Fall and Rise

I packed up everything I wanted into my car, which I'm sad to say didn't even fill it up, and off I went. I pushed myself hard on the driving, wanting to be there as soon as possible. Mostly because when I was sitting alone in my car the pain of the rejection from my girls was foremost in my mind.

It was raining when I arrived in Durham, which struck me as an omen of some kind. Tim had a home services business and had a spot all lined up for me. I mostly handled home repair/handyman calls but also did some of the pest control work. Tim suggested I get some training so I could do electrical and plumbing calls, too, and I told him I'd think about it.

Tim had never married, instead going through an unending series of girlfriends, some of which were incredibly hot and some that were very plain. I don't think any of them considered Tim a long-term kind of guy but they enjoyed him, his money, and his partying lifestyle until something better came along. And this seemed to suit Tim just fine.

I enjoyed the work and it kept me very busy during the day, but the nights were hard and I took to drinking more than I ever had, and certainly more than I should. Most mornings saw me waking up somewhere in my apartment still wearing the clothes from the day before and smelling much like a distillery. It was all I could do to forget.

By the time I showered and put on clean clothes I was usually feeling much better, so I frankly saw no reason to change what I was doing in the short-term. It helped me deal with the pain and had no other effects, though I imagine my liver was having a rough time of it.

A few weeks after I arrived, Tim had his annual 4^th of July party. Tim had a good-sized house with a large backyard, the better to support his party habit. He bought a bunch of fireworks from a stand nearby that we'd set off when it got dark. The afternoon and evening hours were filled with drinking, dancing, swimming, and even a little volleyball.

I focused mostly on drinking and admiring the women in their swimsuits. Particularly those in bikinis.

I couldn't really tell you how, since the booze wreaked havoc with my memory, but I somehow ended up with a tall blonde named Melanie (or Melinda or...let's just go with Melanie). She was reasonably pretty with a wild mane of hair, but was rail thin. She had no boobs to speak of (she had no need for a bra and didn't bother with one) and a relatively thin, flat butt.

Her pussy however, felt great. She kept it smoothly shaved and was really tight, though she produced so much moisture that sliding in was nice and smooth. This was the first time I'd been with a woman since the last time I'd been with Pauline. I came pretty quick the first time but I think I represented myself pretty well the rest of the night. We fucked several times in a variety of positions, and I silently thanked Tim for having an abundant supply of condoms in every room.

When I woke up the next morning my partner was gone but I was feeling good, at least physically. As usually happened when I was left to my thoughts, my girls came to mind and a bit of sadness and depression set in. It had been almost a month and I hadn't heard a peep from them.

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As I soon found out, Tim's parties were a monthly event, usually corresponding to some holiday. August, as most everyone knows, has no good holidays, but that didn't suit Tim's purposes, so he created a party for what he called 'August Daze'. It was the second Saturday of the month and was nothing more than a reason to have a party.

My drinking had not improved, or perhaps you could say I'd gotten really good at it, and I ended up pretty sloshed again. Melanie...or whatever...was not in attendance this time around, which disappointed me. Don't think I had any particular feelings for her because I didn't. I was simply hoping for a repeat of last month and she was a known entity.

I guess I'm a decent enough looking guy because I still managed to end up with a partner for the night. Roberta had long reddish-brown hair (it looked mostly brown except in the sun, when the red came out) and breasts that were smallish on her thick frame. She had a bit of a belly on her but a nice ass, and she really enjoyed having me (or probably really anyone) in there. I enjoyed fucking her but I got the impression she was one of the town bikes because her ass wasn't even as tight as Melanie's pussy.

I'm pretty sure I passed out after we were done, and like Melanie she was gone by the time I came to in the morning. Tim fed me some breakfast and then I went home to wallow in my misery and loneliness.

Such was the pattern for the next several months, but as my drinking increased (which I wouldn't have thought possible), my ability to remember the names, or much else, of my partners decreased.

The Labor Day woman was blonde with decent-sized, but obviously fake, tits. I remember her being pretty boring, preferring to just lay there and let me realize how fortunate I was to be having sex with someone as hot as her.

Halloween woman was in a costume so even if I hadn't been drunk I probably couldn't have told you much. It was also a masquerade party so even those people wearing costumes that wouldn't normally cover your face had masks on. She had on a Wonder Woman costume. I'm pretty sure she was a brunette.

Tim, being a veteran, used Veteran's Day as his excuse for a party in November. It was only a couple of weeks after his Halloween bash but no one seemed to mind. With Thanksgiving, my first without the girls, coming up, I hit the sauce pretty hard. I remember having sex with some woman but I couldn't tell you much more. I woke up in the middle of the night, reaching over to find a woman's body next to mine in the pitch black. She stirred when I touched her bare hip and told me to fuck her again, which I did, but she was gone in the morning. I remember only that she had nice tits.

I finally heard from my girls. It was for Thanksgiving, but it wasn't what I was hoping for. I was hoping they would realize no Thanksgiving plans had been made for my place, which would lead to them realizing (or me telling them) that I had moved completely out of state. You see, in the past, we had split Thanksgiving in half: one of us would get the morning/early afternoon, and then we would switch for the late afternoon/evening time frame, and we switched each year. I was to have the latter this year.

The phone call that came from Karen about a week before the holiday was not to finalize the plans or, if Pauline had told them I had moved, to say they were sorry for ignoring me for so long or...something. But no, it was so Karen could let me know they had been invited to go shopping with the Finley's, and would I mind if we skipped our Thanksgiving visit this year. Five months and they still thought I lived across town and was just waiting for them to have some spare time. I said nothing about the move and simply told them to have a good time.

Thanksgiving was lonely. I sat in a hotel room getting good and drunk. Tim had tried to get me to come to his place but I couldn't bear the idea of being around a bunch of people and none of them family. I went to a hotel knowing, or at least expecting, them to try and come convince me to come over, so I made it so I couldn't be found.

When I woke up the next morning and turned my phone on there were several texts, missed calls and voice mails. Most of them were from Tim trying, as I expected, one last shot at getting me to join him and his merry band of partiers for the holiday. There was a call from my daughter Karen's phone, and the attached voice mail was a cheerful "happy thanksgiving" message from she and Wendy, and another thank you for letting them go shopping.

The last call was from Pauline, and she left a voice mail that I was more than sure I didn't want to hear. Of course, glutton for punishment that I am, I listened to it anyway.

"Sam, this is Pauline. I know we haven't spoken in some time, mostly because I assumed that's how you wanted it. But I know holidays can be rough on those away from their families so I wanted to check on you.

I know the girls called you. I'm sure you could tell they haven't yet realized you've moved. Please remember they're just kids and are very busy with things that are important to teenagers. They still love you very much.

I know you don't really want to speak with me, but please let me know that you're okay. An email or a text is fine. Let me say again how sorry I am things worked out this way. I guess that's it. Please, Sam, please let me know you're all right."

I made sure all the texts and emails were deleted, and then sent a quick text to Pauline letting her know I was alive, though that isn't the same thing as being okay. I really didn't want to do that but it seemed easier than dealing with what might happen if I didn't answer. I wasn't up to anything else so I popped open another beer. It wouldn't make the pain go away permanently, but a little while longer was just fine with me.

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The next few weeks I was barely able to hold it together. If I wasn't working then I was drinking (or passed out from drinking). Somehow, I managed to keep myself sober enough for long enough to work, but it was a close thing sometimes.

As Christmas and New Year's approached, again, my first without my girls, the depression really started to set in. No one had ever felt as bad as I felt or had gone through what I had gone through, at least in my mind. Obviously, people have endured far worse than what I had, but that didn't stop me from feeling like I had it worse than anyone ever had.

The call I had been waiting for, and was expecting last month finally came. First, there was a call from the girls, which I didn't answer, asking about the plans for Christmas. Since the divorce, we had alternated Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I was due for Christmas Eve this year and they left me a message to confirm. I took a couple of days to work myself up emotionally to call them back and have the confrontation that had been brewing for the past 6 months when a call from Pauline short-circuited my intentions. Of course, she left a voice mail and she was clearly irritated.

"Sam, it's Pauline. I hope you simply didn't get the girl's message rather than choosing to ignore it. I finally told them that you had moved away. As I predicted, they are badly hurt. They always assumed they could see you whenever they wanted and to finally find out that was no longer the case struck them deeply. I hope you're proud of yourself for hurting your girls.

"I hate to say this, Sam, but right now I don't trust you with them. I know you would never hurt them physically but you seem intent on doing so emotionally, to punish them for something I did. I was going to suggest having them fly out to visit you but I'm not comfortable with that idea anymore.

"Please, Sam, think about what you're doing to them. Don't ruin your relationship with them because you're angry with me. They're just teenagers, thinking like teenagers do. Please feel free to call me anytime if you want to talk about this or anything else.

Merry Christmas, Sam."

"FUCKING BITCH!" I screamed at no one since, you know, I was alone.

I chugged a couple more beers then called the bitch back.

"Sam?"

"You fucking bitch!" I slurred. "Who the...who the hell do you think you are? You can't threaten me with not seeing my kids when I ALREADY CAN'T SEE MY KIDS!"

"Sam, are you drunk?"

"Let's see, uh, yeah, pretty much shit-faced."

"You shouldn't drink that much, Sam. It's not good for you."

"Not good for me? NOT GOOD FOR ME! What do you care, huh? You already took away everything that I had to live for. What the fuck do you care what I do to myself?"

"I do care about you, Sam?"

"Yeah, I could tell how much you cared by the way you cheated on me and dumped me for Daddy Fucking Dave. I could see how much you cared when you let the kids dump me, too."

"I did no such..."

"Bullshit, Pauline. Bull. Shit! You sent them off on MY weekend so they knew they didn't have to see me anymore. You're a lying, manipulative, no-good, cheating slut who doesn't give one fuck about me!"

I could hear her take a deep breath.

"Sam, I realize that you're drunk and you're angry so I'm not going to get into this with you. Why don't we continue this conversation when you've had a little bit less to drink?"

"Who the fuck are you to judge me, huh? Who the fuck are you! You cheat on me..."

"I'm hanging up now, Sam."

"...with my best friend, you kick me out of my house and drain every God damn penny I have and then you judge ME! You got some fucking nerve, Pauline. Pauline?"

There was no one there. She had hung up. Fucking bitch.

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I had spent Christmas alone. I was in bed pretty much all day. I tried to keep my mind occupied with all the various sports on TV but all the graphics on the screen made sure to remind me that it was Christmas, which only made me more depressed and led to my consuming even more beer. I woke up to a Lakers game, having fallen asleep, or passed out. I smiled at the Lakers being down by 20 to the Rockets, then was out again.

With a service company like Tim's there's not much time off. We can't just close for the holidays like some businesses can. Tim had gotten a contract from a mortgage company to refurbish a house that had been destroyed by the owners after it was foreclosed on. There were several of us there, including plumbing and electrical guys. I was helping with some of the drywall work, and it had proven to be a fun couple of days. These guys could joke around with the best of them.

It was kind of nice because when I had worked with other guys over the past few months they seemed kind of distant and standoffish, like they were having trouble accepting me. I thought it was maybe because Tim and I were friends before I came to work here. But these guys had been really nice and I was enjoying the camaraderie.

Sometime mid-morning I saw Tim's truck pull up outside. He climbed out of the driver's seat and another guy that I recognized, but couldn't name, got out of the passenger seat. They walked into the house together, greeting the crew as they came in, then headed for me.

"Hey Sam. Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure, Tim. I can always make time for the guy that signs my checks."

It was intended to get a laugh from the guys and it was successful. Tim, though, barely cracked a smile.

"Let's step outside for a minute," Tim said as he turned and headed out the door, and I was clearly intended to follow.

Once we were outside, the other guy stepped away, obviously to give us some privacy.

"How you doing, Sam?" he asked.

"As well as can be expected, I guess." I replied, wondering where this was going.

"Good, good. Have you had anything to drink?"

"Only every night for the last 6 months," I laughed.

Tim just gave a small smile and a small throaty chuckle, but there was no mirth behind it.

"Yeah, I know. I mean today," he said, his face suddenly getting very serious.

"What? No, Tim, of course not."

"Great! I'm glad to hear it. But hey, do me a favor. Blow into this."

He pulled a small white device out of his pocket and held it up to me. I looked at it warily.

"What is it?"

"It's a breathalyzer. I just need to be sure."

I looked around. The other guy was looking at me, as were my co-workers when I looked back toward the house, though their faces suddenly disappeared from the windows. I guess I wasn't as 'one of the guys' as I thought I was. There was no need for Tim to be here unless someone had ratted me out.

"Well, I may have had a beer this morning," I answered hesitantly, knowing he wouldn't be happy about even that.

"Oh, then that won't be bad," he answered, holding the breathalyzer up again.

Realizing there was really no way to avoid this, I reluctantly took the device and blew into it. I didn't know what the final result would be but I knew it wasn't going to be good. Tim took it back from me and looked at the display. The small smile he had on his face dropped immediately.

"You blew point-zero-four, Sam. That's more than a beer this morning."

"Yeah, okay, but I'm not even close to being legally drunk."

"That's for operating a vehicle, Sam. But if something happens on a jobsite and OSHA comes in and tests you they're going to find you under the influence and I'm going to get nailed, not to mention the potential liability if someone gets injured."

"Tim, I'm fine..."

"YOU'RE NOT FINE," he thundered. "What you do at home, in your private life, is your business. But when you bring that here and put me and my employees at risk, it becomes my business. I need your keys."

One of the benefits of working for Tim was the use of company vehicles. We took them home every night so we could go directly to our job site and have everything we needed. I handed over the keys.

"You're done for the day. Here's what's going to happen. Oscar is going to drive you home and then come back here to take your place on the crew. Tomorrow, instead of coming here, you'll come to my office and we'll talk about this."

I just stood there, humiliated. But instead of being contrite and regretful, I was getting angry. I was just fine. I didn't need to be sent home like a sick child. This was bullshit, and I didn't need it.

"You know what, Tim," I said, pulling my hard hat from my head and shoving it into his torso. "Fuck you. I don't need this shit. Just keep it."

I stalked away from him and went to my truck, climbing into the passenger seat and waiting for Oscar to take me home. He silently climbed into the driver's seat and started it up. We rode in silence back to my apartment, except where I grunted some directions at him. When we pulled up to my place I said a quick thank you and went into my apartment, slamming the door.

God damn, was I pissed! I felt just fine and wasn't having any problems. One of those assholes must have called Tim and reported me. Fuck them! I don't need other people sitting in judgment of me and my choices.

I opened my refrigerator and saw my stash of beer. No time like the present, I thought. It wasn't like I had a job to go to tomorrow.

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I woke up in a very bright room that I recognized instantly as a hospital room. I had no knowledge of how I got there but there I was. I certainly felt bad enough to believe a hospital wasn't a bad choice.

I assume my waking up triggered some change in my vital signs because just a couple minutes later a nurse walked into the room.

"Good, you're awake."

"What happened?" I groggily asked.

"The doctor will be in to talk to you in a few minutes."

She checked a few readings as well as the flow on my IV and then she was off, presumably to let the doctor know I was awake. I looked around the room. The walls were just off-white, and there was a dry-erase board that identified my nurse as 'Brenda' and my doctor as 'Anderson'. I assumed he'd be rich and handsome.

Imagine my surprise, then, a few minutes later when a very attractive female doctor came walking in to my room, reviewing what I assumed to be my chart. She was clearly Hispanic and appeared to be in her thirties.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Beckman. It's nice to see you awake. How're you feeling?"

I didn't answer right away. In my state of barely-conscious I was stuck on trying to figure out the disconnect between the lovely woman in front of me and the name 'Anderson'.

"Mr. Beckman?"

"I'm sorry, but my preconceived notions and the name Anderson had me expecting an old white guy, so I was a little dumbfounded to see a young, pretty woman."