A Lifetime of Revenge

Thanks to jo for editing.

There is no sex in this story but it's short and (according to my editor) a good read. Enjoy. Remember, this is fiction.

Copyright 2011 by the author.

********

As I pulled into the parking lot of Baxter's the first thing I noticed was how old everything looked. I knew this place well, since I grew up just a few blocks from here, but I haven't been back to the old neighborhood in forty years and a lot's changed. Sometime around the end of World War II the building I was walking towards changed from a home with a family and kids, and most likely a dog, to a cozy neighborhood bar. At that time it was a nice place with the neighbors stopping in after work for a beer and wives meeting their husbands for a night out. Now, those times are long gone. Baxter's is in the poorest neighborhood in the most depressed suburb of Cleveland. More boarded up buildings existed around here than occupied ones with gang graffiti on most of them. Abandoned cars, some with people living in them, littered every street and alley. It's a part of town that the city fathers had forgotten about. I just pulled my cap further down my forehead and walked in.

The old bar's atmosphere attacked all of my senses at the same time. The first assault came from the smell, a rank odor of beer and urine. Not a very inviting way to introduce the establishment to visitors. The second was to my eyes. The place was extremely dark everywhere except one corner with a single intense light over top of a very unattractive woman who was dancing in the nude on a table next to the bar. She swayed back and forth to the music coming from the old juke box next to the table. An old ZZ Top tune blaring from the speakers caused my skin to vibrate with every bass note Dusty struck. I knew that the volume was sure to make me deaf if I stayed for any length of time, but I was planning on doing what I had to do and get out quickly.

Once my eyes adjusted to the light, or lack thereof, I walked over to the bar and found a seat that wasn't torn or sticky and sat down. The bartender was at the other end using the bar rag to clean up a mess in front of a man who appeared to be having trouble keeping his head from bouncing off the bar. When she finished she turned and threw the rag into the sink and washed her hands. I just sat there waiting for her to notice me.

I hadn't seen her in forty years. She had changed and awful lot but I would still recognize her anywhere. Quietly, over the years, I've kept track of her and the events in her life and a couple times I've seen her without her ever seeing me. I didn't know if she would recognize me but I was hoping that she wouldn't. At that moment her back was to me. The jeans stuffed into her cowboy boots filled out across the hips a lot more than I remembered and a roll of ugly belly fat crept over her belt. She was wearing a white tank top t-shirt with fading letters that spelled Baxter's on the back. The silver grey curls that made up her hair fell down the middle of her back bound together in a disheveled pony tail. It looked like she hasn't used a brush or comb for a long time. From my barstool I could make out a collection of tattoos on her arms and neck and I knew that others existed elsewhere covered up. From the side her face looked tired and hard, her nose crooked to one side, the jagged scar over one eye told stories about her life. She wore no make up, as if it would help, and she seemed to have a perpetual sneer on her lips. She looked like something that I wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley.

Her name was Sue Ann.

After she dried her hands she took a drink from a glass sitting by the sink. Shaking her hair into some semblance of obedience she turned and surveyed her domain. That's when she noticed the new customer, me. As she approached the deafening jukebox music stopped and the dancer stepped down from the table.

"I'll be back in an hour," the scuzzy dancer said, not even trying to cover up her swaying, saggy breasts as she passed.

"K," was the reply from the other side of the bar. She stood in front of me and asked, "What can I get you?"

"I'll have a Bud Light," I said as I put a five dollar bill on the bar.

She walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out my beer. After opening it and setting it in front of me she took the money and paused to give me the once over before returning to the sink to wash some glasses.

I couldn't tell if she recognized me. Probably not, after all it's been a long time and as much as she's changed I've changed just as much. Hell way back then I had a head full of wavy blond hair, now there's more skin than hair that's why I always wear a baseball cap.

The man at the other end of the bar finally succeeded and his head hit the bar on the way to the floor.

"Shit!" was the immediate exclamation from the sink. "Elroy, why are you always doing this to me?" She stood there drying her hands and with a disgusted look scanned the room. "Can anybody help me get this guy into his car? How about you?" she said pointing at me.

"OK," I said putting my beer down.

It took the two of us to lift, drag, pull, fold, spindle and mutilate the extremely drunk guy from the floor where he landed to a sitting position behind the wheel of his car. As we walked back in the car started up and zoomed off down the street. We never heard a crash so we shrugged and continued back in.

"Thanks," the bartender said setting another beer in front of me. "That clown does the same show about once a week. He'll stop coming in one day when he drives into something and gets his ass killed."

For the second time since I arrived she looked me up and down. I couldn't read her mind but I was curious if she recognized me.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing. You look familiar, that's all. You from around here?"

"I'm from Texas. Just passing through."

She walked back to the sink and took another drink.

I looked around the bar now that I could see in the dark and saw that I was the only customer there. As I scanned the surroundings I heard her mutter, "Fuck!" Her head snapped around in my direction and she stared at me with an expression of amazement and hate.

"Ray you son-of-a-bitch," she said as she strode over and stood in front of me with her fists on her hips. "How is it possible? You're dead. I shot you forty years ago."

Oops, the cat was out of the bag.

"Well actually Sue Ann you didn't kill me or I wouldn't be here now. Everybody thought you did but you didn't. That's why you've been locked up in Marysville for the past thirty eight years, for doing something that you only thought you did. I hope you had a pleasant time."

"Well fuck you, you son-of-a-bitch."

"You're repeating yourself; you already called me a son-of-a-bitch. Try using some of the colorful language you learned from the other murderers and whores you shared cells with. Come on darling, let me see the real you, the hard as nails little bitch you've turned into. The little slut of cell block C. I see Big Wanda's ownership tattoo on your neck. Come on, she trained you better than that. I know all those nights you slept with your head between her fat ass cheeks, sucking her pussy every time she farted. You must have loved every minute of it. I know all about the times she sold you to other gangs for cigarettes; hell I can see their tats all up and down your arms. Passing you around from cell to cell so you could fuck and suck and lick all those Mexican and black bitches must have been fun to watch. I even know about the baby you had with that big black guard, what was his name, Malcolm that you had to give up to State Family Services. Hell I know everything about you since the day you shot me in the head."

She stood there on the other side of the bar staring wide eyed at me, frozen as solid as a marble statue. I just gave her a little smile and stared back.

We stayed eye to eye for a long time, neither of us moving or blinking. She was the first to blink when she turned and walked over to get another drink -- a long one. I took the opportunity to take a pull on my bottle too.

Sue Ann stood at the sink with both hands on the counter looking in the mirror at my reflection. She didn't say a word but I could almost hear the thoughts churning in her brain. She took another long drink from her glass and turned to me.

"Why are you here?"

I smiled and took another drink.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing. Maybe we could catch up on old times? You know, reminisce."

Her face changed as she looked down at the floor. The hard expression softened and her posture relaxed, she became more stoop-shouldered and her ratty pony tail fell to cover one breast. When she looked up I would swear she looked sad.

I wasn't buying it for a second. This is the woman who cheated on me with that shithead attorney. This is the woman who traded me in like some old car for a newer, richer husband. This is the woman who in cold blood shot me in the head and set fire to my trailer burning my body beyond all recognition. This is the woman who also blew her new husbands brains all over the living room rug when she got tired of him. No, I wasn't buying anything she said.

She spoke softly when she asked, "What do you want from me Ray? I've done my time, I've paid my debt. I'll be on parole for the rest of my life so you don't have anything to worry about. Our son? I haven't seen Robbie in forty years. I don't even know where he is now. Your mom and dad made it very clear that they didn't want anything to do with me and Robbie would never know what I did. Hell, by now he's probably forgotten that I ever existed. I'll never see him again. So either tell me what you want or get the hell out of here."

Another drink and another smile. "I just wanted to let you know that your cheating on me and kicking me out and finally putting a bullet in my brain was the best thing that ever happened to me: Yeah, really, the best thing in my entire life. Why? It's simple. If you hadn't done what you did I wouldn't have become rich with more money than I'll ever spend. I wouldn't have had a beautiful loving wife that worships the ground I walk on, and I love her more than anything too. We wouldn't have had five kids of our own and fostered twelve others. I wouldn't have nineteen grandchildren. I wouldn't have been in the Kiwanis or the Chamber of Commerce or the country club or on the town council. I wouldn't have built and sold two companies whose combined income will guarantee my children and their children comfortable lives. I wouldn't have traveled the world and seen the seven wonders. I wouldn't have made love to my wife under the stars on a mountain top in Peru. I wouldn't have done any of this. All because of you I got everything a man could ever want. I just wanted to come by and thank you for everything."

I watched as she stood there thinking about what was and what might have been.

She spent thirty eight years in prison for crimes she didn't commit. I had a wonderful love filled life. She lived among the most unbelievable filth and did the most sickening, perverted things just to survive. I thrived and grew in the sunshine. She was in her early sixties and worked in a smelly bar and lived in a room upstairs. I lived in a mansion and went to the country club.

Life just wasn't fair. I laughed when I thought that.

"Thanks for rubbing my nose in it Ray. I've spent every minute of every day regretting my decisions, and I've had a lot of time to think about it. I'm too old and too worn out now to do anything but live my shitty life one day at a time. Maybe if I'm lucky I'll die quietly in my bed. I don't think so because everything in my life has been one fuck-up after another. I fell into a sewer and I will die in a sewer. There's nothing you can say to me that can make it any worse. Hell is hell Ray. So, thanks for coming by. Now get the fuck out of here."

She turned and faced the sink again and emptied her glass.

"Well, thanks for the beer," I said as I put down the empty bottle. "You can keep the change."

I turned and walked to the door.

"I've got a question before you go," she said to my back. "Why are you alive? Who did I shoot?"

I stopped and turned to look at her for the last time. I didn't have a smile this time but I answered just the same.

"That was a friend of mine, Mack. He was a man that I allowed to stay in my trailer sometimes. He was sick with a lung disease and passed away the morning you came down and did your deed. Obviously you assumed that because he was sleeping in my bed and was about my height and weight that it was me. He was already dead when you splattered his brains all over the pillow. I returned just as you drove away. I hid in the bushes when the fire department and police came and they thought it was me in the trailer burned to a crisp. That night I walked away from my life as Ray and became Mack. Ray was dead; Mack had a full life ahead of him. I had one final thing to do as Ray though. The night you shot your trade-up lawyer husband I was there; you didn't know it but I was there. I made sure you passed out after having your evening drink and when mister asshole came home I put a bullet in his brain just like you did mine. Afterwards I put the gun in your hand and took the contents of his secret safe. You took the rap for his murder and mine. The money I took gave me my stake when I started out with a new name. Your life went to shit and I went to Texas. Everything I did I did because of you, because I loved you and you pissed all over me. You pissed me off and I made sure that your life was a living hell. Does that answer your question now you stupid, selfish bitch?"

As I walked out the door I turned the little sign in the window from 'OPEN' to 'CLOSED'.