Standard disclaimer
. "This story is entirely fiction, fiction, fiction! Characters in sex scenes are eighteen years old or older, as should be you the reader, if not please move on. All characters and occurrences are imaginary, any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. All references to; current events, locations, buildings or organizations are used merely as story props. Not implying any form of reality to those entities. Repeat rule one, this story is entirely fictional.
Before I start this story I need to express a huge amount of thanks to GreenMGB for his efforts to make my stumbling grammar and shocking punctuation much more readable. Thanks. That he's volunteered to do more amazes me.
This is my third foray into the Loving Wives category. Each one I've tried to make different from what is usually found in this category. Hopefully, this one will be too. I'll warn you right up front, this one's a tragedy. To some extent I believe all tales of marital infidelity are a tragedy of varying degrees.
But my purpose in this narrative is to delve into one man's reasons for his part in this calamity. Also this man is the one no one likes to delve into, the cad, antihero. This tragic story usually ends up being reported on the evening news.
As with my previous two 'Loving Wives' stories, this one deals with the 'aftermath' of marital infidelity. But the majority of this story deals with the 'back story,' of what happened to get to this tragic occurrence and why.
Plus, it's a story about a childhood friend who's conflicted by the tragedy and his friend. It has robbed him of his friend, but he knows why and that his friend is accountable for wrongs done. In fact, many people would say his friend got just what he deserved. But, as people often say, there's two sides to every story. But they're seldom 50% good and 50% bad and we each determine those percentages from our own viewpoints.
So, my tale is about a grieving childhood friend. Who has to attempt to put some public closure on a tragedy he might understand better than anyone else.
But what path does his public closure take? The safe sane road most traveled, or does he step out and try to lay blame where he thinks it should be? A place most people would never question, so please read through to the end. It has a minor twist attempting to satisfy most people, that almost impossible task.
Most of the story will be in this man's mind as he grapples with his decision. I tried to make this story's pace and timeline resemble a mind pondering something important it really doesn't want too. So, it jumps around a bit, oh..., and clichés abound.
I also wanted to try to write a story shorter than my recent (and up-coming) have been. Yet still keep the value and the message of the story intact. (I spectacularly failed. @20,000 words, @6-7 Lit. pages long.) So I guess, it's a terminal case of mental diarrhea.
Some off-screen graphic violence, sex is off-screen too, little dialogue with a lot of mental constipation. (Diarrhea-constipation, my mind must be in the toilet today)
So Please Enjoy.
God damn that's hot, huh oh..., fiddlesticks..., yeah fiddlesticks that's what I meant to say. A guy's pushing his luck to sit out in a South Texas sun on the steps of the church, damn hot steps, and curse God. Plus, I guess for Jimmy's sake I'd better not curse and leave God in the best mood I can. He'll have a hard-enough time climbing up God's heavenly road as it is. He was a damn good man who's packing a lot of sin on an uphill climb.
Yeah, his road's a lot harder to walk than the minor bump in mine I'm looking at. Oh why... oh why did I ever agree to speak at his funeral! But it was impossible to gaze into his dad's eyes and say no. Shaky old man with a walker who can hardly stand or move. 'Rode hard and put away wet,' is a popular saying, especially here in Texas.
For Jimmy's dad it was, rode hard, put away wet and broken. He'd been a professional rodeo rider for way too many years. Proud, proud old man whose eyes shouldn't and can't hold tears. Saying no to him took more than I had.
Jimmy's all he had left..., now only a broken old body and memories.
But hell, he asked me yesterday afternoon, not an hour from now. At least I think I've got an hour; damn priest knows he's got a captive audience and he'll bleed at least an hour-long sermon out of it. But how can I decide what to say in an hour? When I've failed to compose anything since yesterday, damn near all night too.
Having nothing to say is not my problem. Four years old, who can remember when you're four, I can't. Jimmy's family moved across the street from mine when Jimmy was four too. So Jimmy's always been in my life.
So yeah, I got a lot to say about Jimmy..., James Ray Barrett.
Then Bethany moved in next door to him a year later, at 5 too. It became the Three Musketeers forever. No stone unturned, no tree unclimbed, and no mud puddle unexplored. The Three Musketeers conquered all; worms, snakes, and toads held no fear for the Musketeers. Spring rain and summer's heat caused no delay in our time to play. The winds of fall or the chill of winter didn't keep us from emerging as winners of 'cowboys and Indians' or 'cops and robbers.'
For three young kids it approached dwelling in the Garden of Eden, as near as we would ever get anyway.
Even school time never slowed us down. The Three Musketeers in one classroom..., ah hell, Katie bar the door. It's a really good thing South Texas school teachers are a special breed, and they're not allowed to carry firearms. Otherwise school classes would've been a lot smaller, minus a Musketeer or two.
But, like in the real Garden of Eden ours developed a snake or two. One raises its head in the life of every young boy or girl. It's called puberty and the resulting loss of childhood innocence. It can stand a young person's world on its head, and it affected Jimmy the most.
Sure, Bethany already had periods and her growing boobs were becoming apparent. Me, for some reason, it didn't affect much. Oh sure, I started getting fuzz down there and a few more muscles. Mom said my voice got deeper, but these changes seem to roll right off my back as no big deal.
But not Jimmy, no he got the whole ball of wax all at one time. He shot up and stood over 6 feet tall and still growing. His shoulders spread out like he already had football pads on. Muscles, no his muscles ended up with muscles. His voice cracked and broke, squeaked, then shook the ground with the bass rumble he'd finally developed. Hell, Jimmy 'had' to shave daily in the eighth grade. The very start of puberty pushed Jimmy into the greatest mistake of his life.
He fell in love with one of his best friends, the girl next door.
Twelve, thirteen years old and he fell in love. Yeah, I've heard all the words; puppy love, double-double like, summer crush, springtime infatuation, or just plain growing hormones. But I knew different, because he had the same expression on his face as my dad did..., That Day.
Dad and Mom had gotten into a huge fight and she drug our suitcases from storage and threw clothes at them. Incensed and so angry at each other, so focused on their fight they didn't even notice me. Scared out of my ever-loving mind, shit! All kids understand what divorce is, and mine stared at me... MINE? Hell yeah, kids are as much a part of divorce as the parents. Even at 9 I knew THAT! What caused the fight wasn't apparent, and I don't think they remembered either.
