Dear reader, I'm trying to learn how to put my thoughts into writing. I hope you enjoy.
Copyright, Apollona
Part One
I pushed past my front door and sensed that all was not good and well within casa de Xendos. Two unfamiliar vehicles parked in my driveway were the first clue. The fact that the door was swinging ajar also figured into this equation.
I walked slowly down the long corridor and I mused on the fact that my security system had not alerted me. I almost expected the scene playing out behind The Door That Must Never Be Opened.
It was not shut tight.
The noises that emanated from there were not the kind of noises one would expect to hear in the middle of the day while the master and sole occupant of the home was not present.
I recognised my new darling Christine's voice in the throng of heaving, grunting and howling, but I couldn't recognise the male noises. Plural.
I made out at least two different voices, possibly three not including my girlfriend's squeals of delight. This could potentially be upsetting to the average Joe, but I sensed that given what I've been through in the last few years, I would take this in my stride.
About eighteen years into my relationship with my wife, cancer claimed her. The fight was short though incredibly vicious. It only lasted four months. As a matter of fact she died while in my arms, on the bed that lies beyond The Door That Must Never Be Opened. The army of specialists that examined and tested her decided that little could be done to save her. She wanted to go in an environment of her choosing. She chose home.
Helen was the centre of my world, my best friend, and most loyal ally. Our time together was precious. We argued fiercely but we understood that if we were to be together, we needed to be a team in everything we did. Once we resolved our disagreements, they never needed to be revisited. If I bent over for her, she made damn sure that nothing got poked up my ass. We had each other's back.
Her demise left me broken.
The darkness surrounded me like a warm cloak and remained my stifling companion for a long while. There was a serrated edge to the way I dealt with people. I was cold to anyone who cared to approach me. Often, particularly with those I loved, I would simply get up and quietly move away. Violence brewed just under the surface of my skin. I could feel it crawl around in there like an infestation, searching for a route to expose itself.
It was my friend Peter and his wife Vanessa who helped me start to emerge from my long cold winter. Peter put in many hours - occasionally he would talk, but mostly he surrounded me with ease, in companionable quiet. For this alone I could never repay him.
We've known each other most of our lives, our friendship born out of our common dislike of a Primary School teacher we shared when we were pre-teens. She had a particular interest in me as she was a close friend of my mothers. This close scrutiny always put a real crimp on my wanting to play ball with the other kids during lessons. No truancy for me.
This teacher had an even greater interest in Peter as she took him home with her every night, along with her daughter, Peter's older sister. Mums can be very embarrassing at that age.
It was during these formative years that she introduced us both to the sifu across the road from our school that ran classes teaching various styles of kung-fu. The passion Pete and I developed for this sport remained with us for the rest of our lives. I think Pete's mum just needed to know where we were while she was grading papers after school.
When Vanessa would turn up she would frown at my pathetic domestic attempts, and often take over many of the duties my wife used to perform. She cleaned my house, she made me food and she stayed with me while I ate and talked about nothing. I think back on these times when I need to remember the selflessness and good things some humans are capable off.
A year into my mourning, on a clear and crisp Autumn Tuesday morning a speeding WRX Impreza struck Pete from behind. They took him to Canterbury Hospital, a few kilometres down the road. I got the call from Vanessa, her tone frantic and dispersed with sudden loud silences where she was attempting to hold it together between sobs.
As I drove, I felt a familiar cold emptiness progressively consume me; Vanessa did advise me to be prepared for the worst. I'm not aware of the expression on my face, but I knew that people were giving me a very wide berth all the way to his ward. Friends and family who gathered outside the room fell silent when they noticed my approach.
I stood at the entry, but I remained still for a moment. My head a mess, I knew I needed to pull myself together. This time, I had to be the strong one for someone else. This time someone other than me was going to hurt, and this person is going to need me more than I needed myself.
I steeled myself for the final approach and it was not good.
Peter was a mess, barely cognisant and obviously a goner. Suspicious looking devices were making those ominous sounds familiar to me through watching hospital scenes at the movies. So many machines, cables and tubes. Vanessa stood by his side, and their teenage son Steph sat nearby with his head down. He looked up at me and gave me a weak smile, which quickly faded when he followed my gaze toward his father.
Vanessa was calm now, but with one look into her eyes I could see her screaming inside. She came to me where I stood and for the first time I can remember since learning of my Helen's illness, I felt an absolute terror for someone else. She clung to me, as if my strength could somehow help Peter.
Peter made a gurgling kind of noise, which brought us out of our shared misery and I could see him looking into my eyes. He cleared his throat then, and spoke softly.
"Couldn't wait till I'm gone before you tried to seduce my wife, eh?"
I responded the only way I knew how.
"Well I felt it was high time she finally got to feel what it's like to be with a real man."
