Jennie - The Prequel
by Strappy Sandals
(Writer's note- The below story is true up until the wishful ending. It is presented to help the reader better understand the saga of Jennie and Jamie that will follow. Jaime loved Jennie but struggled throughout the 1980's to find himself. In the process of finding himself, he lost a few things that he genuinely loved, including Jennie. This prequel is not so full of sex, but I hope it will enlighten and interest readers enough to pursue the good stuff that will follow. Please enjoy!
"FUCK!" I had a major hangover, the fucking-pain shooting down my legs was almost unbearable, and I was fucking-freezing. My entire life seemed to have crash landed, and I had no idea what to do about it. What I did know, was that waking up in my car, on a fucking-freezing cold December 20
th
morning, was a sure fucking-sign that I was turning into the loser that I did not want to become. At that moment, everything in my life was trending bad, and I had no idea how to change the trajectory.
The most dangerous part of my current reality was that in my delusional state, I was trying to party my problems away. What was clear to most everyone else around me, but not to me at that point, was that the partying was only increasing the pressure of my downward spiral. In hind-site, my drinking and drug use was driven by the short-term relief it provided to the pain in my legs. What hind-site also made clear, was that while relieving the pain in my legs, the drinking and drugs were killing near every healthy aspect of my life as well.
Just a year prior, I seemed to have a lot going for me. I was a tall, well-built, relatively good looking, kid from Philadelphia. Fair student, good athlete, reasonably popular, and I carried myself with a fake swagger that most people mistook for confidence. In high school, I dated the girl of my dreams. She was beautiful, blonde, kind, and truly an amazing person. Not a bad hand to play, right? Well, behind the wizard's curtain, the view was a little bit different.
My faux swagger hid a host of insecurities. My father died when I was very young, and I never knew him. I don't use that as an excuse for anything, but it certainly had an impact on my life. I grew up as the second oldest in a family of four boys, raised by a single mother. Mom tried very hard to make a good life for her boys, but the reality was that she married six different men in her pursuit of that effort, and when not chasing men, was usually working to pay the bills. I don't ever remember going without anything important as a kid, but I always knew we were robbing Peter, to pay Paul, and seemingly always one step ahead of the bill collectors. As kids, we received very little parental direction, guidance, or discipline. At the time, I thought that was normal, and kinda nice. But, in hindsight, it probably left me devoid of self-restraint, discipline, and maybe a little short of self-esteem as well. My oldest brother was pre-occupied with some mental challenges, so despite my shortcomings, I was left as the Alpha dog of our little pack. I don't know if I was particularly well suited for that role at the time, but thankfully I was a good enough actor to manage mom and her pack of crazy boyfriends, as well as keep one arm around all of my brothers as we raced through our teen-age years. As a family, we certainly endured some major problems, but we did learn how to survive, and all of us managed to safely navigate through high school and leave with a diploma. I however, was not quite ready to move into adulthood at the age of eighteen.
As fucked-up as my life was, I did have Jennie to make the world a much more hospitable place. Sadly, I was not as good to her as she was to me. As previously stated, she was beautiful, kind, smart, and really, fucking-HOT. But maybe more importantly, she provided me with a very stable foundation at a time when I really needed support. She was a great influence mentally and emotionally, as was her mother and father, both of whom treated me almost as good as they treated their own children. Jennie and her family taught me a lot about family culture, love, dependability, accountability, and forgiveness. They included me at every meal, holiday, event, or what have you, and always made me feel loved and a part of the family. Although, with those benefits, came the expectation that Jennie and I were going to spend the rest of our lives together. And quite honestly, I hoped and expected that too. But we were only eighteen, neither of us had ever left the neighborhood, let alone experienced life, and both had a lot of living to do before we were ready to think about settling down for the rest of our lives. And with so much time ahead of us, coupled with my needs and vulnerabilities, it was almost predictable that I was going to crash the plane before it safely landed in that happy place with Jennie.
We did manage to remain a couple for a few years after high school, but it seemed the longer we were together, the shittier I treated her. Jennie deserved a lot of things from life but being treated shitty by me was not one of them, and ultimately, she figured that out.
Looking back, in addition to managing the leg pain, I truly believe I was searching to find myself in the maze of drama that shrouded my life. I tried to engage in every sporting event, party, girl, travel, school, and life opportunity that came my way, but almost never closed the deal on anything worthwhile. Then, usually after initial success but eventual difficulty, I would quit one thing and move onto the next. Early success, difficulty, quit, move-on, repeat, was my life cycle, and I suppose that included my relationship with Jennie and the comfort she provided as well.
I suppose that while in high school, I was able to manage my frailties, and make things appear OK. But ultimately, my world started swirling, and as things started crashing, Jennie got tired of me chasing everything except her, and ended up meeting someone else who made her feel special. And smart guy that he was, he proposed marriage to her rather quickly. The next thing I knew, Jennie was getting married, and I was left without the one thing that I loved and needed the most. Talk about a kick in the balls. Pathetically, I faked indifference, and acted as if I didn't care; letting her walk away without even making a phone call. The last time I saw her was in late 1980, and then never again for the next thirty-five fucking-years. I've missed her almost every day since.
Back then, I worked in a hotel restaurant. Five nights per week I'd serve gourmet meals to traveling businessmen, who generally left me a healthy tip on their corporate card. I made great money for a guy with minimal skills, and I could do the work while stoned, which was a tremendous benefit. Generally, work ended approximately midnight. Most nights after work I would party, drink, smoke, take pills, and generally carouse until I was blasted, then home to bed as the sun came up. Most tomorrows were just like yesterday; sleep late, go to work, party, and wasted again.
But, back to the story. So, there I was, hung-over in that car, freezing my balls off, with the pain running down my legs and hurting like a mother-fucker. I was out the night before drinking heavily, which I did almost every night. And because I was drinking so heavily, I didn't remember to take my anti-inflammatory medication to relieve the constant pain in my legs. I had two damaged discs in my spinal column at the L4 and L5 positions. They were both badly herniated and bulging, putting constant pressure on my spinal cord, and keeping me in constant pain. To alleviate that pain I took various medications, but also drank heavily, smoked weed constantly, and tried near every legal and illegal drug available to help mask the constant pain. At the point of this story, I was virtually a functioning drug addict, with "functioning" being a questionable adjective.
Anyway, this particular morning, I was obviously fuck-faced drunk the night before and couldn't drive home. I'm not sure if a good Samaritan put me in the car, or if I luckily passed out before turning the key, but at that moment I had no fucking-idea how I got there. I was thankful though, that I still had my limbs intact, and my wallet in my pocket. Anyway, after starting the car, and cranking the heat up high, I tried to get a grip on my situation. What day was it? Did I have to work today? What obligations did I have on my plate? And where the-fuck were my back pills? The pain in my legs would become unbearable if I let the pain build too long without medication. After finding the bottle, I popped 4- of the Butazolidin pills, washed them down with the remains of a beer, and pointed the car towards home.
While driving, I turned on the cassette player, and not surprisingly, the song that came on was John Denver's "How can I leave you again?" That never fucking-failed! Whenever I was down, or feeling terrible about myself, life always found an icepick to stab me in the heart and remind me that Jennie was gone.
"How can I leave you again? I must be clear out of my mind... Lost in a storm I've gone blind, oh how can I leave you again?"
