Train Wreck

I mean it didn't really matter to me at that point. It's like saying, "I didn't have sex with her...I just rubbed my dick back and forth on her pussy and blew a load on her stomach."

We had a President that had used a defense like that.

Who the fuck cares what the difference between the two is? You're sharing something you shouldn't be.

Her voice became frantic at this point and that meant something was wrong.

I mean wrong with her...clearly what she was doing was wrong.

He was getting angry and pulling at her pants. She protested. I was about to go through the door and stop it when I heard a crash. Loud yelling ensued. Mostly my wife telling him he was fired and he'd be lucky if she didn't press charges for attempted rape. He was cursing back. Calling her all sorts of names. Yelling she was a tease and said that she was screwed up in the head. She'd been the one that started this thing after all. He threatened a sexual harassment suit. I heard her yell it was a mistake and she didn't realize what she was doing.

Right.

Jared stormed out the front but didn't see me on the side. He got in his car and sped off.

My wife was crying inside the office. It usually makes me really upset to see her cry. Except this time.

The front door was open so I stepped in. That about gave her a heart attack as she exclaimed. "Elliott! What are you doing here?" She looked nervous trying to compose herself, her blouse was still undone and her pants partially pulled down. "How long have you been here?"

"The whole time."

I was stoic. Like it didn't matter any more.

"I was going to come in and stop him when I heard a crash."

"Oh my god, Elliott I'm so sorry. So so sorry." She began wailing. " I don't know what the hell I was doing and when I realized it and told him to stop."

Yeah right. I wished she had stopped earlier before tanking our marriage.

She was sobbing pretty uncontrollably by now and saying nonsensical things. Mostly about how much she fucked up and how she never realized how much she loved me.

"Denise, I've got to go. I'll have some papers for you to sign in the morning. I had them drawn up today just in case this was going to happen tonight." I said that to just hurt her. I was angry of course. I didn't really have any papers.

"What the hell are you talking about Elliott? Why can't I go home, what papers?" "I'm sorry but let me explain..." "I'm.."

"What do you mean in case this was going to happen tonight? How did you know?"

"Shut the fuck up Denise! I mean really, does it fucking matter right now? Is that really the question you have for me after what you've been doing? You fucking...!"

I really wanted to call her names but that isn't who I am. She was the mother of my children and all.

That has never stopped her from calling me names though.

Like the time she called me asshole in front of my girls. That fight started because I had wanted to spend time with her and was asking for a night out.

"You can't come home because if you do..."

I didn't finish, didn't need to.

Her eyes flashed fear and confusion as she retreated.

You see I was holding myself steady, for now, but inside I felt pure unadulterated rage over the death of my marriage.

"Don't come near me...".

I actually was really afraid. I hadn't felt rage like that since I saw my father going after my nephew in a hotel room before my sister's wedding. He was going to beat him in front of everyone in that room because the kid said something he didn't like. My nephew was 9. Except that time I was there to stop it. I was also 19 and pretty fucking strong. That time I body checked him into the wall and whispered into his ear if he so much as touched my nephew I would fucking destroy him. And he knew I would do it. I'd never seen fear in my father's eyes before, but I saw it then. Real fear. It's too bad he didn't 'try' and hit my nephew a few minutes later because I really wanted to beat his ass.

Back to Denise...I was really afraid I wouldn't be able to control myself and I really didn't want to hurt her. I did love her. She was the mother of my children.

Denise stepped near me, crying, sobbing, shaking.

She was trying to latch on to me. All the time exclaiming how much she loved me and to please forgive her.

I started panicking...mostly from fear of losing control and hurting her so I started stepping backward and tried to push her away.

"Get the fuck away from me!" I was blubbering at this point. I was stepping backward and that's when, as fate would have it, I tripped off that side walk curb.

The city should really get around to fixing these things.

Denise was on the city's commission for exactly this kind of shit for Christ's sake so you'd think at least the side walks would be safe.

I didn't mention that her office was near the street corner.

Not that this fact would matter, unless..

About the moment I tripped a blue Fiat made it's way around that corner.

Actually speeding around the corner is more accurate. Again, there's a fucking speed limit sign posted right next to me for fuck's sake!

It was some high school kid trying to get his date home for curfew, speeding, and not paying attention.

That's how my Labrador I told you about earlier was killed. Some high school kid had been racing to get his date home so she wouldn't get in trouble for being late. He'd ploughed straight into my dog.

Her name was Lady.

She had wiry black fur.

She was a mother.

I guess the driver couldn't see her because of her black color but if he had slowed the fuck down then he would have.

It broke her back. She never saw it coming.

My best friend of 7 years was gone because a girl was going to get home past her curfew and 'might' get in trouble for it. She was dead because my ass hole father had blinded her from being able to get out of the way in time.

The blue car hit me.

It was surreal at that point.

Slow motion really.

There was a horn,

some screaming,

brake squeal,

flashes of light,

and a loud noise like an explosion.

What was that terrible sound I thought? I hoped everyone was OK?

That sound was the noise my body made when it impacted the sharp metal of the front hood of that Fiat.

Did 'I' make that sound?

I was gone in a fraction of a second.

40 years and the switch had been turned off.

I lay there in the street not moving.

Blood was everywhere.

A lot of it was from my head, some of it from my side.

There was a lot of broken glass I guess from the wind shield' impact to my head after I was thrown up onto the car.

There were too many broken bones to register at that moment. My arm in front of my left elbow was bent 90 degrees in the opposite direction it was supposed to bend. It wasn't the only appendage like that. You couldn't really make out my face at all with all the blood and torn skin.

Someone called for an ambulance. My wife rushed to be by my side, crying hysterically.

Perhaps my girls would get that insurance money after all?

Tracy would finally get to read that letter.

I really did look dashing in my bright purple checkered shirt though.

Too bad it was stained now.

--------------------

I heard voices coming and going.

I heard my wife and my daughters. I heard my sister and my brothers.

I wondered why everyone was here and why I couldn't move? It was like when you wake up in the middle of the night and you can't make your arms or legs move.

Everything was black and my eyes wouldn't open.

I heard my wife talk for a long time. She was saying something about how sorry she was and asking God to give her one more chance. She promised to be there for me and the girls. She promised lots of things I didn't completely hear.

I drifted back into blackness.

I woke to bright lights.

I tried to move but an intense pain ripped through my body. I tried to speak but there were tubes down my throat. A beeping alarm was going off somewhere nearby.

What the hell was going on?

"You're awake. We thought you might be coming back to us soon."

"Stay still. I'm going to get your wife and daughters if they are still here. Don't try to speak. Please lay still."

She wore white.

A while later my wife came in alone.

"Hi honey. I'm so happy you're awake." She was crying while she said this.

"Don't talk, they're going to give you something for the pain and it may put you back to sleep. You were in a terrible accident and I'm afraid it was all my fault. You are in a hospital. I'll stay right here with you. I love you so much. I'll never leave you I promise."

Back to sleep I went.

I drifted back and forth like this for what seemed ages.

Finally I woke again.

I was really, really thirsty.

I tried to speak but this time only a croak came out, and I noticed I didn't have any tubes down my throat any longer.

My wife was there holding my hand.

"Where are we?"

"In county general. We were so close to losing you. I don't know what I'd have done if I lost you. You were in a car accident outside of my office. A car hit you and nearly killed you. You were actually gone..heart stopped..for a short time but the paramedics were able to revive you. Your back is broken, so are lots of other bones. You have a really bad concussion and they were worried about long term brain damage. Your back though is operable and they think you should recover from it in a while."

A broken back, just like my dog. Not that there's any relevance there.

Well maybe there is.

My Father had taken that 2x4 and blinded my dog from anger. My dog, Lady, had trusted him and he had hurt her badly. My wife had blinded me with pain...a lot of it. Was I really all that different from my dog?

A car is a hell of a lot worse than a 2x4 I'd have to say. But then again a car got Lady in the end.

I wasn't going to roll over though and take a beating.

"I don't remember anything." I remarked.

"Shhh. You're safe. It's going to be OK. You need to rest. We'll talk after you have strength. I love you."

Back to sleep I went again. I vaguely remember seeing the nurse inject something in my IV.

It went on like this for awhile. I found out later I'd been unconscious for about two weeks before I woke that first time. The doctors had put me in an induced coma. Too much trauma to the head. I had such a bad concussion they wanted my brain to have time to heal and some of the swelling and pressure to go down.

The doctor had said I may or may not get my memory back.

At first I didn't remember what had happened, at all...any of it. But after a while it did start to come back to me here and there. Although nobody talked to me about what went on that night other than the actual accident, Denise had made many apologies and I kept asking her what she was apologizing for. Denise kept trying to tell me what happened and I just kept telling her I didn't want to talk about it yet.

A few weeks after I left the hospital I had actually remembered everything that had happened. I just didn't let anyone know but I suspect Denise figured it out.

You see, I choose to see what I want to see.

I know that doesn't make sense to some of you.

Let me explain.

What I saw was a wife who was deeply lost and had found her way back.

I saw a wife who was remorseful and committed.

I saw a woman trapped from all of the choices she had made, good and bad, and trying to break free from their consequences.

I saw myself before the accident... and let me tell you I didn't really like what I saw.

I saw myself now, or maybe the 'me' I wanted to become.

I saw...

no that's not right...

I felt love.

Sometimes love is a choice.

It took me a while to understand that.

About 40 years actually and I still don't completely get it.

And before you think I wimped out and never confronted my wife about all of what had happened with her short 'fling' or got any closure or went total caveman on her ass.....don't.

The last time I had confronted her it had literally killed me....and I wasn't going to repeat that. So when it did happen, me confronting her I mean, it needed to be on my own terms; when 'I' was ready.

I realized one important thing:

I realized that all of this wasn't really about me.

It was about her.

It was about her insecurities,

her character weaknesses,

her choices,

her desires,

her needs...

her regrets, her fears, and her failures.

I can thank my psychiatrist for that bit of insight as well.

Knowing that just didn't make it any easier for me though.

But it helped.

When a part of your soul is hurting, it hurts all over. She was a part of my soul for better or for worse.

A while after the accident I did have that talk with her after I had healed.

We began our discussion slowly but worked our way up to saying all those things we should have said in couples therapy, or during our marriage, but hadn't for whatever reasoning.

There were all the expected heartfelt apologies and regrets and promises offered from her and also from me.

I asked her to forgive me. For what? For not being the man she had needed and causing her to go looking for what was missing.

Having a husband borderline suicidal was not being the man she needed.

I know you think that was being a pushover or trying to let it slide and blame myself like I did when I was little. I wasn't. Taking responsibility for your part, no matter how trivial, requires real strength. And that responsibility is really what being a man, a husband, a father is all about.

My Father never realized that before his death. Never said he was sorry and never took responsibility. For anything. I'm not my Father and he'd damaged me enough with all of his bullshit before and after his death.

Real strength is accepting that responsibility. And NOT tossing her ass to the curb. And listening.

It means letting your wife vent at you and blame you for stuff while realizing all she really needed was for someone to tell her everything would be ok. That her feelings of frustration were valid. It means letting her voice her problems and her trusting that someone was there to lean on. I mean really there.

That was the promise I made to her at the alter after all.

I had left her alone to fend for herself in those years of my depression. Yes you heard me, I said years. For years I left my wife to handle it all herself. Because I couldn't.

For that I asked her to forgive me.

She asked for forgiveness too. And I gave it.

What really mattered to me was that we talked.

I mean, we really talked about what each of us needed and most importantly what our fears were.

We discussed why we had been so lost and how we needed to find our way back to ourselves and each other.

We had finally let ourselves be vulnerable.

Her fear was in letting me down; I think really though in letting herself down.

A leftover childhood thing.

Mine was simply being alone, or more accurately - abandoned, unloved.

Again, childhood thing.

You know I had never felt that close to her until we had that long series of talks...

I have to say I have ever since.

It's just too bad that such an accident had to happen for us to realize what was really important in our lives.

Funny how that works.

The End.