Favorite Aunt

Miserable Aunt

My marriage wasn’t much of one. It felt more like a partnership than a marriage. I was on the road a lot to make ends meet and my wife was working part time, being homemaker and raising our daughter. Needless to say, we both were pretty miserable without being able to spend much time together.

Then the unthinkable happened. While traveling through Kansas toward a South Carolina destination, I got a call from my sister that no sister should have to make. My wife and daughter perished in a car wreck caused by a drunk driver. I thought I was living a lonely life before but now….well, it got worse. When I would go back to the house, it felt empty, dead and hard to stay. So I kept a few mementos’, cleaned up the place and sold it.

That was almost a year ago. In all honesty, the first holidays you observe are the toughest. They bring back the fact they’re not there to enjoy those good times with you anymore and then the pain reins you in to a near catatonic state. In addition, dealing with the death of my last living grandparent a few weeks ago isn’t as bad as it wasn’t a shock. She was ill for a long time and it was more of a relief than anything else that she was no longer suffering. I was in North Dakota when my Aunt Jean called to let me know Grandma passed on. I wasn’t able to make the funeral and scheduled time off to spend with Aunt Jean as soon as I could.

Aunt Jean had always been my favorite. She always seemed bubbly and happy. I had a crush on her for the longest time. She was only five feet tall, very dark brown hair that she always kept midway down her back but recently cut it to shoulder length. Though petite, she sported a nice figure on the order of a 35C-24-35 and might have weighed all of 100 pounds soaking wet. That was my memory of her when I was much younger. The few times I had visited, she always looked great and we always had fun driving around in her Porsche 914! My Dad was the oldest and she was the baby of the family and we were only fourteen years apart in age. Now at 46, alone and driving a truck, I couldn’t wait to get off the road and visit Aunt Jean at her new place she built and talk about good times we had at Grandma’s old house.

When I drove up into the driveway, my Aunt came running out to meet me, ecstatic that I could make it. As soon as we embraced, she broke down into sobs thanking me for coming. Grandpa and all three of her siblings were gone and she felt so alone having to take care of Grandma before she passed away. After several minutes of hugging and comforting each other, we went inside her house to talk about how things are going. She fixed us some coffee and we talked about all the stuff that was to be shipped to living relatives based on the Will. We talked for hours with good memories and bad coming back to us about Grandma. Before we knew it, it had grown dark outside and neither of us had supper.

“Would you want Italian or Mexican tonight?” She asked in her soothing southern accent.

“Italian. I don’t think my stomach will handle that kind of spice tonight.” I replied.

“Get your boots on and let’s go then! I’ll be just a couple of minutes.” She said cheerily. “Let’s take your Jeep. I haven’t had a ride in one of those yet.” With that, she winked and went upstairs to her bedroom to change.

I went to my room and changed into an upper-casual set of clothes. Kaki brown trousers, dark green button-down front dress shirt and black dress cowboy boots. After brushing my hair I waited in the foyer for her to return. A few minutes later I heard her close her door and start descending the stairs when I looked up. The room seemed to light up and my eyes widened as she took each step in an elegant and very feminine decent down a staircase. She was wearing a white casual dress with a black belt and black three inch spike high heeled shoes. The dress extended to just below the knee and sported a shoulder baring ruffle which hid sleeve loops to prevent them from sliding up onto her shoulders. She had her hair down but was adorned with a white hair band like those from the sixties, over the top of her head. Coupled with her amazing green eyes she looked to be in her mid-thirties. The look was classic demure elegance. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she looked straight at me and smiled knowingly. She knew she had that effect on men. She came up to me and with a slender finger, gently lifted my chin to close my mouth. I swallowed a hard dry lump. She looked fantastic and I then remembered why I had such a crush on her waaaaay back when. Apparently, I still had one.

“I take it you like my dress?” she asked as she twirled around for me to see the whole thing smiling happily. Her skirt flared out and I could see the white lace garters on her nude colored stockings high up on her thighs raising my temperature considerably. I thought she had good looking legs but I never suspected she wore stockings! I simply nodded in answer to her question as anything I would try to have said would either come out cracking like a puberty teen or a croak. She held out a hand, palm down and like a gentleman, I took on the chivalrous role she initiated and looked into her eyes. Her pupils were dilated, large as I then thought she saw mine were. With her in hand I guided her through the door to the Jeep.

Southern nights in Georgia can be quite uncomfortable. Tonight wasn’t one of those hot steamy nights. Instead it was quite pleasant. We still needed the air conditioning but didn’t need it going full tilt. She directed me on where to turn to get to the restaurant and in no time we were pulling up to a very nice one. I parked up close to the building so she wouldn’t have to walk in those high heels which I’m sure she didn’t wear but on rare occasions. I got out and hurriedly moved around to open her door before she opened it. I needn’t have worried. She sat there as befits a proper lady waiting patiently. I opened the door and held out my hand. She took it and swung her legs over and slid out landing on her feet expertly as if she’d done it all her life. When she was married, her husband always had a full-sized pick up with large tires and wherever they went, it was in his truck. She only drove her car when he wasn’t going anywhere with her.

“I remember that huge Jeep your dad had. It was so high up I was always afraid if I fell out, I’d fall on my face long before my feet hit.” She said. We laughed at that. His was a 1977 Cherokee Chief with the big tires and it was a doozie of a step. Any woman in a dress or skirt would have to hike it up pretty high to manage getting in or out. She commented that she liked this one better as it didn’t try to catch her dress and make it ride up. I gave a half-smile wondering why she commented on that. We walked up to the Maître d’ and asked for our names. I gave him mine and he found it on the reservation list.

“It is a pleasure to have you and your lovely wife here to dine with us tonight. “ He said reaching for her hand then bowing at the hip and kissing the back of it gently. My eyebrows launched upward then I frowned and she gave me a firm look and barely perceptible shake of her head. When the Maître d’ risen from his bow at the hip, she was smiling again at him.

“This way to your table please.” The Maître d’ said and turned to stride purposefully into the dining rooms. Aunt Jean lifted her hand palm down again and I took it leading her to follow in the Maître d’s wake.

On the way to our booth, I caught a few of the men glancing at my aunt. Others openly stared. It was fairly easy to tell who was admiring and who was leering. I reacted to the leering in a not so subtle switch to protect mode as some of the leering ones made eye contact with me and the meaning clear. I immediately felt my grip on her hand tighten slightly as my jaw set and six foot two inch frame tensed as if readying for battle. She looked at me and whispered something in my ear I couldn’t process right away in my state of mind. I did relax but only a little until we were seated in a mostly unoccupied section of the dining area. A wall separating this area from the main dining area gave the impression of a separate restaurant. Curtains crossed the open doorway blocked the view and most of the sound of the other restaurant patrons and I relaxed considerably once we were seated. This area was considerably more quiet as I looked around with a quick glance to take in the thicker carpet as well as the drapes on the walls.