Author's note:
If you haven't read the previous chapters then I suggest you don't bother continuing until you do, especially if all you're interested in is the sex scenes. There is one, but in order to keep the reader enmeshed in a story of this length most of this chapter is character and plot development. I think you'll be lost and disappointed without the background the previous chapters supply.
For those of you who have read the previous chapters and are willing to continue to read the story line despite it taking me so long to post this chapter, thanks! As a reward for your patience, I've extended this chapter with a lot of revelations about what's going on. Don't worry, there are still a few surprises left to come. Oh, and the sex scenes will start getting longer and a bit more lurid in the chapters that follow :).
Regards,
JD
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It's amazing how lonely a guy can feel. Oh, I'm not talking about being depressed or even sad. I'm talking about simply loneliness. In the six months since I returned from Las Vegas my senior year of high school had dragged on painfully slow. It should have been fun, but that wasn't the way it worked out for me and I had no one to blame except myself. You see, I didn't share the excitement that most of my fellow graduating class seemed almost unable to control. I wish I did.
No, I was too busy ostracizing kids who used to be my friends because we had so little in common now and it frustrated me to no end. And what changed to make me this way? Well, that answer is easy enough. Simply put, I lost my mind. How else can I explain having the memories of a man much older than myself lodged in my head?
This all began seven months ago on the first day of my senior year of high school. I snapped and went crazy that day. Well either that or the impossible happened and my recollection of being thrown back in time to my eighteen year old body was true. I'm really not sure which anymore. My memories of that day seem less and less real as the days, weeks and months pass.
I don't think people realize how frightening it is to seriously consider if you've lost your mind. There were times that I was certain my memories of a former life were true, but there were others times where simply logic demanded that I accept the impossibility of it all.
With all of that going on, do you want to know the worst part of it? The loneliness.
You would think an insane person would just make up some imaginary friends. Not me. No, the only people my damaged brain could conjure up were Greek goddesses who for the most part didn't care for me. Tyche threw me back in time because I pissed her off, Nemisis would clearly have been happier killing me than delivering a warning from the Moirae, Aphrodite used me as a boy toy and Hera...well, I didn't like to think about what Hera did.
"Hey bud, you want another beer?"
"Sure," I replied to the bartender, looking down at my glass and noticing that it was empty again. I wasn't quite drunk, but I was getting there.
The smart thing to do was to get up and leave. The alcohol was clearly affecting my mood. Frankly, most days I thought that I did a fairly decent job of accepting what happened to me. Although, I'm not sure accepting is the right word. But honestly, what choice did I have?
Seven months may not sound that long, but you have no idea how bad it can be until you find yourself locked up within yourself waiting. I felt like a prisoner marking time until my parole hearing. The scariest part was that there were days like today when I wasn't sure it would even happen. Yep, I was definitely losing it.
"Happy St. Patty's Day!" someone cried from the door as he entered. He was clearly wasted, but none of the other patrons seemed to notice except to complain about the open door. I wasn't surprised. This was not the friendliest bar in town.
I only came here when I wanted to get away, and I so wanted to do so after yet another day of dealing with high school kids. Today was worst than most because of the holiday. What is it with kids and holidays? I mean I like holidays, but they seemed to thrive on them.
The bartender distracted me from my thoughts when he put the beer I ordered down in front of me and moved on to another customer. I took a moment to glance down at my watch. It was still pretty early. I decided that it was time to go after I finished my new drink. I didn't want to get seriously drunk. I could tell that in my current mood it would do more harm than good.
I let my mind continue to drift as I nursed my drink, but was unsurprised when it came back to my feelings of loneliness. I guess actually being alone didn't help, but then again neither did being in high school and facing all those teenagers.
My thoughts shifted back to what happened on that first day of school. I had memories of things that were impossible. They were nothing a reasonably intelligent, pragmatic person like me could accept, but they were there and I couldn't let them go despite the impossibility of it all. This brought me back to the same conclusion as always. I was insane.
The most frustrating part was that I couldn't figure out what caused me to lose it so completely. My memories were crystal clear at times and a confused hodgepodge others. I couldn't remember what I did last summer. Oh, I know I worked and I could recall my family vacation, but only in the most general terms. It was like a distant memory and it freaked me out. What freaked me out even more was the fact that I could remember in surprising detail the imagines my mind made up about my previous life. Hell, I could remember most of the verbiage on the last contract I did for Rodger's company.
"I should," I mumbled to myself over my beer. "I'd spent long enough on it." It earned me an odd look from the bartender as he passed by, but I ignored him.
Thoughts of Rodger made me sad. Maybe it was his death that sent me over the edge? I guess it was possible, but this all started before that. Or did it? Did I somehow change what happened to help me accept the death of my friend?
"This is pointless," I said, finishing my beer in one swallow and standing. The one thing I learned over the last six months was not to dwell on these types of thoughts. They never helped. Generally, they just depressed me and gave me a headache. I dropped some cash on the bar and moved toward the door.
It was too damn sunny outside. I had to blink for a few seconds before I could see. There was an older guy walking in who grinned at me. I guess he thought I was drunk. I shrugged to myself and watched him go in. He was far more typical of the patrons of this bar than I was. I dragged the average age of the place down quite a bit when I was there, but I liked it. It was a hole in the wall basement bar and people left me alone.
I heard a horn beep as a bunch of kids drove by. I recognized them and waved. I was clearly not the only senior out for a drink on St. Patty's day. I decided to head home because it was probably safer in my current state. I could always go out later if the mood hit me. Stopping at the bar on the way home from school had sounded good, but it ended up being a mistake.
I walked into my house fifteen minutes later and the smell of corned beef and cabbage hit me like wall. I couldn't help smiling. I absolutely hated the stench, but it brought back so many fond memories. Mom always insisted on making corned beef and cabbage today, despite the fact that no one in the house really liked it.
"There you are! How about having a beer with your old man on St. Patty's day?" my father grinned as he came down the steps two at a time. He glanced around before adding in a lower voice, "Maybe it will help us stomach dinner."
My smile grew. He looked good. Pop had taken well to getting in shape at my prompting last fall. He'd lost quite a bit of weight and seemed happier for it. I hoped it was enough to avoid the massive coronary I remembered him having a few years from now.
"Dinner will be in fifteen minutes," my mother said as pop and I entered the kitchen. My smile turned a little sad at the sight of her. There was nothing I could do for her coming Alzheimer's. I did some research at the library this past winter, but there wasn't much known about the disease at this point.
I wish I'd paid more attention to the possible treatments before I was thrown back in time, but my sister Cindy dealt with that aspect of taking care of mom. I visited and paid the bills. It was honestly all I could handle. Oh, I knew some of the medicines they gave mom, but most of them hadn't been developed yet. Thankfully her symptoms were still years away. I'd keep an eye on the developing treatments and get her involved as soon as I could.
"Hey sexy!" pop said, pulling mom away from the stove long enough to steal a kiss. She complained about the interruption, but I noticed the kiss wasn't one sided.
I loved seeing them happy like this. It also gave me an odd sort of hope. I think there was an irrational part of me that felt if pop didn't die it would take my mother longer to develop the symptoms of her disease. You see, she deteriorated rapidly after we lost pop. They were always very close. I know it sounds a little farfetched, but it was all I had. Well, that and the hope that maybe I really was crazy and mom would be fine.
Pop and I shared a beer and did what we typically did until dinner was ready, talked sports. It was even more fun now then it was the first time around because I knew how some of the teams actually did. I continued to place a few bets now and again, and my 'nest egg' was slowly growing. I was thinking about investing some of it in the stock market, but I'd have to be careful. I wasn't nearly as knowledgeable about stocks as I was in sports. On the other hand, deciding to invest in some companies was a no-brainer.
Cindy was dressed for a friend's party and insisted on wearing a Kelly-green hat at the table. Mom wasn't thrilled, but gave in at my prompting. Pop said something and my little sister laughed like only a little girl could. The older version of me remembered the inner strength she would slowly develop to handle the difficulties life threw at her, but that was the future. Right now, thirteen year old Cindy was full of innocence and joy.
"So, what are you doing tonight?" pop asked me as we did our best to move the corned beef and cabbage around our plates and make it look like we'd eaten some.
"Probably nothing," I replied, thinking about maybe going to sleep early.
"On St. Patrick's Day?" pop asked incredulously. I laughed. That was pop. He didn't have a touch of Irish blood in his ancestry, but he loved the holiday. I guess high school kids weren't the only ones who get a little too excited on the holidays.
