Many embarrassing things can happen to guitarists. Obvious ones, such as broken or out-of-tune strings, plague every picker. However, many other hazards lay in wait. When changing strings, a bridge pin can go flying across the room, never to be found. A dead battery can ruin a performance. An improperly fastened strap can result in a fractured guitar neck when dropped. A cable can unplug, if the player trips on it.

Erica's age, employment, and immaturity had barely shamed me in 1985. But after cultivating over twenty years of respectability with my extended family, revealing those details in 2015 left me red-faced. Just like in 1989, when I somehow untied the cord of my sweat pants with the guitar strap button, and they fell around my ankles during a solo...

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She's got eyes of the bluest sky, as if they thought of rain... Sweet Child Of Mine.
Guns 'n Roses.

I put up my hands, "Hold on, hold on. I did propose to Erica, and she met my parents. But we never married."

Gwen twirled around the room. With most girls her age, such movements brought to mind a ballerina. Not so with my precocious granddaughter. Her dancing screamed "stripper," and I had predicted five years before, that she would be pregnant at sixteen. Her behavior since then had only confirmed my opinion. She came to rest on her knees, right between my legs. Gwen placed both hands high up on my thighs, and lewdly looked up at me. I had no choice but to ignore her antics. "Oh, Grandpa, tell me all about it. I bet you were sooo romantic, like in a movie. Did you ask her at sunset on the beach, or in a fancy restaurant? Oh, was it like The Bachelor? Tell me, pleeease!"

I explained, "No Gwen. It wasn't anything like that. In fact, it was kind of mundane."

Her slight frown revealed she didn't know the meaning of the word, and I felt a small victory.

I just outwitted a junior high girl.
Yay...

Kris interrupted, "Ray, who was this woman?"

My stepdaughter and I had a cordial relationship, but we seldom discussed personal things. "Uh... I worked with Erica."

"Oh, just like how you met Mom. When was this?"

I knew exactly where this line of inquiry would lead, but I carried on. "It was... uhh, 1985."

Olivia's younger sibling Melanie immediately picked up on it. "You were a restaurant manager then, right?"

I sheepishly nodded.

Melanie snapped her fingers, "So, you were her boss."

Kris could barely contain her mirth, "Ray, that restaurant chain has high school kids working there. Don't tell me Erica was..."

I gulped.

"... still in high school?"

"Mom, I'm going to be in high school next year, can I get a job there?"

So you can have a go at the manager....

Gwen's comment provided a much needed diversion, so I began to rise from my chair.

"Wait, Grandpa! How old were you?"

She started to climb on me, but Kris' stern, "Bug! Come here!" put an end to that slice of my torment. Kris gave me a look of sympathy, but then grinned, "I think Ray was about twenty-four in 1985."

Gwen frowned. "Ewww. Why would Erica want to be with an old man?"

Melanie's eyes flashed. Her husband of over forty years had been twenty-three when he started dating her at seventeen. "Gwen, high school boys can be really immature jerks. You'll see."

She pointed at me, "Ray had a decent job, his own place, and knew how to treat a woman well. Isn't that right?"

The last one, not so much...

"Thank you, Melanie. Gwen, she was a little young for me. But Erica was so determined for us to be together, and I just couldn't resist her."

Gwen perked up, "Oh! Was she pretty?"

I walked right into that...

The three of them waited eagerly for my answer.

"Uh, she was ok looking..."

"Who was ok looking?" My mother asked as she entered from the patio, accompanied by my father, who poured her another glass of wine. A ruddy glow shone on her light brown cheeks, and a relaxed air smoothed her movements. When drinking, Mom often loved to tell stories of my dating. Out of respect to Olivia, she seldom did it since I had married, but a few things had slipped out over the years. However, nothing as big as this revelation had ever come up before.

Gwen danced over to her. "Erica! Grandpa's first wife!"

I mentally face palmed. My normally reserved father burst out laughing, while my mother stared at me in disbelief. "No, Gwen, sweetheart. My baby boy only married your grandmother."

Then she wagged an accusing finger at me. "But he's lying. Erica was an absolute knockout. One of the most beautiful women I've ever met!"

Shit.

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