No More Februarys

No More Februarys

A fantasy becomes a nightmare

Here we go, my first Literotica story, and my first creative writing in four decades. I hope at least some of the feedback helps me do better next time.

This is yet another ending for George Anderson's "February Sucks". I think what I have is reasonably original. If not, apologies to whoever I'm channeling; I'm pretty sure I haven't read your story but I'd like to. A deep bow and hat off to George and to the multiple great authors who've already entertained and upset us with variations on his gut-wrenching original. I tried to make this as close to a stand-alone story as possible while still clearly picking up George's characters and story. Consider everything up to the point were Jim leaves the club unchanged.

This is definitely not a RAAC, and not really a BTB, although Linda doesn't like the ending. There is no sex. I don't want to give away my ending, but be warned: I've had a dark February myself. Not as black as Jim's, but I definitely had some mental poison to drain and I put it here. If the ending triggers someone I apologize in advance. Be safe and go hug someone who needs a friend.

ooooooooooooo

The gray Toyota pulled up to the gate of a large house on a cul-de-sac near the back of an expensive new housing development.  The sun had risen over an hour ago, but it still felt early on this first day of March, cold but not nearly as bad as a couple of weeks earlier.  And no snow for a nice change.

About a minute later a woman in a blue dress walked out of the house; someone closed the door behind her.  It was not a dress someone would choose on a weekend morning; it was a party dress and the woman was obviously headed home after a one night stand. Another "Ride of Glory" for Uber.  Sigh.  The driver hated she spent so many weekend mornings bringing people home from their hookups.  How could these people just give their bodies away?  She longed for her husband, not the sex although it was very good, but the peace and security of knowing they were together forever, fighting for a better world: she against a system that seemed to want kids turned into corporate drones, he against the low-lifes spreading drugs and violence to older kids who hadn't grown up.

But weekend mornings were better than driving the late evenings, and as a teacher she couldn't drive on weekdays except during summer.  The other drivers were calm and sober, and the passengers were usually quiet.  She liked quiet, it made this second job to support her son less stressful.  After burying her husband fifty years too soon, she needed the money and definitely didn't need any more stress.

The woman got in, mumbled in response to the driver's good morning, confirmed the destination and sat back looking tired and maybe a bit worried.  There wasn't any glow, the driver noted, evidently the night had fallen short of expectations.

All was silent in the car as it backed out into the street and wound its way out of the neighborhood, down the deserted suburban streets and onto the freeway ramp, headed to another subdivision of notably lower, but not low, property values.  The direction of travel had the sun shining into the passenger's face, and this seemed to wake the woman up.  She said a few words to the driver, receiving a polite but uninterested reply; the driver didn't feel the need to engage her passenger, a good looking blonde who looked to be a few years older and, judging by the dress and the destination, financially much better off.  The driver didn't want to hear about this woman's problems, partying with high-rollers and living in a nice upper middle class subdivision when she herself was struggling to keep a growing boy fed in a tiny apartment on the sad side of town.  Thank God she had one sweet older neighbor to watch over her little man while she worked.

The passenger seemed to need to talk, so after a couple more attempts to engage the driver, she got out her cell phone.  She held it for few minutes, tapping silently, then evidently listening to voicemails.  She called a number, listened to the ringing and then a message greeting, but hung up without leaving a message, face slowly developing a frown.  She put the phone down and stared into space for a moment, then called and got voicemail again.  She made a third call but this time left a message:  "Jim, it's me.  Please call me back.  I'm in an Uber on my way home and I guess we have a lot to talk about.  I know I messed up.  I love you and I know you love me.    We'll get through this together.  I tried home but I suppose you're still at the hotel, so please pack our things and meet me at the house.  I know I owe you an apology but I need to do that in person.  I'll let the Porters know we won't pick up the kids until after lunch so we have time to talk first.  I love you Jim, now more than ever.  See you soon."  Dialing again, ringing while she put a perfunctory smile on her face. "Hello Mrs. Porter, it's Linda. ... Yes, it was quite a night.... Yes, it is a bit early, but I wanted to let you know we need you to keep the kids past lunch, if that's okay?...  We'll pick them up in the afternoon, maybe around two? ... Ha Ha!  Yes, we do need a little more time.... Something like that... Okay, thank you so much! ... You too.... Bye now."  The fake smile vanished and she sat back again, closing her eyes, face expressionless as the Toyota rolled along in very light traffic.

The driver silently fumed, now she knew her passenger was a cheater--with kids!  She hadn't looked for wedding rings, but a lot of couples didn't bother marrying these days.  Another mystery to her. If they lived together and had kids then in her book they were married.  She'd left "Jim" at a hotel before spending the night in some probably-millionaire's bed, given the pickup location.  And now she expected to go home and make everything better?  How stupid could this woman be?  And why should someone that stupid get to live in that nice neighborhood?  What the driver would give to have even one chance of seeing her only love again.  Just to know he was alive and healthy. She almost missed the exit as the road got a little blurry.  The driver fought back tears for the thousandth time in nearly two years.  At the light, the driver pulled out a tissue, drying her eyes.  It was still a good 15 minutes to this cheater's home.  Was it really a home?  Or just a house?

The passenger's phone came out again.  "Hi Dee.... Yeah, it's a little early but I see you're awake too.... Really?  Why would Dave be mad at you?... He said that?! ... So how was Jim when you explained?... Really?... What?   ... You know I couldn't talk to him before I left, I might have lost my nerve and I couldn't pass up the chance ... No!... He can't mean that. ... No, he knows I love only him and will for the rest of my life. ... And then he left?  Did he go back to the hotel?  ... My phone was off but I see some missed calls and one message. He sounded down, but I expected that. I'll make it up to him.

"At least he won't have to worry about competing.  Now I really know just how good a man he is.... No, I was surprised it wasn't better. ... Well yeah, a different man was exciting and a little scary. ... It was like that moment at the start of a roller coaster where it's just going over the top and it looks like you're headed straight down.... Yeah.  Exactly.... Yes, he's hard as a rock... Heee heee, no, I don't mean that, I mean, yes that was hard but his whole body was like stone wrapped in soft leather.... Well actually, once the roller coaster went over the second peak, honestly it wasn't that great.

"He didn't know me.... Hee hee, you're bad. Yeah, in that sense he did but what I mean is he had some tricks he expected to work, and they did, sort of.... No, no, it felt like when I watch Jim working on the lawn mower. ... No, Jim picks out a tool, uses it, sets it aside and uses another.  It's not like he cares about the lawnmower. If anything he cares more about the tools.... No, not at all.  By the second time I felt like a piece of equipment, not a woman.  Fortunately he thought twice in one night was enough.... Yeah, I thought he'd have more stamina too. He wanted to go again this morning but I just wanted to get home to my loving husband and forget about this. Once I turned him down he couldn't get me out of his place quick enough. He's really kind of a jerk.... "

"No, like I said, a big scary thrill at the start, but it definitely wasn't worth hurting Jim.  If you get the chance, don't.... The only thing he had to offer was newness and muscles.  Maybe I'll encourage Jim to hit the gym--hee hee.  Rhyming at this time of day, and I haven't even had coffee yet! ... So you didn't see Jim at breakfast, did you go by our room?... Huh.  I don't know what I'll have to do to make it up to him but whatever it is I'll do it.... No, I didn't learn any new tricks.  Like I said I felt like a lawnmower and you don't teach lawnmowers you just use them. ...

"No, definitely not.  I'm sorry this is causing problems with you and Dave.  But once Jim sees I know I screwed up, maybe Dave will forget it.... No, I can tell you firsthand this sort of fantasy needs to stay a fantasy.  It's not even a fantasy anymore, more like a weird dream.  I'm never going to even imagine something like this again.  I owe Jim big time and I'm never going to let him down. Well, not again.  I never thought I had any doubts, but now I really know I married the best man on the planet. ... Well please go by our room and if he's there make sure he got my voicemail and that I love him and I'll be home in a few minutes waiting to make everything better.  I've learned my lesson and I'll do anything he wants to make this up to him....

"Okay, I, I guess I understand that.... Okay.  Tell Dave what I told you and let him call me names.  Guess I deserve that and probably more.  I hope Jim yells at me, that's much better than his silences. Maybe after I apologize to Jim Dave can yell at me?... Better at me than you, I'm the, I'm, oh God, I am a cheater!  Damnit!  Damnit what have I done?  Jim was right, we always agreed, once and done! It was just a fantasy!  A stupid teenage fantasy I let get out of control!  Aaaaahhhh!  Shit. ... Look, we're almost to the house and I've still got to figure out how to fix this.  If Jim's not at the hotel he might be back home already.  Actually that's probably what Jim would do after what I did to him. I need to dry my eyes and fix my face.  I was really hoping to get cleaned up before facing Jim.  Maybe I should burn this dress too.  Damn! I bought this to remind him of when we were first dating.  He loves this color and I haven't had anything nice in it for a while.... Yeah, me too.  I'm sorry I've caused you problems too.  Anything I can do to help, just let me know alright?... Okay, I guess the best I can do is stay away for now. ... Yeah, I understand. ... I won't call you, you call me when it's okay with Dave.  Be a better wife than I've been.... Thanks. ... Bye."

Tears were rolling down the woman's face.  The driver passed her tissue box back and spent a moment arguing with herself before speaking.  "I try not to listen to my customer's calls but we're like a minute from your house.  Do you want me to pull over so you can fix your face?"

"Yes.  Please."  Sniffle.  "I really screwed up and I need to look my best for him.  Not the used tramp I feel like.  I have seen my husband really upset, but it's never been directed at me before.  The madder he is, the quieter he becomes.  That's his warning sign.  The opposite of a rattlesnake, when he gets quiet he's thinking about how to strike.  Usually just the planning relieves his anger, but sometimes he goes for vengeance and doesn't mind collateral damage.  And he's not answering his phone."

After a few minutes of face repair, they drove on to the house.  The woman got out, and the Toyota backed out of the driveway and headed back toward the freeway.  The woman walked slowly to the front door, key in hand.  But the door wasn't locked.  She opened it, stepped inside and closed it, saw her husband's suit coat over the back of the nearest chair.  "I'm home.  It's just me, the same old me...well, not exactly because I've realized some things I wish I'd known before last night."

Silence.  The living room looked normal, just as they left it, except for the suit coat and beside the chair Jim's suitcase, back from the hotel.  She walked toward the kitchen.  Louder now, "Honey, where are you?  I see your jacket and bag."   On the kitchen table was a half-empty bottle of whiskey, and a juice glass with what looked like melted ice and a little whiskey in the bottom.  A chair was pulled out, and there was a note pad and pen on the table.  Standard Jim problem solving format.  On the pad, in Jim's printing, but getting sloppier as the words went down the page:

"WHY???

Me:

Attention?    Work, kids, her, what else could I do?

Money?    PROMOTION How soon?    More work, won't see kids.

Muscles?    GYM?    diet.

Her:

SLUT?    First time? How long?    How many men? KIDS?    DNA!!!

Fantasy?    Never discussed--Dee maybe? cuck shit?

Hate?    why?    Hidden

drugged?      no.    maybe?    NO--excuse

DEE:

always been slutty. bad influence?

SETUP?????    Dave too?    Swingers?    WHOLE GANG???!!!    need new friends

DIVORCE?

kids. custody?    Support $$$ house?

Alimony? $$$ lawyer bills PI $$$

paid to fuck around! HELL NO!!!

LEAVE

where?    outside US    kids?    how?

Permanent.    HIDE? How long? Job?

"

She sat in the chair, crying again as she read the note.  "Oh Jim...my sweet, sweet loving Jim.  I'm soooo sorry I put you through this.  But where are you sweetheart?  I need you and I know you need me.  Let me make it better, please?  Where ARE you?"  She stood up, checked the garage where she found both cars parked as usual.  She walked to the den where she found Jim's shoes and tie, the safe open and on his desk scattered financial papers, their wedding album and another photo album of last year's vacation.  It was open to a page with a large photo she took of Jim with both kids, all smiling like they owned the world even though it was just miniature golf.    There was another nearly-empty whiskey glass. The computer was off.

She headed upstairs to their bedroom where Jim had probably drank himself to sleep. There was an unpleasant smell, like vomit and something else, getting worse as she got closer to the bedroom.  Then she really understood what she'd done.

Jim lay back on the bed, still dressed, lower legs hanging off, his sock-clad feet barely touching the floor.  Behind him on the wall, a giant splatter of red.