Love Story

Natalie Thompson sat at the kitchen table and watched her pathetic husband making dinner. Did she still love him? This was a question the thought about often lately. She was certainly committed to him, to taking care of him. The promise that she’d made to his father all those years ago was something Natalie took very seriously.

But love?

There were things that Natalie would miss if Terry weren’t around. The housework, for example. The man was a marvel at keeping a house clean. His cooking, too, had improved dramatically over the years. And the way he looked wearing her lingerie at night, especially the black babydoll she had tossed him the night before, really got her motor running. If he were gone, suddenly taken from her life, Natalie would miss him, she would feel the loss.

Still, he really was pathetic. Terry's father had explained it to her on their meeting.

"He has to be told what to do," Mr. Thompson had said as she looked Terry up and down for the first time, standing sheepishly, wearing one of his sister's best Sunday dresses, "there's no way around it. Even if he tries to take charge of something, it doesn't work. You'll see, people don't take him seriously. I'm his father and even I don't take him seriously," Terry blushed furiously and stared at his sister's shiny black Mary-Janes, "so anyone who takes him will have to take the lead."

As she drove away from the Thompson house that day, Terry in the passenger seat, Natalie had been nervous. It wasn't like dating other boys. Someone like Terry needed so much more. She would pick his meals, make sure he was going to the bathroom on time, keep him away from predators. It was more akin to babysitting than dating. Well, babysitting with make-out sessions. Surprisingly, by the third date, Natalie had grown to enjoy it.

"Tell me how pretty I am," she would order.

"I want my room spotless," she would inform.

"No, use your tongue," she would instruct.

There was a dominant streak in Natalie that she had never discovered before Terry. Sure, she would have loved it to have a man throw her on the bed and ravage her every once and a while, fight her for control of their lovemaking, but it wasn't bad with Terry. He was considerate of her needs, always waiting until she told him that he could cum, always thinking of her needs before his. Of course, she had told him to be that way.

And he had thanked her for it.

How had a man like Terry ended up as the father of a man like Tim? It was the most baffling thing. Both were attractive, but Tim blew his father out of the water. And while nobody would ever take Terry seriously, it seemed that everybody in the world took Tim seriously. Even casual comments from Tim would be taken as hard and fast instructions. How many times had Natalie had to go to the high school to clean up a mess that Tim had made by off-handed comments.

One bully had been suspended for standing in front of his locker with his pants down, three fingers up his ass, after Tim had told him, "Go fuck yourself," without thinking of the consequences. The boy never bothered Tim again, but Natalie had heard that he was in therapy to that day to sort out what had happened.

She was lucky that Tim was such a even-keel child. He wasn't taken to rages, he didn't succumb to selfishness or greed. Tim was a good boy. It wasn't as if she'd be able to do anything about it if he hadn't been. Natalie thanked her lucky stars for that one.

Terry opened the oven and put the chicken inside, then washed his hands in the sink. After wiping his hands on her apron, he tried to hang it on its hook, but missed. As he bent to pick it up, Natalie admired his backside clad in the old dress she had let him wear that day. Yes, she would miss him if he was gone, and maybe that was love. Not the kind of love that her friends talked about when the spoke of their spouses, but love nonetheless. She felt it, love, for her pathetic husband. More than a pet, less than an equal, but there was a precious spot for Terry Thompson in her heart.