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“How come?” Brent asked, his little pale face puckered up.
“He died before you were born.”
There, quick and harsh, like pulling a Band-Aid off a partially healed wound.
“I thought Uncle Dan was my dad.”
Sandra pushed him over a little bit so she could get out of the chair.
“Why on earth would you think that?” she asked, grabbing her wineglass to refill.
“He’s everyone’s dad, but he doesn’t live with any of his kids. Dan Junior doesn’t even live with his mom. Aunt Lisa’s not his real mom.”
Taking a large drink of wine, Sandra wondered how much explanation the kid needed. “How do you know that?”
“He told me. His mom lives on a farm. Aunt Lisa took me there once. It’s cool!”
“Well, Dan’s not your father. You were named after your father. He’s Aunt Lisa’s brother, Brent. Grannie Pam is his mother.”
“So Grannie’s little boy died?”
“Well, sort of. He was a grown man,” she said, sure they’d covered this before.
“How’d he die?”
“It was just his time,” Sandra said. “It was his time to go to heaven.”
Looking like he might burst into tears, Sandra took charge. “Come on, buddy, time for bed. We have Grannie Pam’s party tomorrow, and you get to see all the cousins.”
Without arguing, he slid out of the chair, gathering the crayons and replacing them in the box without being told. He was such an obedient little boy, and Sandra figured he probably knew at a young age that it was comply or get a beating. He’d never crossed her. Holding out her hand, he took it.
“You’re such a good little guy,” she said. “I’m so lucky that you’re my son. I couldn’t stand rabble-rousers like Marcus or Dan Junior.”
“They’re the only boys, too, aren’t they, Mommy?”
“The only boys. Three boys and five girls, six counting Julie’s little girl, Margaret. I almost forgot her.”
“Who’s her daddy?”
“Dan. Who else?”
***
Across the street and north a half a block, Dan Chua sat in the window of his beach rancher and drank a bottle of beer, watching the phenomenal sunset. The sun technically set in the west, behind his house, but the glow on the water was spectacular. A door in the hallway opened, and Lily Smith walked out wearing a white satin robe. Their public story was they were keeping their relationship platonic. But Dan had had enough friendship, and tonight was the game-changer. She either complied or he’d be on the hunt for a new partner.
“You look fetching.”
Lily was not what he typically liked in a woman physically, preferring that gaunt, starved-runway-model look like Sandra had, or the tiny, barely legal look Julie had. Lisa was even too voluptuous for his taste.
Lily wasn’t exactly voluptuous. Shewaszaftig, with huge breasts that moved independently of each other, and when she sat next to him, they were right in his face. He could hardly stand to look at her big ass because all he could think of was burying his dickright there, so he had a perpetual hard-on. And since Lily was a freak, she would let him do it. Among other propensities, she’d admitted to him that she was a closet bisexual; her parents would disown her if they knew she was into it. Dan fantasized about Lily and a threesome.
But she had already been hurt by Dan once when she was younger.
“Why are we doing this?” Lily asked. “I’m from the school, if it ain’t broken, don’t fix it.”
Pulling the sides of the robe together, her breasts spilled out, her nipples staring Dan in the eye. Looking at her, she was the momentary answer to the big dilemma; Dan was bored out of his mind.
“I’m sick of playing games. I want to see if this goes anywhere,” he said, completely contridciting what he’d just told the family earlier.
