To a hearty, “ hello,” I managed to mumble out, “Dr. John Robinson?” He having assented, I continued on, “This is Luke O’Riley. I’m at Harley Swanson’s house. He doesn’t appear to be breathing, I can’t detect a pulse, and his body feels cooler then it ought to be.” The good doctor informed me he was on his way and that he’d get the process started. Placing the phone in it’s cradle, I turned at the sound of footsteps on the porch, to observe my wife, mother, and son making their entrance. The four of us stood huddled about the mortal remains of the finest man any of us had the honor to know and love. His eighty year old frame was bolt upright with bowed head, all 6’ 8” of him. Rail thin with his long white hair falling down his bowed and wrinkled forehead. His sky blue eyes were closed with his eyelids hidden by his old wireframe spectacles. His lips were curved in a smile as if he’d just heard a welcome and happy greeting. His long arms lay in his lap, fingers holding and old framed. Now I had a husband to face. When I entered the house past 1 AM, he was waiting in the kitchen as I exited the garage. My hair was rumpled and damp from the shower at Edward’s. I couldn’t look at him. It was obvious.He asked accusingly."What happened, why are you so late?"Looking down at the kitchen floor, I replied ambiguously."You asked me to socialize, I did! Now you're jealous! What do you want?"Then I remembered Dad’s advice on lying.Never look away. Keep it simple, something he’ll believe. Add something he knows is true. I looked up directly into his eyes.“I had too much wine with Patty. That’s why I’m late.”Terrified of his reaction, I awaited his response, head tilted to one side, looked directly at him, ready to accept screaming, perhaps a blow. Instead of yelling or hitting me, he led me to the bedroom, stripped me and threw me on the bed.Naked, I lay back and let him have it. Warmth flowed over me as he thrust in and out and kissed passionately. Things were turning out.
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