Dad and the Emo Girl

I confessed, "A few times. I've had massages, and once even got a manicure, but for the most part I left the spa treatments to my wife."

"I'm sorry your wife died. That must be hard." Colly had remembered our earlier discussion.

"I've become philosophical about it now. Death is the price we pay for life. I do believe in karma and reincarnation -- that we're spiritual beings having a human experience, so I expect Alice will come back in some way and our paths will cross again and again in some way. Maybe she'll wait for me, and we'll come back together, maybe as brothers or sisters or one of us the parent of the other."

"Cool concept, almost like science fiction."

"No one knows for sure, so maybe it is. If I think about it that way the loss isn't as depressing. Kids your age shouldn't be thinking about death anyway; as I'm sure everyone tells you, you've got your whole life ahead of you. You just became an adult, so life is what you make of it now."

"Yeah, kind of scary whenever I think of it, like if I make one bad decision now it'll haunt me the rest of my life."

"So, make good decisions."

"How do you know how to do that?"

I thought a minute and reached back into my mental archives. "There's an old, spiritual Native American story in which a father tells his child about the huge battle between two wolves that live inside each of us. One is evil. It is anger, jealousy, guilt, inferiority, revenge, lies, arrogance, intolerance, and ego. The other is the good wolf. This one is joy, peace, hope, harmony, serenity, kindness, empathy, truth, faith, and most of all love. The old man is quiet for a while, and the young child asks, 'Which one wins the fight?' And the wise old Indian tells him, 'The one you feed.'"

Colly thought about that for a while. "I get it. Base my life on the characteristics of the good wolf, and I'll make good decisions."

I nodded. "Sounds pretty black and white. The world comes in many shades of gray, so you'll find there are some tough calls here and there. I guarantee you'll make some bad decisions if you haven't already, but don't lose sleep over them -- you're human and screwing up occasionally is part of what makes us who we are. Many people have said that the test of your true nature is how you recover from your screw ups."

"Have you ever screwed up? I mean, when you were my age?"

"Oh, sure. I wasn't a bad kid, but I did some nasty things now and then, just to see what they were like -- vandalism, for instance. Afterwards, I felt really bad. A few times I went back and made what I'd done right. If it involved someone I'd hurt in some way, I went and apologized or tried to mend the situation. I remember breaking up with one girl to date another; I regret doing that because I never got to apologize to her. I was learning how to feed the good wolf, but back then I was learning by trial and error. As you get older your moral compass becomes a little more evident in your decisions -- your value set and how you think about others come into play."

Our conversation took a new direction into less profound areas. I worried about getting a little preachy, so I put the ball back in Colly's court to get her talking about things she was interested in. After about ten minutes, Colly headed off to the rest of her life, and I gave up my people watching for the day.

Colly didn't appear for the next couple of days, and when she did she looked depressed and not in her usual spirits. Her eyes were red, and I guessed she'd been crying.

I patted the seat next to me on my bench, "What's wrong?"

"Mom ditched me -- my own mother. I'm on the street -- entirely on my own. She left town with her flaky boyfriend, and turned the apartment back to the landlord. I have until tomorrow to move out, and then I will be living on the street. She went to California without even saying goodbye -- just left me a note."

"Can't your friends help, put you up for a few nights or weeks?"

"Tried, but no deal. Some of them are worse off than I am."

"Well, if you want, you can stay with me. I have plenty of room at the house. You can come and go as you please. I won't mind."

The words were barely out of my mouth before the cautious and practical me could intervene and say to the conscious me, 'What are you thinking? Are you out of your mind?' I had a four bedroom house with three baths, living and dining rooms, kitchen, family room, pool, and Jacuzzi, on an acre with a view across two fairways on the local golf course, but the only people who had ever stayed there were Alice and me, plus our two kids when they made one of their rare visits -- rarer now that Alice was gone. For the most part, I lived in the kitchen, family room with TV and computer, and the master bedroom.

Moving someone into my house -- someone I barely knew -- seemed like a bad idea. I didn't know whether Colly was trustworthy, whether she did drugs, or whether she'd be a complete slob and scatter her belongings from one end of the house to the other and resist all suggestions to clean up her messes, or worse a request to move out when I found her intolerable. Might her claim of abandonment be a ploy to gain entry to my home and make off with my valuables? Would the police end up knocking on my door looking to arrest her for some major felony?

Colly said thoughtfully, "You're being too good to me again, but I need a place to stay. I accept but only under a couple of conditions. First, if I'm a bother in any way, just say the word, and I'll be gone with my stuff within a day. Second, I can't pay you much in the way of rent right now, but I can surely help out around the house cooking and cleaning. I know how to do that stuff; I'm pretty domestic when I try. I promise to be neat and not take over your house other than the space you assign me. I'll be a good lodger -- I don't smoke, drink, or do drugs either. If you see something you want me to do -- or some way you want me to be -- please, just let me know."

My impulsive voice spoke again before my brain engaged, "OK. Let's go get your stuff." I even sounded enthusiastic at the idea of having a roomer.

I finally got my head out of my own concerns for a new housemate, and started to wonder what Colly was thinking about the situation she was in. 'I'm screwed over by my alcoholic mother, and have nowhere to live. The few friends I have can't help me ... or won't help me. I have no money to speak of. This nice older guy who's old enough to be my grandfather and who I barely know, has offered me a place to stay, and I don't know where he lives and have no one in particular I could tell where I'm going in case he attacks me or locks me up as a sex slave or something weird. Can I trust him? What does he want from me? Might he want to steal my stuff -- ha! What stuff? Will he come on to me?"

Colly's apartment was run down and wreaked of cigarette smoke. Colly explained her mother was the smoker, and reminded me that she didn't do 'cigs' or drugs. Colly filled a couple of trash bags with her clothing, packed up an empty liquor box with some other belongings, and I drove her to my home.

As we pulled in the driveway, Colly exploded, "Hoooooly shit -- Oh, excuse me! Your home is a friggin' palace. I love it. I've never been in anything this nice -- ever! Oh, I've met you and now this; I'm the luckiest girl in the world."

I had to admit I did live well. I'd done well in my career and investments, and now had the rewards -- a comfortable retirement spread on a prestigious golf course.

I suggested that before we empty the car with her stuff that Colly take a look at what I had in mind for her room, and see if she could live there. She didn't know it then, but if she had any reservations, I'd decided to get her a good room somewhere so she could safely live. Colly's mouth hung agape for the entire house tour, and when we hit the backyard, I thought I'd lose her because she wanted to go into the pool immediately.

Colly raved about the house and 'her' bedroom, a posh place compared to her mother's apartment, that we'd kept as a guest room instead of turning it into a home office or craft room. We moved her belongings into her bedroom, and I moved some clothing from that closet to a couple of others to give her room to hang her clothes.

Having another person in the house seemed strange after so long a period living alone. Even when I left her to unpack, I could 'sense' her presence, almost as though I could hear her breathing from the other end of the house. I heard the bedside radio tuned to some music -- popular stuff I didn't mind listening to. She kept the volume low, but I was still aware of the sound. At one point, I could hear her singing along to a song she knew; Colly had a pretty voice.

I started to put together a spaghetti dinner, something within my range of cooking skills: boil water for the noodles, and heat up some sauce. I even had Parmesan cheese to sprinkle over the top.

I opened a bottle of wine, and poured myself a glass, and then set the dining room table. When Colly appeared, I asked, "Care for a glass of wine?"

She looked surprised, "I'm not twenty one. Really?"

"I don't think we'll kill off too many brain cells with one glass. I have diet Coke too."

"No. No. A glass of wine would be so nice. I've only tasted wine a couple of times in my life. One time it did me in, but I drank a whole lot in a short time. I guess I was learning by 'trial and error' as you called it."

I poured a glass and handed it to Colly. She took a sip and gave me a broad smile. "Thank you, this tastes good."

"For future reference, please don't tell anyone I served you. I don't want to go to jail for contributing to the delinquency of a minor." I laughed, but there was serious edge to my voice.

Colly nodded. She said, "Funny, here I am nineteen, and I can vote, even run for office, join the military, and I can make decisions about my sex life on my own and even get married without anyone's consent, but I can't drink. It seems crazy, like a puzzle missing one piece."

I ventured, "I think it has to do with so many young people getting in car accidents when the age was younger and they'd been drinking."

She nodded. "Hey, how can I help with dinner?"

I watched Colly carefully, trying to understand how she must feel about what she was seeing and experiencing. She found enough in the refrigerator to assemble a side salad for us. We had a good dinner, the first I'd shared with a pretty girl in eons.

Over dinner, we talked about her art school studies: how she'd get to class, timing, how she'd get around, her job and hours, and how she could help out with the cleaning and meals at home. She genuinely wanted to carry her part of the bargain for her 'rent.' Because of my flexibility I could readily adapt my empty schedule to hers. I volunteered to be her chauffeur since we were well off the public transportation routes.

Colly had never learned to drive. I felt that one important skill I could teach her was how to safely drive so she could get around on her own. Once she got her license, I had a surprise for her, at least for as long as she stayed with me.

The next day, on the way to her art school, we stopped at the Registry of Motor Vehicles and got Colly a learner's permit. That evening, after her art shop closed, I started her lessons in the parking lot of an abandoned church. Colly was a fast learner, had good motor skills and eye-hand coordination, plus she proved to be a good student with the little manual about driving rules and regulations in the State.

Two weeks later, Colly went and passed the driving test on her first try. She was bubbling over with appreciation again after her test, and I got a beautiful kiss from her as she came running out of the Registry waving the small laminated license in her hand with a radiant smile that lit up the east coast. The kiss wasn't just one; it was a series of kisses as she pushed herself against me. Oh, I liked this too much. The memory of that spiritual connection I felt with her surfaced again, and I pushed it away. The list of reasons was long, and most revolved around our ages and what we 'should' be doing at our age to fit in.

Once back at the house, I led the two of us inside, and then through the kitchen to the garage. In the garage was my wife's unused car, a seven-year-old Toyota that I drove around once a week so it didn't freeze up or get square tires. I pointed to the car and handed the keys for it to Colly. "It's yours while you're here."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Nope. Take it for a spin."

"But, ..." She started jumping up and down in her excitement.

"Go." I opened the garage door for her and nudged her to the car.

Colly backed up carefully, and drove away from the house, only to return a few minutes later after a traverse around the block. She carefully pulled back into the garage.

She got out, "This is such a sweet vehicle. I love it. The radio is great, and everything works." With that, I got another series of kisses and a full-body hug from her. Damn, every time she did that I not only had impure thoughts about this cutie, but also the feeling about the spiritual connection with her.

Colly did something else that gave me impure thoughts about her too. She loved the swimming pool; however, she didn't have a swimsuit. Consequently, she'd show up poolside wearing undies and a thin bra. After her swim, her clothing would be nearly transparent, and it took a lot of will power for me not to gawk at her pretty body, because I could see just about every inch of it.

I realized I was truly a dirty old man, when I didn't even think of suggesting that I buy her a swimsuit. I liked her swimming in her transparent underwear. She had a gorgeous body that I enjoyed ogling. I think she knew too.

During the first couple of weeks with me, a couple of other things started to change about Colly. She removed the loops that pierced her lower lip and eyebrow, and stopped coloring her brunette tresses. The large stud in the side of her nose changed to a tiny gemstone that I felt was really attractive. The all-black outfits gave way to an occasional splash of color with a scarf or off-black piece of clothing, and the boots were often left behind in favor of flats.

One evening, when Colly got home from working at the art store, I suggested we go out to dinner at the Golf Club. Colly knew enough about country club life to realize that going in her black emo style might get us expelled.

Colly said shyly, "I don't think that's a good idea. I have no nice clothing that would let me fit in there. I'd embarrass you, and I don't want to do that." I felt her genuine concern for me. I'd felt the same in other interactions with her as well. I knew she liked me.

I stood looking at Colly, and then I took her hand and led her into the master bedroom and then into the walk-in closet that remained filled with Alice's clothing. I could never bring myself to clear out her things, donating them to some charity.

I said, "I don't want to freak you out, but you're about the same size as Alice. I haven't been up to tossing any of this stuff, so if you see anything here you would like to wear, it's yours, and I'd be proud to go out with you in any of it. If the idea of wearing my late wife's clothing spooks you too much, don't worry; I'll eventually toss it or donate it, and for tonight we can go get a pizza."

Colly looked in awe at the high-end clothing my late wife indulged. She said in a small voice, "I'd be honored to wear Alice's clothes. They're all beautiful." I could see Colly's eyes get all glassy as tears formed at the honor implied.

Colly turned and hugged me, and then gave me my reward again -- a series of lovely kisses and we held each other close. After that encounter, I said, "When you kiss me like that, it makes we want to give you things all day long."

Colly laughed, "That's the idea." She added in a more serious tone, "Really, I don't expect any of what you're doing for me. You're so generous and kind, I just want ... to kiss you because of the person you are, not because you give me things. I like kissing you. I feel a special connection with you."

On that note, my heart skipped many beats, and we started another series of kisses as we stood in the closet. The kisses made my heart flutter and messed with my mind in a whole lot of ways. I hadn't stood and necked like this with a woman for forty years or more. Alice and I had long been out of the custom, and I realized in kissing Colly how much I'd missed this expression of affection. Moreover, Colly felt some kind of special connection the same way I did. Maybe she felt the spiritual connection and love between the two of us.

When we broke apart I moved away slightly and asked, "Should we be doing this? Shouldn't you be out finding a young man your own age?"

Colly pecked my lips once again and said, "I've found exactly who I want in my life right now. Now, let me get ready to go out to dinner with you. I am so looking forward to this. I've never had clothes this nice nor a place to wear them like your club." With that she waltzed out of the closet to shower and left me to wonder about just what was happening between us.

Over the few weeks since I'd met her, I'd developed warm fuzzy feelings for Colly -- 'my' Emo Girl. In many ways, she'd become my fantasy. Yet in my saner moments, I couldn't imagine a retired professional over sixty creating a lasting romantic relationship of any kind with a nineteen-year-old girl with tats, piercings, and dressing preferences that only a Goth or motorcycle babe might appreciate. I'd fantasized about being with Colly in a carnal way, but dismissed that thought as pure fantasy just as I had a fantasy of being with Jenny Lee or one of the other porn queens I watched occasionally on the Internet. With today's kisses, however, I began to reassess what it was I wanted in a relationship with a woman -- with a girl like Colly.

Colly ran past me a few minutes later wrapped in a towel. She babbled in absolute delight at the idea of a whole new wardrobe. She blushed coyly in her partial nudity as she headed into the closet with her newly available wardrobe. A few minutes later, she emerged in a sleeveless white top that revealed the colorful dragon tattoo on her right arm. She wore a colorful green and white patterned skirt, and had chosen a pair of white heels. The combination of colors was amazing and complementary, particularly with her tattoo.

I looked more closely. Colly had removed the nose, eyebrow, and lip rings leaving her pretty face metal free. She'd retained a tiny diamond stud in the side of her nose that I found quite attractive, and I'd told her so. Colly's right ear held only a single pearl earring; the other dozen studs had been removed as well. Colly's left ear had a matching pearl earring, and four other tasteful studs instead of the collection of earrings and metal she'd had earlier.

Colly had arranged her hair in a twist, and put two oriental combs to hold it in place. The effect was stunning. She'd also applied just a hint of make up; particularly around her eyes so they looked inviting and engaging. Colly looked young and sexy and desirable, and I wanted to kiss her all over. Over her arm, she carried a light jacket that matched the skirt. She held up the jacket and said, "I'm guessing I'll need this to cover my tat at the Club. Otherwise, is this OK?"

I nodded numbly. I was speechless. In the blink of an eye, she'd gone from Emo Girl to Miss Preppy, a Country Club Girl -- and a beautiful looking one to boot. As I stared at her, with a smile on my face, Colly came up to me. She put her arms around my neck and kissed me and said, "Good evening, kind sir; yours is exactly the reaction I'd been hoping for with this outfit. Please take me to dinner." I held her hips and kissed back, and we actually made out for a minute before I worried that I was overpowering her in some way.