sleeping over at her apartment felt nearly as familiar as returning home from my dorm now. I found myself in a strange transitional state of feeling equally at home and not at home in three different locations, unmooring me from any sense of local attachment.

Lori's insistence that my inexperience in life was a liability for both Cary and me lingered like a thin mist over everything in my mind. It didn't completely shroud all my thoughts, but I couldn't dispel it entirely. The next morning, Cary and I made Christmas cookies for ourselves and her kids, leaving a riot of colorful frosting all over her stove.

My parents studiously failed to ask where I had spent the night. We made small talk over lunch, and I told them all about life at Tempe and how I planned to accelerate my schedule. They told me about how Dad had taken up tinkering with computers and Mom had rediscovered her college love of hydroponics. After a not-too-strained hour over soup and sandwiches, I cleared my throat.

"I'd like to have Cary over on Christmas day," I said. "Not for the whole day--I realize we have family things planned. But her kids will be going over to--to Eric's for the evening. It will be her first Christmas night without them since they were born, so she'll probably be lonely."

Usually Christmas afternoon was spent playing games and eating snacks with family friends before our big dinner. Over the years, it had grown to be nearly as big a deal as Thanksgiving dinner. I knew that a few friends of the family were already planning on visiting, including Jack. Mom and Dad looked at each other, apparently communicating via telepathy again. I waited patiently, and finally Mom answered, "Let's see how Liss feels about it when she gets back this evening."

Realizing that I'd have to content myself with that non-answer, I decided to go Christmas shopping. My bank account was in a fairly grim state, but I still had a little bit of stipend money left over from the semester. I had some ideas here and there, and I'd already gotten a few things while at college.

I called up Jack, and we arranged to hang out at the mall while I picked up a few things. My parents appeared disproportionately happy to see his Jeep pull into our driveway. Mom wouldn't hear of him walking out the door without having a gingersnap or two, so we all sat down at the table and chatted. It was interesting to hear how Jack presented his experience at OSU to my parents in comparison to how he had described things to me in email.

He hadn't lost any muscle, but carried himself a little differently now: less cocky, but more self-assured. A thin five-o-clock shadow darkened the hollows of his cheeks, and he wore a button-up shirt rather than rumpled flannel. He made a joke about Bob Dole that surprised a laugh out of my dad. Having Jack over probably restored a sense of normalcy for my parents that had been missing since I went to college.

Finally we waved our goodbyes and headed out to Jack's Jeep, which he had parked behind my car, blocking it into the driveway. He seemed in good spirits, and we reported briefly on our semester to each other. Our emails back and forth were sometimes a full letter, and sometimes just a brief missive, so there was plenty to discuss.

On our drive to the mall, Jack shoved a tape into his cassette deck, interrupting a stream of Christmas pop songs issuing from his radio. I nodded approvingly as Guns 'n' Roses accompanied our trip. "So how is everything else?" I asked. "Was your roommate still being pretentious when you left?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Insufferable. You know English majors." He shot me a grin.

"We're the worst," I agreed. "But look at you, having grown-up political conversations with my parents and everything. Big adult man. I feel likeIspent half of my semester regressing and watching Japanese boobie cartoons."

"Weird." Jack's monosyllable indicated mild discomfort. Clearly not wanting to follow that line of conversation, he switched topics. "You voted, right?"

"Of course." It had been sort of a hassle to get my absentee ballot, but I had sent it in just before Cary's Halloween visit. It surprise me how politically motivated Jack suddenly seemed to be. It was certainly a change from his high school personality. "So, you joined a fraternity?"

Jack shrugged, as if slightly embarrassed. "It seemed like the thing to do. Some of it is pretty dumb, but it gives me some guys to hang out with." He swiped at me absently. "After all, notallof us are within driving distance of our girlfriends."

I found that I was grinning. "You're still cool about that?"

"Hnh." Jack negotiated a turn. "I mean, why would that matter? Would it change anything? I live two states away, now."

"Sure, it matters." I wondered if he had backslid some in his attitude.

"I don't think about it a lot," Jack said simply. "It's weird how quickly college has just turned into my whole life. It just sort of... swallowed everything up." He turned a slightly troubled look towards me. "Honestly, if you and Cary hadn't started emailing, I'm not sure how I'd feel. It's almost like the summer was a weird dream, and college is a completely new life."

I nodded as we parked. "I hear you. I feel that way too, sometimes."

"But Cary keeps you attached." It wasn't a question.

"What do you mean 'attached?'" Was this conversation about to turn uncomfortable?

"To the past." Jack frowned at the winter sun behind some clouds and decided against the light jacket behind his seat. "You still feel like... likeyou. Right?"

I nodded. "Of course. Don't you?"

"Man, I don't know. It's weird. When I got home yesterday, it felt like my old room was somebody else's." Jack's voice was much more pensive than I had heard it in a long time. "I mean, I know it's mine. It's not like I have amnesia. But there's a sense of detachment now." He looked towards me, questioning. "But you don't have that, right? Because Cary is keeping you attached to your old self."

Not sure that I liked where this was going, I frowned. "I guess that's one way to put it. There's a sense of continuity, if that's what you mean. I still feel like I've changed--and more than just between eleventh and twelfth grade. But yeah. I still feel like me."

"Yeah." Jack nodded as if I had confirmed something.

"I don't think of it as stuck in the past, though," I said, somewhat defensively. "It's not like we go to college and make a completely clean break with our old lives. It's just another step along the road."

"I think part of the college experience is specificallyintendedto break us away from our old selves," Jack countered. "Not like boot camp or whatever. But still. People usually come back from Freshman year changed, right?"

I shrugged. "Liss was still Liss. Your brothers were still your brothers."

"Sure." True to the Jack I knew, he looked back and forth in the food court. "Hey, we should get something to eat before we start. You know. To fortify ourselves against the holiday crowds."

"Lead the way." I ruminated on Jack's concerns. "Are you worried that my relationship with Cary is preventing some sort of personal growth?"

"Nah. Maybe. Not really." Now Jack looked uncomfortable. "I don't know. It's been a strange semester. Maybe I'm just letting Psych 101 get to me."

We took a break to order some strombolis from Sbarro. Jack finally brightened up. "Don't worry about it, dude. I've just been feeling weird since going to college. I guess I didn't really appreciate how much fun we had--all three of us--until I lost it. It's good to back. Just strange."

Not quite mollified, I made myself smile. "As long as you're cool."

"And yeah--I'm still cool with you and Cary. In fact, being away has given me some time to think about things. Jenna and I have kept in contact. We're trying to make it work, but we also left some room to try things out if we want." Jack accepted an orange plastic tray containing his stromboli on a paper plate.

"Like... like an open relationship?" I asked.

"More like giving each other options," Jack replied. "Oh, don't look so shocked--not after you went to that party of Ty's."

I shook my head, surprised. "Wow. 'Old' you would never have done that."

Unexpectedly, Jack looked sheepish. "Yeah, well. I was a little strait-laced. I think seeing you and Cary just...gofor it gave me the push I needed out of my box." He scratched the back of his head. "You were always the one who spent a lot of time in his own head. I guess I just recently caught up to that. I've been doing a lot of thinking."

"There's no 'caught up,'" I protested. "Some people are more introspective than others. You've always been more of a 'let's get it done' dude than me, that's all."

"Well, being on my own has given me a lot more reason to be 'introspective' recently," Jack answered. "It's not a bad thing. Like I said, don't worry about it; let's just eat our strombolis and get some Christmas presents, okay?"

"Sure thing." I munched thoughtfully on pepperoni and cheese. And even though we had fun hanging out and picking up some gifts, I couldn't get his phraseattached to the pastout of my head.

* * * * *

* * * * *

Cary met me at the door to her apartment in layers of flannel. She looked anxious and sad.

"Whoa, are you okay?" I asked.

She nodded, sniffing. "Yeah. It just hit me a few hours ago that I wouldn't have the kids for Christmas tomorrow. It's hard, that's all. And I've been thinking about what Lori said. I think I need to snuggle on the couch for a little bit."

I took a deep breath. I had thought that with the passing of summer, our circle had adjusted to the idea of us as a couple. Cary had mentioned that her friends in particular didn't seem to realize that we intended to be together long-term. Maybe they had started to object to the relationship as the months progressed. I gritted my teeth--as if it wasn't hard enough being separated for weeks at a time and having Eric acting like a jerk to her.

"I'm sorry I'm not sexy for you right now," Cary said somberly as we sat down on the couch.

From the other room, I heard Patrick call out. "Is that Matt?"

"Yeah, it's me," I answered as Cary and I flopped down. I leaned and whispered into her ear, "You never have to worry about that. I told you before that I loveyou. All the time. Whether you're in silk and lace or flannel and bunny slippers."

Cary snorted a laugh. "I don't have bunny slippers."

"Well, I don't want to ruin your Christmas surprise, but I think you might have some soon," I answered slyly. Cary laughed weakly and leaned against me.

Patrick bounded out of his room, scattering a pile of Legos as he came. "I borrowedContrafrom my friend. It's two-player!"

"Hey, I rememberContra," I said. "Jack had that. I'll be happy to play in a minute. I'm just hanging out with your mom here, okay?"

"Kissing," Patrick rolled his eyes. "Ugh."

Annie popped her head out of her room. Upon catching sight of me she walked deliberately towards me, trailing a long colorful scarf which had several Christmas ornaments hooked to it. Cary took one look and burst out in a weepy chuckle. "Annie, honey, what are you doing with that?"

Small hands balled up into loose fists, Annie continued her inexorable march towards me, ignoring Cary's question. As she reached the couch, she climbed up and stood on my lap. I froze, not certain of the etiquette. She put her hands on my shoulder and leaned towards my ear. "Daddy made her sad. You need to cheer her up with kisses. Or knives."

I almost burst out laughing. Kisses or knives--a perfect encapsulation of Cary. "Well, she's got your number," I said to Cary.

"Honey, I can hear you," Cary said, her voice leveling out as she fell into 'mother' mode. "Don't bother Matt about Daddy. That's just between us."

Annie shook her head stubbornly. "Youcan'thear us. I'm wearing a Scarf of Silence." She leaned close to my ear again and stage-whispered. "She's happy when you're here. That's why you need to be the new Mister Mommy."

"Annie!" Cary jerked away from me as if burned, and snatched Annie off of my lap. "That's quite enough for now, missy."

Annie frowned, lower lip protruding. "Missyis only my name when I'm in trouble," she said to me.

"You're not in trouble," Cary said, voice brittle. "But I need some time alone with Matt for a moment. You come back in five minutes and we can play."

My mind was racing. How was I supposed to respond to this? It was exactly the sort of situation that my friends, family, and even Lori had raised as a concern. Did Cary's kids like me enough for me to eventually be a step-dad? Did Carywantme to be in that role? What would that even look like? I was barely out of adolescence myself.

Cary touched my shoulder tentatively, and I leaned into her, distracted. "Um. Sorry about that," she said softly. "They've just taken to asking questions about that. Annie, mostly. I haven't been pushing--"

I hugged her. "It's okay," I answered, despite my internal misgivings. "Mister Momwasn't Keaton's best work, but it wasn't his worst, either." I tried to let the turmoil in my brain subside. "And we knew this was something on the horizon. I just... I didn't think it would come up so soon."

Warm and vulnerable, Cary nestled into my embrace. We sat in comfortable silence for a few moments. "They really do like you, you know." She was almost whispering, as if afraid to say it out loud. "You listen to them. Youplaywith them. You read to them. That's not something they're used to. Or at least not from a man."

I sighed. It was so easy to fall into the habit of thinking that life with Cary was all dates and chilling out together and exciting sex that I sometimes lost track of the fact that she was still having a hard time at home. The adjustment to being a single parent couldn't have been easy, and she had said more than once that Eric was making things difficult for her. She didn't need my insecurities or juvenile irresponsibility right now.

"It's been three minutes!" Annie's voice called from the other room.

Cary let her hand wander up and down my arm. "It's okay," she murmured. "I don't expect anything more from you for my kids. I appreciate that you're so great with them when you come over. That's more than enough."

I riffled her hair with my fingers. "I'll be here for you as often as I can. I know it hasn't been easy. And anything I can do to help, I will."

A tear rolled down Cary's cheek--the last thing I expected. I leaned back and looked at her face. She was smiling sadly. "You're wonderful. And I'm sorry that I'm so emotional right now. I think Annie is right--I need knives and kisses."

"Knives will have to wait until practice next week," I said. "Kisses can be gotten at any time."

The phone rang, and Cary stood to answer it. After a moment, I heard her mutter in annoyance. "I forgot that I was going to take Annie over to a friend's house for a kids' Christmas party." I stood, but Cary motioned for me to sit back down. "No, it's fine. I'll drive her over and be back in a few minutes."

"I'll stay with Matt!" Patrick called from his room. Cary gave me a questioning look, and I nodded.

Cary and Annie had no sooner put on shoes to leave than Patrick exited his room, gray Nintendo cartridge in his grasp. He popped it unceremoniously into the gray-and-black box under the TV. I stood and stretched. "This calls for Christmas cookies. If there are any left."

"Counter under the foil," Patrick answered as he fiddled with the cartridge.

Returning with the plate of cookies to sit between us, I glanced at the screen. Jack and I had devoted a couple of solid weeks of summer vacation toContrain junior high. My fingers remembered the game as well as a mandolin solo, leaving my mind free to ponder events. Patrick seemed content to sit quietly for several minutes.

As a giant H.R. Giger-esque alien head hove into view on the screen, Patrick glanced towards me. "Are you gonna marry my mom?"

I nearly choked on the frosted reindeer sugar cookie I was munching. "Um." First Annie and now this. I took a deep breath--he was ten, and probably a little scared. "I think I'd like to, eventually." I looked over at him as the pause jingle chimed from the TV. The kid had his priorities straight--we might be about to have a heavy conversation, but that was no reason to lose progress in our game. "We're still figuring things out. But she makes me happy."

"You make her happy, too." Patrick took a cookie from the tray. "Dad doesn't like you."

Since replyingYour dad is a royal piece of shit rapist who deserves to be drop-kicked to the Moondidn't seem like an appropriate response, I just nodded. "I guess I wouldn't like me if I were him, either."

"I guess." Patrick frowned, digesting my answer. "Maybe he would if he knew you better. You're not like he says you are."

Sharp kid. I nodded, and tried to think of something charitable to say about the worst person I had ever met. Finally, I settled on, "People are complicated, and life isn't always as cut-and-dried as we think. It can be hard to see who somebody else really is underneath."

The door rattled as Cary returned, and Patrick un-paused the game with a slight sigh. We spent the next half hour blasting aliens and encouraging each other while Cary sat on the couch behind me, rubbing my back affectionately with her stockinged foot.

Before I left, giving Cary a hug and kiss, I knocked on Patrick's door. Cary raised an eyebrow, but obligingly stepped into the kitchen as I waved her away. He opened his room door, and I reached into my jacket. "Here," I said quietly. "I have a secret Elf Mission for Christmas. Cary hasn't gotten a stocking in a long time, so I want you to hang this up where you guys put your stockings this evening." Pinned to the overstuffed stocking I handed him was a note I had written:Do not open until Xmas morning. This means you,mon amour.