Illusions

With that, he grabbed his bags and took a taxi to the airport and allowed himself to relax for the first time since he'd stepped on deck nearly five weeks ago.

He purposely didn't tell Laurel when he was arriving, because he knew she'd want to pick him up at the airport, and until he had this...thing...whatever it might be...sorted out, the last thing he needed was to be alone with her.

His first stop was his local bank where he deposited a check worth more than the house he grew up in. Yes, a large chunk of it would be spent paying for the boat and the endless maintenance required to keep it running. Salaries and supplies were taken care of with the exception of fresh fruits and vegetables needed for the coming Opilio season, and the rest was his—and Uncle Sam's.

That done, he had the taxi driver drop him off at his mother's house. He'd hired Molly Maids to clean it once a week, and he was pleased to see it was in pretty good shape when he arrived. He saw the huge stack of mail on the kitchen counter they'd put there each time they came to clean. He flipped through it quickly and separated the wheat from the chaff noting any bills that required his immediate attention as in the next day kind of immediate. For now, they could wait. A long, hot shower and some time in his own bed could not.

As the captain, he was no longer outside baiting, setting, or pulling pots anymore. But he was awake a good 20 hours a day running the boat from the wheelhouse and responsible for everything going on, not the least of which was standing vigil over his crew. Any mistake, no matter how small, could cost a man a limb or even his life, and that kind of responsibility weighed heavily on every captain, but especially one his age and out for the first time totally in charge of a multi-million operation.

There was constant pressure to produce, and Leyton had delivered in spades on this first trip. The bar had been set very high and he'd have to keep producing if he wanted to continue as captain of his own boat. Well, it wasn't his yet. He'd have to make the huge payments on it every month for the next twenty years or so, but eventually, he would own it. Or he'd have to cut his losses, sell the boat, and either go back to being a deckhand or find something else to do. For now, he was mentally and physically exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep.

He'd laid down about four in the afternoon and when he woke up he had no idea what time it was or even where he was until he realized 'the boat' wasn't moving.

"Shit. I'm home," he said as he sat up and ran his hands over the smooth skin of his face he'd shaved closely the day before for the first time since he'd left home. Fortunately, there was virtually no sunshine this trip so he wasn't left with a white face surrounded by a tanned nose and forehead.

It was a little after noon as he sipped a second cup of coffee. Leyton thought back through the events of the last month and jotted down quite a few notes on things he wanted to change (or not change) on the next trip before he could let go of work.

Just as he realized he'd have to address the 'other issue' at some point, the doorbell rang. He was sitting in his boxers trying to remember where he'd put his sweatpants. He quickly found them, pulled them on, then hollered, "Hold on! I'll be right there."

He was still naked from the waist up and his hair was a mess, but he really didn't care. If this was the Mormons or the Jehovah's Witnesses again, he was going to tell them where to stick it. The 'Hovies' had left tracts in his door while he was gone and they'd ended up in the trash where they belonged.

He peeked out through the side window and felt sick to his stomach. His Aunt Laurel was standing there holding a pan covered with aluminum foil.

He wasn't ready to discuss any of this with her yet, but he knew he couldn't pretend she wasn't there so he took a deep breath, smoothed the mop on top of his head, and went to open the door.

"Damn latch!" he said. It was still sticking. Great. Something else to fix. He gave it a second pull and opened the door slightly.

"Aunt Laurel. What a surprise," he said as he looked through a six-inch opening.

"Hi, Leyton. Welcome back," she said nervously. "I called a couple of times and when you didn't answer, well...anyway, I made something for you."

She moved a bit closer then held the pan out for him to take it. There was no avoiding it or her so he said, "Um...did you want to come in?"

"I...I don't want to bother you. I know you just got home, but I thought you might appreciate a home cooked meal so I brought this by," she said holding the pan even closer.

Leyton opened the door quite literally exposing his semi-nude body to her. He was very aware of his well-muscled physique complete with the six-pack abs he'd worked so hard to get and maintain, and even though he wasn't looking at her, he could tell she was looking at him.

He took the pan and thanked her then felt even worse for trying to make her—and 'the incident' go away—by ignoring her.

"Um...maybe we should sit down and talk," he said squinting at her through the open door.

"I...I don't think that's such a good idea," she said trying not to look at his well-defined chest.

"Lemme go throw on a tee-shirt or something," he said ignoring her concerns. "Come on in and have a seat. I'll be right back."

He set the pan on the kitchen counter then went to the bedroom and grabbed a black tee-shirt and pulled it on then decided to run a brush through his hair before going back out.

"The place looks good," she said knowing he had cleaners come by regularly.

"Oh, yeah. They do a pretty good job, don't they?" he said before offering her a cup of coffee.

"No thanks. I have a cup in the morning, but that's it for me. More than that makes me jittery," she said.

She looked away then said, "I'm already nervous enough so...no more caffeine, thank you."

Neither of them spoke as Leyton poured himself a third cup.

"I've gotta cut back, myself. I probably drank at least three pots a day up in Alaska. Hell, I'd be surprised if my blood wasn't at least half coffee."

Laurel laughed politely then said, "We didn't really, you know, solve anything on the phone when you called."

He sat down across from her and realized she was very nicely dressed and wearing makeup. He'd always loved the way she looked and even without makeup, she was a very pretty woman. But when she looked like this...it was very distracting.

"I don't really know what else to say, Aunt Laurel. If we can't just forget it, what do we do?" he offered before taking a long, first sip.

"I wish I knew," she said soberly. "I...feel like I'm losing my mind sometimes, you know?"

"How so?" Leyton asked now very concerned. He'd seen her cry and mourn and grieve, but he'd never heard her say anything like this before.

"I don't think you want to hear the answer," she finally said after another lengthy pause.

She still hadn't looked at him and yet Leyton hadn't stopped looking at her. Her long, dark hair was so...beautiful. It was soft and silky and had a shine of its own. It was full and thick and he loved the way she parted it on one side, and even more he loved the way it fell around her small shoulders.

Her face was still model-pretty to him even though she often joked about being 'over the hill.' She'd worn braces as a teenager and the result was a smile that was both perfectly straight and as white as white could be. Her lips were painted a deep red today, but they were always soft and full and the second thing he saw each time he looked at her. The first were her beautiful hazel-colored eyes with the naturally long lashes.

From there he never failed to notice her slender neck, the small shoulders, her narrow waist, and the most perfect set of breasts he'd ever seen. She was wearing pants today, but he'd seen her long, shapely legs many times and as far back as he could remember, he'd fantasized about her in every imaginable way. And now, here she was, sitting in front of him just four feet away looking as amazing as he'd ever seen her look.

"How do we discuss this if you can't tell me how you feel?" he asked sincerely without any hint of accusation.

"I...I wish I knew," she said quietly.

There was another very long period of silence before she spoke again.

"Leyton? I've thought this...this...incident, as you call it...a thousand times since you left," she told him.

"Me, too," he admitted.

"And my feelings and emotions have quite literally run the gamut."

She finally looked up at him then said, "I've felt everything from the deepest kind of shame to...to wishing I could...wishing that we could..."

Leyton set his coffee cup down, leaned forward then said, "I know exactly what you mean."

"You...do?" she asked not sure she'd heard him. "I...I thought all of this was...was just me. A old woman abandoned and alone...taking solace in the company of her, well, her very handsome...nephew, for God's sake."

She looked down again, shook her head, then said, "Even saying that out loud makes me ill. Your mother would...hate me."

She paused then said, "I...hate me."

Leyton saw her on the verge of crying and tried to be funny again.

"You can't say, 'I hate me.' You need the reflexive form of 'myself.' You should know that, Aunt Laurel."

"Smart ass!" she said sweetly blinking away a first tear. "I do know that, thank you very much. I just can't think straight anymore. I can't even think at all."

Again, she hesitated for a very long time then said very quietly, "Except...about you."

Leyton still didn't know what to say so he waited for her to speak.

"I've thought about all of this constantly and trust me, I know how ridiculous...and disgusting...this all sounds. A woman my age who can't stop thinking about...about a family member, for God's sake! And even though I know you don't think of me the way I've been thinking of you since...since we kissed...I still can't stop thinking about you. So...now you can hate me, too."

Leyton felt horrible when he saw a tear fall when she looked up at him.

"I need you to tell me to...I don't know—to...grow the hell up. To go see a psychiatrist or get some professional help. I don't care how much it hurts, Leyton. Just please, please tell me how I really have lost my mind, and that this is nothing but a middle-aged fantasy. A sick, twisted, fantasy of a desperate, older woman who's lost touch with reality."

After all the hours he'd spent day after day thinking this through, he realized he'd been depending on her to fix this. He needed her to tell him he was the one with some kind of silly, adolescent fantasy. A childhood crush gone awry. That he was the only one who had these feelings and who needed to grow the hell up. These awful, sickening feelings that just wouldn't go away.

She found a small, white handkerchief in her purse and tried to dry her eyes. Leyton saw the agony on her face as she sat there doing her best to hold it together while expecting him to have an answer; an answer that would make it all go away. But he didn't have that kind of answer. In fact, he was more confused now than he'd ever been.

"It isn't just you, Aunt Laurel," Leyton said after the longest, most uncomfortable period of silence he could ever remember.

"I...I don't understand," she said as she looked into the tiny mirror of her compact.

She shook her head and said, "Wow. I look as hideous as I feel."

"You're not...hideous," Leyton said without emotion. "You're beautiful. And you've always been beautiful, and I've always had the worst kind of..."

For the next several minutes, he laid it all out for her. The childhood crush, the adolescent fantasies, and the unmistakable attraction he'd felt for her these last several months.

"So...I guess I'm the one with the problem," he said in what he thought was the conclusion.

"How so?" she asked feeling bewildered.

"Well, your husband, Mr. Shit-For-Brains, walked out on you and I must have somehow unconsciously thought you were...I don't know...free and available...and...shit. I have no idea what I'm even saying."

The expected chuckle didn't come as his aunt sat there just staring at him.

"So you're saying it isn't just me? And if you are, I still don't understand, Leyton. Don't get me wrong. I loved hearing you tell me how...your word, not mine...pretty...I am. But I'm not really insane. I'm fully aware I'm a lot older than you, and that you could have any girl your age you want. Oh, yeah. And I'm also your mother's sister, for crying out loud!"

Leyton sighed deeply then said, "Maybe we should consider couple's therapy."

His wry smile actually made Laurel laugh momentarily before she said, "Don't do that, okay? Don't..be sweet and please don't talk about us...like that. It's hard enough to deal with all this...this...shit...without you making me feel like there's a you and me when that can never be."

She looked right at him and asked point blank, "What is wrong with me, Ley? What's going on between us and how do we get passed it?"

Unlike her nephew, she'd held back telling him about her own deepest secrets. The way she battled herself all day long then gave in each night as she lay in bed dreaming of the kiss and what might come next. Over the years, she'd resorted to self-pleasure more and more as her husband withdrew from her physically and emotionally. But since they'd kissed, she'd masturbated at least once every night and often twice cumming harder than she could ever remember only to wake up hating herself the next morning.

This back and forth battle raging in her mind (and in her body) was tearing her apart.

Just as he'd said that night, Laurel quietly told him, "I should probably go."

Every cell in his body was screaming at him to tell her, "Please don't," knowing full well what the end result of that decision would be.

So instead he said, "I'll walk you to the door."

Laurel smiled bravely, closed her purse, then stood up.

"I hope you like what I made," she said changing the subject.

"It smells great," he told her.

"It's lemon chicken. Just the way you like it. I made some roasted potatoes for you, too. The garlic bread is what smells so good."

She looked at him then said, "I don't have much of an appetite these days, though. Maybe I'll finally lose those last five pounds, huh?"

"You don't have five pounds to lose," he told her with a smile. "You look absolutely incredible to me."

"Sorry," he said immediately and rather sheepishly.

"I...I don't think we should see each other for a while, Leyton," she told him at the door.

"You're right," he agreed. "You're absolutely right."

Both of them reached for the door handle at the same time then both of them pulled away as though it was a poisonous snake set to strike.

"Sorry," she said with a kind of half smile letting him get it for her.

He smiled back and looked at her briefly as he pulled on the handle. As he did, she moved toward the door when the latch stuck leaving them less than four inches apart.

The smiles from both faces faded as Laurel quietly said, "Oh, God," as Leyton moved closer toward her. "Leyton, please don't..."

As their lips touched Leyton thought of an episode of the original Star Trek series where The Enterprise had to fly dangerously close to the sun and use its enormous gravity to slingshot itself back into the future. If they got even the slightest bit too close...

The gravitational attraction between them was enormous. And yet somehow, he pulled back right at the precipice of the abyss.

He looked down at the floor and tugged on the handle again and felt it give way.

"I um...I really need to get that fixed," he said without looking up.

His heart was pounding and his body was shaking as she slipped past him, the scent of her perfume wafting all around him. He had no way of knowing her heart was beating even faster than his and had he not stopped when he did there'd have been no stopping for her.

"Thanks for the food...Aunt Laurel," he forced himself to say.

He saw her stop for a moment, her back turned to him. He wasn't sure whether or not she was crying or just what was happening before she said, "You're welcome."

He stood there and watched her walk to her car but turned away before she could look back and make eye contact.

He closed the door and leaned up against it and said out loud, "Good Lord. What in the world is going on?"

Both of the them suffered in silence for nearly a month until he headed back to Alaska. There'd been no visits, no phone, calls, not even a single text. Both of them hoped against hope this would be over by the time he returned and yet neither of them had had a peaceful moment unfettered by thoughts of the other person in all that time.

In fact, it only got worse as they learned 'absence really did make the heart grow fonder.' Both of them were dying inside knowing their feelings were real but that they could never act on them. Even worse was the thought that they might never be able to even see one another again because of those feelings.

For the first time in Laurel's life, she lay in bed the following morning wondering if there was any real reason to go on living. Meghan certainly didn't need her anymore. Oh, sure. It was comforting to have her around, but she would manage. Shit-For-Brains had his bimbos, and Leyton had his boat and girls (and women) adored him. Laurel was...38...and had...nothing. Nothing but sadness and confusion and self-loathing.

Then one day a couple of weeks later, Meghan came home and without warning said, "Mom? Do you believe in God or heaven and hell and that kind of stuff?"

"Why on earth are you asking me that?" her mom said.

"I was talking with this guy today. Well, last night at a party which was actually this morning. Whatever. Anyway, he said he used to be super religious and everything. He said he was a Mormon and even went of some kind of missionary thing for a couple of years when he was only like 19. Technically anyway, I guess he's still a Mormon. He was pretty drunk and kept going on and on about families and how they can be together forever and how he used to believe that but now he doesn't believe in anything. It just seemed so sad, you know?"

"Families together forever. Sounds nice, but I don't buy it. Did you?"

"No. Not at all. I believe when you're dead you're dead. That's it. Lights out. The Big Dirt Nap and all that. But he was so passionate about it. At least the way people get when they're shit faced and getting all melancholy. He was talking about some really weird sh...stuff. Like temple ceremonies and family geology or something."

Laurel nearly laughed but couldn't bring herself to do it.

"It's called genealogy, honey. People trace their ancestors back as far as they can. That's what genealogy means," her mother explained.

"Oh! Like those DNA profile thingies. I've heard of that. In fact, didn't Aunt Lisa have that done after she got sick? She said it was important to her to know where her ancestors came from, right?" Meghan asked.

"Well, yes and no," her mom explained. "She did want to find out about her family heritage, but that's not genealogy. DNA testing is different. It lets you could find out where your family comes from and who's related to whom with those tests. Genealogy is gathering names, dates of birth, where they were born, etc."

"Is it expensive?" Meghan asked. "The DNA test?"

"I have no idea. Why? Is that something you want to do?"

"I don't know. It might be kind of fun to know about our family. Didn't we come from England or Germany or something like that?"

"Yes, that's what your grandmother always told us and that's exactly what my sister's DNA tests revealed. I've got them in the study if you want to take a look. Of course, your grandmother was the most honest person I ever knew so no surprise there."