She needed a job, Part 1
Copyright Catcher78 all rights reserved.
These are my stories and cannot be copied, period.
This story involves family, depression, and a new career. This is a fictional story and everyone in the story is eighteen when they fuck.
My name is Andi Nelson. I'll be thirty five years old next June 13th. Jim and I have been married for eighteen years now. He was one our neighbors and when I got pregnant he married me. He was not the biological dad for Jimmy now eighteen and knew it.
We have three other boys, all his and mine, Tommy was fifteen, Mike was thirteen and Tim was ten. All red hair and freckles except Jimmy with brown hair. Jim is simply the best father, helping out with basketball and baseball. He was good at it as a kid, played baseball for a small Division III school and basketball in high school.
He refused to coach them since it was there experience, but there was a batting cage in the backyard and a hoop in the driveway.
We went to church most Sundays at St. Olaf's in Poulsbo. Jim had this nagging cold, so I made an appointment with our doctor on Tuesday. Jim was the IT systems guy for the local credit union and I was a teacher's aid Poulsbo Elementary in kindergarten class with Jessie Ericksen, we were couples friends as her Bobby worked for a cable company, stringing wire.
They had six kids, Jessie and I taught Sunday school.
The week just got away from us it was Friday night, we were at the high school, North Kitsap Vikings and Jimmy was having a good game, Jim came in at half time, he looked tired and made his way up to me. He sat down next to me and held my hand. I leaned over and kissed him on the cheeks. "Baby, Jimmy has eighteen points, "We were playing the hated Kingston team.
As the game progressed, Jim put his head down and was leaning against me. I looked at him and he was weeping. I cradled his face and said, "Jim?"
He barely said, "911, dying, leukemia."
Down the road just a few miles was a new hospital, St. Michaels. People were so hopeful when it replaced the mold ridden Harrison in Bremerton, but it was a terrible place.
We rode there I was in back with the paramedics, they had Jim on a monitor, we were just onto the freeway headed south, when the heart monitor stopped. They tried to use the paddles to bring him back, but he was gone.
They asked me if I knew anything and I repeated what he said,"911, dying, leukemia. He'd had a cold that wouldn't go away and he went to the doctor on Tuesday, Dr. Terri Poulson at Sound Health, pretty sure she couldn't tell me.
Jessie had the kids, I had not spoken to my mother or her husband in eighteen years, I was numb, then I was home with kids. Jim had found this great deal on a split level house just off of Lincoln, built in the seventies. He painted it every five years and we had a vegetable garden on the side yard.
I have no recollection of the first few days, Jimmy was my rock, driving the kids to school the week after, reheating frozen casseroles for meals and making lunches for everyone for school. We had an old 1990 deep blue Isuzu Trooper, that Jim had rebuilt and got a new paint job. It was an SUV that easily sat five in the front two rows now, before here was another seat where the trunk is now we no longer needed to use.
I wore a black, long sleeve cotton frock with flats to the funeral. The boys and Jessie were with me. The Catholic funeral service is long, there are prayers and it was led by Father Albert Arulappan, he is the Vicar and is from India.
I mean we're all from somewhere. The priest in St. Anne's where I grew up were from Ireland.
As Fr. Albert celebrated the Funeral Liturgy, although every word was perfect, the pitch seemed wrong so he was way in front of most of us. He was a kind man and my kids liked him.
