This is a work of fiction and any resemblance by any character or situation to any actual person or event is purely coincidental. All characters presented in this narrative are over the age of 18.
Epilogue
It’s been a year since I first kissed Kim. Our world has changed more than anyone could have imagined.
Kim’s final divorce decree arrived the Monday after that magical first day we spent together. Her lawyer, Serena, hand delivered the document to her that afternoon and gave her a celebratory chilled bottle of champagne to go along with it.
Mine came in the mail nine days later. Eason Masters isn’t as up-close and personal as Serena, but he served me well.
Kim and I are no longer neighbors. Her hospital chain gave her a huge promotion to become head of nursing at its fastest-growing property, a sprawling, new medical center just outside Oxford, Mississippi — a college town that’s become a trendy retirement venue for wealthy Boomers.
She sold her house its first day on the market and is renting a townhouse far enough from the Court Square that it’s not a nightly scene for loud, boozy partying by Ole Miss frat boys and sorority girls. It’s reasonably spacious and has all the bells and whistles, and it ain’t cheap. Now that she’s been moved into management, though, she’s got the bucks to spend.
Being in management also means she’s got predictable hours with weekends, evenings and holidays off except for emergencies. Because of that, I’m usually on the road to Oxford every Thursday evening, careful to keep my calendar clear of office meetings in Memphis on Fridays or Mondays.
I proposed to her eight months ago. It was almost a formality. When we fell in love, we fell fast and hard, and we’ve only gotten closer since. I would have proposed earlier but needed to figure out a way to bring my daughters along with the idea. That turned out not to be a problem.
A couple of months before I put an engagement ring on Kim’s finger, I was having our regular Sunday brunch ulus escort with the girls in Olive Branch. Susan asked me if I was seeing anybody yet. She almost always asked that. I pretended I didn’t hear her.
Then Elizabeth followed up.
“Yeah, Dad, you ought to ask out that lady who lives next door, the nurse whose ex went to jail. She’s clearly available,” she said.
Elizabeth knew that because she had been following news coverage of the expanding case against the multistate theft/fraud/porn ring. Roger — and in fleeting mentions, Kim — had been in the news. I was grateful that she had been portrayed sympathetically and accurately as an innocent, betrayed wife who had kicked him out. That’s one in a row for the press.
Roger had pleaded guilty to the federal charges and had been moved to a federal penitentiary in Missouri, but he had also been indicted on state charges. At the federal lockup, he had been attacked by other inmates and beaten so badly that the state prosecution against him was put on indefinite hold to see if he will ever recover enough to stand trial.
At first, Kim was distressed over what happened to her ex until she was informed by the FBI that Roger had been trying to join the violent neo-Nazi gang the Aryan Brotherhood to arrange for someone on the outside to assassinate her. Someone had spread the word in the prison population that Roger was a snitch and is Jewish. Kim never heard anything about Roger being Jewish and doubted it was true; the feds think it was just an embellishment one of Roger’s many enemies made to get him hurt or killed. Most likely, Roger had been a snitch. He eventually regained consciousness but still can’t speak or feed himself.
Susan picked up the thread. “Dad, surely you know her, living right next door. And from the stories I’ve seen on TV and online and the once or twice I’ve glanced her in passing when I was at your house, she’s cute. You should go for it.”
I knew an opening when I saw one.
“Well, yenimahalle escort actually…,” I began.
No way I was going to tell them the full story of how the relationship blossomed that May afternoon. But I told them that we had been seeing each other and asked them how they’d feel if they knew we were pretty much exclusive.”
They stopped eating and looked at me wide-eyed.
“So when were you going to tell us? After the wedding?” Susan, the more smart-ass of the two, said as an incredulous smile spread across her face.
“Well, you know I haven’t been looking for a relationship. Kind of got burned there. So I have been approaching this cautiously — we both have,” I lied. “But things have clicked, and it could develop into something… meaningful.”
“You should have brought her with you today,” Elizabeth said. “I don’t think I’ve ever met her.”
I nodded. “Next Sunday maybe if she’s not working. I think you’ll like her.”
Susan fidgeted in her chair and kept glancing nervously at her sister across the table.
“OK, you two, what gives?” I said.
Susan again: “Well, dad, Mom drove down to Oxford yesterday with that art studio creep, Moose, and they announced they were engaged. Showed off this tacky-ass ring straight from Target,” she said. “I guess she was expecting me to gush at the news, but I just smiled politely, looked her in the eye and said, ‘Good for you.’ Not the response she was looking for, evidently. She walked out of City Grocery and Moose followed her. Stuck me with the check.”
Now it was my turn to sit there wide-eyed. My face clearly exuded my delight. “Very happy for her.”
“Wow. You’re taking that better than I would have imagined,” Elizabeth said.
I explained that this news meant that I could have Eason Masters immediately petition the court to end the $2,000 a month in spousal support I was on the hook to pay for the next dozen years. I had figured Candace would remain single and just stay shacked tunalı escort up with Moose so she could bleed me for the monthly checks. Now, she would be a drain exclusively on the Moose.
I did introduce Susan and Elizabeth to Kim not long before I proposed. And by the time we had finished dinner at the Rendezvous rib joint downtown, you’d have thought they were old friends.
We haven’t set a date, or at least we haven’t announced one. Sometime after I told the girls that Kim and I were engaged, I asked them if they’d mind if Kim and I just slipped away one weekend and got married and then saved the party for later. They were relieved because it would keep things from getting even more awkward with their mother.
I reached a deal with Elizabeth and her husband to move into my house after I join Kim in Mississippi and rent it for a ridiculously low price for a few years so they could save up a down payment, qualify for a mortgage and buy the house. Since Candace was entitled to half of the equity from the sale of the house, it was a strategically perfect arrangement unless she wanted to play hardball and force its immediate sale, depriving her daughter, son-in-law and grandson a new, affordable place to live.
Kim and I made an offer on a roomy, rambling house in the hilly woods just east Oxford’s suburbs on two acres of land — very secluded and private, lots of space for the noisy, uninhibited sex under the stars. We’d be near Susan, at least til she finishes law school, and I’d run my business mostly remotely, going into Memphis maybe one or two days a week, bunking with Elizabeth, her hubby and Mason in my old house if I need to overnight.
We’re excited about what the future holds. Every day, I discover something new and endearing about my Kim. Every night we spend together, we fall asleep exhausted and satisfied in each other’s arms, just as we did after our first day of lovemaking.
That’s where things stand for now. It’s been a story I’ve felt was worth the telling, the story of a strong, beautiful, gentle and caring woman who never gave up on life, though she had plenty of reason, and not only finally found her own happiness but made me happier than I’ve ever been.
This is Kimberly’s story. I love you, baby.
If there’s anything worth telling later on, I’ll be sure to write.
–Royce
THE END