Good Enough?

Shelly must have known this black giant as she did not object when he reached across the bar and picked her up with no more effort than a child picking up a Barbie doll.

"Put me down Leroy" Shelly squealed as the colossus set her down gently.

"No problem Shelly" Leroy replied in a low baritone voice. "Just thought you might wanna get together with the Northeast League, South Division, Western Champions Most Valuable Player."

Shelly batted her eyelashes coyly. "And does your husband know you are hitting on the other team?"

Leroy let out a big laugh. "I wasn't always gay. I just got sucked into it."

It must have been an old joke as Shelly just rolled her eyes. "Sorry Leroy, you know I do not sleep with any man who is not 9 inches."

Leroy seemed to consider this for a moment. "Hell Shelly, I am not cutting off 3 inches for anybody."

I was shocked by this exchange, but Shelly seemed unfazed, even when Leroy said "Enough Wench, give me six pitchers of your finest ale on tap and keep them coming for my fellow batmen warriors." He paused. "Also a pitcher of Pepsi."

Shelly started setting up pitchers on the bar. "Who is the teetolaler, and why is he in my bar?"

Leroy looked at her sheepishly. "Me, I gotta start a 3 day shift at the fire station tonight."

Shelly turned toward me as she started filling pitchers with beer. "Barb, my only girl called in sick, I am short a server tonight." She pointed to the group of guys in suits at the corner table. "Can you take care of them?"

In the past both Dean and I had helped out when needed. Shelly and I had been servers to help get cash while we were in school, so it was no big deal. "Sure" I said.

++++++

The table with the suits was a noisy bunch. All the guys had their ties loosen and some of their jackets were thrown over the chair backs. A big man with the look of an ex-jock seemed to be holding court.

"Hi Guys" I said plastering a smile on my face. "What can I get you?"

I endured the typical "Your Phone Number", "A look at your tits" "Long blow job", comments that every female waitress dealing with drunken men has had to endure since Taverns started serving booze. I had long ago as a server been immune to such frat boy remarks, and mentally filtered them out to the point I did not even really hear the crude commentary.

The Ex-jock stood up. It must have been my day for big men because this guy was well over 6 foot. He motioned to the table. "Sorry, you'll have to excuse my compatriots. We are celebrating my big promotion." He handed me a business card so new it shined.

Below the name in gold flake was a bold Title: 'Southern Hemisphere Interoffice Technology-Head VP.'

"Wow" I said trying to hand the card back to him. "That is impressive"

He waved away the card. "Keep it. I'm buying, so let's have another round. But only if you have a drink with us too."

I tried to demure, but the group at the table started a verbal campaign that picked up volume to the point I agreed to have a drink with them just to keep them quiet.

Shelly was busy refilling pitchers with beer as I was pouring my table's drink order. She spied the business card I placed on the bar top.

"Whose is that?" Shelly asked, pointing with her chin at the shiny new business card.

I gestured at the corner table. "The cute big guy at that table. I think he is a new executive. Looks like he has money too."

Shelly wiped foam off the rim of a picture. "Great Barb, You know what Grandma used to say about money buying happiness."

I rolled my eyes. "They say money doesn't buy happiness, but I would love to be crying in my new Ferrari."

Shelly pick up the business card and started laughing after reading it.

"What is so funny?" I asked

Shelly shook her head reading the business card out loud. "'Southern Hemisphere Interoffice Technology-Head' VP.', Don't you get it? Look at the first letters, S-H-I-T-Head. Your big time exec is a Shithead."

I grabbed the card back from her looking it over again. After a moment I said "So it's not the most elegant title. He is still looks like a big shot executive."

Shelly was unimpressed. "Big shots are just little shots who keep on firing. Mind your manners."

I laughed her off, but Shelly put her hand on my arm. "Don't be acting like Curious George on Red Bull and do something stupid with 'Shithead' over there.

Shaking off Shelly's grip I replied. "I won't, this just a bit of a payback for Dean about Marge. I'm just going to have a few drinks with them to keep them under control. A free drink is a free drink. You know the best things in life are free."

Shelly would not quit. "Barb, the best things in life are free. The second best things are very very expensive."

++++++

In my defense I was so drunk I cannot recall a lot of the early events.

I do not remember leaving the bar, or making it to my house and up the flight of stairs to my bedroom. There are some hazy memories of punching in the alarm code and sucking off 'Shithead' in my bed along with a weak orgasm. I think I finally sobered up some time during the second (or third) round when he tried to stuff his rather large dick up my ass. I was no stranger to anal play, (although I had not let Dean my husband there yet), but the pain of 'Shitheads' 'ass'-sault killed any buzz I still had from last evenings alcohol.

"NO!" I yelled, wriggling away from 'Shithead', almost falling off the bed.

Barely outlined in the darkness, he pawed at me. "You ain't gonna leave me with blueballs are ya? I still got another load ready to fire."

My head now started pounding as the inevitable hangover began, with guilt over my actions starting to creep in. I put my hand on his chest. "Look I think you better leave, I can't have you staying the night."

Shithead fisted the base of his erect penis. "You don't wanna make me breakfast? I got your morning protein right here."

I really did not need this now as my headache got worse. "Very funny, but seriously I need you to get out."

He was still holding his erection. "What about my situation? I can't get dressed in this condition. How about one for the road?"

"Fine" I replied. "I'll give you a going away blow job, but then you must leave." I pointed to the bathroom door. "But first clean that shit off your dick, I am not doing no ass to mouth."

As Shithead got off the bed, heading to the bathroom door, I peeked at the dresser clock, whose red LEDs displayed 3:18 AM. The last thing I wanted to do right now was suck off that idiot, although admittedly I was willing to do anything to get him out of the house.

The water shut off in the bathroom, then the crack of light under the door went away. Meanwhile the skulking hangover was competing with guilt as reality started to set in. Just as the bathroom door swung open and I could make out Shitheads naked silhouette, simultaneously the bedroom door opened and I saw the outline of a figure holding something in his hands, creeping past the threshold.

I screamed and the intruder froze, Shithead leaped from the bathroom doorway, grabbing a table lamp off the dresser and slammed the lamp into the back of the intruders head.

The intruder crumpled to the floor, I stopped screaming and turned on the bedside light. Fumbling with the tabletop phone I punched in 911.

"Send Police! A robber is in my house!" I yelled franticly as the 911 operator started her spiel. I glanced over at 'Shithead', who was tying the intruder's hands behind his back with the lamp cord, then suddenly my blood went cold.

There were roses scattered around the floor where they had dropped from the intruder's hand. Next to his hands were a pair of work boots the guy must have been carrying when he was struck.

The boots were Dean's well-worn work boots.

Shithead was finishing off a knot on the bound hands while muttering "Fucking asshole burglar, think you can sneak up on me? You gotta another thing coming." I dropped the phone when 'Shithead' grabbed a tuft of the intruder's hair and lifted the head off the floor.

Now my blood froze as Dean's bloody face stared out at me. His eyes were closed, but a soft moan escaped his lips.

I leaped off the bed to the side of my prone spouse. "GET AWAY FROM HIM! THAT IS MY HUSBAND!"

Shithead got a confused look on his face as he released Dean's hair. Dean's face hit the floor with a hollow 'Thunk'. "Your husband? What the fuck..."

He never finished his sentence because a low growl emitted from the gloom beyond the bedroom door. Two yellow eyes glowered at us for a second before a black blur shot out of the darkness and attached itself onto Shitheads face.

Shitheads screams mixed with a loud snarl, as Tom the cat bit and dug his claws into Shitheads head.

The two twirled around as Shithead sprang upright trying pull Tom the cat off. Slamming into the window, Shithead finally pried the big black cat away from his scratched bleeding face. Tom the cat dodged a vicious kick, retreating swiftly under the bed.

Shithead was holding his face and cursing as I knelt down, moving in to cradle Deans head in my hands. Suddenly pain, more severe than I had ever experience erupted on my left ass cheek. It felt like I was being stabbed with a dozen knives.

Letting out a yell, I jumped up and tried swatting away at the source of my agony. Tom the cat had latched onto my buttocks and would no let go as I spun around like some whirling dervish, all the while screaming in pain.

After what seemed like forever, I stumbled into Shithead, who was still holding his bleeding face and cussing a blue streak. Tom the cat finally separated himself from me, again retreating back under the bed.

Trying to ignore the blood streaming down my leg, I jumped around attempting to return back to Dean, but somehow I ended up stomping on Shitheads foot.

"YOU STUPID BITCH!" Shithead roared, pulling his arm away from his face to deliver a stinging backhand to the side of my head. The force of his blow flung me onto the bed. "I AM GOING TO KICK YOUR ASS!" he thundered.

My ears were still ringing as Shithead with his arm raised, took a step from the window toward me, as I lay stunned on the bed.

But before he could take another step I saw Dean spring to his feet, hands still tied behind his back. Dean took a hop forward, then launched himself into some kind of tight, gravity-defying armless summersault. At the peak of his turn in midair, Dean seemed to...uncoil. Both his feet struck Shithead on the chest and slammed Shithead hard back into the wall, where he became entangled in the window curtains.

As soon as Dean hit the floor he popped up and ran at "Shithead', who was still entangled in the curtains. As Dean crashed his shoulder into Shitheads stomach, thumping him back into the wall, Dean turned his head to shout at me. "RUN BARB RUN! GET OUT OF HERE! GET HELP! I"LL HOLD OFF THIS RAPIST!"

I was frozen in place staring at Deans blood streaked face, his hair matted with blood trying to pin Shithead in place with his much smaller body. Curtains ripped from the wall as Shithead raised a massive forearm, smashing it into the side of Dean's face. There was a sickening crack as Dean dropped to the ground.

Shithead kicked at Dean who grunted, rolling away from the blow. Shithead took a step forward and raised his leg high to stomp on Dean, lying motionless on the floor. Just as Shitheads leg started its downward journey, the black blur burst out from under the bed and Tom the cat latched himself onto 'Shitheads' gonads with a piercing snarl.

Shitheads scream was so high he sounded like a women. The scream continued as Shithead bent over and pounded at Tom the cat trying to get the furious feline off his nether regions. Suddenly Dean shook his head, and leapt off the floor jamming his shoulder into the midsection of the bent over Shithead. Dean let out a roar as Shithead was lifted up off the ground onto Deans back in a fireman type carry. His smaller legs churning away, Dean rammed the three of them full speed into the huge bedroom picture window.

Deans roars, Shitheads screams and Tom the cat hisses were overshadowed by the noise of breaking glass.

I sat transfixed on the bed, watching in horror when all of the sudden the three of them vanished from view. They just disappeared out the window into the inky dark night. Abruptly all their sounds became muffled, then...nothing.

For a moment there was nothing but silence, punctuated by the sound of a single stray curtain flapping in the breeze out of the broken window, then a few tinkles, as small pieces of shattered glass fell from the pane. Unexpectedly a terrible ear splitting, heart wrenching cry broke out that filled the room. It took a few minutes for my brain to recognize it was me wailing at the top on my lungs.

++++++

Everything in my mind was a haze, but slowly the mist lifted as if I was coming to the surface of a lake after being underwater. Opening my eyes, my vision focused on an Asian lady in blue hospital scrubs who was wiping a cool towel over my face.

Staring back, the Asian female put down the towel and scurried away muttering "I go get doctor".

Turning my head I saw Shelly sitting in a chair by my bedside. Yet when I tried to sit up I found my wrists and legs retrained to the bed with straps.

"God Dammit!" I spat at Shelly "Get that Chinese nurse back her and let me loose.'

Shelly came up to my side. "Settle down Barb. You have been out an entire day, they had to restrain you because you were combative. That aide, who I think is Vietnamese, went to get a doctor."

I was still struggling. "Chinese, Vietnamese, Chuck-e-Cheese, who gives a shit! Get me loose NOW! I need to see Dean!"

"Calm down Barb. You're lucky I'm even here. Leroy, the black guy from the gay softball league, he was one of the first responders on the scene the night of your...event. Leroy remembered you were a friend of mine, he let me know you were here and what happened."

Shelly said the last part with silted eyes. My body deflated like a balloon at the recollection of that night. Shame washed over me, caused by Shelly's knowledge of what happened.

She continued. "They had to sedate you, the whole scene was not a pretty sight. Don't worry, Leroy got some of his firefighter buddies using the truck ladders to patch that broken huge upper story window at your house."

Well, even though I got loose, I had to sign a ton of paperwork about going against medical advice, making a future appointment, forms that absolved the hospital, blah, blah, blah. I would have signed a confession to the JFK shooting if it got me to see Dean.

However when I got to see Dean through the window of ICU, it was ugly. He was buried in gauze with tubes and bags and machines all around or in him. My mine was numb as I tried to comprehend the anatomy list of terms a doctor was using to describe Deans condition.

I interrupted the Doctors medical monologue. "Is Dean going to recover?"

The Doctor hesitated and I tightly gripped Shelly's arm who was beside me. Finally he spoke. "I am confident he will survive. But I am afraid it is going to be a long hard road. Several rounds of reconstructive surgery and quite a bit of rehab is going to be needed. Sadly some of the best treatment is not covered by insurance. The processes needed for this patient's best chance at a broad recovery will be very very expensive."

++++++

I tried to convince myself that I always loved Dean, it just had taken a tragic event to bring that love to the surface. I was determined to show him that love now. I emptied my retirement account to fund his recovery-early withdrawal fee and tax penalties be damed. When out-of-network specialists were needed, I took a huge home equity loan out on the house, maxed out the credit cards, even traded in my Lexus in for cash and a beat up used soccer Mom van. I figured the van would make it easier to transport Dean around when he finished his treatment.

I cannot believe how much I missed Dean. I guess it is true you only miss the sun when it starts to snow, and the light when the candle burns low. As the weeks dragged on, I just wanted to die because I was already living in Hell.

Dean's mental recovery was slower than his physical recovery. Neurosurgeon's told me his memory would come back in chunks, but they could not predict when or how much. I dreaded the thought he would remember 'That Night'.

I spent hours with him going over old pictures of us, telling him stories and wasted countless hours searching for Tom the cat who disappeared 'That Night'. Flyers, ads, even visits to animal shelters failed to turn up that black bastard.

Several months had gone by, but the day I saw two men with 'law enforcement' written all over them leaving the rehab center my blood chilled. Up to this point I had been able to keep persistent detectives away from Dean with a phalanx of doctors orders and attorneys papers.

Everything turned to shit when I was stopped at the reception desk of Deans rehab center. The two large security guards, who had always been kind to me, now had a different look in their eyes as they barred me from the hallway to Dean's room.

"Ma'am, we are going to have to ask you to leave the grounds immediately." one of the security men told me in a no nonsense tone.

"We are also going to require you do not return until further notice," the other added. "Your presence is upsetting one of our patients."

I opened my mouth to speak, but they each began to hustle me out of building, into the parking lot and to my car.

The next day a police car delivered an order of protection that prohibited my contact with Dean in any manner, and required keeping a distance of over a 100 yards from him.

++++++

At first glance I did not recognize Dean. I thought I was in the wrong location, or come on the wrong day. My heart skipped a beat as I looked at my watch; maybe I had come at the wrong time and was too late.

It had been over a year since I had seen Dean, and my life had been going steadily downhill in every aspect, financially, professionally, socially, emotionally and physically. He had rebuffed all my efforts at any type of communication up to now, so I was determined to make this meeting successful.

I was led through the unfamiliar stately manor into a back area. I passed some furniture that I identified as pieces Dean had refurbished. But as I entered the porch, the man seated in front of me looked like a stranger.

Dean was completely bald with a wicked scar around a quarter of his crown. His once dancing blue eyes that sparkled when he saw me were now cruel stones that barely flickered recognition. A dark mustache goatee combination gave Dean more of a resemblance to Walter White of 'Breaking Bad' than my husband. The only way I was knew it was Dean, was because of the large black cat sitting in his lap that Dean was petting.

For a moment the image of this bald man petting a cat looked like a bad Sci Fi movie with the evil villain going to blow up the world.

I took a shallow breath before taking a big step toward the two of them with my arms wide. I hoped a familiar hug would start us off on a good note.

Tom the cat sprung up on Deans lap, his feline back arched high, hair on end, tail up, with a spitting snarl that spat through bared exposed fangs.

Dean put his hand out with the palm toward me. "Stop Barb, there is only one pussy here I have any interest in touching, and it ain't you."

I froze, the words coming out of the man in Deans body was not the silky smooth tone that was the envy of every Karaoke night. This voice was a raspy hoarse guttural sound, more suited to Marlon Brando in his "Godfather" movie role.