" I backed out of the room, closed the door and sat on the sofa. It was too late -- I couldn't un-see what I had seen, and the image of Mae's full but shapely legs and her smooth, round ass with the enema hose plugged into her had been seared into my hypothalamus.I recalled an incident from years ago. It was the summer after I graduated high school and it was similarly seared into my brain. I recall it today as if it happened yesterday.Our Aunt Dora was a retired registered nurse. She was from the Old School and she believed the bulk of everyday ailments had their root cause in the belly, specifically the large intestine. She also believed the cure for what ails you is a good, old-fashioned, large-volume enema.Dora put these beliefs into practice. Both Mae and I received enemas if we had stomach-aches, overall sluggishness, or if she believed our potty habits had become lax. If we had fevers, Dora used enemas to cool us down. They were her go-to cure.On this particular, warm, summer. She sighed and answered, “Yeah. I guess it’s like that.” She looked up at him and said, “Sol, nobody in their right mind would want their husband to find out like this. But here we are. Can we at least try to be civil? Not make a scene?”“Of course, we can. Are you ready to go?”“Go? Go where?”“Home, of course.”“Home? Look I don’t—”“Carla, I know you think that this is all there is to it. But there is a lot to discuss, and I’d rather do this in the privacy of our home. After that, you can do whatever you want. I won’t lift a finger or say a word to stop you. Okay?”“You’re not in the fucking convertible, are you? I’m not ready to get back into some tiny-ass car.”“No, Jazzie’s with me. We came in the Yukon.”It took them another half-hour to get all signed out, and they were on the road by 8:00. Solomon seemed to be on a mission, and they pulled into the garage at 8:45. The trip home was eerily quiet. Jadzia was sitting in the front seat. Carla thought they both looked.
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