At first it didn't bother me. In fact, it seemed kind of funny. "You
should've seen us Honey, a sight to behold. All 12 of us middle-aged
women sitting on beach chairs all in a row - topless!" What? Topless?
"I don't know who started it, Melinda probably, you know her, as a joke.
It is legal on some beaches down in Mexico, oh you should've seen it, it
was a sight to behold." I can only imagine, I'm laughing and shaking my
head. "I didn't tell you for the longest time because I thought you
might be upset. You aren't upset are you?" This conversation was a week
ago and I was not upset at the time, but now, after it has all settled
in, it is bothering me a little, like a smeared footprint etched in new
cement. It is not bothering me intellectually, I mean, no big deal
really, no harm done, truly a sight to behold, a dozen middle-aged,
mostly out-of-shape, saggy women all sitting in a row on a beach in
Cancun, their white breasts reflecting the white glare of the tropical
sun, a man or two standing off to the side, mouths agape. "Probably the
fastest way to clear the beach," I joked. But inside, deep in the soft,
hallowed interior of my romantic soul, I winced and caught my breath.
There she was, my very own beauty, the love of my life, the virginous
little girl I married so many years ago, who once confessed to her
priest that we French kissed, sitting topless on some fucking beach in
Mexico. "No, of course I'm not upset. Why ever would I be upset about
something so silly."
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