Solitary Man

*Author's note: After writing Best Buy, in which an older woman with three little girls marries a younger man, the idea for an 'older man' story came to me in which he falls in love with a younger woman who has three little boys; three very little boys.

*****

"So, Sarge. You gotta be glad you're not still a patrolman on a night like this."

"Don't forget I spent ten years as a beat cop and loved damn near every day of it. Hell, the only reason I even took the sergeant's test was because my ex-wife never stopped complaining about not having enough money."

"Yeah, but it's eight degrees out there and it's blowin' like hell. Don't tell me you miss that."

Sergeant Michael Simms grew up in Indianapolis and had been with the city's police department for 15 years. He'd enlisted in the Marine Corps right out of high school, did four years as a military police officer, then, the following year, went through the academy and joined the force back in his hometown.

He didn't get married until he was 31, and the marriage, if it could be called that, somehow lasted for nearly three years before he couldn't take anymore demands for a nicer house, a newer car, fancier clothes, more jewelry, and many other things a police officer could never afford. The only saving grace was never having had a child with her, so when the divorce was final, it was over and done, and he was free and clear.

As far as the weather was concerned, frigid temperatures and blowing snow were just part and parcel of life in Indianapolis. So while he wasn't wild about being outside when temperatures were in the single digits with wind chills well below zero, he'd gladly trade his desk and paperwork for a squad car any day. The only problem was, now that he was a sergeant, he no longer had the opportunity to ride around in one.

"I don't miss that kind of cold, but I do miss being out on the streets. That's what cops do, right? We help people. We keep 'em safe by making sure people obey the law. And when they don't, we take 'em off the streets. That's what I miss."

"Okay, Sarge. If you say so," the second-year officer replied as he tried to get warm after coming inside from the brutal cold. His tour was over, and he had the next 24 hours off in which to warm up, and with any luck, maybe even warm up the bed with his new wife when he got home.

"Give my best to Jessica, okay?" the sergeant told him.

"Yeah, thanks, Sarge. I'll let her know. And I was serious about settin' you up with her aunt. I gotta tell ya, she's pretty damn hot for someone your... you know. Older than..."

"Yes?" Sergeant Simms said, enjoying watching the younger man twist in the wind.

"I uh, I'm just gonna go change out of my uniform now," the officer wisely said as his sergeant tried not to smile while remembering being in his place just a few minutes ago. Or at least that's how long it seemed to him at times like that.

As bad as his marriage had been, Mike Simms was well aware he'd loved being married. But being married to a woman who'd sucked the life out of him and bled him dry financially was something he didn't miss at all. So as much as he resented his ex-wife for becoming materialistic to the point of insanity, he still craved the love and security that came with a family. He had all kinds of opportunities to date but rarely took advantage of them.

And for now, at least, that was just fine by him. He was currently very content being what Neil Diamond sang about all those years ago—a solitary man.

On the way home that evening, he was listing to the 60s station on Sirius XM, and by pure coincidence, that very song started playing. When it did, Mike cranked it up and sang along. He was no Neil Diamond, but he could carry a tune, and no one else could hear him anyway, so he belted out the lyrics at the top of his lungs.

"Don't know that I will, but until I can find me. A girl that'll stay and won't play games behind me. I'll be what I am—a solitary man. A solitary man, uhmmm, uhmmm."

But when he walked into his apartment with no wife, no kids, no dog, and only a stray cat he'd taken in to greet him, the solitary man wasn't quite so thrilled about his solitude. Even though he lived in apartment building, it was so quiet he could hear a pin drop, and until he turned on the TV, the silence was nearly deafening. He knew part of the reason was the thick blanket of snow which not only muffled sounds but caused people to be more subdued than in warmer places like Miami or Los Angeles.

He was off the following day, too, so he poured himself two fingers of single-malt then coaxed the cat up onto his lap and took a sip as he watched what had to be the 40th season of Wheel of Fortune. As he did, he found himself thinking Vanna White still looked awfully good for a woman her age.

"For her age. Ha! Listen to yourself, Simms," he said out loud as he shook his head and drained the glass. "That's you now. The guy who's not too bad—for his age."

"Guess it's just me and you, little girl," he told the cat as he thought about pouring himself another even though he knew he wouldn't.

He'd had her for two months and still hadn't given her a name. But when she curled up around his neck and started purring, a name didn't seem all that important. And while the love of a cat wasn't much, it beat the hell out of the loneliness of the years since his divorce.

Mike Simms really was a decent-looking guy, and just 'for his age', with a decent job, and the only thing keeping him from finding someone new was his deep-seated notion of 'once burned, twice shy'. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined the woman he'd married changing so dramatically in such a short amount of time. But change she had, and he wasn't quite ready to jump back into the fryin' pan after escaping the fire.

So he saved every dollar he could while he tried to get his head back into some kind of place where he could find a more appreciative, more family-oriented woman.

"Okay, let's see what else is on TV tonight shall we, Cat With No Name?" he said once the Wheel and Jeopardy were over.

One of the few things he'd retained after the divorce was a decent indoor exercise bike, and after a cup of coffee the following morning, Mike got on it and road it hard to nowhere for about 45 minutes. It was way too cold to go outside and run, and even going to the gym in that kind of weather held no appeal.

The bike made it possible for him to wear himself out then enjoy the mild high that came from the workout for a couple of hours. After that, on days he wasn't working, he was on his own.

After a long, hot shower he felt pretty good and decided to do something he only did once or twice a month. He decided to head up to the McDonalds on 38th street and grab an egg McMuffin or two and another cup of coffee. As much as he hated to admit it, he loved the greasy little 'sliders' as he and buddies called burgers on active duty. A McMuffin wasn't technically a burger, but it was close enough for government work, another favorite saying he'd picked up in the Corps.

*****

One month earlier in Columbus, Ohio

"I don't understand," she told him as she fought off the urge to cry.

"Jesus. Are you deaf? I said...I can't do this!" her husband of less than a year told her.

"But...I...I gave up everything for you. I dropped out of college, I alienated my family, and I moved away from Indianapolis to start a new life here in Columbus with you. And I've already lost most of the weight I gained during the pregnancy. I promise I'll lose the rest if you'll just give me a little more time," she told him, more pleading than telling.

She seemed to believe that if she only pleaded hard enough or persuasively enough, he'd see her point of view and change his mind. And just the thought of the word 'change' made ever even more aware that all three of the triplets needing changing. They'd been crying for the last twenty minutes, but her husband told her 'we need to talk' just after the first one started, and he still wasn't done.

So she ignored her children's helpless pleas and listened to the man she loved, and whom she believed loved her, tell her this wasn't what he'd signed up for. Initially confused, his beautiful, young, 23-year old wife, Brandi London, didn't understand what he was saying. So he spelled it out for her.

"I'm 25 years old, for Christ's sake!" he angrily told her. "I married you because you were hot as hell and the best lay I've ever had. But I did NOT marry you to end up with three screaming kids a year later and fat-ass wife I don't even want to look at!"

He paused for effect, pointed right at her, then hissed, "NOW do you understand?"

His voice was dripping with venom, and Brandi finally understood. And yet, as the mother of three baby boys, she was fully aware she couldn't possibly support them on her own. Making matters worse, her father had made it clear when she chose her husband over her parents' strong objections that she would be on her own if he ever left her.

Now, just over a year later, she could almost recall his words verbatim when she told him she was dropping out of college and leaving Indianapolis with her boyfriend; a guy she'd only known for a little over three months.

"We will always love you, Brandi, but we won't blindly support you. If you leave with this...bum...then you are responsible for whatever happens. And knowing this guy like I do, there will be consequences, and they won't be pleasant."

Heartbroken, she'd pleaded her case then, too.

"Daddy, that's not fair. David is a really great guy, and he loves me. And...I love him."

"That's fine, honey. But I'm telling you, this David guy is a snake. He has no core principles. He has no...moral fiber. He's lazy, arrogant, and self-centered. Your mother and I aren't wealthy, but we've always provided for you. But if you run off with this...this jerk...I promise you, you'll end up supporting him. And if he doesn't cheat on you within the first year, I'll be shocked."

His tone softened before he finished warning his daughter.

"Honey, listen. You're dropping out of college less than a year before you get your degree, and for what? For this piece of sh...work? Brandi, please. Just listen to me and think this through. Please?"

But she hadn't listened. She found David to be unbelievably handsome and dangerous and she was head over heels in love with him. Going against everything she'd ever been taught, she left home and started a new life with her boyfriend in Ohio. They married in front of a justice of the peace a month later, and within three months, Brandi was shocked to learn she was pregnant.

David wasn't happy at all about having a child so soon and blamed her for the 'mistake' even though she was on the pill and never missed. But when a sonogram later showed she was carrying not one, not two, but...three babies, he stormed out of the exam room leaving Brandi and her doctor wondering what that was all about.

A few minutes later, she found him out in their car, angry and on the verge of exploding. He vented all the way home then later apologized, but things were never the same after that. And when Brandi gained nearly 40 pounds carrying the triplets, he lost all interest in her physically and started sleeping on the couch. Not long after that he started not coming home all night and was unwilling to say where he'd been when he'd finally roll in late the following morning.

Today, evidently, David London had reached his breaking point. So as the boys cried, their mother did, too, while their father grabbed a couple of ratty suitcases, packed them up, and walked out of their lives for good.

Adding insult to injury, the last thing David said to her was, "If you think I'm paying child support for those three screaming kids, you're out of your fat, fucking mind! You can't squeeze blood out of a turnip, and you'll never get a dime out of me. You fucked my life up big time by getting pregnant, so now you can go fuck yourself!"

He slammed the door on his way out, leaving Brandi too stunned and too hurt to think. At some point instinct took over as she somehow got up and changed their diapers, fed them lunch, then changed them again.Two hours later she had no recollection of having done any of it as she'd cried herself the entire time.

All she had left was pain, sorrow, and a crushing sense of numbness as she sat all alone in the tiny apartment unable to do anything but cry. Brandi didn't know a single person well enough to ask for help, but she knew she needed it, and a whole lot of it, and in a great big hurry.

Over the next few days, she managed to get signed up for every program she could find, and as the benefits trickled in, the help she received allowed her to feed her children and get basic medical care, but she would soon be unable to afford the apartment they lived in which was little more than a dump with walls.

It was nearly a month to the day after her husband walked out when the only remaining option became clear. Knowing her cell phone service would be discontinued at any time, she swallowed her pride and called home.

Her hands were shaking, and she was trying hard not to cry when she heard her father's voice.

"Hello?"

"Daddy? It's me," she said before she began to sob.

"Brandi? Are you okay?" her father, who hadn't heard from her since the day she walked out, was suddenly worried sick.

"No. I'm not okay," she said, choking out one word at a time.

Her father's resolve to never give in melted away in an instant when he learned he was a grandfather three times over.

"Is that our daughter?" his wife anxiously asked when she saw the reaction on her husband's face. "Is she okay?"

He put the phone on speaker and let Brandi talk. She began by tearfully apologizing and saying how right her father had been as she continued to sob out of desperation and frustration.

"Just come home, honey," her mother said.

"Daddy? Can I?" his daughter...pleaded.

"Yes," he said as he fought off tears of his own. "Yes. Come home. Or if you can't get home, we'll come and get you."

They'd taken Brandi's car to Ohio, and it was the one thing David hadn't taken when he left. Somehow they'd scraped together enough money to buy three car seats that they'd wedged into the backseat so tightly they appeared to be connected.

Her parents wired their daughter enough money to get her and the boys home, and, with her help, also accessed her online account to catch up on her cell phone bill so they wouldn't lose touch on the way. It was a three-hour, 175-mile drive home, and once Brandi had the money her parents sent her, she could head out as everything they owned fit into her car.

The night before Brandi intended to leave it had snowed heavily all across a huge swatch of the country, so until road crews cleared the highway, there was no way she was going anywhere. And because she had just enough food for the boys to last another day, any delay was a real concern. But because snow was a regular event during winter, it was around 5am when a snow plow went flying by which meant Brandi could load up the triplets and head home; a word that had never sounded so sweet to her in all her life.

Present Day

By 7am, they were on the road. and for once the boys were all tired at the same time. They had dry diapers and full tummies, and their mother's hope was they might sleep all the way back to Indianapolis where they'd meet their grandparents for the first time.

Brandi was trying to remember a happier moment than when she saw the city limits sign for the place where she'd grown up just before 10 o'clock that morning. In just a few more minutes she'd be back home where it was warm and where there was food and hot water, and above all else, unconditional love, something she'd never again take for granted.

She turned onto 38th street knowing it was only another mile to the final turn before arriving at her parents' house, and she was being particularly careful with the traffic due to the heavy snow and the possibility of black ice on the roads.

She was almost at a stoplight not far from a McDonalds she'd been to many times when one of the boys started crying. She didn't turn around, but it did distract her. Even so, that wasn't the cause of the accident. A teenage boy with two friends was driving and texting while the music was blaring. By the time one of them screamed, it was too late.

"Oh, no," Mike Simms said. He'd just pulled into the parking lot when he heard the sickening crunch and saw a car being pushed into oncoming traffic.

Miraculously, no one else hit it as he reached for the police radio in his own personal vehicle and called it in.

Mike never went anywhere without his badge or his weapon, and after finishing the call, he jumped out, threw on his coat, then began stopping traffic by holding up his badge.

He carefully made his way into the middle of the street as the sounds of approaching sirens grew louder. The woman in the driver's seat of the vehicle that had been hit broadside was unconscious and slumped over the wheel. That wasn't surprising considering her door was badly crushed in. What he saw in the backseat, however, shocked the veteran police officer.

"You've gotta be kidding me," he said as the cries from the three identical, nearly bald babies in the back seat hit him all at once.

He was pretty sure none of them had been hurt, but it was obvious the impact had scared them pretty badly. That meant his first priority had to be the woman in front who was almost certainly their mother.

An EMT vehicle arrived first, and Mike directed them to the best place to park while a squad car pulled up.

"Traffic!" Mike yelled as he pointed to one uniformed officer and then his partner. "You—east bound. And you—west bound!"

"Roger that, Sarge!" they called back as they began directing the flow of traffic when Mike and the EMTs assessed the scene.

"Barring internal injury, she doesn't look badly hurt," the EMT after opening the driver's side door and assessing her head and neck before trying to move her. He, too, was blown away by the three little kids who were all dressed in blue, and therefore probably boys, in the back who were wedged in like sardines.

"What do you think, Mike? Triplets?" the EMT asked as he unbuckled the woman's seat belt.

"Yeah. What else could it be?" Mike replied as he saw them wailing away in the back.

He hollered at one of the uniforms and told them to get social services out here ASAP. Until the mother regained consciousness or next of kin could be notified, no one else could take the children unless their lives were in danger. They weren't, so a social worker had to be summoned.

"Let them know there are THREE small boys!" he also hollered as he held up three fingers for good measure.

"Got it!" the officer told him before calling it in.

Detectives arrived to assess the accident scene just as the mother was being moved to the EMT vehicle on a gurney. Mike looked in the woman's purse and saw an Ohio driver's license and learned her name was Brandi London and that she was 23 years old. He also found her cell phone, but it was locked making it impossible to look for anyone to call.

The last thing he remembered the EMT saying was that the adult female had a distended abdomen, a telltale sign of internal bleeding. He hung around until he knew the little boys were safe and warm then walked back to McDonalds. But as he stood in line to order his food, he found himself unable to let go of what he'd just seen, so he got his order to go and headed to the hospital to check on Ms. London.

He no sooner walked in when the charge nurse at the front desk saw him.

"Michael! Long time no see," she told him, a bright smile on her face.

"Ruth. How you been?" he asked, smiling back.