Part III; Chapter 3
April 2026
A soft knock on my door startled me, causing me to drop the cufflink I was struggling to put on. “I always had to have your mother do mine,” I turned to see Dad leaning in my doorframe, hands in his pockets. “I hope you marry a girl who will do the same for you.”
“I don’t think I’ll be getting married,” I commented.
“Why not?” Dad pushed off the door, walking into the room. Silently, he held his hand out for the cufflink.
Shrugging in response to his question, I allowed him to snap both cufflinks into place before speaking. “What’s the point? The divorce rate has done nothing but climb for the last 50 years at least, and even if you don’t get divorced, you will eventually die and lose each other anyway.”
“Hence the whole ‘til death’ bit of the wedding vows,” Dad countered. “Look, Shep. I’m a terrible role model; please don’t set your expectations so low. Your mother and I were married for 18 years, and had been together five years before that. She is the first, last, and only woman I have ever loved, and I am sorry I was so selfish in my grief. But please…fall in love. Get married. Have kids. And most importantly, be happy.”
I sighed as Dad patted my shoulder then nodded toward the clock. “Last chance. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you tonight?”
Dad smiled softly. “I’ll be OK. Now go—you’re supposed to pick Macy up in 30 minutes!”
I practically ran from the room, patting my pockets to make sure I had my wallet, keys, and the tickets. I managed to get my tux jacket on and rushed out the door, my stomach in jumbles for prom.
Time seemed set to fast forward as I drove to Macy’s but I felt like I was moving through molasses. When I finally pulled up to her house, my heart was beating out of my chest. Corsage in hand, I bounced up the footpath to her door, knocking nervously. An older woman resembling Macy answered the door, a welcoming smile on her lips.
“You must be Shepherd!” she gushed, letting me in. “I’m Macy’s mom, Carol—you can call me Carol, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you,” I extended my hand. She accepted, her smile shifting slightly at my clammy palms. “I’m sorry…I-I’m a bit nervous.”
Her smile returned, a bit sympathetic. “I’ll go check on Macy,” I watched Carol disappear down the hallway of the Ranch-style home. Left to my own devices for a few minutes, I stood awkwardly in the foyer, inspecting the family photos on the walls. There was an obvious lack of photos of Macy’s father. I was wondering what had happened to him as Carol came back into view. “Here she is!”
Macy walked into the hallway, cautiously. Her blonde hair was loose around her face, flowing behind her as she walked toward me; I let my eyes take in every aspect of her—from the pearls in her ears, to the sapphire-colored ball gown, and the red flats she wore beneath its ruffled skirt. She looked like an angel.
“Wow, Mace…you look pretty,”
“You’re not looking so bad yourself,” she replied sheepishly.
After her mother took a billion photos of us, I finally walked Macy to the car—I even opened her door for her and helped her in. I tried to be as chivalrous as possible throughout the night—opened doors, pulled out chairs, and even retrieved refreshments. Between that and all the dancing we did, I was nearly passed out as we left the school.
Macy paused before getting into the car, turning to face me. “I had a lot of fun tonight, Shepherd.”
“Me, too,” I replied quietly.
Becoming her bold self again, Macy placed a soft kiss on my lips. “In fact, I’ve had so much fun, I’m not sure I’m ready to let the night end. Why don’t you take me home, Shepherd?”
“But I thought—“
Macy’s laugh cut me off. “My mom isn’t like other moms, Shep. She’s probably passed out drunk. Nothing will wake her up, if you know what I mean…”
It took a moment for it to process, but I finally realized what she was asking. My first instinct was to tell her no—but then a strong, primal pull forced me to agree. Ten minutes later, we were quietly making our way down the hall to Macy’s bedroom.
She locked the door behind us, “just in case,” and turned on her stereo. A classic rock song played just loud enough to cover the sounds of our voices—not that we did much talking after that. In what had to be every 17-year olds fantasy, Macy carefully shed her prom dress and stood in front of me in just her underwear.
A giggle escaped her lips as she moved toward me, working my jacket off before unbuttoning my pants. She un-tucked my shirt and dragged her nails lightly over my thighs as she pulled my pants down, sinking to her knees. Macy’s eyes were heavy-lidded as she gazed up at me, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Leaning forward, I watched in nervous anticipation of her actions; it was a blur of sensations—and quite possibly hallucinations—and ended all too quickly.
I tried to warn her, but all I could manage was a grunt. Macy didn’t seem to mind, and casually walked to the en suite bathroom. As I listened to the running water, I put myself back together, then sat down on her bed, chewing my lip. When she came back into the room, I stood again. Nervous and unsure, I grabbed my jacket. “I should go…”
“Oh…Oh kay,” Macy’s face fell.
“I will…call you tomorrow,” I promised. When she eyes me suspiciously, I walked to her and kissed her, slowly. “I promise,” I assured.
“You better, Shepherd Hanson,” she warned.
Once again, I swore I would call her the next day—and I did.