A Friendly Neighbor Lends a Hand

The year was 1973. The last troops were coming home from Vietnam, The Godfather was the biggest flick since Citizen Kane, and I was with child.

Not by choice, mind you, but I was pregnant all the same. The father, Eric, was a real ass, and I wanted nothing to do with him. We were together for about two months before we called it quits on account of him fucking everyone of my "friends" and generally being a terrible person. He was more than happy to be off the hook for the kid, and I was more than happy to see his piece of shit, fake Shelby Cobra disappear into the Arizona sunset.

My parents were thrilled that I was expecting. If, by thrilled you mean 'nearly blowing a gasket' and kicking me out of the house. Sure, I was 23, but being a housewife didn't pan out, and my born again Christian parents weren't helping me pay for college, so I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. When I told them I wasn't marrying Eric, my dad packed me a bag, and my mom just looked at me in shame.

"Cordelia..." she started.

"Cora!" I spat back at her. I hated the name they gave me, I sounded about a hundred years old.

"Cordelia." she insisted. "We tolerated you living in sin with that boy, and now you have to take responsibility for your mistake. This child will be born a bastard..."

"Well, you needn't worry Mother, because I'm getting an abortion."

It turns out these would be the last words we would ever speak to each other, as she slapped me. I stormed out, the last vestiges of my life hastily packed in an old suitcase.

Turns out, my maternal instinct was stronger than my survival instinct, and I decided to keep the baby. Thankfully my older sister Jazz (real name Jezebel, our parents never even gave us a chance) who had gotten out of Dodge years ago, offered to take me in. I got a job as a waitress in Scottsdale, and she only lived a 15 minute bus ride away, so it was as good a situation as could be, considering.

She didn't charge rent, which was a plus, but the tradeoff was the revolving door of gentleman callers that came through all hours of the night. She was gone most of the day, returning only in the evening to entertain her male guests. I didn't begrudge her giving "piano lessons" to adult men, I could just do without the lascivious looks they would give me on the way out. That of course mostly stopped as my belly grew.

Still, I did sort of miss the male gaze I was accustomed to. I prided myself on being a beautiful young woman, still very much in her prime. Instead, I was looking more like a beached whale every day.

I was 5'1", blonde, athletic and had a perky set of B cups that all the boys loved playing with. Eventually, these would grow three sizes, like the Grinch's heart after learning the meaning of Christmas. I also had quite a mouth, but it was reserved more for giving my opinion than giving head. This got me in trouble on more than one occasion, especially with my aforementioned religious parents. Many an "insistent" boy was rebuked as well, tail tucked between their legs, egos bruised after pressing their luck.

Things weren't all bad, though. The diner I worked at offered me a chance to make some money, and my sister taking me in let me save a fair amount. I was going to need it if I was ever going to feed myself and this baby. Plus, my coworkers were friendly and the owner didn't look at my ass every time I bent over (that I knew of.) The manager was a bit of a dick, but he mostly stayed in his office, so we never had to interact unless absolutely necessary. The days were hot, and the nights frigid, but the mornings were perfect.

I often found myself enjoying a light breakfast on the porch, basking in the morning glow. I watched the neighborhood kids riding their bikes, kicking their cans and otherwise getting into all sorts of capers. I would gently rub my growing belly, knowing that before long, I would have a little rascal of my own that would turn my life upside down in the best way possible.

Another reason I enjoyed my morning routine, was a handsome young man across the street. He was tall, his skin a deep olive tone, his head topped with short, curly hair that was black as night. All summer long, like clockwork, he would walk out at about 6:30 to work in the front yard, setting out to tame the unruly jungle.

He mowed, trimmed and pruned around the front porch, and disappeared for a bit to work in the back. By the time he finished, he was shirtless, his beautiful tan gleaming. His toned muscles would flex and ripple as he hauled off large limbs from the dying tree, in an effort to rejuvenate it.

His numerous brothers and sisters, ranging from toddlers to middle school age, would run circles around him, giggling and pleading with him to join their games. He would gently chastise them at first, but eventually relented, participating in games of tag, kickball and other various childish sports.

As the children tired and went inside for lunch, he would pack a bag, hop on his bike, and pedal off, presumably to a summer job. When I returned from my own work, he was still gone, only arriving back after dusk. I found myself waiting up for his return, oblivious to my growing interest, and eventual obsession with him.

For reasons beyond my understanding, I felt a budding attraction. I didn't even know his name, and judging by the language he spoke to his siblings, I wasn't even sure we could hold a conversation. It sounded like Spanish, but just different enough to where I could only manage a word here or there, the voice of my elementary teacher Mrs. Mendoza chiding my forgetfulness.

Regardless, the longer I watched him, the more I yearned. Whether it was the hormones due to the growing life within me, or a genuine attraction, I often found my nipples harden as I stared, a light moisture staining the front of my underwear. I had never seen a man work so hard with his hands, and it was exhilarating.

Often, after a particularly stressful day, my hand would find its way south, parting my lips and dipping a finger inside. Some folks did yoga, I masturbated.

Previously, I would imagine my hand was either Paul Newman, Sydney Poitier, or even Michael Caine. Now, it was the mystery boy across the street.

I would grip at my sheets, desperate for the delicious tingle of release. My fingers moved quicker, a loud, wet noise issuing forth as I reached down with my other hand to play with my clitoris. The combined sensations were often enough to send me over the edge, but I found myself prolonging my pleasure. It was no longer the boy in my mind just using his hand, but his tongue as well.

The ultimate fantasy was to have him kiss along my thighs, inching ever closer to my dripping cunt. He would expertly lick, using his tongue better than any cock I had ever had. He knew every crevice, every curve perfectly as he kissed my pubic hair, finding my throbbing clit, just barely brushing his lips against it. He would gently suck as he inserted a finger into me, curling it upwards to drive me wild. He would then stick a second finger in, and I would explode.

My back arched, slapping a hand over my mouth to stifle my scream as I came, riding a high I had never felt. My breath hitched as I felt my vagina contract around my fingers in intense pleasure, the gently subsided.

I laid back on my bed, the sheets damp with sweat and sex. I cursed under my breath, now having extra laundry to do. I resolved to take care of it the next morning, and drifted off to sleep.

Then, one day in mid June, I met the boy. He was deep into his work, the yard now somewhat presentable, when he abruptly stopped his work. He looked around, spotting me. He began to walk towards me, my heart catching in my chest. He approached the porch as I attempted to act natural.

"Hola, senorita?" he said.

"Umm... I'm sorry," I threw my hands up in defeat. "I don't, umm... no habla?"

"Lo siento, ah... I'm sorry," he apologized. "I'm used to speaking Spanish with my family."

He spoke perfect English. My face flushed with embarrassment over my earlier presumption.

"Oh, it's okay, no trouble." I responded. "How can I help you?"

"Again, sorry to disturb you, but could I trouble you for a glass of water? A pipe burst in our home so we have no water. We're waiting on a plumber, and I don't really know any of the neighbors here. I just saw you out here, so..."

"Oh, of course! Please, come inside."

I struggled slightly to stand. I was in my eighth month of pregnancy, and I couldn't get very far without help these days. The boy courteously offered his arm. I wrapped my arm around his, taking note of the feel of his muscle. I nearly fainted as I stood, perhaps from my blood pressure, but more likely from my instant arousal. He was, of course topless, and I couldn't help but admire his perfect chest.

I wiped at the beading sweat on my forehead and led him inside. We entered the kitchen and I took a glass from the cabinet and filled it at the tap

"Would you like some ice as well?" I inquired.

"No, thank you this is fine." He gulped it down, some of it dribbling down his chin. A single rivulet cascaded down his hard pecs. It took every ounce of self control to not lick it off of him.

He offered the glass back to me. "Thank you, miss...?"

"Cora," I responded.

"Cora," he repeated in his beautiful accent, smiling. The way the 'r' escaped his lips put butterflies in my stomach.

"I'm Andre," he responded, again sending electricity down my spine.

I looked at the clock. It was nearing noon.

"Andre," I started. "Would you like to stay for lunch? I was about to make myself a salad."

He started to protest. "Oh, you've already shown me such hospitality, I couldn't..."

"Nonsense, Andre. You've been working so hard, you deserve a nice meal. I might have some leftover chicken and rice from last night to go with that salad."

Without another word, I set off to prepare lunch. I wasn't as quick as I normally was, so it was slow work.

"Please, let me help." Andre moved towards me, helping to get everything out of the fridge.

I sighed, fanning at my head. "Thank you. it's just so warm today, and I'm carrying around a little extra these days." I gestured at my stomach.

He nodded, smiling. "I understand. I have a lot of brothers and sisters, so I'm used to helping my mother when she was pregnant."

Of course he helped his mother. He was the perfect gentleman. I was having a hard time not pushing everything off the kitchen table and letting him have me right then and there.

"That's nice. You have a beautiful family, though I've never seen your mother, I don't think." I replied.

His face fell. "She passed last year."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" I cursed myself for my insensitivity.

"It's okay," he replied. "You couldn't have known. It's just me and my brothers and sisters now. My dad never came back from Vietnam, so it's just been us. The only reason I didn't go was because I'm all they have."

"Oh, oh you poor thing..." I was on the verge of tears.

"Oh, no, please don't cry Miss Cora, it's okay, really! I have a job that pays okay, and my aunt sends me money every month, so we're doing fine."

"What about school? I mean, are you in school?" I asked.

"I graduated last year, before my mom died. I actually wanted to move to California and become an actor, but instead I became a father at nineteen," he shrugged, a sheepish smile on his face.

"I understand, a little. My life didn't turn out the way I thought it would either. I have no husband, about to have a kid, and no real prospects myself."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Miss," he responded. "Did he pass?"

I threw my head back and laughed, a little louder than I intended.

"No, he didn't pass. He's just an asshole." I covered my mouth, embarrassed. I didn't mean to swear in front of this stranger, and didn't know how he would react.

He nodded. "Yeah, I've heard that story before. "The aunt I mentioned? Her husband was an asshole too. He slept with lots of other women, and eventually one of them killed him," he said nonchalantly. "My aunt got the life insurance and was able to open a restaurant. She makes decent money now, which is why she's able to help."

"Oh goodness," I replied. "You wouldn't happen to know her name, would you? I'd like to set her up with my ex."

It was his turn to laugh. "Well, he may have been an asshole, but it looks like he left you with a precious parting gift." He pointed at my stomach. "Children can be tough, but they're a miracle."

I smiled, rubbing my belly. "I can't wait to meet him," I said.

"Do you have a name yet?" He asked.

"No, not yet. I can't decide." I responded.

"Well, when the time is right, you'll know."

I was suddenly acutely aware of a shooting pain in my foot. I lost my grip on the kitchen counter, nearly tumbling to the floor. Andre caught me mid air.

"Are you alright, Miss?" His face masked with concern.

"I'm okay, thank you. I just need to sit on the couch for a bit..." I made a move towards the living room, helped along by Andre.

"Oh, and Andre," I said as I sat down, "please, just call me Cora."

He nodded. "Yes, Cora."

I rubbed my foot, wincing in pain. My feet had positively ballooned during my pregnancy, and the constant pain made it difficult to stand for too long.

"Is there anything I can do?" he offered.

I tried reaching the tender spot, but I just couldn't quite get it.

I grunted. "There's this one spot on my heel that I just... can't... get!" I sighed in frustration. "My sister will be home later tonight, I can ask her for a foot rub.

"I can do that," he said. "No trouble, really."

He knelt down, tenderly taking my foot with his strong hands and gently kneaded at my heel. It sent a tingling straight from my foot to my crotch. I uncontrollably moaned.

"I'm sorry, did that hurt?" he asked.

"N-no... not exactly..."

Realization dawned on him. "Oh, OH! I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

"No... it's okay. Please..." I gently pleaded with him. "I'm just in so much pain..."

The truth was, while I was in pain, I was now incredibly turned on. He was closer to me than he had ever been, and I was now determined to have him.

He stammered. "O-okay..." He went back to massaging me, but much lighter. It tickled more than anything.

"Harder," I requested.

He looked up at me, his sparkling chestnut eyes peering into my soul. He did as instructed. My hips began to gyrate slowly, the way he worked his thumb and fingers was unbearably delightful. My head leaned back, my mouth agape as a soft groan escaped my lips.

He started moving faster, and I erupted. I kicked my leg up, nearly knocking him out as my orgasm peaked. I had never come from a foot massage (and unfortunately, never would again.)

Andre watched in shock as I came down, legs trembling. When it finally ebbed, I eyed him hungrily.

"Upstairs, now." I commanded. I held my arm out to him.

"Umm, I've never..." he trailed off.

He was a virgin? This absolute specimen had never felt the touch of a woman? I found it hard to believe, yet I did. He was sensitive, and had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Of course he didn't have time for girls. I decided in that moment that I wanted to lift that burden, if even for a few fleeting moments.

"It's okay," I said. "Take me to my room."

Ever the gentleman, he pulled me up and led me. I directed him to my room and hee gently laid me on the bed.

Nervously, he began to kiss me. Not bad, but not great either.

"Like this," I instructed, gently pushing my tongue past his lips. He inhaled sharply at the sensation, but quickly recovered. He matched my motions, and before long he was kissing me deeply.

He brushed his hands along my body, clumsily groping at my chest. He grabbed a little too hard and I recoiled.

"Ow, not so hard!" I cried out.

"Sorry!" He tore his hand away.

"It's okay," I said as I rubbed my sensitive breast. "Here, let me..."

I took his hand and gently massaged my breast with his hand. He got the idea.

"You can touch my nipple, too. Gently!" I instructed.

He slowly encircled my taut nipple with his finger. I nodded in approval as he did so, the smooth fabric of my dress enhancing the sensation.

I pulled my dress down under my swollen breasts, giving him full access. He continued to massage, and even leaned in to kiss them. I gasped softly, a small bead of milk began to drip from the teased nipple. He took it between his lips and gently lapped it up, then lightly suckled. I never in a million years thought breastfeeding could be erotic, but the tender, loving way he did it stoked the flames in me.

I reached down to undo his pants, his belt getting caught under his butt. He stopped what he was doing and stood up, tossing the belt, his pants and underwear in a heap on my floor, and my eyes were drawn to his manhood.

It stood out proudly, pointing up at his belly. It was big, definitely bigger than Eric's, or any other man's I had seen. He wasn't circumcised, which I had only seen once. The skin was pulled taut around the head of his penis, and I could see it throb slightly. His heavy testicles hung low; they were at least a good handful, if not bigger.

I sat up and pulled my dress over my head, then removed my panties, adding them to the pile. I was positively soaked at this point. I beckoned him to me, leaning back with my legs spread.

"I want you to kiss me." I whispered.

He crawled onto the bed, reaching for my face.

"No," I stopped him. "I want you to kiss me here."

I pointed down at my throbbing sex, reaching down with a hand to spread my lips apart. I hadn't trimmed in months, my bush was a wild jungle. He had experience taming his lawn, I couldn't wait to see how he fared here.

He understood, moving back and positioned his face between my legs. He gently pressed his lips against my opening, giving it a couple smooches. I couldn't help but giggle. He looked up at me confusedly.

"No, like I showed you. With your tongue."

He nodded, wordlessly returning to my aching cunt. He licked his lips, sticking his tongue out and lightly grazed it. I inhaled sharply, the anticipation killing me. Slowly, he grew more confident in his efforts and began sticking his tongue inside me, writhing it up, down, side to side and around. He was expertly eating me out, and it was only his first time.

I bucked my hips wildly, grabbing a handful of his hair. I moaned his name as I inched closer to my second orgasm. Instinctively, I locked my legs around his head as I came, squealing in delight. I could feel him struggling to breathe, and with great effort he pried my legs apart and pulled away to catch his breath.

"S-sorry!" I apologized, still shaking. "You... did amazing..."

He grinned, his chest heaving. "It's okay, I just wasn't expecting that."

After I came down again, I pushed him down on the bed. My back was hurting a little, so I decided to take charge and get on top.

"Are you ready?" I asked.

He nodded frantically. "Yes... please..."

I grabbed his cock and pointed it up. I slowly sank down on it, the head parting my lips. It was much bigger in person, but I was determined to have it. I continued pushing down, wincing a little as it stretched me out. My walls tightened involuntarily as I was about halfway down, and that's when he exploded. I felt his seed coat my insides as he jerked his hips up, grabbing handfuls of both my thighs as he pumped several more times, then was spent.

"I'm... I'm sorry..." he breathlessly apologized.

"Aww, it's okay. It was your first time, after all," I reassured him, gently stroking his face. I gingerly pulled his deflated member out of me, his seed dripping down the inside of my thighs. I laid down next to him, running my hand through his beautiful hair.

He returned the favor, gently caressing my face, then moving down to trace the curve of my body. His hand rested on my belly, lightly stroking my side. I leaned forward, sharing a deep, passionate kiss.

I felt something harden against my hip, sighing in relief. Thank goodness. I desperately needed him inside me, and it seemed he was already prepped for round two.

I reached down, gently grasping his shaft as I slowly pumped my hand. He groaned into my mouth as he gently rocked his hips to match.

Once he was back to full attention, I stopped. He looked at me, crestfallen. He understood once I got on all fours, shoving my pussy in his face.

"Take me," I pleaded.

He wasted no time lining himself up with my wet pussy, gently rubbing his tip against it. I reached down to spread my lips, giving him easier access.

"Slowly, please," I requested.

He began to push forward achingly slow. He inhaled sharply as the head pressed past my opening. My legs quivered as he continued pushing forward, stretching me wider than I had ever felt. Every inch was delicious agony. Finally, he was in at the hilt.

He firmly planted his hands squarely on my ass, still as a statue. I wiggled my butt, enjoying how he filled me so perfectly. He groaned loudly, clearly enraptured. I rhythmically clenched my muscles, causing him to whimper softly. I enjoyed teasing him, but was ready to continue.

"Fuck me..." I commanded.

He started slow, getting the idea as I pushed my butt against his hips. Soon, he was moving on his own. His cock battered my insides. I felt like I was being torn apart, yet the pain was exquisite. Almost like the first time again, except this time he actually made me come (twice!)

After a few minutes, he was pounding me into the mattress. The bed creaked as his hips slammed against my ass, the loud slapping echoing around the room, the bed frame threatening to buckle. I was moaning uncontrollably as we fucked like animals. His hands left my ass as the reached up to grab my breasts, using his fingers to tease my nipples. He was a quick learner!

I didn't last much longer. The combination of sensations sent me into a frenzy as I came for the third time. I desperately gripped my headboard as I cried out. His orgasm came quickly after.

He moaned my name as he doubled over, his hot load flooding my insides. He came for what felt like hours, my cunt greedily swallowing every drop. If I wasn't already pregnant I surely would have been now.

I collapsed forward, reaching back in an attempt to pull him in deeper, relishing how my vagina contracted around his member, feeling every inch of it. Eventually, he pulled out of me, feeling my hole gape as his seed dribbled out onto my sheets.

I rolled on my side, completely out of breath. He collapsed next to me, similarly winded. We laid there for a bit, chests heaving. Once I caught my breath, I looked over at him.

"You were amazing," I said.

He nodded, still out of breath. "You too."

We laid there, covered in sweat as the the early afternoon sun spilled it's rays across my floor. The heat was still uncomfortable, but it wasn't terrible. My ceiling fan spun lazily, fruitlessly attempting to cool us off as we languished in the afterglow of our afternoon delight.

"I have to go to work," Andre said, apologetically.

I nodded, patting his chest. "You should use my shower."

He shook his head. "I can take a shower at home."

I looked at his confusedly. "I thought you didn't have water?"

"I lied," he admitted. "I just wanted to meet you. I know you've been watching me, and I was watching you. I only now worked up the courage to approach you, but I had to be sure you were into me, so I made that up."

I sat up, a little miffed, but also flattered. I didn't think anyone was looking at me that way anymore.

"Okay, so tell me this: was that really your first time?" I asked in an accusatory tone.

He sat up too. "That was the truth, I promise. I didn't think you wanted to have sex, I was just hoping to talk to you, and..." he trailed off.

"And?"

"Maybe just kiss you...?"

My face softened. I believed him, I knew in my heart he wasn't like other men.

"That's really sweet," I said as I stroked his cheek with my thumb. I leaned in to give him one last kiss before he left. His soft lips brushed against mine as he ran a hand through my hair, taking my chin between his thumb and forefinger.

He got up, bending over to untangle his clothes from mine. He even had a nice butt! I laid there admiring it as he got dressed.

"Say..." I started. He looked back over as he fastened his belt.

"Would you want to have lunch again tomorrow?"

He nodded, a grin spread across his face. "Yeah, I'd like that."

He bent over and gave me a peck on the lips as he hurried out. I waited until I heard the front door close to celebrate.

We met nearly every day for "lunch" over the next three weeks. I was incredibly horny now, and he became skilled enough to date my growing lust.

He had me in every imaginable way, on top, on bottom, from behind, even between my thighs and tits. I even did something I never did for anyone else: I let him use my mouth. Granted, I could only fit about half of it in, but the feeling of him running his hand through my hair, and the noises he made were exquisite.

We would lay on my bed, talking at length about our lives, our pasts, and hopes for the future. Andre was very passionate about acting, but was even more so dedicated to his family. He wanted nothing more than for his siblings to be taken care of, and it was clear he would do anything for them.

He asked me what I would do after the baby was born. I wasn't certain. I had planned on returning to work before long. I had saved enough to afford a babysitter, at least for a short while before I planned my next move. For as much as Eric was a loser, at least having a partner in all of this would have made things much easier. It wasn't so much the loneliness that troubled me, it was the lack of stability. Many men had come and gone in my life, but none stuck around long enough to make a real connection. They were wonderful in the beginning, but turned out to either be cheaters, drunks, or deadbeats, such was my luck.

Andre sympathized. It seemed his aunt suffered as I had, more or less. He told me after her husband was killed, she thrived on the independence. She had kids of her own, all grown up now, and had expertly taken care of them, even before the insurance money. When I asked him how, he simply shrugged and said, "She just made it work." It seemed like Andre had taken this to heart, and did the same for his siblings.

I admired this about him, but I also tried to subtly encourage his career pursuit. He thanked me, but admitted there was little chance of it happening now, instead resigned to a fate of manual labor to provide for his brothers and sisters. This saddened me greatly, but there was little I could do. We would always part with a kiss, every time it lingered just a bit longer. I would miss him greatly, always looking forward to the next day.

Sometimes we would actually eat lunch, too. As it turned out, he was an amazing chef. He brought me all kinds of food I had never had before: tamales, fajitas, mole, rice, beans and the most delectable dessert I had ever had, sopapillas. He would laugh as I attempted to pronounce each dish, utterly butchering them. He told me his mother taught him, and his skill made him all the more attractive.

Finally, on a particularly scorching day in July, I went into labor. It was intense, lasting about eighteen hours, but at the end of it I was holding my baby boy. I cried as they put him in my arms, and my heart was filled with joy at the life I had created. He cried out, being calmed only as I brought his mouth to my breast and let nature take over. He was perfect in every way. I still hadn't decided on a name yet, but that could wait.

Jazz stayed with me the entire time. I told her not to bother calling our parents, not that they would have come anyways. I asked her if she could go home and "check the mail," hoping Andre would have come by to see me.

She returned with bouquet of flowers and a letter.

"Looks like someone left you a gift. Somebody from the diner?" she asked.

They were beautiful; yellow, orange and pink lilies. I began to read the letter and realized it was from Andre. I folded it back up.

"Umm, could you get me some fresh blankets and a cup of water?" I asked her. I wanted to read in private.

"Sure!" She turned around and left the room. I unfolded it and began reading, smiling at his perfect handwriting.

"Dear Cora,

I haven't seen you in the past couple days, so I guess that means you're having your baby. I hope it all goes well, and the two of you are happy and healthy.

My aunt called the other day. Some big investor just approached her and wants to turn her restaurant into a chain. She accepted, and got a huge check. She also offered to adopt my brothers and sisters, and they're moving in with her. They'll get to go to the best schools, wear the nicest clothes, and never want for anything again. She offered to take me in too, but I declined.

I've thought a lot about what you've said to me about pursuing acting. While it's always been my passion, my family comes first. Now that my aunt is going to take them in, I find myself at a crossroads.

Acting has been my dream since I was a kid, and seeing actors like Pedro Infante and Ricardo Montalban always gave me hope that someone who looks like me could one day achieve something great. I reached out to one of my old school friends who lives in Los Angeles. He's had some success on TV, and put in a good word for me with his agent. I guess he must have lied about how good I am, because they want me to move out there immediately. My aunt is taking care of selling our house, so I've decided I have to try.

On the other hand, I'm finding it hard to imagine my life without you. Our time together has been special, and I'll never forget it. You've shown me a kindness that I've never known, and I don't know if I could ever find it again, but this is something I need to do.

I want you to come with me, but I can't ask you to uproot yourself just for me. You and your baby deserve someone who can take care of you, and I don't know if that can be me. Success in acting is never guaranteed, and I could be making the biggest mistake of my life, but I have to try. Maybe one day, if I can make enough money, I'll send for you.

You told me I deserved to do something for myself for once, and this is what I've chosen. You gave me the courage to do this, and I'll always be grateful. I don't know if I'll make it, but I know I have to try. I wish we had more time together, but the little time we did have I'll cherish in my heart forever.

Yours, always,

Andre"

Tears streamed down my face. They fell like rain onto the letter, ruining the ink. I was heartbroken, but I knew deep in my gut, we always had an expiration date. I just hadn't been ready for it. I hoped one day to see him again, even if it was just on a screen.

Jazz returned with new blankets and water. I shoved the letter under my side and wiped my face furiously.

"Everything okay?" she asked, her brow creased with concern.

I sniffled. "Yes, just happy tears."

She believed my lie as she set my water down, helping me change my blanket. The baby stirred, but stayed asleep.

"You think of a good name yet?" she asked.

I thought for a moment. "Yes, I have a name."

"Andrew."

-----

Four years later:

I stood impatiently as the line to the theater moved at a snail's pace. Everyone was abuzz about this new space wizard movie, especially the other kids at Andrew's daycare, so I begrudgingly agreed to take him. Jazz walked up and down the side of the theater, patiently following Andrew as he scrutinized each and every movie poster. He told Jazz very matter of factly which movies he would see based on how "cool" the poster was. She nodded along, silently grinning at this. I smiled, my handsome young boy was so intelligent for his age. A far cry from his father no doubt, but at least he did one good thing. He gave me Andrew.

After he was born, I went back to work. I exhausted my savings hiring a babysitter, but as luck would have it, my boss noticed my hard work and the rapport I had built with the customers, and promoted me to manager after a few months. Some of the old timers working there weren't too happy about this, but they quieted down after they realized how much better I was than the last one.

The next year, the owner retired and sold the diner. The new owner was a real piece of work, so Jazz and I packed our things up and moved to Pasadena. She had some friends out there that could get us set up with a place. I was eager to put Scottsdale behind me anyways. Too many memories.

Finally, it was my turn to purchase tickets. I approached the counter, and the clerk greeted me with a warm smile.

"Three tickets to Star Wars at 5:30, please." I asked.

The clerk nodded. "Seven dollars."

I handed them the cash, and they handed the tickets over. I thanked them and returned to Jazz and Andrew.

"So, we have a couple of hours before the show, want to grab a bite, Andy?"

"Ice cream!" he responded.

"Hmm... I don't know if they sell ice cream in Pasadena. Do they sell ice cream here, Aunty Jazz?"

"Hmm, I don't know," she said, grasping her chin in mock thought.

"I saw a ice cream place! You're both fibbers!" Andy said.

"Well, lead the way then, young man!" I reached out to grasp his hand. He excitedly led us down the street a couple blocks. We passed building after building on the strip: a jewelry store, a pawn shop, a bank, a restaurant named...

"Andre's..."

Seeing the name sent a pang of sadness through my heart. Though it had been four years, I still thought about him. I scoured the TV Guide, read magazines, anything for a shred of hope that he eventually got his big break. I never heard anything. I knew acting was a fickle business, movie and TV stars came and went, and no doubt there was no shortage of actors who just never made it. My vision started to blur with tears as I looked at the sign, so I quickly wiped and started to move on.

'Just a coincidence...' I assured myself. Just as we were approaching the ice cream place...

"Cora?" I heard a familiar voice call out to me.

For a moment, I dared not turn. My mind was playing tricks on me, haunted by the ghosts of my past. I kept walking, my son and sister in tow.

"Cora!" the voice called out again. This time, I turned.

My heart swelled as he stood there. His hair was longer, had a neatly trimmed mustache, and was dressed in a suit, but it was still him. The boy across the street.

My sister looked at me, puzzled at first, but as realization dawned on her, she encouraged me to go to him, taking Andy's hand. She had noticed I was particularly down after he was born, and finally drew it out of me. She sympathetically held my hand as I poured my heart out over Andre. It wasn't easy, but she helped me through the sorrow and got me back on my feet. Now, I was terrified all of it would be undone.

He carefully started walking towards me, unsure of my lack of reaction. I slowly started towards him, meeting him in the middle.

"Andre..." I started. I was still in shock, unable to discern if this was real or a dream.

"Cora..." he responded, maintaining a respectful distance. We stood in silence for a while, just gazing at each other. I spoke first.

"So... did you make it?"

He nodded, tilting his head slightly. "In a way, I guess I did." He pointed at the restaurant sign.

"This is your place?" I asked.

He nodded again. "It was a long road. I only got a couple of small parts. Local commercials, an extra on a show here and there, but things didn't work out. My friend Robbie, the one who got me out here, did much better. I lived with him for a while, working as a dishwasher, janitor, mechanic, whatever I could get. Eventually, with a loan from Robbie, I bought this place. I haven't paid him back yet, but it's going well. I sent letters, but..."

"We moved. I guess the post office lost them..." I responded.

"Oh..." he replied, crestfallen. "I'm sorry Cora, I never meant..."

I shook my head furiously, "It's okay, not your fault..." I wiped at fresh tears. We stood silent for another few moments.

"Place looks nice," I finally said, sniffling.

"... You wanna see it?" he asked timidly. "We don't open until 4, but if you wanted..." he gestured back at the restaurant.

I stood there listening. I wasn't sure about this. It took years to get over him, and this old wound was already reopening. I could have turned away and walked right back to my sister and son, except...

"Mama! The ice cream is gonna be all gone!"

I turned back to see my son stamping his feet impatiently while Jazz held his hand.

"Is that...?" Andre asked.

I turned back to him and nodded.

"He's... so big. Can... can I...?" he asked.

Against my better judgement, I nodded.

"Come here real quick, honey. I want you to meet someone."

Andy obediently walked with Jazz back over to meet us. I took his hand and brought him over.

"This is Andre." I gestured towards him.

Andre knelt down to his level. "Hello, it's very nice to meet you. What's your name?" he asked as he extended his hand.

"Andy!" he responded, taking Andre's hand.

"Andy..." he looked over at me, surprised. I nodded in acknowledgement.

"Well, Andy..." he started. "Have you ever seen a restaurant kitchen before? It's pretty neat! That is, if it's okay with your mother..." he looked at me with approval. I nodded, smiling.

"Does it make ice cream?" Andy asked, excitedly.

"Well, I COULD make ice cream, but you know what's even better than ice cream?"

Andy's eyes lit up. "What's better than ice cream?!"

"Sopapillas! Trust me, you'll never eat ice cream again after this."

Andre held his hand out, Andy taking it. I took the other, and we walked. He looked at me with the beautiful chestnut eyes I fell in love with, and I smiled.