Vicious Pt. 02

Our first dates, beyond being taken to physical therapy, were conducted with me in a wheelchair. It took a while for me to get back up with crutches, then a cane and finally walking without assistance. Through it all, Linda was a taskmaster. She forced me to give my all in every therapy session. Once I was able to walk unassisted, she took me on walks, and then runs, all over Telegraph Hill. More than once I wished I had moved to Kansas or some other flatland location.

Two years after the attack, I stood at the altar of St. Peter's and Paul's Church in San Francisco, with Paul next to me, and his wife on the other side of the altar as we watch the vision that is Linda walk down the aisle. It was a small wedding. Two hundred guests were on the bride's side, and Dan and his wife on my side. I couldn't have been happier.

Dan and I had stayed busy. My stay in the hospital had given me a plethora of marks, especially among children. I had told Linda about the trust and Miss Kitty's instructions to pay it forward, and she embraced the concept wholeheartedly. She spent hours in the children's ward, finding that many children couldn't afford the treatments that could save them.

Suddenly there were funded studies which gave treatment free to these needy children. The studies were never conducted, but it gave us cover for our charity. To me it was just paying forward, as Miss Kitty had asked. But to Linda, it was heart wrenching. She'd throw herself into my arm, hugging and kissing me with tears in her eyes. It was a relief when my casts were finally removed, and I could wrap both arms around my lovely girl.

Finally, I was married. My heart still stopped whenever I saw Linda. That has never changed. We honeymooned in the Orient, cruising from Taiwan to Burma on a schooner that could hold 30 passengers. I booked the ship just for us, although Phil and Terry joined us for a leg of the journey, as did Dan and his wife later. Neither couple were the first to join us, however. I first brought the twins' parents over to Taiwan and they sailed with us down to Shanghai. They encouraged me to call them Mom and Dad.

I had a family.

We returned to San Francisco three months after the wedding. I thought life was perfect, but there always seems to be a rat in the rigging. Gene Blanchard hadn't been satisfied with my beating and I had made the mistake of forgetting him. Turns out he was trapped in a downward spiral, for which he blamed me. His mental state was not stable.

We celebrated our return at the Top of the Mark. I was dancing with Terry when I was grasped from behind and shoved down to the floor. When I looked up, Asshole was holding Terry with a knife at her throat. Blanchard sneered at me. "I'm going to fuck up your wife like you fucked me!"

Terrified, I jumped up and managed to grab hold of his knife hand as my other fist hit his face. Terry was able to slip away safely, but I lost hold of Asshole's hand, and he plunged the knife into my shoulder. He pulled it out and tried to stab me again. I manage to avoid the knife and grapple with him. We struggled, trying to gain control of the knife when I saw security rushing onto the dance floor. That distraction allowed Blanchard to twist away and rush me with the knife.

I adopted a stance I remembered from the karate lessons Miss Kitty had sent me too, years ago. I hadn't done karate in over a decade and frankly, I was mediocre at best. Could I defeat an opponent with a knife?

Hopefully, I'll never know. As he rushed towards me, a shot rang out and Asshole developed a third eye as the back of his head exploded. I turned around and saw the security guards rush and disarm the woman that had shot the asshole.

"Wait," I yelled. "Don't hurt her! She saved me." I ran over to defend the woman. Then I stopped in surprise.

Linda ran over and threw herself into my arms and held me tight. Then she turned and started thanking the woman for my life.

"It's Dot," I said.

Linda looked at me, confused. "What?"

"It's Dot! This is my ex-wife." I looked at Dot, held by two of the security guards. She had a butch haircut, and her face was harder, much harder and lined, but it was Dot. She stood between the guards, with a stupefied look on her face.

"Thank you, Dot. Thank you. You saved me." I smiled at her.

Her eyes left the corpse on the floor and found my face. The stupefied look left her face as it twisted into a picture of angry hatred; raw, angry hatred.

"I WAS AIMING AT YOU, YOU BASTARD! I WAS AIMING AT YOU! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THOSE DYKES DID TO ME IN PRISON?"

Linda clung to me tighter as Dot was led away, still screaming her hatred at me.

Linda shivered. "Don't worry, love," I said. "I don't think we'll ever have to worry about Dot again."

Phil came over, holding on to Terry. I looked at him.

"Now, that was vicious!" He laughed while Linda and Terry just stared at us.