I was twenty-two years.s, old and had never been intimate with a man.
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I was not ashamed of it.
I had dated guys before, but I had never met anyone I trusted enough to take that step.
Interestingly, my mother never cared too much about boys my age.
He was worried.s. about Wayne.
My grandmother’s husband.
Wayne was seventy-six.
Grandma had married him three years earlier, long after my grandfather passed away.
He was quiet, polite, always going well with white hair and a low voice.
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I’d never been treated badly.
Quite the opposite.
If my car didn’t start, Wayne would help me.
If I was back late from college, I would leave the porch light on.
Sometimes we would sit in the kitchen and talk for hours.
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But my mother hated that I felt so comfortable with him.
“Emily, don’t get too close to him.
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I laughed.
“Mom, you’re seventy-six.
Age means nothing.
“He’s Grandma’s husband.
Mom always answered the same.
That’s precisely why I tell you to be careful.
It was once even more direct.
“When my mother isn’t home, don’t be left alone with Wayne.
I was angry that time.
“If you know anything about him, then tell me at once.
Mom looked at me for a long time.
“You’ll understand one day.
Those words stayed in my head.
What exactly was I supposed to understand?
Still, I wasn’t afraid of Wayne.
Not until that night.
The grandmother had come to visit her sister for two days, about three hours away.
I stayed home because I had class the next morning.
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