An Event - with a Capital E

When another minute passed and Dawn was franticly trying to get over the edge, Lyle spread her cheeks again and saw six inches of fat cock moving in and out of her ass. As her head arched backward and she groaned, "Cuuuuummmming," Lyle held her waist, felt his cock explode and he grunted, "AAArrrrrrrrrrr."

Thirty minutes later, both were showered, dressed and ready to leave. They hadn't said more than a few words.

Reaching the parking lot, Dawn was expecting a "thank you" or something similar. Instead Lyle said, "Next year I want to fuck Virginia McDaniel. I expect you to help my sister and make it happen."

Lyle leaned in, kissed Dawn on the lips, walked over to his car and drove away.

As Dawn sat in her car a few moments later, she pulled up her calendar on her phone. She smiled, as she got ready to delete "Event" from today's schedule and thought, 'It was an Event with five capital E's.'

=================

Chris' Event - With a Capital E

Twenty-nine months later

My alarm clock went off at 4:45 and the daily game began. I listened to Toby Keith's classic "Beer for My Horses" for a minute, before I felt the thump. Buck, my eleven year old Australian shepherd had jumped onto the foot of our bed. He sat silently and directly between my wife and I at the bottom of the bed for about a minute before his tail started to slowly and rhythmically bang against the wooden frame. The banging got faster and the sound louder, as Buck wagged his tail harder.

When I growled, "What the fuck are you doing up so early?" Buck launched himself onto my chest and he started licking my face. It was the start of another day in the Harrington household.

December in Connecticut is cold and can vary forty or fifty degrees. As is my habit, I had checked the weather before going to bed. Two sweatshirts, a heavy pair of sweatpants, socks and sneakers would be enough clothing for Bucks one hour morning exercise.

Buck and I have a set routine and I was out the front door, with my dog at my side within two or three minutes of my feet hitting the floor. After eleven years, Buck and I were on autopilot and on our way to a neighborhood park a half mile away.

The first sign that something was different was Buck's growl. I looked at the dog and followed his gaze and together we watched two uniformed men getting out of a sedan parked at my curb.

I remember my thoughts exactly. I was excited beyond belief. My son was home on leave from the Marine's. He was surprising us and he had brought two buddies. When five and then ten seconds passed, without Danny climbing out of the back seat of the car, I realized in horror that Danny wasn't on leave. He wasn't coming home today or ever. I'd never see my son again.

In a daze, I met the United States Marine Corps Notification Team halfway up the driveway. "If I don't take the dog for his morning walk, he won't leave us alone." I glanced at my watch and said, "Can you find a Dunkin Donuts Shop and grab a coffee? Let's meet back at 6:30."

"Yes Sir," was their immediate response before the Captain and Sergeant turned and quickly left. With tears running down my face, Buck and I headed to the park.

We walked into the park and Buck took off to smell the different scents that had been left by the animals that had roamed the field during the night. I sat on a bench and with a broken heart, thought about my twenty year old son.

It was as if we had two completely different relationships. The first eighteen years, we had a normal family or at least as normal as I could ever pray for. Dan was a complete package. He did well enough in school to be accepted to several well above average colleges and universities. He was a good athlete and started each of his last two years on the high school soccer, basketball and baseball teams. And he could sing. Oh boy, could he sing. In his senior year, he had the male lead role in our high school theater department's musical production of The Sound of Music.

Dan was a productive, normal well rounded kid, but something happened during the spring of his senior year of high school. In a short period of time, he completely cut his mother out of his life. I tried to intervene, but for the first time Dan wouldn't talk with me.

When Dan started to be belligerent and verbally abusive toward Dawn, I put my foot down and demanded to know what was going on. I became dumbfounded when Dan stood up from the kitchen table and left the house. He didn't come home for three days.

Dawn and I racked our brains trying to identify Dan's problem. We talked to his friends, teachers, coaches and others, but no one had a clue about any problems.

When he finally returned home, we sat down together. I decided not to prod, but I told him I would not put up with his gross disrespect toward his mother. Using the age old adage, I told Dan, "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."

That's when the "freeze" started. He was close to the old Dan with me, but he didn't say a word to Dawn.

The silent treatment toward Dawn continued through his high school commencement ceremony and up to the third week of July. It was a Wednesday night, when I heard Dan come into the kitchen.

Dawn and I were listening to music and reading in our family room. I assumed that Dan had used the back stairs and was in his bedroom, until he cleared his throat. When I looked up and saw him standing in the kitchen doorway, he asked, "Can we talk?"

I answered, "Sure," and as I stood from my chair, I was stunned when he turned his eyes to Dawn and he asked, "All of us?"

Dawn and I exchanged curious looks and followed Danny into the kitchen.

When he slid a cashier's check for one thousand dollars to me, I asked, "Not that I won't take your money, but what's this for?"

"It's the non-refundable part of the tuition that we've paid to Boston College. I've withdrawn from the college and won't be starting in September. The College is sending the balance and you'll get it within two weeks."

I was confused and tossed a series of half-formed questions at Dan, "You've withdrawn? You're not leaving for Boston? I think it's much too late to be refunded any of the nearly ten thousand dollars we've spent."

Dan told us, "There are several reasons for a family to receive a nearly complete refund, including a death in the family, severe sickness..."

Dawn interrupted and said, "That doesn't apply to you."

In the few seconds that they were talking, I recalled reading some of the small print in the Boston College contract. I was able to answer, "Or military service."

Dawn's head swung toward me and just as quickly turned back to Danny. She demanded, "You are not joining the Army."

I saw Dawn relax slightly, when Dan said, "I never said I was joining the Army." Dawn didn't have a clue, but I knew what was coming. "I'm following Dad and Grandpa and I've enlisted in the Marine Corps."

Dan let us absorb his shocking announcement, before he told us, "I passed my physical a few weeks ago. I start basic training in three weeks at the Recruit Training Depot at Parris Island, South Carolina."

"You will not be going and that's the end of this discussion. You are going to college."

My mind was still swirling and I was focused on the table top as Danny explained to his Mom, "That's the funny thing about the Marines. They didn't send me an invitation to Basic Training. They don't say 'please'. I am under Military orders and can either show up on time or go to a military prison."

"Aren't you going to say something?" I could feel Dawn's eyes boring into the top of my head.

I shrugged, looked at Dan and asked the only question that mattered. "Why?" I needed to know.

It was Danny's turn to stare at the table top. It was a comfortable silence, broken occasionally by Dawn's sobs.

After several minutes and with a sigh, Danny told us, "I need to grow up. I want to mature. I need to become a man."

I could tell that there was more. When I thought Dawn was going to say something, I reached across the table, held her hands and through eye contact, told her to stay quiet.

Dan continued, "You know things have not been right for a while. I've never been so angry or confused. The worst thing is I can't talk to you about it. I don't have the courage to have a family meeting. I can't do it."

Dawn asked, "Are you gay?"

I could tell by the look in Dan's eyes that his come-back to Dawn's utterly ridiculous question was going to be vile.

I slammed my hand on the table and directing the anger I had from Dawn's question, asked Dan, "So you're running away?"

"You haven't been listening to me Dad."

I shrugged my shoulders in confusion as he explained, "I'm running toward something...manhood. I've decided that a three year hitch in the United States Marine Corps is the fastest way to get there."

My memories were interrupted when Buck nudged my leg with his snout. I grabbed my trusty Louisville Slugger and pulled an old drool covered tennis ball from my pocket. Using the bat, I whacked the ball toward the other side of the park. Buck tracked the ball down in the dark pre-dawn minutes and brought it back to me. Chasing the well-worn tennis ball seemed to be Buck's favorite part of the day.

I think Buck grumbled out load, as I started our walk from the park back to our home a few minutes earlier than normal. As I walked, I tried to make my mind completely blank; knowing that the next few hours and days would be other-worldly.

After starting the coffee, I climbed to the second floor and walked to Dawn's side of the bed. I leaned in and kissed her cheek.

"Give me a few more minutes Chris."

I answered, "You need to get up Dawn. We have visitors coming in the next half hour."

"Wait. What?"

I told her, "I'm going to take a quick shower," and I closed the master bath door behind me. I rationalized, 'I want to give Dawn a few more happy minutes.'

I took a two minute wash and rinse, dried off and when I walked into our bedroom, Dawn was pulling a sweater over her head.

"What's going on Chris?"

Tears were streaming down my face as I told her, "A Marine Corps Notification Team will be here in a few minutes."

"A notification..." Was all Dawn said, before she realized that our lives were forever changed. I took three quick steps and took my bride into a tight hug. I was afraid she was going to fall.

We cried together before I suggested that we go downstairs. Looking through a window when we reached the bottom of the stairs, I saw that the Teams car was back. Together, Dawn and I walked onto our front step. The Captain and Sergeant immediately got out of the car.

When they arrived in front of us, the Captain said, "Mr. and Mrs. Harrington, I'm Captain Peter Louis and I'm here with Sergeant Craig Malloy. May we come in?"

"Captain?" I asked. "Can I ask the Sergeant a favor?"

I was barely able to control my voice as I looked at Sergeant Malloy and asked, "Could you..." I wasn't able to finish and instead nodded my head toward the flagpole at the side of our front yard. Old Glory was illuminated in the early morning darkness and flying proudly.

The Sergeant immediately understood. Dawn and I hugged each other tightly and Captain Louis stood at attention and saluted as our flag was lowered to half-mast.

The next several hours were a blur. We knew Dan was in Syria. We were told that he was part of a patrol. The armored vehicle in front had hit a roadside bomb and was on fire. Dan raced from his vehicle to rescue his teammates, when a second bomb detonated. Our son was killed instantly.

When the Marines had completed the initial paperwork and were ready to leave, Captain Louis asked me to walk him to the car. We were out of the house and standing in the road, when he pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to me. I read my name neatly printed in Dan's handwriting. Under my name were Dan's instructions: Please destroy this letter if it can't be hand delivered to my Father.

When I got back to the house, I tossed the envelope onto my home office desk. I was in too much pain to read Dan's message to me and would wait until Dawn went to bed

Later that night, with three inches of bourbon, I sat at my desk opened the envelope and I read:

My dear Dad,

I'm sorry that you are reading this letter. I'm sorry for a lot of things, but I am sorry most for the pain that you are going through. I hope from Heaven that I'm able to help you through your grief, but I don't think that's possible. In fact, I'm afraid that I'm going to make this horrible day even worse for you.

As I write to you, I don't know the circumstances surrounding my death. I pray that I was doing something good...something honorable...something worthy of a United States Marine.

The hardest thing I'll ever tell you is, no matter how I died, I died a coward. At least in my eyes.

There are so many things that I admire about you, but the thing I admire most is your ability to face your problems. I treasure the hundreds of one-on-one talks you and I had. You helped me think through my challenges. I also treasure our family discussions. You always took the lead. You never shied away from any subject. You took the bull by the horns and faced your own problems, my problems, Mom's problems and our family problems head on. I love you for that.

Growing up, I tried to emulate your best qualities. However, I fell short...grossly short of your ability to talk through problems. I was a coward and wasn't able to talk to my Dad about cutting off my relationship with my mother. I was a coward when I didn't talk to you before joining the Corps and skipping college. And I'm a coward today for writing to you. A man would have looked you in the eye and explained why I needed to join the Marines. Perhaps if I had that talk with you, I would have conquered my fears and become a man you could be proud of.

Dad, Mom is a cheater.

A few weeks before I graduated high school I saw a text pop through on Mom's phone. I wasn't snooping. The text was gross and confirmed that Mom had a motel room date. The date was scheduled a few weeks later.

That's when I started giving her the silent treatment and found excuses to stay with friends. I was avoiding Mom.

I knew things were going to be bad, when the date arrived and you were heading out of town for a few days.

I skipped school and followed Mom to work. I followed again, when she left work in the late morning and drove to one of those shit-bag motels in Southington. I watched her go into the office and after, she went to a room. About an hour and a half later a younger guy knocked on the door and went into the room. He stayed for a little over three hours with Mom. They came out, they kissed and they left in different directions.

I stuck my head in the sand, Dad. I made major life decisions without the input and wisdom...WISDOM of my Dad.

I'll never regret my decision to join the Corps. I've grown. I've matured. I've also decided that you and I will have the toughest talk of my life, when I'm discharged. I'll tell my story, sitting with you and Mom at the kitchen table. I'm tired of thinking myself a coward.

But on the off-chance I don't make it home, I want you to know the truth.

With great admiration and devotion,

I am now and always,

Your loving son,

Dan

Ten days after we met with the Notification Team, Dan was laid to rest in our town cemetery, with full military honors. On the night before his funeral Mass and burial, we held a wake for our son. There was a steady procession of family, friends and acquaintances that lasted two hours past the listed calling hours. I think every Marine who had ever served and lived within fifty miles came to pay their respect.

It was a relatively warm December day when Dan was lowered into the ground. Much of the traditional pomp and ceremony was lost on me as my grief was overwhelming.

It was that day that I truly understood the horror of war; "Fathers and Mothers have to bury their children."

Since becoming empty nesters, Dawn and I had dinner at her folk's house every Monday night. I liked Pat and Mary, my in-laws and looked forward to the new family ritual. It was Dawn's habit to arrive at 4:30 and help her Mom prepare the meal. This week I arrived thirty minutes earlier than my normal 6:00 PM and parked a few houses away.

I watched from my car as the process server approached the front door of my in-laws home fifteen minutes later. There was a short commotion at the front door as the server backed away and made her way to her car.

I waited a few minutes and after taking a deep breath, I put the car into drive, pulled into the driveway and made my way to the lion's den. Walking through the front door, I wasn't surprised to see Dawn, Pat and Mary sitting together on the living room couch. Together they were reviewing the divorce documents.

Three pairs of eyes stared at me as I walked into the living room and tossed my overcoat over the closest chair.

"We hang our coats in the closet at this house," Pat bellowed as the women continued to stare.

As I made my way across the room to the corner liquor cabinet and poured an unhealthy amount of very good bourbon, I said, "I won't be staying very long."

I savored the first sip and wasn't surprised when Pat stood to confront me. Before he could say anything, I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a copy of Dan's letter and handed it to Dawn.

He sat next to his daughter and the three of them read Dan's words together. The paper started shaking within a few seconds and the sobs began next. I'll admit I was shocked when Marine Corps Sergeant Major Patrick Franklin (retired) started having convulsive sobs along with his wife and daughter.

"Get a lawyer and sign the fucking papers. Don't call. Don't write. Don't text. I have two suitcases full of winter clothes in the car. I'll leave them in the driveway. I'm taking a vacation next week. I expect that everything you want will be removed from the house, so I can sell it."

After taking another throat burning gulp of my drink I finished with, "I hope he was a good fuck. I hope it was the best you ever had and that you've kept those warm memories ever since. I hope they keep you warm in the future, because you've lost your family."

As Chris turned, grabbed his coat and headed to the door, the kaleidoscope of thoughts whirling in Dawn's brain started to focus. She remembered, 'An Event, with a Capital E.'

It was the first time in two years of pussy gushing memories that the thought didn't make her clit tingle.