Mary and Alvin Ch. 09

"Sandy Bartlett died from a brain tumor not a year or two after we graduated."

"Yeah, they had her. And that numbie Carl Franks. They had him on there, didn't say nothing about him overdosing, they left that out."

"Jeff Cyr died in a wreck up on 95. His family buried him at their camp down by Mill Stream, and planted a nice sugar maple over him"

"Thats a nice thing."

"Couple years later, beavers gnawed the frickin' thing down."

Terri nearly spit out a mouthful of her coffee brandy. "Jeezum, that's a pisser," she said, "shouldn't be funny, I suppose, but it is."

"Joe Staples got the white lung, working over to the Bucksport mill," Alvin added, "passed last year."

"He was on there. And Jeannie Moody. Didn't you go out with her sister?"

"Ayuh. Ned Chamberlain."

"I liked Ned."

"I did too, he was a good sort." Alvin said, then after a moment's silence added, "Fuck George Bush."

Terri pretended to spit. "So, here's to you and me, the real most likelies." She clinked her glass against Alvin's bottle.

The bar filled up as the ball game started. Alvin and Terri watched the Tigers jump out to a quick three to nothing lead. The Hurley's crowd grew disgruntled.

"You know what," Terri said, "fuck Miguel Cabrera, too."

The Red Sox fans perked up when Big Papi jacked one over the Green Monster, but in their half of the inning the Tigers put five runs on the board and a consensus was reached that once against, the Sox would break New England's heart. Alvin finished his second beer.

"Probably ought to get going," he said.

"Not already," Terri said, putting her hand on his arm. "You getting old on me?"

"Might be," he shrugged.

Terri leaned in close to him. "Remember when we used to rent a room at the Sea Breeze?"

"I remember," Alvin nodded, "only motel around rents by the hour, no questions asked. I recall the time we got a room and the door wouldn't shut tight. Kept swinging open on us."

"Alvin, I can afford an hour."

Alvin looked at her blankly for a minute, then realized what she had meant.

"Jeezum, Terri, I don't know..."

"You did get old on me. Bullshit, let's go, for old times sake."

Alvin tried to tell himself that there were good reasons why he should not go to the Sea Breeze with Terri, but he couldn't think of a single one. When she stood and said, "C'mon, let's go," he followed her out of the bar.

"I'll drive," Terri said as they walked toward their cars, "you might not remember where it is."

"I reckon you've been there more recent than I have," Alvin said.

"If you're calling me a slut, chummie, keep a mind to who helped me get started down that path."

Alvin laughed as he got in the passenger seat. Terri climbed behind the wheel and started the car.

"You need to stop at the store, bub? I've got the Trojans if you've got your blue pill."

Alvin shook his head. "I think I'll get along fine," he told her, "unless you're saying you ain't the inspiration you once were."

They drove out of town and headed east on the main highway. They crossed the big bridge and a mile further along, pulled into the potholed parking lot of the Sea Breeze Motel. Terri parked in front of the dimly lit office. A neon light in the window read "V CANCY". Alvin stepped out of the car.

"I said I'd pay for an hour," Terri reminded him.

"Might want to each pay for an hour."

"Well, ain't you a frickin' optimist," Terri laughed.

Alvin entered the dingy office and rang the bell on the front desk. A few minutes later, an old woman came out from the back room, a cigarette dangling from her lips. Alvin remembered her from previous visits, and was amused that she didn't seem to have changed at all in almost two decades.

"You want the night?" she asked, without removing her smoke.

"Two hours," Alvin replied.

"That'll be fifty bucks."

Alvin took out his wallet, and wondered if he had enough cash, before realizing that there was no reason he couldn't pay with a credit card. I don't think I even had a credit card the last time I was here, he thought.

Terri was leaning on her car when he came back out. "Room Three," Alvin told her.

"You didn't get the presidential suite?" she asked him.

"No, I guess they are holding that in case some VIP comes by."

"Stephen King, maybe, doing some research."

Alvin opened the door and stepped into the room. He flipped the light switch and a lamp came on.

"Smells like my Uncle Jeb's chicken barn in here," Terri said.

"This is what the flatlanders call shabby chic," Alvin said. The room's entire furnishings consisted of a bed, a side table with the single lamp, and a pair of yellow plastic chairs. A rabbit eared television was chained to a wall mounted metal shelf.

Terri pulled her Red Sox jersey over her head and hung it on the doorknob.

"Can't let that touch the floor," Alvin joked.

She sat on the bed and took off her shoes. Looking up at Alvin, she said, "You already been invited, what are you waiting for?"

He quickly kicked off his shoes and undressed.

"If we wanted romance, we'd have not come here," Terri said as she slipped out of her jeans.

"That's true," Alvin said, kneeling on the bed beside her. He leaned down and kissed her. She put one hand on the back of his head and leaned back, pulling him down with her.

As soon as Terri touched his cock, Alvin felt the years fall away. When she took him in her mouth, it was as if they were eighteen again.

He was afraid that, having been celibate for so long, he would not last long enough to please her, but Terri knew how to bring him close to the edge without sending him over it.

"Jeezum, Terri," he muttered, "you got better at that over the years."

Terri laughed. "Let's see if you did," she said climbing on top of him and lowering her crotch toward his face. He grasped her hips in his hands and began to use his tongue on her.

"Ayuh, that's pretty good," she said, before returning to his cock. She pressed down against him until he could barely breathe. He rolled on his side, carrying her with him, and they continued in that position until he had to pull away to keep from cumming.

They took a minute to catch their breath. Alvin's cock began to sag, but Terri revived it with a few deft strokes and then climbed over Alvin, her back to him, and lowered herself on to him. He stroked her back as she rode up and down on his cock. She moaned and gasped for air. "Alvin, give it to me hard," she panted.

Alvin rose up and kneeled behind her, pressing her shoulders down. She raised her ass and he entered her from behind. There was no holding back now, he pumped into her as hard and as fast as he could. It had been so long for him. When he came, he thought he might pass out from the intensity. He slumped down over Terri's back, wrapped his arms around her and fell on to his side. She spooned against him, panting from her own climax.

"Jeezum, you must have been saving that up," she said.

"Well, been almost three years," Alvin replied.

"Aw, fuck, Alvin, you mean since Bonnie? Wish you had told me that."

"Would it have made a difference?"

"No, I guess not."

Alvin sat up and looked around the tiny room. "Jeezum, " he said, "did we ever think this place was cool?"

"Nope, we thought it was christly nasty."

"Better than fucking in the pucker brush, I guess."

"Hard tellin', not knowin', probably more bugs in here."

"Let's get the hell of of here." Alvin said. Terri took no convincing.

They drove back to Hurley's. When they pulled up, they could hear the crowd inside yelling and cheering. They stepped inside just in time to see Kevin Youkilis slap a liner down the right field line, bringing Ellsbury home and winning it for the Sox in the bottom of the ninth. The fans in the bar pounded their fists on their tables and chanted "Youk! Youk!"

Alvin and Terri joined in the ritual chugging of Fireballs that accompanied every Red Sox victory. Everyone agreed that this would be Boston's year.

Alvin laid awake in the dark, thinking back to that night with Terri. He rolled on to his side and propped his head up on his elbow. He could dimly see Mary's face in the moonlight and hear her soft sleeping breathes. A strange notion came into his head. Terri was my first lover, he thought, Mary will be my last. That disconcerted him, and he sat up and quietly slipped out of the bed. He tiptoed into the living room and crossed over to the window that overlooked the harbor. He could see the wharf there, and his boat gently rocking at it's berth. A wavering line of moonlight shimmered across the bay.

Terri had been special. Not just because she was first, but she seemed to understand him in a way no other woman, not even Bonnie, ever could. Maybe the fact that they were so much alike was the reason that they had twice drifted apart.

After their liaison at the Sea Breeze, he and Terri had gotten together regularly for a couple of months. It wasn't dating, they rarely went anywhere. Usually, Alvin would drive out to her house, they would have a few drinks and go to bed. The sex was always good, but they soon ran out of shared reminiscences and their conversation dwindled. By mutual agreement they returned to just being friends.

But the brief affair had recharged Alvin's libido. He signed up with a couple of online dating sites, but unless he wanted to spend all his time going to Portland or Bangor, they were useless. He confided his desires to his brother Tim, and he set up a few dates with local women he knew. After some initial awkwardness, Alvin came to enjoy them, but none of them led to more than a few pleasant evenings and a couple of one night stands. After a while he stopped trying, and it was only then, when he stopped pressing, that he became more successful.

Abigail Staples was an advertising salesperson for a Bangor radio station. She came to the wharf one day, looking to sell ad time. Alvin was not interested in radio ads, but he found himself interested in her, and asked her out. They dated for two months before she decided to reunite with an ex-boyfriend who had just returned from Afghanistan.

Then there was the divorcee who showed up one day to inquire how best to sell the boat she had taken from her husband in their settlement. The Canadian woman who was sailing the coast solo from Halifax down to Martha's Vineyard. The sales clerk at the chandlery in Southwest Harbor who wrote her phone number on his receipt.

On a stormy October morning, when Charlotte was in her first year of college, Alvin drove Jennifer down to the road in his pickup, so she would not have to wait for the school bus in the rain. After seeing her off, he went back up to the house to get ready for his workday. The tourist season had wound down, but there were still a few boats to get ready for winter and a fair amount of maintenance yet to be done on the facilities.

His mother had still been in bed when he and Jennifer got in the truck, but she was sitting at the kitchen table when he returned.

"You alright, Ma? You looked a bit peaked."

Hannah shook her head and coughed. "No," she replied, "I'm doing poorly."

"Let me make you some tea," Alvin said, but as soon as he turned his back, he heard a loud thump. He spun around and saw his mother lying on the floor. His mind immediately flashed to the image of Bonnie in her garden. This time, I can do something, he thought. He rushed to her and rolled her onto her back. She wasn't breathing. He placed his hand on her chest and could not feel a heartbeat.

Alvin had been certified to do CPR for years, but had never actually used the training. He tried to remember what to do. He began doing compressions to Hannah's chest and was amazed when, after a dozen or so, she drew in a deep but ragged breath and began to cough. She tried to get up, but he pushed her back down.

"Stay put, Ma," he told her, remembering how she had driven herself to the hospital while having her first heart attack. He rushed to the living room and grabbed a pillow and blanket from the couch and his cell phone from the table.

He put the pillow under her head and covered her while he dialed 911. Once they told him help was on the way, he sat on the floor next to her and held her hand while they waited.

Hannah seemed disoriented and Alvin kept reassuring her that she would be alright. At one point she looked at him and said, "Twenty two years."

"What's that, Ma?" Alvin asked, but her mind had drifted off.

The paramedics arrived and hustled Hannah on to a gurney and whisked her into the ambulance. Alvin jumped in his truck and followed them to the hospital. It was only a ten minute trip, but to Alvin it seemed like hours.

Hannah was rushed into the emergency room, with Alvin close behind. A nurse took his arm and told him he would just be in the way. She escorted him to the waiting room. He took a seat and stared at the ER door. The first time he had ever seen Bonnie was when she had stepped through that door. Christ, Bonnie, he thought, I need you right now.

He had only been there a few minutes when Dr. Gates, the ER supervisor, came out.

"Mr. Faulkner?"

Alvin stood up and the doctor came to him.

"Mr. Faulkner, I'm afraid that your mother arrested again in the ambulance. She didn't make it. I'm very sorry."

Alvin looked down at the floor and nodded. "Knew it would happen someday," he muttered.

"She had a long history of cardiac disease," Gates said, "She fought a good fight against it."

"Thank you. I, uh, I've got to call my brother and sister. And my kids."

"Of course, we will be here for you."

Alvin called Diana and Tim. The wharf could stay closed for the day. He would go to the high school and pick up Jennifer, then call Charlotte when they got home.

As he drove to get Jennifer, he wondered what his mother had meant when she had said "twenty two years." She wasn't talking about her age, obviously, nor his. Then it came to him. It had been twenty two years since his father had died. Twenty two years since she had lost the only man she had ever loved. In the months after her death, Alvin pondered those three words many times. What was she trying to tell him? Was she expressing her sorrow that she had been so long without her love? Or her expectation that she and Jack would be reunited? Alvin didn't believe either were right. The more he considered her words the more certain he became that she was trying to advise him. She was warning him of the terrible loneliness of a loveless life. From the moment of that realization, Alvin ceased to be interested in casual dating and one night stands. Someday another real love would come into his life and he would keep his heart open for it. He did not know it yet, but he was waiting for a girl on a bicycle.

Alvin was so lost in thought that he did not hear Mary get out of bed. He was startled by the sound of her voice softly calling his name from the doorway.

"Oh. Good morning, babe," he said when he saw her.

"Is everything okay?" she asked as she crossed the room to him.

"I'm fine, just looking out at the new morning."

"Standing naked in front of my window," she said, leaning against him and putting one hand on his shoulder.

He had waited years for love to return to his life and now that it had, he found himself pulling away from it. Opening his heart to love meant opening it to the possibility of unbearable pain.

When he didn't answer her, Mary reached down and wrapped her hand around his cock.

"I want you to come back to bed with me," she told him, "I think you need a morning treat."

"Well, I won't say no to that," he replied, feeling himself stiffen at her touch. She gripped his cock and began to step backwards, leading him toward the bedroom. She giggled, watching his downcast face light up with a grin.

Alvin sprawled on the bed and Mary kneeled between his legs, stroking him.

"Do you remember," she asked, "the first time we were together, I told you that I liked your cock?"

"I do recall that you said that."

"Guys like that, don't they? To have their cocks complimented?"

"Well, we don't get complimented on our...features all that often."

"Women get comments about our features too much."

"You more than most, I'd venture."

Mary laughed. "You know, you can say things that are so dumb and so sweet at the same time."

"How is that..." he began, but he stopped talking when he felt her lips on the tip of his cock.

He closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth, the wetness, the gentle suction of her mouth. Within a few minutes he knew that he would not last long. He propped himself up on his elbows.

"Mary," he whispered, "look at me."

Mary looked up at him, while continuing to slide her mouth up and down his shaft. As soon as they made eye contact, Alvin felt himself losing control.

"I'm going to..." he began, but it was too late. Mary nearly choked, but kept sucking as he came in her mouth. She swallowed hard, then raised her head and gasped for breath. A single line of cum ran down from her lip. Alvin reached down and wiped it off with his thumb. Mary kissed the thumb and giggled as she licked it off.

She laid down in his arms and snuggled against him.

"Thank you, baby," Alvin said.

"You're welcome. I consider it a treat for both of us."

They held each other for a few minutes before Mary looked over at the clock.

"I've got to start getting ready for work," she said. She got up and went into the kitchen to start the coffee maker. Alvin found his shorts, put them on and followed her. He watched her as she bustled around the kitchen, preparing breakfast. In a few minutes she joined him at the table with slices of cantaloupe and toasted english muffins.

"I'm excited about going to the karaoke with Jen and Danni," she said as they ate.

"I'm looking forward to hearing you sing."

She looked at him thoughtfully. "Alvin, I'm sorry I said that no one wanted to hear you sing."

"Well, no one does," he shrugged.

"If you were going to sing, what song would you choose? What's your all time favorite song?"

Alvin stared at the ceiling a minute, then replied, "Three Little Birds."

"I don't know that."

"Yes, you do, everybody does. You just don't know you do. It's Bob Marley." Speaking more than singing, he went on, "Don't worry 'bout a thing, 'cause every little things gonna be alright."

"Oh, I do know that. I wouldn't have expected that. Interesting."

Alvin shrugged. "Wherever there's boats, there's reggae."

Mary looked at her phone. "My Mom emailed me four articles with tips about dating."

"Any of them mention that no underwear thing?"

"I didn't read them, Alvin."

"Well, only tip you need is how to keep all the interested men sorted out."

Mary rolled her eyes. "That's the kind of thing I was talking about. Dumb but sweet."

She got up and put the dishes in the sink. "I've got to get moving or I'll be late. I need a shower. I smell like I've been fucking."

"I'm not going to shower, for just that reason."

"There you go again."

"Should I stop?"

"Never."

Alvin gathered his clothes and dressed while Mary got in the shower. When he was ready to go, he stepped into the bathroom. Mary pulled back the shower curtain far enough to lean out for a kiss.

"You sure look good wet, darlin'," Alvin said.

"But, baby, I'm always wet around you."

Alvin laughed.

"I just wanted to see what talking like you feels like," Mary said.

"You done good, sweetheart." He kissed her again and turned to leave.

"Hey," she called after him, "there is a tupperware with left over paella in the fridge. Take it with you and warm it up for lunch."

Alvin thanked her and retrieved the bowl from the refrigerator. He bounded down the stairs and started to walk down the hill towards the wharf. He hefted the bowl in his hand, felt it's weight, it's substance. There was something about it that seemed important. She gave me food to take to work, he thought. That's not a casual thing, that doesn't feel like something "just a girl you are seeing" does. That feels like a wife.