Ian

On any given work day, I’m up and moving by five in the morning. I bide my time looking over the headlines of the morning paper while the coffee kicks in and then I’m off to the gym. Some mornings, the thought of lifting does not interest to me, but I know if it doesn’t happen first thing, I won’t have any energy left for it at the end of the day. At my age, if I don’t put the effort into staying in shape, I’ll end up like all those ‘vacation dads’ I see around town. The type whose beer bellies pop out over their trunks, but suffer a void in their shorts where their asses should be. No. Thank. You.

I don’t claim to know what my future holds in the romance department, but I sure as hell don’t expect I’ll find what I want sporting that look. Hell, once things go that far out come the socks with sandals and I can’t, for the life of me, imagine any woman finding that attractive.

As I back my truck out of the garage, my mind is half focused on the morning workout. Wait a sec? Did I just see what I think I saw? I look back to confirm, and sure enough, Samantha Rogers’ little Honda is sitting in Rick and Lilly’s driveway. “Is she home for summer break?” I ask myself in a half mumble.

Since the divorce, I sometimes lose track of time. Now that Will’s gone to camp for the summer, life has become all about the routine, do this, then that. Not exactly fulfilling, but it keeps life simple and simple is good.

I allow myself a moment to lust over Samantha Rogers. Those perky tits, always gleeful and bouncing, straining for freedom under her shirt. That perfectly round ass, hugging any material fortunate enough to cover it. Holy shit, it’s like her body calls my name. Try as I have, I can’t keep myself from treasuring all she has to offer.

I know I should feel like shit, with thoughts like this of my best friend’s daughter floating around my head—but what can I do at this point, I’ve had a crush on her for years. It’s a guilty secret I will take to the grave.

My brain is aware nothing can ever come of it. Besides, how would that go exactly? To her, I’d just be a creepy old man who hit on a beautiful young woman, only to be shot down. Hard. Then there’s the whole, “you motherfucker, you made a move on my daughter!” bit from Rick, thus ruining a twenty-plus-year friendship.

She’s got her entire life ahead of her, why would she be interested in someone literally twice her age?

Oh, but if she was. She would never want for anything. I’ve worked my entire adult life, sometimes burning the candle at both ends, building a successful company to always be able to provide for my family.

I suppose that’s one gift I got out of the divorce. Gail was in such a hurry to run off with some new guy she couldn’t be bothered to fight for custody of Will or for her share of the company. She was only concerned about a lump sum of cash and her freedom. Done. And thank you. Idiot.

The only commentary she ever had about Will and work was that I must love them both more than her because if I wasn’t at practice with him I was on a job. She was right about that, I can’t say I felt much love for her, I mean, she was, and is, horrible to be around. She was my wife though, and by God, it’s a man’s responsibility to care and provide for his family.

For the life of me, I don’t understand why she never put together how all those company trucks with my name on them meant things were going pretty damned well with the company. Though she never seemed to have any trouble swiping that goddamned credit card. I’d wonder where she thought the money came from to pay for all that shit if I believed she bothered with thoughts like that. Either way, now it’s just Will and me, and at fifteen, he’ll be off to college himself in a few years.

As I drive to the gym, my mind drifts back to a weekend with Sam’s family at the lake house so many years ago. Sam wore the tiniest red bikini. That was the moment I began to see the woman she was becoming, and damn she has only gotten better since. Her body is only half the story, she always stood out as one in a million—a gentle soul with a genuine kindness and thoughtful nature that far exceeded her years. Hell, compared to Gail she’s a fucking angel walking among us, but I guess that isn’t saying much.

I move through the rest of my day according to the routine. A different workout, maybe a different job site, but the rhythm remains more or less identical to any other day, with one exception. Samantha Rogers is front and center on my mind through it all. I’ve thought of her often since she left for college; wondering how she’s adapted to her freedom and independence. Curious if she found love. Those thoughts were always somewhat random, and fleeting, but today? Today is different.

I have a need, springing up from some place deep inside, to see her. It doesn’t make any sense. How? Why? What excuse could I give? I need to get past this and focus on something else. Anything else. But I can’t.

Tomorrow is Saturday, and my work crews all have their respective projects under control. Then again, they always do, so if I show up at a job site tomorrow, they’re going to think I don’t trust them. I need a plan for the day to keep myself distracted, or at the very least, occupied.

I work several ideas through in my mind before deciding. I’ll break the routine with a sunrise run on the beach then take the truck for a wash. If I don’t want to start living off pizza and Chinese takeout, I need to fit in a trip to the grocery in as well.

Alright, that’s a solid start. If I can get that far without focusing on Sam, maybe I’ll be alright.