Last Man: Brian's Tale

This is a companion piece to Michael Fitzgerald's "Last Man," https://www.literotica.com/s/last-man-1. That story ends happily for everyone, while the person who sacrificed to pay for those happy endings is ignored. He deserves a chance to tell his story.

This companion piece is posted with the kind permission of Michael Fitzgerald.

Many thanks to BlackRandl1958 for her editing suggestions and review.

"Why, let the stricken deer go weep;

The hart ungalled, play.

For some must watch while others sleep,

So runs the world away."

Hamlet, Act III.

Simon MacTavish was a big, strong, outgoing, good-looking, obnoxious son of a bitch. He was good at fighting, I hear. From him, anyway. And his loyalty to his clan was second to none. Whether or not either of those is a virtue, you can decide for yourself. I just heard the old bastard is dead. Killed himself, I'm told. I would go and dance on his grave, if this damn leg would work right. I'd piss on it, if I thought he would care, but he wouldn't. Besides, Jilly won't let me. She's been with me for a round dozen years now, and sometimes I think she knows me better than I know myself.

I had been a big, strong, obnoxious kid in my day, too, and when they let me out of high school, I thought I knew everything I'd ever need to know. That's true of most 18-year-olds, but most of my peers had parents to help them come to a different conclusion. I didn't. So I looked at the money it would cost me to get a college degree, and the money I could make working construction, and the money the aunt and uncle who raised me didn't have, and then I started at the bottom of the construction business. Literally. I did basements. I did them well, too, and rose fairly quickly the first couple of years. Then it all fell in on me. Literally. I never figured out what actually happened, but by the time I could tell which way was up, I was strapped flat on my back, all wrapped up in plaster and stuff, with tubes sticking out of me every which way, and was being informed that my left leg and left arm would never work right again. My career in construction, or anything else that required physical labor, was history.

I'd done decent at math in high school, so my uncle suggested I go in for accounting. I told him that accountants are either pencil-neck dweebs or skinny four-eyed girls. He reminded me that I had to do something in order to eat, and crippled as I was now, either the pencil-neck dweeb or the four-eyed girl could take me in a fair fight. Besides, he'd become buddies with an accountant while he was in service, and said the guy was mighty with a pencil or a sausage, and had the hottest wife and most adorable kids you ever saw. He showed me their picture, and accounting it was. Workman's comp kept me eating while I took my associate's degree, and the rest I learned on the job. I was doing pretty well by the time Mairi crashed into my life. Yep, literally.

My left leg had gotten to where I could get around okay, though I had to watch my step pretty carefully. Most people who didn't know me would assume I just had a strained hip or something and was favoring it. I was waiting for a walk light when this tallish, skinny person with a flag of red hair flying behind her whizzed around the corner and cannoned into me, knocking me on my kiester. She threw a "Sorry!" over her shoulder, then looked back at me while I was trying to get up. This was an involved operation, because I could only trust my right arm and leg.

"Oh, come on, I didn't hit you that hard. You don't have to make a production out of it." She stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at me as I managed to roll onto my hands and knees. I ignored her as I put my good leg under my center of gravity and slowly got myself vertical, then used my right hand to reposition my left leg.

"Are... are you okay?" She'd lost her glare as she watched me struggle.

"Yeah. Construction accident. Left arm and leg aren't much good."

Her face turned almost as red as her hair. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know," she kept babbling until I shushed her. Long story short, we went for coffee, we went on some dates, and we became a couple. Mairi was Irish-born; she had come to the States for college and stayed. If you look in the dictionary under 'fiery redhead,' you'll see her picture. Soon enough, she was unapologetically running my life.

"I know you'll eventually admit I'm right; I'm just saving you the trouble of discussion," she would say. Thing was, she just about always was right. She pushed me mercilessly at my career and at the physical therapy exercises I still did. It worked, too. I was never going to be the physical specimen I once was, or see the inside of the executive suite, but I was making a lot more progress than I had on my own. She pushed me out of comfort zones that I didn't even know I had.

She was good for me and I knew it, but one evening I felt like I had to have it out with her, just to try to get some of my life back. You know, feel like I was in charge every now and then. I got a little heated, I admit it, but she just sat there with this angelic little smile on her face. When I was done, she looked at me. Her lilt (it was much too pretty to be a brogue) became more pronounced, as it always did when she had something serious to say.

"Dear Brian," (that's me), "I know you think I do all of this because I'm the fiery redhead and have to have things my way. Well, maybe I am, but that's not it. I push you on your exercises because I love you, and I want you around for a very, very long time. I push you at your work because I love you, and I want everyone there to know how wonderful you are, and you'll never tell them. I push you to try new things, but have I ever asked you to do anything you didn't like a second time? No, I haven't." She was right, though she had no hesitation about dragging me into things I knew I wouldn't like, "just one time." Do not get me started on sashimi.

"I think part of being a good wife is to help her man realize and achieve the best he's capable of. It works both ways. You've made me slow down and look at things, and see things about people that I would have missed just rushing by in my usual Mairi way. Remember how we met? You see, we're made for each other." She smiled, then she looked serious, almost worried. "Just promise me that whatever happens, we'll always talk it out, you won't just go all strong and silent and brood, or Heaven forbid, leave."

I could promise her that pretty easily. I didn't request a similar promise from her: getting Mairi to talk was never a problem.

We'd been married about five years, Ben was almost three and Gillian was an infant, when I finally met Mairi's younger sister, Eileen, or Ellie as she preferred. I'd heard about her, of course, but meeting her was something else. Ellie's hair was dark to Mairi's fiery red; her eyes brown to Mairi's blue; she was sweet to Mairi's spicy, but they were devoted to each other, all the more for the years they'd been apart. When Ellie came home from one of her sight-seeing tours, she brought back this loud, obnoxious hairy Scotsman, as if he were some kind of souvenir she'd picked up. He wasted no time making himself at home, drinking my beer, roughhousing with my kids, and worst of all, ogling my wife. He would slap me on the shoulder as if we were best buds, but somehow he always got the angle just right to throw all my weight on my bad left leg. A time or two when I lost my balance, Mairi had to help me up. She gave him a piece of her mind, but all he did was grin at her like he was oh so proud of himself.

No one was happier than I when Simon MacTavish took his new bride out of state to set up housekeeping, about three hours away from us. Mairi was less pleased, and was constantly thinking of reasons to have them over, or to visit them. I was equally constantly thinking of reasons to avoid the same. It came to a head one night when she accused me of trying to keep her away from her sister. I told her after all those years of being right, she had got this one dead wrong.

"Ellie is the sweetest of sweethearts, and I love her like the sister she is. I'm always glad to see her, and the more often the better. She could come live with us, if she wanted. The only people I love more than her are you and the kids. It's her to-go-with that's the problem."

"Why? What's the matter with Simon? I know he's pretty rough around the edges..."

"Rough? How about trying to belittle me every chance he gets? The war stories are bad enough, but rassling with Ben in ways he knows I can't; practically knocking me over every time he visits; drooling over my wife..."

Mairi laughed that silvery laugh of hers. "Is that what's bothering you? All that manly man crap?" She put both arms around me and smiled into my eyes. "Has it occurred to you, my dear husband, that he's jealous of you? That maybe he's trying to prove to himself that he's as good a man as you are?"

It was going to sound whiny and petty, but I had to say it anyway. "Yes, but you eat it up. You laugh at his stupid jokes, you smile when he pulls that best bud shit..."

"You're right, I do, because I feel sorry for him. For all his bluster, he's not half the man you are. I wish my sister had chosen better, but she didn't, and that's that. Yes, I'm nice to him, for Ellie's sake, and out of pity. He has no chance with me, because I have you."

I don't know if Mairi or maybe Ellie had a chat with him or maybe he just grew up a little, but he seemed to tone it down after that. Still, I was not a happy camper when Simon got transferred and he and Ellie bought a place about fifteen minutes away from us. It seemed like we were together all the time, usually at our place because of the kids, but to my surprise, he behaved himself mostly. We were never going to be best buds, and I still didn't like the way he looked at Mairi, but I was getting to where I could actually enjoy his company in small doses.

I'd known about Simon and Ellie's struggles to have kids. I could see how much Simon wanted to be a Dad as he interacted with Ben and Gillian, and he really was good with them, so I made it a point to include him in their lives. He even thanked me for it, which threw me farther off balance than his shoulder slaps ever did. Poor Ellie just couldn't get the idea out of her head that it was somehow her fault that they weren't having kids, and that she was a failure as a wife because of it. No matter how much Mairi and I tried to convince her otherwise, she just got more and more depressed. Simon tried, too. I think he really did love her, but he was sort of clumsy about it and marred more than he mended, as Mairi put it. It was getting to the point she and I were seriously worried about Ellie.

I was in New Haven for a two-day job. That didn't happen often, maybe three times a year or so, and Mairi and I hated it, but we put up with it. We called each other at least twice a day, usually more, and they weren't five minute hi-and-bye calls, either. This time Simon was out of town too, Annapolis this time, so we fixed it up where Ellie would come to our place and stay with Mairi and the kids.

Everything was fine at the lunchtime call, except that I was in New Haven and Mairi wasn't. The bedtime call was a different story. Ellie had been told that afternoon that there was something wrong with her uterus and she could never carry a child, even with in vitro fertilization. She was devastated, of course.

"So Simon's on his way home, right?"

"No, he's staying in Annapolis." Jerk, I thought. If you're any kind of husband, when your wife gets news like that you drop everything and get to wherever she is, whatever it takes.

"Ellie's at our house, then?"

"No, we're at hers. She wanted to be in her own home, so the kids and I are here with her. We'll stay the night; I don't think she should be alone."

"Perfect, Mairi. Thanks for doing that."

"I didn't do it for you." There was a little tease in her voice.

"Sure you did. Everything you do is for me, you told me that yourself."

"Oh yes, that's right. I'm glad I have you to remind me of things like that." There was almost a giggle in her voice as she said it.

"Seriously, babe, I'm glad you're doing that, and I'm proud of you. I'm too whupped to drive safely tonight, but I'm canceling everything tomorrow and I'll be there as soon as I can. I'll get an early start and be there by noon, for sure."

"You don't have to do that, Brian. We'll be okay."

"I do have to do that, Mairi. Times like this are when families come together, if they're any good. I'll see you tomorrow by noon." Simon might not think it was important to stand by his wife in a crisis, but I was for damn sure going to stand by mine.

"Have I told you lately that I have the best husband in the world?" There was no tease in her voice now, only her lovely lilt. We said our good nights and I love yous. I cranked up my laptop and sent the standard family-emergency emails, and hit the sack. I knew the next day would be a long one. I didn't know the half of it.

Traffic was as brutal as I'd expected. I was about an hour and a half from home when Mairi called. Usually I didn't pick up the phone when I was driving, especially on I-95, but she'd given our emergency signal: two rings, hang up for 5 seconds, and call again. I picked her up on the hands free and asked what was wrong. I was surprised to hear a whole bunch of other people on the line.

It seems Ellie had gotten a call that morning from someone called Jessica. Simon had picked her up in a bar the night before and she spent the night with him, but she promised they hadn't fucked. Typical Simon, I thought. He couldn't get home to his wife, but he could go to a bar and pick up some bimbo. Anyway, he'd told her all about how he was the last of the MacTavishes and was honor bound to produce a son, and now he'd found out Ellie couldn't have children, and whatever was he going to do. Mairi had set up this conference call to announce to the family that she wanted to have his kids.

What the everlasting fuck?!?

The way Ellie told it later went something like this: "Mairi said what she wanted to do and asked if anyone objected. Some were not happy with it and a few had their say, but no one said 'no.'" That's true as far as it goes. I was definitely not happy with it, but I was not one of the few who had their say. I sure as hell never got the chance to say 'no.' Every time I tried to get a word in edgewise, I'd have to concentrate on avoiding some lunkhead in a semi or a kamikaze in a Beemer. I frantically looked for a place to pull off so I could enter the conversation. Finally I got to a rest area and pulled off, just in time to hear Mairi say, "I'm so glad you all will know about this. This way, there won't be any shame, or any secrets. Ellie and I heading for Annapolis now. Thank you all!"

"Wait! What the hell? Don't I get a say in this?" I found I was shouting at a dead phone as I pulled into the parking place. Frantically, I dialed Mairi's number. Straight to voice mail, time after time. I tried Ellie's: same thing. I even used our emergency code, but Mairi didn't pick up. They must have been in a real hurry to get on the road. I wondered why the rush. I assumed they would use a fertility clinic or something near where we lived, so they'd have to wait at least until Simon got home. There was nothing they could do in Annapolis except...

Oh, fuck.

Literally.

My first thought was to turn around and head Annapolis and stop this before it got started. I would have a head start; I could be there waiting for them. Then it suddenly hit me that with Mairi and Ellie on the road, there was nobody home for my kids. No one had even mentioned them during the phone call. Gillian was in morning pre-school; I'd better get moving if I was going to pick her up on time. I barely made it.

Since I'd canceled my second day in New Haven, I had to check in at my office after I picked up Gillian. Fortunately, she treated it as a new adventure, with lots of new friends to make. She was cute enough to pull it off, too. I told them my family emergency was continuing, and I wasn't sure when I would be back, but I'd work from home when I could. I put out a couple of fires, picked up Ben from first grade, and went home. Mairi hadn't even left me a note; she'd left Ellie's place and headed straight for Simon. I called her and got voice mail. Again. I left a message to let her know I'd picked up the kids, and that she'd better call and let me know what the hell was going on pretty damn soon. She called when I was in the shower, of course. I've no idea how she knew to call just then. She left a happy little message thanking me for being so understanding and taking care of the kids, and said she'd be back home the next evening. She knew this was sudden, but she loved me so much and we would talk through everything when she got home. I tried her number and Ellie's; both went straight to voice mail. I guess they were both too fucking busy to turn on their phones. Literally.

So there I sat, at home with my sleeping children, while my wife was in Annapolis fucking Simon Fucking MacTavish. Maybe it's because I had no connection with the Auld Sod, but the Plight of the Last of the MacTavishes moved me not at all. If Simon was typical, the fewer MacTavishes the better, as far as I was concerned. Ellie, now, she was another matter. I could see that this would finally get her out of her "I'm a failure as a woman" fugue. That was a noble cause. In fact, if it were a matter of artificial insemination, wait nine months, and hand Ellie a baby, I wouldn't have had a problem with it. I should have been involved in the decision, and Mairi was going to hear that loud and clear, but I could have gotten past that. The indecent haste with which my wife rushed off to do things the natural way was another matter, and somebody better have a damn good explanation for it. On the other hand, left to her own devices, my Mairi did almost everything with indecent haste. Except tonight she wasn't my Mairi.

"He has no chance with me." I could hear her words as clearly as if she were saying them in my ear that moment. Well, that wasn't true any more. I remembered all the little things he had done to belittle me, the way he would ogle Mairi. No chance? Now the bastard had her. All of her. And all he'd had to do to get her was feed her some sob story. That sucked.

Why hadn't I just interrupted everyone and shout "Not just no but hell no" at the top of my voice? Aside from being completely stunned, I was thinking that of course they'd be using artificial insemination. Stupid me. This was a different fucking situation. Literally.

My wife ran off, leaving her husband and kids, to get pregnant by somebody else, regardless of any objections I might have. Hell, I still hadn't had a chance to object, and she'd already done it. I didn't have a voice, let alone a choice. That sucked. Another thought struck me: until she was sure she was pregnant by Simon, I would be cut off. So while I was trying to deal with all of this crap and keep myself on some kind of even keel for my job and the kids, I wouldn't even get laid. I was starting to lose count of all the ways this sucked.

I thought about calling and leaving her another message. "If you aren't home by the time I leave with the kids tomorrow, I'm moving out and seeing a lawyer." She'd know I didn't mean it, though, because she knew I would never do that to the kids.

It was after midnight. I turned out the lights and went to bed. It still smelled like her. I slept on the floor.

I put in a half day at the office while Gillian was in pre-school, then I picked her up and worked from home until time to pick up Ben. Mairi didn't call. I guess she was still too fucking busy. Both kids were jumpy and asking about their mother. I told them she would be home that night and they could stay up and wait for her, but when she still hadn't showed by 9:00, I had to get them to bed. It was gone 10:30 when Mairi finally showed up, breezing in the door looking like all was for the best in this best of all possible worlds. I guess in her world, that's how it was. Mine, not so much.