Starting Over Ch. 01

Starting Over, Chapter 1.
This story will take a little time to build up with the background required, but it's been bouncing around in my head for a while. It's a more serious story with some romance in it. Bear with me....
I have all 5 chapters drafted and I'll post each one in as the previous one is posted so I can finish editing.

Main Characters:
LTC (Retired) John Jackson, 5'11", 180, 46 years old.
Marie Jackson, John's widow, 5'8", 140, 44 years old.
Angelica Jackson, John and Marie's daughter, 5'5", 125, 19 years old.
Mary Bradford, bartender, 5'5", 120, 34 years old.
Juliet Margolin, waitress, 5'4", 145, 24 years old.
Samantha (Sam) Walker, 5'6", 130 pounds, 39 years old.
Joyce Walker, Sam's daughter, 5'4", 120 pounds, 19 years old.
Marion Walker, Sam's daughter, 5'4", 115 pounds, 17 years old.

20 September 2012, John's apartment, Seattle, Washington.

Everything was in place in my new apartment and I felt good about it – except for the absence of my wife. I had just finished getting all the furniture I wanted into position and was having a beer. Now I had to either find work, or mope around and feel sorry for myself. The latter was why I tried not to drink too much. When I drank, I ended up wallowing in self-pity about the loss of my wife and I needed to get past that. At 46 years old I felt like I was in great shape and still had many years of life left. I just wish those had been with Marie.

My wife and I had always assumed that she had many years left since her family lived into their 90s. But then the breast cancer appeared. She had always been careful, doing all the self-tests recommended by the medical community, but when she received her first mammogram, they found that she had some cancer. It was not only in the breast tissue, but in her lymph nodes as well. It had progressed quickly and despite all the treatments she was dead within two years after it was found. It was the worst possible scenario for me. I couldn't even properly comfort my daughter. She was in high school when it happened and I knew she missed her mother as much as I did, but I was useless for a while after her death.

So the big question is: how do you start over at 46 years old having lost your partner of 20 years, the mother of your child, and the woman you still loved when you woke up every morning? There were still days when I woke up and thought I could smell her scent on the pillow next to me. Some days, I would go into the bathroom and I could swear that I could smell her shampoo. Sometimes I would be sitting down in front of the TV and find something so funny that I would turn to her favorite easy chair to say something to her, only to find it empty.

My daughter was the one who finally convinced me that I needed to move out of the house we had lived in for the last 10 years and try to start over in a new area. She was right. I had tried to work the same job, drive the same car, and live in the same house. Everything about this situation kept me from moving on. She was starting college and was very independent, just like her mother.

When I started looking around, I decided to go back to Seattle. I had met my wife there in graduate school at the University of Washington. Neither of us was from Washington, but we both ended up there in the computer science graduate school; she by choice, and me because I was in the military and stationed at Fort Lewis when the Army offered me a chance to go back to school on their dime. It had been easier for me to stay in Washington for school.

We met just after the first month and I pursued her doggedly. I had been attracted to her from the time I first saw her at one of the early Computer Science Department parties. Okay, I have to admit that initially it was the attraction to her body. One day she wore a tight skirt and blouse to school that got me interested. I started talking to her in the small lounge and found her to be smart (yeah, she was in graduate school, but that doesn't automatically equate to being smart about life), engaging, feisty, pushy, and a little bit of a smart-ass. I liked her – a lot. She was not a swimsuit model; she was a little more hippy and voluptuous than that. She was also one of a few female graduate students, so she ended up in my line of sight a lot.

Marie, however, had decided that she didn't want any relationships or distractions during graduate school, so she kept putting me off. She had finished her undergraduate degree and had taken a couple of years off before coming to graduate school, wanting to concentrate on her studies. I could remember one of our conversations clearly and the night was representative of our early relationship. This occurred in October 1992, about a month after we met.

1992

"Hello?"

I heard her voice on the phone over the noise of the football party going on behind me. I was with a bunch of buddies watching some of the college games on a Saturday afternoon and we had been drinking ever since they started. Oh, yeah, the East Coast games can sometimes start at 9am on the West Coast so we started early. "Hello, Marie, do you know who this is?"

I heard a chuckle and then this: "Being drunk doesn't change your voice, John."

Was I slurring my words? Damn! She's good! "I was hoping to ask you out for a drink tonight. What do you think? Want to grab a beer down at Jimmy's?" It was one of the local bars on the "Ave", which was a main street just off the UW campus. It had several blocks that consisted of small stores, restaurants, and bars that were almost completely supported by the university students.

"I'm studying for my Algorithms class right now. I don't think so."

"C'mon. You have to take a break at some point. Come out for a couple of beers and relax." I was always hoping for more, of course. I was, after all, a single, drunk, horny male.

"Okay. Maybe one pitcher. I'll meet you there at 8:30."

That was easier than I thought. Algorithms must've been getting to her. "Cool. See you there." I looked at my watch. It was only 6pm, so I had about two hours before I met her there. I decided to get something to eat. Yeah, that would be good.

I grabbed a quick bite at a Mexican restaurant next to the bowling alley and made my way to the bar. I parked and went inside. It was 8:35. I didn't see her, so I found a table, sat down, and ordered a pitcher. She arrived a few minutes later and I poured her a beer. We talked about school and where we were from. I finished emptying the pitcher into our glasses and we both drank as I watched for the waitress to order another one, but Marie saw what I was doing and headed me off.

"Don't worry about getting another pitcher. I'm not staying."

"What? You don't want to leave now. At least stay for one more pitcher. You can always get back to Algorithms later."

"Nope. Gotta run. See you later." She laid half the cost of the pitcher on the table and left.

I went home and went to bed – unhappy.

Back to Present Day

That had been how it was between us. She was a hard-headed, single, independent woman, and I was a hard-headed Army officer, being paid to go to graduate school. I had always admired strong-willed women. I liked being around people who challenged me and that were feisty. I wanted someone who I could debate with and wouldn't back down. It was fun and stimulating and, to me, sexy.

In any case, I had chased her and she had met me at some restaurants and bars, always paying her own way, until I finally took her to one that she couldn't afford on the budget she had set for herself. That had been considered our first real date. It went from there. We lived together for a while and then married the next summer, in 1993. It was kind of fast, but sometimes you just know when you've found someone that you feel comfortable and compatible with. Our daughter, Angelica, came along 12 months later.

We had a great marriage. We were stationed overseas, but travelled a lot, raised a beautiful daughter, saved for our retirement, and then she was taken from me much too early. I was older than her, worked in a dangerous environment, had been to Afghanistan where I was wounded, and should have gone first. I wasn't prepared for this eventuality. I wasn't supposed to be a single, grieving, widower at 46. It really sucked.

Fuck! All this reminiscing was making me angry and morose again. I had to get out of the apartment, so I walked down the stairs, exited my building, and went to the bar across the street. It was one reason I liked the apartment, although alcohol was not always a good thing for this mood.

I entered the bar and sat down at the very end. I said hello to Mary, the bartender. She was about 5' 5", not more than 120 pounds, probably mid-30s, and just from the few times I was there I knew she was a tough one. I knew her because I had been in here almost every night for the past three weeks. I knew Mary and Joe, the two bartenders, and Juliet, the waitress, very well. I had been there until closing a couple of times and they already knew my habits and drinks... the sign of a good tip-earner.

"Hey, John, what can I get you, tonight? Guinness?"

"Hey, Mary. Yeah, that sounds good."

She walked back and worked on drawing me a Guinness. It always took some time to draw it when it was on draught. While she was doing that I looked around. We weren't far from the UW campus and there were some undergraduate students in the bar, but there were more graduate students. They were talking, laughing, flirting, playing, and drinking without a care in the world. I would have given anything to be able to fit in, but I knew I couldn't. I was old compared to most of them – positively ancient.

"Here you go." Mary sat my beer down. I think she sensed my sadness. "You okay? Get you anything else?"

I tried to smile, but it was weak. "No thanks." I looked up to the TV. "Anything on ESPN tonight?" I was hoping for anything that might distract me from my thoughts. Just being in a new place wasn't enough. I needed something to distract me.

"Nothing worth watching. You want it on anyway?"

"Sure."

Mary went and put the TV on ESPN and I sat and watched some second-tier sport being shown on it. I was not paying attention to the screen, just staring as I gulped down my third beer. I figured I had had enough, so I paid, left a good tip, and made my way back home. I made it to the bed, looked at the clock, and lay down. It was 12:30am. I was exhausted, but sleeping in an empty bed was still a new thing for me so I tossed and turned until my body could take no more. I finally crashed sometime after 2.

21 September 2012, John's apartment, Seattle, Washington.

I woke the next morning to the sound of a garbage truck. I looked at the clock. 9:30. Ugh! I had finally slept and when I did it was deep and unmoving. My body was stiff.

I got up and stretched and prepared for a job interview that I had that afternoon. I had been a pretty highly paid project manager and database engineer back east after retiring from the Army as a Lieutenant Colonel, so I was hoping I could at least find a decent job. It didn't have to pay much. Between the life insurance, a little retirement pay, and the money from selling my home, I had made more than enough to be comfortable for a while. I put aside enough for my daughter to finish her undergraduate degree and even go to graduate school if she wanted and that still left me with a very tidy sum.

I hit the shower, brushed my teeth, shaved, and finally looked for something to wear. I had a few nice suits and I laid one out. Another sad moment came to light then. I stared at the suit, shirt, and tie I had selected. The one I had selected had been a nice salmon shirt that my wife had liked and a very nice tie that my daughter had found. It brought to mind the shopping trips just after Christmas. After retiring from the military, I loved getting my work clothes (dress shirts, pants, suits, ties) at the after Christmas sales. My wife and daughter would look over what new suits I wanted and make sure that I wasn't following the old "blue suit, white shirt, red tie" work uniform of the uninspired. Another family tradition shot down by the big "C".

I fixed myself some breakfast and sat and watched an hour of Sports Center and an hour of CNN news. I was now well informed about news items that were worthless and that I would never use or speak of again. Even those items that were of key interest to me were covered in the typical fashion of today – all teasers and no real depth.

At about 1:30pm, I got dressed and headed downtown. I parked, went into the building, met the manager, did the interview, and left all in a daze. When I got home, I could barely remember what we discussed in the interview. I could only remember that the guy stared at me funny for applying for a job that was about $30,000 less than my last salary. He had wondered why an over qualified individual would want this sort of job. I had told him the truth. I knew he wouldn't call.

I puttered around the apartment and then went to the grocery store. When I was returning, I ran into the family across the corridor from me. She was a very nice woman who couldn't have been 40 yet, but had two pretty, adult-looking teenage daughters.

I was trudging up the stairs and had just reached the landing of the small three- story apartment building when they were coming out of their apartment.

I smiled and said hello.

"Oh, hello." The mother put her hand out and I switched the shopping bag from my right hand to my left to shake.

"Hi, I'm John; I just moved in across the hall."

"Yes, I know. I saw the furniture delivery. I'm Samantha, but everyone calls me Sam. These are my daughters, Joyce and Marion."

It was an attractive family. Sam was about 5'6", maybe 130 pounds. She was just barely showing any signs of aging, had brown hair and a nicely rounded figure. Joyce was the older daughter and was close to adulthood. Marion was the younger, and was not far behind. This was evident by the display of body parts in their clothes, if you could call what they were wearing clothes. Joyce, a blonde, standing at about 5' 4", was wearing a pair of super-tight jeans that rode low on her hips. I'd always wondered about these. They were so low-cut that the zipper in front looked like it was only 2" long. Her midriff was bare for about eight inches before her equally tight, v-neck t-shirt started, revealing her whale tail thong in the back and her very healthy (and barely constrained) bust in the front. Marion was about the same height with her hair a little darker, almost brown, but still lighter than her mother's. She was wearing a turtleneck, but being skin-tight, it did nothing to hide the fact that everyone in the family got their share of tits. The skirt she wore was almost knee length and loose, swishing around her as she walked.

"Well, we were just going to get dinner. See you around."

They trudged down the stairs as I entered the apartment. I made myself some linguine for dinner, another reminder of things I did for the family. There was nothing that I could do about it. After 20 years together, there is nothing I could do that we hadn't done together. I knew where I was going to go. I was going to head back to the bar. I was going to surround myself with other lonely people who were trying to make a connection, but seldom did, and drown my sorrows. Billy Joel was right about it being a place where people were "sharing a drink they called loneliness."

It was almost 10:30pm when I got there and Mary was working again. Juliet said hello sweetly. I smiled. She had to be barely older than my daughter and I looked at her like a woman. She was a little heavy around the middle, but not unpleasantly so, and was always smiling. She seemed completely comfortable with herself which made her attractive. I looked her over whenever I saw her, and it reminded me that I hadn't had sex in a year. It also reminded me that I was looking at her as a sexual object, while I still looked at my daughter like a little girl. I wondered about that and how men in general looked at their daughters. Did we ever get over them being our "little girl"? I hoped I could see my daughter as an adult and treat her that way, but that she would still always be my little girl. She was my one remaining connection to the wonderful woman that had been my wife and her mother, even though it hurt to see or hear something from Angelica that mimicked her mother.

I grabbed a seat on a bar stool and Mary brought me a beer. I managed to keep slurping them down until about 1am. It was closing time for them since it was midweek and I was very drunk. I tried to stand up from the bar stool too quickly, and wobbled a little. Juliet saw that and came over to me.

"I hope you are not driving."

I looked down at her sweet face. "I just live across the street." I tried not to slur anything, but I had really put away too much in a short time.

"Okay. Be careful." She let me go.

I started walking toward the door, but I caught my right foot on one of the stool legs and went sprawling. Mary and Juliet were helping me up in an instant.

"Okay." Juliet sat me in a chair. "Stay right there for a couple of minutes."

I sat in the chair. I felt something wet on my face and realized that I had hit my nose on the floor. I put my hand to my face and a little blood was coming from my nose. I retrieved a napkin from one of the napkin containers on the table I was at and blotted it a little. Mary and Juliet finished cleaning up and then came to me.

They looked at each other and smiled. I guess I wasn't their first drunk to have to toss out. Mary spoke. "Okay, John. You live right across the street you said?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"Okay, let's get you back there in one piece. There shouldn't be much traffic, but we'll make sure you get there, okay?"

I nodded and stood. They each took an arm and I remember most of the trip home. I remember them asking which apartment I was in. I told them and then I felt Juliet searching my jacket pocket for the keys. She found them and they helped me up to the third landing and opened my apartment door. I remember them walking me in and finding the bedroom. I remember them laying me down. And then I remembered nothing else of that night.

22 September 2012, John's apartment, Seattle, Washington.

I woke the next morning very early and realized I was still in my clothes. I needed to pee, my head felt terrible, and I was in a fog. I moved and felt a body next to mine. It was warm and cuddly and turned facing away from me. I turned and spooned for a second, my semi-hard dick nestling in her ass all the way thru my Dockers and her jeans. I put my arm over her, nuzzled her neck, and instinctively said. "Marie, you smell good!"

Suddenly there was movement and the body first went rigid and then leaped out of bed. I sat up too quickly, my head spinning, and then it cleared. I was looking at Juliet.

She was staring at me. "Oh, shit! What did you say?!" She was looking around in a panic. "Shit! I fell asleep in here? Fuck!"

"Juliet!" I tried to get her attention without yelling. My head felt like a soccer ball that someone had been kicking. "I'm sorry. Please, I wasn't trying...."

"Fuck!" She screamed again and ran out of my bedroom. I got up as quickly as I could with the major hangover I had and moved into the living room. She was already out the door.

I stared at the front door for a moment, realizing I wasn't going to catch her now. I went to the bathroom and back to bed. There was nothing I could do.

I awoke later that day and puttered around. I was bored and I wanted to make sure I apologized to Juliet. I waited around the apartment until about 8pm and then went to the bar.

I entered and Mary looked up at me with a look I couldn't place. I looked around and saw Juliet waiting on a table. I went to the far end of the bar, my normal place and took a seat. Mary came over and she didn't look happy.