Castaway

This is part two of an intended long series. Please read part one before this one, as it will not make as much sense if you don't. I warn you now that this is a long story, broken into several very long chapters. I prefer to develop my characters, and let you, the reader, get to know them in the process. This part may not contain as much sex as the other parts, but the next chapter will reward you for your patience. As a reminder to everyone, this is PURE FICTION. I tried to make my story entertaining, and somewhat plausible/realistic but not so life-like that it really happened. I am sure I will get some comments about some parts that are vastly unrealistic, and that's ok with me.

As always, I want to extend a huge thanks to my editor, Guinahart, for not only proofing my work, but also for encouraging me to rethink some ideas that would otherwise have probably failed to tell the story as I wanted to.

All characters in this story are fictional and any that engage in sexual activity are over the age of 18. I hope you enjoy reading it!

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The first thing I feel, is my chest. DAMN does it hurt. I blink a few times, and notice that the room I am in is not my living room. Am I dead now? I look around, and have some serious doubts about the "beauty" of heaven, if this is it.

After blinking a few more times, I note that it looks like an apartment, or at least the living/dining room of one. In the kitchen, I see a small light on over the stove, but otherwise there is mostly darkness around me. I faintly see the outline of an older, rickety looking table in the dining area. There seems to be a recliner and coffee table, next to the couch that I am laying on. Upon closer inspection, the fabric is old and tattered, but still stubbornly clinging to the padding.

I look at the clock on the way, and it looks like it is about two in the morning. Where the hell AM I? I look towards the wall, closest to the door, and can make out a few family pictures hanging. Sadly, they are too far away to make out any great detail.

About this time, the pain in my chest makes itself known again, and immediately I think back to the gun shot. How did I survive that? Why wasn't I in the hospital or something? I slowly sat up, and pulled up my shirt by its bottom hem. There were no bandages wrapped around me, or applied over any of my exposed skin. There was no bullet hole, or any evidence of blood. The only thing I could see was a darker color about where my breast bone sits. I wasn't sure, but it might have been a bruise. Now, I REALLY felt like I was in the Twilight Zone.

OK, first order of business, need to take a piss. My bladder was screaming at me. Second, after I figured out where the hell I was, I needed to get even with that asshole that I used to call friend. I wasn't too sure what to do about my wife, but after seeing her getting fucked by another man, and the total lack of trust she showed in me, we might be through. Obviously, I was going to have a tough time trusting her from now on...She definitely didn't wait too long before letting Cyrus grudge fuck her.

So I stood up, looked around, and realized I still had no clue where I was. It was not my house, I knew that much. Whose place was this? As I stood wondering, a man grunted from the hallway, "Jesus man, how are you feeling? It's two in the morning, man. You should get back to sleep."

After a minute, I recognized the voice. It was Shawn, our mechanic. How did I end up at his place? I asked him as much. "Shawn, is that you, man? How the hell did I end up on your couch? And why am I not dead, or in the hospital?"

"Your wife called me, said you were in trouble and needed help. She told me I should get you away from there, and that Cyrus was trying to kill you. She said you had been shot, but didn't see any blood. I didn't really understand until I got to your place, and saw you lying on the floor. You got really lucky man...Later today you are going to have to tell me what the hell happened." I wish I knew, I thought.

As he said this, he sat next to me and held up a silver chain, with an object dangling from it. It was my chain, and Saint Christopher's medallion, hanging. The medallion was bent up pretty badly, but somehow had miraculously taken the hit from the bullet. I looked at it closer, and the bullet actually looked barely larger than a B-B. It had to be like a .22 gauge or something. Now don't get me wrong, a .22 can still kill, it's just not that big. I was just thankful that my medallion was a bit oversized and made of stainless steel, and not pewter or aluminum, like most.

I gave a silent nod to Shawn's ceiling, thanking whoever it was that had looked out for me. Perhaps it was the Saint...I had a fleeting thought. My wife gave me that pendant for my birthday a few years ago. She had said, 'Saint Christopher is the patron saint of travelers, so I figured he could help you while you are away from me.' She had saved my life...She was tearing it apart, but ultimately she had saved me without knowing it. Whatever the case, I was not going to argue my good fortune. Besides, my chest was on fire after sitting up.

"Sure man, I'll tell you about it, later. Where's your bathroom at?"

He pointed, "Down the hall, first door on the right."

I went to the bathroom, and after washing my hands, I took a long look at myself in his mirror. Why the hell would my partner figuratively screw me like that, and literally screw my wife like that?? It just didn't make any sense. Also, where the hell WAS my wife? She called Shawn, but didn't stay with me? Shit, maybe she ran off to find fuck-face, and plans on getting some more of her 'revenge'. Maybe she's in jail, or maybe she just didn't know what to do, and ran away. Who the hell knows anymore? I used to think I knew her, but apparently not as well as I had once thought. How could things go so wrong, so fast? I had to get to the bottom of things, and soon!

I snapped out of it, and went back out to try to get some more sleep on his couch. He had gone back to bed as well. At about seven, the sun started streaming in through the patio blinds and woke me up. Shawn was up and in the kitchen, waiting for some coffee to finish brewing. I got up and went into the kitchen to wait with him.

"Shawn, thank you. I had the most horrible night of my life last night. You can't repeat any of this, but Cyrus skipped out on a business thing with a client, and when I got home, he was fucking Cait. He shot me, and it seemed like he had planned on killing me. Why the hell would he want me dead?"

Shawn stared at me, with mouth open, and a blank look in his eyes. "DAMN!" he paused, then, "What the FUCK man? I always knew that he was an asshole, but didn't think he would do some shit like that."

"I know. Hey, do you know anyone that could find him, and maybe find out what the hell he is up to?" I asked.

"I think I know a guy." I chuckled at the cliché sound of that, but he went on, chuckling with me. "Yeah, I know. Everyone knows a guy. I will get you his number. He and I were in high school together, and I think he was a cop for a while before going private."

We sat for a bit, not saying much, finishing our cups of coffee. When it was time for a refill, I got up and did the honors for us both.

"You said that Caitlin called you, right? What did she say?" I had to know what went down, if for no other reason than my own sanity.

"Dude, I was lucky to make out the little bit that I could. She was hysterical and bawling pretty bad. I was able to make out that you were in trouble, at your place, and needed help. After that I heard some more crying, and she must have been talking to you for a second, before the line went dead."

"Any idea what she was saying?" I had to ask.

"It sounded a lot like 'I love you', or 'I'll always love you'." He shrugged. "Something like that."

I had always believed that before, but now, I wasn't sure about anything. How could she possibly think that I had cheated on her? I thought we trusted each other completely. I had thought that we would grow old together, and watch our grandkids run around. I had this dream, that it was just the two of us, on some nice, private beach somewhere, enjoying just being around each other. Oh, well. I guess some dreams are just that, dreams.

Thinking about a private beach made me think of another thing, our trip. We were supposed to be leaving out today, for the best romantic getaway we could find. I audibly sighed, knowing there was no way in hell THAT was going to happen now. I winced in pain from the bruise as I exhaled deeply. What the hell was I going to do now? I guess it was time to formulate a plan of some kind, but what?

"Shawn, could you do me a favor, man? I need you to go scout my house to see if my wife is home. I will ride with you in the back seat, and if she isn't there, I can run in and grab my stuff. If she's home, you can just tell her that you took me to the hospital or something like that, OK?"

He looked at me, "Of course man, anything. Whatcha' planning?" he asked.

"I need a plan, actually. But for now, I plan to lay low, and figure out my next move against both Cyrus and Caitlin. I know I'm going to completely FUCK Cyrus up, but still unsure of what to do about Cait. I love that woman more than myself, but now...I hate the bitch, too."

I really wasn't looking forward to thinking about her right now. I would have to confront my wife at some point, but for now, just the thought of seeing her again made me want to vomit. I will likely NEVER get the image of her getting banged by Cyrus out of my head.

"OK man, well let's get ready to go over there, and then you can figure out what you want to do after." Shawn suggested.

I was really glad that he was my friend, and not just our mechanic. Shawn had been one of my groomsmen, alongside my old college friend, Todd, that had been my best man. I had met Todd during my junior year at State, and I had met Shawn after I had graduated, and was about half-way done with my commercial flight training. Caitlin and I had stayed in touch with Todd, visiting him and his family every month or so. Shawn didn't really like Caitlin too much, but it might be due to his natural tendency to mistrust all women. His wife had left him a few years ago, to run away with an older, more 'sophisticated guy', or at least that what she had told him. Apparently the guy had money, and could provide her the real pampered lifestyle that a mechanic just couldn't afford. I felt bad at the time, and was now starting to understand how it felt.

What is it with these women? At the start, you are good enough for them, happy enough with us to marry. Why after time passes, do some seem to get greedy, and suddenly we aren't good enough anymore? I think I was about to be in the same boat as Shawn, a woman hater. Damn, I really needed to clear my head. I wasn't ready to swear off all women yet. Just one would do for right now.

He drove me over to my house, stopping a few houses away to make sure that no one was home. We didn't see my wife's car, nor any sign of lights on inside. By this time it was around lunchtime. If my wife had gone to church, like we usually do, she would be home soon. That was a funny thought by itself, my unfaithful wife going to church. It was a good thing we weren't Catholic, or she would be in confession forever. If she hadn't gone to church, we might have more time. Either way, I wanted to be out of here as quickly as possible.

He drove closer and pulled the car into my driveway. We both jumped out, and I ran to the front door to unlock it. With one last glance around the entire neighborhood, not seeing anyone watching, I went inside. When I got in, the whole living room had been cleaned spotless, as if last night had never happened. The only thing that was missing was the busted coffee table. Its pieces had been removed, it seemed. I did see the photos on the dining room table from the night before, so grabbed them and made sure those came with me. Caitlin would hate those, once she actually looked at them in the light of day.

I walked into the kitchen, grabbed two bottles of Sam Adams from the fridge. Hey, they were my beers, and good ones, so why the HELL NOT? I then proceeded to head towards the bedroom. I pulled my suitcase out from under the bed, and began loading it with as much clothing as I could. I went into the bathroom, grabbed my toiletries bag, and put all of those items needed to keep myself clean in it. With that done, I put the toiletries inside my suitcase, zipped it up, and rolled it out into the living room.

Other than the missing coffee table, it looked just like it always did. I scanned, and spotted my cell phone and wallet sitting on an end table by the couch. I grabbed both, and pocketed the wallet. My phone said I had missed messages...I would check those later.

I went to my home office, and grabbed my laptop bag. I opened up our little fire safe, and grabbed my passport. I had a small stash of cash in there as well, so grabbed it. I had no idea when I would be back to the house, IF I even came back.

Considering myself done, I went back into the living room. I took a hard look around the room, and realized that I would really miss this house, and these rooms. All the memories attached to every item we had collected, was breaking my heart even more. On the mantle, where we had our family pictures, was one in particular, that I loved. It was of the three of us, when we visited Caitlin's parents for Christmas. It must have been about three or four years ago.

"FUCK YOU!" I yelled at the walls. Shawn just let me get it out, and said nothing.

I realized with disgust that I didn't want any of those memories right now. I scanned the walls and found the one picture that I truly wanted. It was hanging above the couch, and was a picture of my daughter and me going fishing. She was just a little girl when that photo was taken, no more than about 7 years old. I grabbed the picture off the wall, put it on top of my suitcase, and gave the rest of house one final sad look. Shawn and I both finished our beer, left the bottles on the table, and turned for the door.

There, standing in the doorway, was my beautiful daughter, with her hands on her hips. She looked shocked, to say the least. I had hoped to avoid this kind of confrontation. Being honest with myself, I really was glad she had come so I could say goodbye to her. I loved her almost as much as her treacherous mother, probably more now.

"Daddy, what's going on?"

I couldn't lie to her, but I had to omit some details about my future. "Honey, after last night, your mom and I are having some pretty serious problems. I need to get away for a while to sort some things out."

"WHAT?!?" she asked, incredulous. "What happened?"

"All I can say is that things are pretty tough right now. Not sure if your mom told you, but we had a pretty big fight last night. I'm dealing with a lot right now, and don't know how your mom and I can get past it. I can tell you though, that I love you with all my heart. I will always be available for you, should you need anything at all." I moved to her and hugged her tightly as I said this.

"I haven't talked to Mom yet...Dad what happened?"

"Honey, basically your mom got mad at me, she thought I cheated on her. Before even talking to me about it, she made some pretty bad choices, to get revenge on me."

She pulled away from me, a scowl on her face. "So did you? DID YOU CHEAT ON MOM?" she asked vehemently.

"Absolutely not! I would never do that to her. EVER," I replied to her, much calmer than I felt at that time. I really wanted to just start breaking shit, but held it in, for my daughter's sake.

She visibly cooled some, and went on. "What do you mean, she got revenge on you?" she asked.

"You will need to ask her, honey. It hurts too much for me to talk about right now."

Sadly, her face took on an expression of pain, as I imagine the light bulb went on for her. I was afraid of how she would handle it, but she just nodded her head, tears starting to form at the corners of her eyes. All I could do was hold her, and try to give her the strength to carry on. Problem was, I wasn't sure I had that much strength to go around. It took a full four minutes, but she finally calmed enough to release the hold she had on me. It broke my heart again to see her in pain, knowing that things would probably only get worse. DAMN IT CAITLIN! IF YOU HAD ONLY TALKED WITH ME FIRST!

"Honey, none of the problems that your mom and I are going through are your fault, do you hear me?" She nodded her acknowledgement. "Maddy, if anything comes up, call my cell phone. When your mother gets home later, just tell her I had to get away for a while, and I will call her when I feel up to talking with her."

"OK Daddy," she said as she sniffled some more. "Are you going to get a divorce?" Those damn tears were coming back again.

I tried to intercept the dam bursting, "Honey, honestly I don't know. I really love your mother, but I need some time to think. No matter what, you know that your mom and I both love you very much. You can TRUST me, OK?"

She nodded again, but still looked on the verge of crying. She is so tough, and it makes me so proud to see my little girl all grown up. It may all be a part of life, but it was still hard to see them grow up. Anyone else that has kids knows what I am talking about. She stepped to me and we embraced again, this one for goodbye.

"I love you so much. I WILL call you, you can count on it!"

"I love you too daddy!"

I spun on my heels, and opened the front door. Shawn was waiting for me outside, having carried a few of my things out already, while I was comforting my daughter. I grabbed my laptop bag, and slung my gym duffel bag over my shoulder. We proceeded to get into our own cars, for the drive back to his place. It was a somber drive, and even the cloudy sky agreed with my mood. I couldn't help but wonder where Caitlin was right then. The more I thought about it, the more pissed off I got. My partner was going to get his, that was about the only certainty I had right then.

My car doesn't have an autopilot, but thankfully my brain did. I kept the car on the road somehow, and even managed to follow my friends' car all the way back to his place. We unloaded my stuff into his spare room, and I put my toiletries in his bathroom. We sat facing each other for what seemed like eternity, but only ten minutes had passed.

"OK, that's it. I am taking you out to get hammered. Enough of this moping around shit! Let's go, right now!"

Shawn was obviously as tired as I was of the pervasive funk that had settled over us (think Pigpen in Peanuts). "Ugh," I grunted as an intelligent answer, and then articulated it with, "I guess." I was definitely preparing for a 'high society' event at the moment.

Well, I'd like to say that Shawn and I had a great time, laughed it up and just got drunk, but that would be a lie. I was still miserable, but at least after getting so drunk, I was laughing at some stuff. The Tequila shots are what did me in though, well, pretty sure it was Tequila. Shawn had them feeding us a steady stream of those little round glasses, and somewhere along the way I blacked out.

I have these fleeting moments of clarity, when I was capable of conscious thought, but for the most part I just remember waking up still feeling drunk. I was on the floor, next to the couch, feeling like I got tossed around in a Tornado. To add insult to injury, I was pretty sure I was naked. I don't think I want to know what happened now. I think blacking out might have been the best thing to happen to me in the last few days. God, that dinner with my wife and daughter had been fantastic, and that was only three days ago now. How could life get so screwed up so quickly?