Shattered

Oh, please. The only way you'd let me go is if I had big tits and a low neckline. Steve sighed and tried to alter his tone of voice to hide his irritation, "Jimmy, I'm sorry. It's 3am and I haven't had any caffeine. I just want to get to the hospital, fix the problem, and then get back to bed."

"I guess I can understand that. If Jill was waiting in my bed, I'd be the same way," Officer Rickman replied with a far off gaze, remembering the last time he saw Jill. "Alright, get your ass out of here and on to the hospital. Tell your hottie of a wife that I said hello."

*****

The smoky, hickory smell of barbeque wafted on the gentle summer breeze, attempting to lure unsuspecting victims into Steve's backyard. The sound of classic rock and roll music mixed with the sound of splashing hinted at the festive atmosphere of the pool party taking place at his residence. Every year, Steve held a barbeque to commemorate the beginning of summer. Hot dogs, hamburgers and brats cooked to perfection. Mashed potatoes, baked beans and grilled corn on the cob complimented the main dishes. Invitees were responsible for desserts or potato chips. Typically, Steve performed the cooking duties while his guests enjoyed the ice cold beer and homemade wine. Jill served as the hostess, making sure that everyone had enough to eat.

However, today was different. Even though the event was held on a Sunday, Steve got called into the hospital. Jerry, the weekend support tech, went to Saint Louis for the weekend to see a ball game rather than perform his job duties. Although he would address this with Jerry on Monday, the fact remained that the hospital needed some technical assistance now. Disappointment and frustration marred his demeanor as he slammed his way out the front door.

While Steve worked on a faulty wireless access point in the Emergency Department, Jill convinced Dan to serve as the grill master of the party. Although Dan was married to Gloria, he was known for his wandering eye. It was no coincidence that Dan did a lot of his yard work at the same time that Jill basked in the sun, working on her tan. So it was no surprise that Dan agreed to work the grill, especially since Jill opted to wear a bikini. A transparent sarong wrapped around her waist and offered a mild sense of propriety, decorum, and modesty. That did not stop Dan from imagining his neighbor's wife in a thong or even less.

Jill spent most of the early part of the year getting in shape for bikini season. She worked off the cellulite and the paunch around her belly. Fortunately, she maintained the extra weight in her breasts and did not lose the curvature of her hips and rear. Many of the men at the party noticed her hard work. Some of the women noticed as well, though their looks were more of jealousy rather than filled with lust. The more aggressive vultures lingered around the bikini-clad housewife, offering to do some 'heavy lifting' to show off their machismo.

One such vulture was the police officer, Jimmy Rickman. Being in a playful mood, he grabbed Jill by the arms and threatened to push her into the pool. She giggled and pleaded for mercy, knowing that she would not be able to break free. She leaned her body back into Jimmy's body in an effort to stop his pushing motion. This was Jimmy's strategy all along. He could feel the soft swell of the woman's ass against his crotch, and he was sure that she could feel the bulge he was hiding in his swim trunks. However, he was not going to let this woman win the battle of the sexes. With one strong step forward, he shoved Jill into the pool. It was every man's fantasy to make her wet. Jimmy is the only one that can say he made her soaking wet, though maybe not in the manner that their perverted minds intended.

Unbeknownst to Jimmy and Jill, Steve returned just in time to see his wife laughing and pushing her scantily clad body against the chiseled physique of the police officer. He heard her squeal as she prepared herself for the chilly temperatures of the swimming pool. He observed the sarong fall away from her body as she dove underwater. He noticed the hungry stares of the men attending the party as his wife climbed out of the pool, with their eyes glued to her ass. The fact that he was married to a beautiful woman and could turn the heads of the men around her gave Steve a sense of pride.

Reaching for a towel, Jill greeted her husband, "Hi, honey. People are saying that this is the best barbeque by far!" She beamed with pride, allowing her smile to grow from ear to ear. She did not recognize the look on her husband's face as one of concern.

Was it the best because he was not there?

*****

The fluorescent lighting of the hospital's waiting room made everything look pristine and unnaturally bright. The waiting room is supposed to be welcoming and comforting to those in pain, knowing that there is relief just a few feet away in one of the exam rooms. However, Steve was not a patient. There was no solace, no comfort, and no cure for what ailed him. All of the warmth that the room provided came across as superficial and fake. Steve adjusted the strap for his laptop's carry case as he dredged his way towards the evening admitting clerk.

"I've always said that they made morning way too early. I thought that morning should happen around noon; however, this is just crazy," grumbled Steve with a slight smirk on his face. He was always ready with a joke or a witty comment. Laugh, and the world laughs with you. Cry and you will cry alone. His personal life was private, and certainly not the domain of the hospital or the gossip mongers that lurk around every corner and every desk.

The red head behind the desk giggled at his remark, "You know you miss me, now that I'm working nights."

Amber was a single mother at the young age of twenty two, burdened with the task of raising a child on her own after the dead beat sperm donor skipped town shortly after hearing the news that he was going to be a father. With working the night shift, her hourly wage increased due to shift differential. Unlike other girls her age, Amber realized that she had a responsibility to tending to her child's needs and could no longer be the party girl. After all, being the party girl is what put her in this predicament now. Steve silently appreciated Amber's motivation. He also appreciated her feminine features as well, but never voiced his admiration or acted upon his thoughts. He may not be able to touch, but he can certainly look. He's married, not dead. However, fantasy is just that: fantasy. It is not real, nor is it meant to become real.

"You caught me," Steve said with his hands in the air. If I wasn't married, I'd probably be on call a lot more. Steve paused for a moment to dwell on his thoughts. Well, in a few months, you may not be married. You'd be able to ask her out. Again, another pause as his mental conversation continued. Not that she would be interested in an old fart like me. I'm almost twice her age.

Initially, Amber reacted with mirth. Her smile touched her eyes. But she sensed that something was on Steve's mind, and that mirth was replaced with concern and care. "Anyway, they're still evaluating her. I'm sure she'll be fine. If you want to have a seat, I'll let you know when you can see her."

His heart was in his throat and his stomach twisted into knots. Steve tried to mask the pain from his broken heart with confusion, "Evaluating her?" He shook his head, narrowing his eyes, "I'm here to help Eric get those x-rays to Nighthawk. What are you talking about?"

"Oh." Amber paused. She looked like a doe in headlights, trying to find some escape route to avoid the uncomfortable feeling. Uneasily, she asked, "You don't know?" The look on Steve's face compelled her to continue. "Your wife was in an accident. She was admitted a half an hour ago."

Steve stood there speechless, unable to formulate words. However, his thoughts were moving a mile a minute. Was she the stupid slut that was giving some asshole a blowjob? The fucking bitch would never give me a damned blowjob. She said it was disgusting. She said she'd never put her mouth where a guy pisses from. No, that can't be my whore of a wife.

"Steve, the nurses are going to take good care of her. She'll be ok," Amber did her best to console; however, the sincerity in her words did a poor job of hiding her concern of the rumors that would be spreading throughout the hospital.

Great, now everyone knows that my 'loving' wife is fucking someone else. Steve looked at Amber, scrutinizing her and her body language. When she failed to maintain eye contact, he knew that she knew. I guess I won't be asking her out. After this shit, she probably knows that I can't keep a woman satisfied in bed, and what woman in her right mind would want to date someone like that? Hell, how can I face anyone here at the hospital?

"I'll be in my office," Steve said tersely, leaving the admitting room without looking back. If he would have, he would have seen Amber shedding a tear for him.

*****

The bright lights and shimmering tinsel overpowered the fake pine spray and the dull artificial Christmas trees, trying to promote the holiday good cheer and obscure the cheap budget from view. Unfortunately, the smell of honey glazed ham was not associated with this festive party, as one might expect during the Christmas season. No, the hospital was a politically correct facility and did not wish to offend the Muslims who abstained from having pork in their diet. Instead, the main entrée for the holiday dinner was a chicken breast basted with creamy garlic butter and served over a bed of fettuccine. Having a choice of entrées would have added an extra and unneeded expense.

Even the entertainment for the evening was an amateur deejay who earned the gig because he was someone's relative and wasn't that expensive. His selection in music was quite limited, either the redneck beer drinking partying songs or the melodramatic tear jerking slow melodies. He didn't even have any Christmas music to play during the course of the dinner. The lights that he used on the dance floor oscillated between the different colored bulbs at the same rate, regardless if it was an upbeat and fast tempo song or a slow dancing ballad. When administration and hospital officials attempted to use the deejay's microphone, the speaker was constantly fighting reverb and that horrible ringing sound that is possibly worse than scraping nails on a chalkboard.

One of the administration staff was Steve's boss, Jonathan. Not John or Johnny. The full name Jonathan sounded more distinguished, and gave him the illusion of being old money. This blowhard was certainly a wizard in terms of finances and finding the gray areas in the GAAP standards to keep the hospital in the black. However, he truly excelled in politics and spinning events in his favor. During such celebrations, he would let everyone know that spending money on the employees was a big morale booster and was worth every penny spent; however, the next day, he would scrutinize every receipt and question the cost and the reasoning behind the spending.

The chief financial officer aged like a five dollar bottle of wine. His salt and pepper hair was mostly salt with a touch of pepper. His skin has been bronzed from countless hours out on the golf course and attending the country club's social functions. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for his wife. Diagnosed with terminal cancer, it was only a matter of time before she would pass away. Jonathan, of course, played up the supportive husband and demanded the best from the hospital staff when she came in for x-rays. However, it was at these social gatherings where Jonathan's true character was exhibited. Anything in a dress and had a shapely figure was fair game. In this rural setting, the holiday celebration was very much like an adult version of a high school prom. Women were allowed to take a half day off to get their hair done. Finding the perfect evening dress required shopping in malls hundreds of miles away, so that no one would have the exact same dress.

Jill was no different than the rest of the women. For the housewife and mother of two, the holiday celebration was the one time out of the year when she could dress up and hold adult conversations with people her own age, rather than her children and her children's friends. She made sure to always look nice for her husband, as her appearance would be a reflection of her husband. The perfect curl in her hair, the right shimmer in her little black dress, and the right adjustment to her posture by her high heels culminated the appropriate look for a devoted and supportive wife.

It was those pesky pounds that always bothered her. Taking walks, drinking water, and working out to exercise videos failed to rid her of that spare tire around her belly and hips. Back in October, Jill realized that the holiday season was fast approaching, with bikini season waiting in the wings. Bound and determined to finally rid herself of the cellulite and fat, Jill joined a gym and enrolled in one of their weight training sessions. If obese people on a reality show could lose weight, then Jill was going to do it as well. Jill tried to get Steve to enroll with her, so that they could lose weight together; however, Steve always found an excuse as to why he could not go. Whether it was work, family, or yard work, Steve refrained from being by her side. Disappointed, Jill reluctantly accepted Steve's excuses, but refused to use them herself.

After three months, Jill showed signs of healthy weight loss. Jill rewarded herself by buying a new evening dress. She needed a new dress because her old, tried, but true dress no longer fit. She dropped a couple of dress sizes. Jill made sure to reward herself with anything, but food. It was the heart of the holiday season, and she was not about to succumb to temptation now. Jill's sheath dress conformed to the soft swell of her bosom and the gentle form of her feminine curves. The wide V neckline offered a modest glimpse of cleavage, though the plunging necklace helped with attracting attention to the valley hidden from view.

Jonathan made his rounds to all the tables, greeting the directors and their spouses in political fashion prior to making a hasty exit. No Christmas bonuses meant unhappy employees, but hitting the bottom line meant a hefty bonus for the chief financial officer. His intentions shifted gears upon seeing Steve's wife. The deejay changed the tempo of the dance floor to a slow, love song. It was one of Jill's favorite songs and was in the process of standing up in order to drag her husband out to the floor. Steve had no objections until Jonathan asked for a dance. Steve wanted to say no, but it was his boss. Steve and Jill exchanged helpless glances. Not wishing to create a scene or a social faux pas, Jill accepted Jonathan's invitation to the dance floor.

Jonathan had the advantage of being taller than Jill, and allowed his eyes to sneak glances down the woman's dress as the slow song played on. His hands drifted south, coming to rest upon the woman's ass while pressing his body against hers. Such brazen actions in front of all the people in attendance stunned Jill into inaction. Her voice did not protest the placement of his hands. Her hands did not enlarge the gap between the two dancing bodies. Her widened eyes tried to communicate that she was highly embarrassed, but Jonathan did not care about her feelings, only what he was feeling.

Fortunately, Steve recognized the plea for help from his wife. He gracious tapped Jonathan on the shoulder and asked, "May I cut in, Jonathan? I believe there was a board member looking for you in the bar."

"You have a lovely wife, Steve. I hope you have a wonderful evening," Jonathan said in a polite manner, but showed signs of wanting to make a hasty exit in order to press palms with the board members.

Although Steve may have acted quickly on his feet to rescue his wife, the damage from the transgression was done. Rumors and exaggerated tales of the chief financial officer groping Steve's wife, and her lack of resistance, spread throughout the hospital the next day.

*****

The darkness of Steve's home away from home shrouded him and hid his presence from the world. Stacks of paper, organized in crisscrossed fashion, served as reminders of projects that are close to their deadlines, uncaring of his personal life. The life that he built within these four walls balanced precariously on the world that's crumbling all around him. Only the soft glow of his laptop illuminated his world, keeping him focused on the task at hand. The hospital needed him to solve a technical problem. The emergency room doctor required Steve's assistance, so that he could give the quality care to his patients.

Only that the patient in dire need is a cheating bitch. She deserves to suffer. She deserves to endure more pain than she's causing me right now. Each thought got stronger and more hateful. Steve looked away from the screen in disdain. A sneer formed upon his lips as he exploded from his chair, releasing emotion and anger. The snap from the sudden movement caused the chair to topple over with a crash. Some of the organized mess found on Steve's desk joined the chair on the floor. Not realizing his harsh action would put his work in such disarray, Steve kicked his chair in frustration before bending down to pick up the scattered papers, emails, and quotes.

It was from this new perspective that Steve realized that his office was a satellite of memories. His home may have been destroyed; however, family pictures were strategically placed upon his work space. Fate must have placed the picture of him playing catch with his two boys, so that it would catch the light of the laptop just right. Or that some cosmic being, so great and powerful, positioned the photo of Jill's fortieth birthday party at just the right angle so that the love his children have for their mother would not be missed. Or perhaps the hand of God touched the arrangement, so that a quiet guidance could be whispered into the ear of the lost. They need their mother.

Closing his eyes in resignation, Steve quickly picked up the papers and resumed his position in front of his laptop. However, before he could enter another keystroke or another command, the door to his office flew open.

"Bud, is everything ok in here? I heard this huge crash," Eric asked with some concern.

Steve sighed with a heavy heart while typing on his keyboard, "Yea, I'm fine. I'm just a little frustrated and tired at the moment."

Eric shook his head, sounding confused, "Why are you here? I fixed the problem like you said on the phone. Images are going across as we speak. That was pretty ingenious."

It was Steve's turn to sound confused, "They are? You reconfigured the firewall and the router?" Not waiting for a response, Steve ran the configuration command to verify that Eric did indeed rectify the problem.

"They are. Things are cool, bud. Now, get upstairs and go see your wife," Eric paused for a moment. It was in that brief second that Steve could sense that Eric was struggling with something. An expectant look from Steve caused Eric to continue. "But if it were me? I would scorch the Earth where she stood if she did that to me."

Steve rolled his eyes, sinking back into his misery. "Yea, I need to make a couple of phone calls. I'm sure the boys will want to know about their mother's condition." I wonder how the asshole is doing that ruined my life. I hope she bit his cock off during the crash. It would be such poetic justice. Please, God, if you're listening? Just once, answer this prayer. I beg of you.

"Hey, Eric, is there any word on the other passenger from the wreck?" Steve tried so hard to hide his animosity; however, he was fooling nobody.