” She looked over at the man. “Why do you think, honey?” “No,” said the man, looking up at me for the first time. “They’re great sketches, you should be proud of posing for them.” The woman said, “Maybe you ought to show her the photographs, Mat.” “What photographs?” I asked. The man went out from around the counter and headed for the back room. The woman said, “Go on, dear, follow him back to his office. He’ll show them to you.” It was a messy little office but he found the photos and spread them out on his desk. I hadn’t noticed any of the students with cell phones, but I guess they had them. There I was, in living color, some taken candidly when I’d been walking around the classroom or stretching or bending over. I turned to the owner. “I don’t suppose you’d let me have those.” “Oh, hell no—I jerk off to them.” He reached out and yanked down my top and the next thing I knew my tits were exposed and he had squatted down and was now fastening his mouth over my left nipple. He really. Being parents suited us both. We'd both come from intact families, each of which overflowed with love and joy. There was none of the archetypal in-law in-fighting you see lampooned in sitcoms.Our families always gathered, all of us, both sides of the family, at special occasions. Easter, Memorial Day, the Fourth, Labor Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years' saw us all gathered in a throng, a sea of bodies, all happy chaos and whimsy and much, much hugging and kissing.Then there was Ellen's funeral.We gathered as an extended group, but there was laughter only at her memory, happiness only in our memories of her. She'd been taken from us by an uninsured drunk with seven DUI convictions and not a hint of a license.There was no justice, not for her; the driver served a year, and was released, only to harm others later.My impotent anger could have consumed me, might have consumed, pardon my immodesty, a lesser man. I had two children, though, and they needed me, needed for me to focus.
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