It’s Sunday, which means I’m sittin

It’s Sunday, which means I’m sitting in a damp-smelling nursing-home room with Nana. Yet no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to forget my last session with Brielle, my sexy little peach.
Every detail is seared into my memory. Her tight little ass working against me. Fuck. Her petite body latching onto mine, milking me to the last drop. I could quickly see her becoming an addiction. One I wasn’t allowed to overdose on¸ as much as I might want to. I had a job to do. That was it.
Nana waves her index finger at me. “Grab me my knitting bag out of the closet. I made you something.”
I have an entire dresser full of hideous sweaters, knitted caps, and misshapen scarves courtesy of Nana. If I’m ever invited to an ugly-Christmas-sweater party, I’m fairly certain I could go dressed from head to toe in colorful, itchy wool.
I grab the bag and hand it to her. She produces a royal purple turtleneck vest thingy and hands it to me with a proud grin.
“Wow. It’s just…I’m speechless. Thank you, Nana.”
Dear God, this thing needs to be burned. But hell, it gives her something to do, and gives the dresser in my spare room a purpose. Everyone wins.
“Put it on. I need to make sure it fits.”
I hold it up to myself. “Oh, it’ll fit.”
Satisfied, she smiles, and I return to the armchair next to her.
I was seventeen when my parents were killed in a plane crash during their dream vacation to Alaska. It was a small bush plane, used for the excursion fishing trip my dad talked about for months.
Nanette—Nana—was a member of the church they attended. I went only on major holidays and had met her once or twice. I didn’t really know her and she didn’t know me. But she stepped up and claimed ownership for me, along with my younger sister, Macey.
Seventy years old and a devoted Christian, Nana and I were an unlikely combination. I remember the first time I laid eyes on her at the funeral. Her skin was the color of coffee, and her braided hair was a mixture of salt and pepper. She came right up to me—we were the only two not crying—and as she stood by my side, she leaned toward me and said in a low voice that crying wasn’t going to bring them back. I nodded in agreement and watched as their caskets were lowered into the ground. I felt numb. Empty. And all cried out.
From that moment on, I liked her. I liked her strength and her character. But when she petitioned the state to grant her custody rather than have us go into foster care, it shocked the shit out of me.
She got her way. Macey and I lived with Nana through high school. During college and then in law school, I always had a place with her at holidays and breaks. Last year she was moved into an assisted living home. For many years she took care of me, and now I take care of her. It’s the least I can do. She’s family now.
The afternoon nurse—Trisha, I think—comes in with a tray with Nana’s meds. Something for her blood pressure, and something to help her go to the bathroom. She’s healthy as a damn horse, thank God. Trisha bends over to set down the tray, and pushes her ample cleavage into my face.
Hello there.
Once she’s gone, Nana rolls her eyes at the overeager nurse. “That hussy needs to slow down. She’s on you like stink on an ape. A man likes to chase a woman, not the other way around. You don’t want to be smothered, do you?”
“By her?” I grin crookedly. “Might not be so bad.”
“You’re wicked.”
“In all the best ways,” I assure her.
She laughs, but soon her smile fades and her expression turns more serious. “When are you going to settle down, Cameron? I’d like to see you with a nice girl. I won’t be around forever. I am eighty-one this year, you know?”
I swallow, hating that her age is something we even have to think about. She’s all I have left. Along with Macey, who I don’t see nearly enough now that she moved. “I know, Nana. I’m already planning a big surprise party.”
“It’s not a surprise if I know about it.” She raises one penciled-on eyebrow.
“I wouldn’t want to be responsible for a heart attack, or bladder failure, or whatever.” I grin at her.
“Wicked,” she says again.
I’m not sure how long I can keep dodging her questions about my future, but let's hope for a long, long time.

Hasil (Bahasa Indonesia) 1:

Itu adalah hari Minggu, yang berarti aku duduk di ruang rumah jompo berbau lembab dengan Nana. Namun bagaimanapun kerasnya saya berusaha, saya tidak bisa melupakan sesi terakhir dengan Brielle, saya persik kecil yang seksi.Setiap detail menyengat ke dalam memori. Ketat pantat kecilnya bekerja melawan saya. Persetan. Tubuh mungil menempel ke tambang, memerah susu saya untuk tetes terakhir. Aku bisa dengan cepat melihat menjadi kecanduan. Satu aku tidak diizinkan untuk overdosis on¸ sebanyak mungkin ingin. Aku punya pekerjaan yang harus dilakukan. Itu saja.Nana gelombang jari telunjuknya padaku. "Ambil saya tas merajut saya keluar dari lemari. Aku membuat Anda sesuatu."Aku punya lemari seluruh penuh mengerikan sweater, rajutan topi dan syal Cacat milik Nana. Jika saya pernah diundang ke pesta jelek-Natal-sweter, saya cukup yakin saya bisa berpakaian dari kepala hingga kaki wol berwarna-warni, gatal.Saya ambil tas dan menyerahkannya kepadanya. Dia menghasilkan rompi royal purple turtleneck thingy dan tangan ini kepada saya dengan senyum bangga."Wow. Hal ini hanya... Aku terdiam. Terima kasih, Nana."Dear Allah, hal ini perlu dibakar. Tetapi neraka, memberikan sesuatu untuk melakukan, dan memberikan rias di kamar cadangan tujuan. Semua orang menang."Meletakkannya di. Saya perlu untuk memastikan cocok."Saya menahannya sampai dengan diriku sendiri. "Oh, itu akan cocok."Puas, Dia tersenyum, dan aku kembali ke kursi di sampingnya.Saya berumur 17 tahun ketika orangtuaku tewas dalam kecelakaan pesawat selama liburan impian mereka ke Alaska. Itu bush kecil pesawat, digunakan untuk perjalanan wisata memancing tamasya yang ayah saya berbicara tentang selama berbulan-bulan.Nanette—Nana—was a member of the church they attended. I went only on major holidays and had met her once or twice. I didn’t really know her and she didn’t know me. But she stepped up and claimed ownership for me, along with my younger sister, Macey.Seventy years old and a devoted Christian, Nana and I were an unlikely combination. I remember the first time I laid eyes on her at the funeral. Her skin was the color of coffee, and her braided hair was a mixture of salt and pepper. She came right up to me—we were the only two not crying—and as she stood by my side, she leaned toward me and said in a low voice that crying wasn’t going to bring them back. I nodded in agreement and watched as their caskets were lowered into the ground. I felt numb. Empty. And all cried out.From that moment on, I liked her. I liked her strength and her character. But when she petitioned the state to grant her custody rather than have us go into foster care, it shocked the shit out of me.She got her way. Macey and I lived with Nana through high school. During college and then in law school, I always had a place with her at holidays and breaks. Last year she was moved into an assisted living home. For many years she took care of me, and now I take care of her. It’s the least I can do. She’s family now.The afternoon nurse—Trisha, I think—comes in with a tray with Nana’s meds. Something for her blood pressure, and something to help her go to the bathroom. She’s healthy as a damn horse, thank God. Trisha bends over to set down the tray, and pushes her ample cleavage into my face.Hello there.Once she’s gone, Nana rolls her eyes at the overeager nurse. “That hussy needs to slow down. She’s on you like stink on an ape. A man likes to chase a woman, not the other way around. You don’t want to be smothered, do you?”“By her?” I grin crookedly. “Might not be so bad.”“You’re wicked.”“In all the best ways,” I assure her.She laughs, but soon her smile fades and her expression turns more serious. “When are you going to settle down, Cameron? I’d like to see you with a nice girl. I won’t be around forever. I am eighty-one this year, you know?”I swallow, hating that her age is something we even have to think about. She’s all I have left. Along with Macey, who I don’t see nearly enough now that she moved. “I know, Nana. I’m already planning a big surprise party.”“It’s not a surprise if I know about it.” She raises one penciled-on eyebrow.“I wouldn’t want to be responsible for a heart attack, or bladder failure, or whatever.” I grin at her.“Wicked,” she says again.I’m not sure how long I can keep dodging her questions about my future, but let's hope for a long, long time.