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On the mantle of the fireplace there were several pictures. I saw Gail with a man in a few of them and I assumed that was her late husband. He looked like a very serious guy, like Clint Eastwood in Grand Torino. The pictures had to have been at least 10 years old or older so I knew Gails husband was several years older than her as he looked almost senile in these pictures. There was another couple in some of them as well and I thought maybe the other woman was this Claire and possibly her husband. I assumed 10 minutes had passed and started back toward the cabin making my way through the brush until I saw a black SUV next to my truck. That must be Claires I said to myself approaching the door trying to figure what I would say. I wasnt sure if I should call Gail mom or by her first name. Id never met anyone with a stepmother so I didnt know what protocol was. Also I wasnt sure where my so called father was supposed to be and if he was dead how long ago did he die. Hopefully Gails. I kissed her sweet lips and slipped my tongue in her mouth. She gently pulled away. I feared for an instant: rejection. ‘Let’s go.’ She whispered in my ear. The music began to fade out. I caught the eye of one of my friends at the peripheral of the dance floor. He read the situation: I wouldn’t be requiring a lift back. We passed out of the club’s entrance into the comparative chill of the night. ‘You came here alone?’ I was curious. ‘I have a few I chat with here… but yes.’ She partially answered. There was a pause in the conversation. I listened to the waves breaking softly on the beach – the club was but a road away from the shore. The air was still and the swell of the sea: gentle, rhythmic. She walked a little ahead of me – maybe she didn’t want to draw attention to us. She moved with poise – I wondered if she exercised, perhaps played tennis or swam? We reached the car: a racing green Mini 1275 GT – class. In a reversal of gender chivalry she unlocked the passenger door for me..
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