Mummy & Daddy’s Naughty Diary (Erotica)

NEW STORY TITLE: Grief : When Love Hurts (Erotica)

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The silence during the drive was consuming the attention of the couple in the vehicle. Ray Thompson gazed ahead lost in his private thoughts. Surreptitiously he would allow an occasional peripheral view at his wife, Marilyn. She was concentrating on looking out the passenger side window at whatever caught her interest. Whenever she thought it was safe she would focus on the hazy reflected image of her husband from the passenger’s window as the miles continued to pass away.

Subconsciously as only married couples could do, little signals known only to Ray and Marilyn would tip off each other when one would decide to gaze at the other. That allowed the other to divert their attention and preclude the couple from the admission of observing their respective spouse.

This well established practice had been ongoing in the Thompson household for a long time. Communications between the two had devolved into formal polite snippets of any topic that needed to be addressed.

We are so goddamn cordial, Ray Thompson thought as he allowed his vision to linger on Marilyn, dressed in her black dress, wearing dark silk stockings. Her legs crossed at the ankles; ladylike, her profile was mostly of her posterior as she continued to turn away from her husband. Her raven dark hair nearly matched her dress as Ray looked abjectly at her cheek, her jawline, a faint glimmering of her lips. These were the only portions of her head subject to his view.

Ah, but her body, that exquisite feminine body that attracted him in college was still amazing to him; even though all Ray could observe was her back tapering down to her hips and the soft swells of her buttocks merging into the car seat.

No matter, he had committed to memory every inch of her body by vision and by touch. Hell, it went further than that. He had tasted every portion of her and breathed in her scent for the nine years of their marriage. He honestly believed that if you blindfolded him and just allowed him to place his head on her torso, he could pick her out from her heartbeat, her breathing pattern, her scent, the texture of her skin…

Ray felt the guilt of betrayal for his thoughts of Marilyn. How can I even be thinking about her right now? Hadn’t she made it plain by her words and her actions where I stood in the great scheme of things? It was just something else to mourn now. Another loss, another heartache, another numbing pain of a void that couldn’t be filled.

These were feelings that Ray had to entertain for too long a time now. What has it been, sixty two months? Sixty two months of living in agony every day. He kept a daily tally, this made day number 1, 865 of his personal hell. Would the events now come to a speedy conclusion? Would he get closure regardless how painful? Would he ever feel like breathing again?

Marilyn Thompson sensed that her husband’s attention diverted away from her. She took a quick glance at the hazy reflection in the glass for confirmation and now she began to study the man she had committed herself to so many years ago. Her emotions were in flux. There were so many good things to remember and there were too many bad things to forget.

Why won’t he give me the support I need? She thought, why did I ever have to go looking to get such a basic human need? Then, her conscious weighed in and asked if she had provided that same need to her husband. In irritation at the self examination, Marilyn focused on the sad stoic visage of Ray’s face. She knew the torment he was undergoing was matched by hers.

She wanted to gather the courage to initiate a dialogue. But every time she had attempted in the past year she had been rebuffed. And every time Ray had clumsily tried to discuss things with her she had retaliated and closed him off. Now the relationship consisted of only inane insignificant conversations, cold politeness, and guilty consciousness.

It hadn’t started that way. Once there had been such a blinding love between the two. Once there had been the bond of two people into the bliss of a single entity of happiness. They were one and the same, even before they underwent the rite of marriage. Neither could endure the pain of being separated from each other.

When they looked into each others’ eyes while they exchanged their wedding vows, both thought they could never exceed the love they had for one another from that day forth.

They were wrong.

Fourteen months into the marriage, on Christmas Day saw the arrival of Rachel Lee Thompson into their lives. Now, both knew that life would never be the same and they felt the completion of their souls into a cherished trinity.

Marilyn, remembered the stunned look of awe on Ray’s face as he first glanced at his daughter in the delivery room. Then his face morphed into the sweetest look of adoration as he looked at Marilyn exhausted from the efforts to give birth first cradled the mewling newborn in her arms and began crying tears of joy. That caused him to join into the cascade of tears as the three huddled together briefly before the delivery team took charge of the post delivery procedures.

That began Marilyn and Ray’s journey to become the perfect parents. They bought and read every book on child rearing. They scanned every night on the internet. They talked to every friend and family member they could. The anxiety they went through was endearing as well as exhausting. Finally, they compromised on trusting the most practical authorities; their mothers.

From almost hourly calls, the two grandmothers were able to alleviate the fears and concerns of the new parents and at the same time began the process of spoiling their beautiful little granddaughter. Marilyn’s parents were so enamored by their granddaughter that they moved cross country to live nearby. So life began in the Thompson household and each day was a wonder of discovery with their child.

The feedings, the sleep cycles, the diaper changes. The quiet rockings at 2:00 a. m. to hush the baby with a soft lullaby. The rapt attention of watching the baby prone on their living room floor as she struggled to get on all fours.

The increase in height and weight, the doctor’s visits and vaccinations, the photographs of the baby using every gift bestowed at the baby’s showers and copies sent along with the thank you notes to the donors to show the appreciation of the gifts. The video recordings of each landmark event. The steady coordination of hands and eyes and muscle control.

The blessed look of recognizing her parent’s faces and voices went they came into her view and beaming a smile and the little body thrashing about.

The first crawl, the first sounds, the first gripping of fingers. Baby foods and spillproof bottles.

The first time she said “Momma,” which brought tears to Marilyn and Ray.

Standing up and then plopping back down on her butt. Each day bringing a little more progress and endurance. Then that first hesitant step. Soon, they would keep a distance away to encourage Rachel to walk to them. The celebrations of each successful trek. The agony of teething.

The increase in vocabulary and the pleasure of trying to interpret Rachel’s desires. The Terrible Twos’ Era and potty training. The purchases of new outfits to accommodate Rachel’s growth. The third and fourth birthdays’ celebrations with a gleeful Rachel’s face smeared with chocolate cake.

All these and the thousands of others things that impacted their lives just as they do every set of parents. And like every set of parents, Marilyn and Ray were sure that their child was the smartest and most beautiful baby ever born. Because everybody wants their child to be special. Unique. And Rachel Lee Thompson was unique. She had something that tens of millions of babies would never have.

Leukemia.

Marilyn recalled the devastation she had felt when she and Ray sat in their pediatrician’s office as the doctor tried to balance his concerns and assurances to the couple. There were a few disturbing results on Rachel’s latest examination. Nothing major… just some things that warranted running some tests…

Then another consultation… and an even more concerned look on the doctor’s face… more tests… more disturbing results… then the vagueness of a referral to an oncologist. And the zombie like reaction of Marilyn and Ray walking out of the pediatrician’s office with Rachel walking between them holding both their hands, oblivious to the shadow of the events.

The initial consultation with the oncologist… more tests… more dread… then came the pronouncement of that awful word… Cancer. The oncologist’s pronouncement was like a judge handing down a death sentence. Marilyn became hysterical in the office and Ray wasn’t far behind.

The seasoned oncologist had seen it all too many times before and used his experience to assure Marilyn and Ray. He cited the advancement in treatments, the specifics targeting of cells, the increase in survival rates. Rachel would receive the best care to be offered. He emphasized that he and his staff of doctors and nurses would leave no stone unturned in treating Rachel. They would all unite and battle this insidious disease.

Still after they left the office and sat with Rachel in her bedroom, both of them holding her and crying. And poor little Rachel sat there on the bed smothered by her parents, wondering why her parents were crying. The unknown fear, in turn, caused Rachel to cry, which cycled into even more crying by her parents…

Marilyn began shedding tears again in the vehicle. She brought out a tissue from her purse to wipe her eyes without fumbling for one. After five years of practice, she had enough experience not to waste any time or motion in grasping one.

The motion caught Ray’s attention and he wondered again if he should try to comfort his wife… But now, Marilyn had found her comfort elsewhere, he thought glumly. And, in truth, so had he…

He though back through time, looking once again in the chain of events that had got them to this point. He remembered how they had sat and talked and rehearsed how they would broach the subject with Rachel.

He remembered how Marilyn so calmly began telling Rachel that she was sick and that they would have to go see a lot of doctors and hospital visits, before Rachel got better. Ray was a quivering mass of emotional jello, but taking his cue from Marilyn he began assuring Rachel that she would be okay. Her mommy and daddy wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her.

God, what a lie that turned out to be. All the medications, all the shots, all the chemo… that fucking chemo. Watching Rachel bravely endure it all. Trusting in blind faith that her parents wouldn’t do this to hurt her.

His poor baby coming home from a treatment and not having any appetite. The heartache of holding a wastebasket by his baby’s bedside while she vomited and retched into it. The pallor of her complexion as she wasted away. Her hair, that shiny black hair that she had inherited from Marilyn falling away in clumps from her scalp.This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.