Hope you enjoy this story. First of mine in this category. Comments are welcome. Comments about how to improve my writing are especially welcome!
I'm Gone!
When I slowly came into consciousness, the first sense to overwhelm me was smell. Something smelt putrid! It smelt as if someone had vomited. My mind immediately went back to the time when our kids were young. They'd often crawl into bed with us feeling sick. Many times also, it was too late and they smelt of vomit. "Are you ok Jason?" I mumbled. "Give me a minute and I'll clean you up and get you settled."
Next sense was sight. My eyes shot open and stared straight down to a carpeted floor. It was dark, but a small night light was enough for me to make out the wet gooey stain on the floor next to the bed I was in. That explained the smell! My head was over the side of the bed and I was still fully dressed, sprawled all over the quilt! I couldn't comprehend what I was seeing and smelling. My head was hurting from the constant regular pounding that my heart was inflicting on it. "Where the fuck am I?" I wondered.
That's when my mind woke up. I looked around the room as I gingerly sat up, avoiding the mess on the carpet. The change of horizontal to vertical sent my head spinning and my stomach started to cramp. That dry, then cold sweat followed by pressure behind my chest was enough for me to know that I was about to vomit again. I stumbled around, finding the shower just in time as I emptied my stomach all over the shower cubicle floor. It took me a while to slowly turn on the shower to just sit under the re-energising flow of water, clothes and all. The clothes came off and the water became hotter. I washed and gathered my thoughts. Thankfully, that last purge of my stomach's contents seemed to settle it for a while and I felt more confident that it wasn't about to do it again any time soon. Dry and naked, I wandered around the room, obviously a motel room and quite a good one at that. I found my overnight bag and changed into clean clothes. The wet clothes, I wrung out as best I could and put them into the garbage liner that always travelled with Joan, my wife, whenever we travelled.
"Joan!" I said aloud. "Where the fuck is Joan?"
I remembered. I remembered that we had left home at 7:30 on Saturday night to go to Joan's annual work shindig. Actually, I left home then, alone. I knew that there may be some drinking happening, so I finished the leftovers in the fridge from two nights ago. They tasted slightly off, but I always prided myself in having an iron stomach, and besides, that's all there was to fill my stomach before I added alcohol! Joan had already come to the Marriot to start the drinking and partying before I got here. All of her office staff and work colleagues came together on a bus, straight after work. Her boss, Bill Hemmings, sort of insisted that it would be like that. It had been like that for all of the twenty years that Joan had worked for him. I usually didn't come to these parties, as I had to work late, closing my mechanical business and cleaning up. The couple of times that I did show, early on, it was very clear that I was not very welcome. Bill Hemmings, the CEO/owner of Hemmings and Hemmings, a very successful financial institution was a veritable pain in the arse! He took every opportunity to belittle me, trade workers in general and small businesses which had to come cap-in-hand to get finance to operate their businesses. That was me unfortunately. I had to borrow money from H and H to get my business off the ground when Joan and I first got married. Money I had fully repaid within a year simply because of my hard work and insistence on getting everything right for the customers. That often left me coming home late and with only just enough dollars to keep food on the table. "Pay your debts first!" was the sagely advice my father drummed into me. This was something my wife Joan continually groaned about. "You're always late! We live like paupers! Luckily, I have my job with H and H. At least the kids get some small luxuries!"
I remembered Joan insisting that I come to the party this year. "Even Bill wants you there," she added.
"Great!" I thought. "More of the same bullshit from a rich, arrogant arsehole!" I tried over many years to understand why Bill was such an arsehole towards me. I couldn't remember ever doing or saying anything to him which would bring on that attitude. I am a fairly easy-going guy who takes people as they come. It was this relaxed, sincere demeanour, I think, which endeared the many customers to my business, apart from the excellent mechanical skills, of course. But this thing with Bill had me stumped. I attempted to discuss it with Joan many times over the years, but each time she just stonewalled me, saying things like, "You're such a baby Jack. Don't take everything so personal. I don't have any problems with him and he is a great boss. Before you even suggest it, know that I will never work anywhere else!" End of conversation! Just like that! Luckily, I didn't have to interact with arsehole Bill, or any of the arrogant managers at Joan's work at all. Home discussions didn't include any details of Joan's work at all. A fact that bothered me sometimes, but as long as I didn't have to involve myself with that tribe of self-centred pricks, I was happy. The kids and the everyday routines of a functioning household kept the conversation flow happening around our dinner table.
Talk of my business usually elicited some grunts and head shakes from Joan, but the topic quickly changed to something else. I learnt early on that Joan was just not interested in my business affairs, so I eventually kept them to myself. I kept the fact that my business had attracted that much custom, that I hired two excellent mechanics who had the same work ethic and insistence on quality that I had. I kept the fact that I had profited well over half a million dollars in the last three years. This money I kept in an account in my name only. Joan never asked how much I earned, so I never said, as that is how she obviously wanted it. The money I had, I was going to split between our two children, Jason, now twenty, and Mary, now nineteen. It was going to be one hell of a wedding present for them, if and when they got married! I provided all of the household money for our family. I paid the mortgage, the utilities, the phone plan, the car payments and the food bill. I paid the credit card when due. Joan paid nothing! Well, she did pay for expensive clothes and toys for the kids. She also made sure that the wardrobe she kept was modern. She paid for her gym membership and expensive make-overs. Sometimes I wondered why she bought all of these expensive clothes. I hardly ever saw her in most of them. She only seemed to wear them out to work functions. "I have to look good for the potential clients Jack!" she often informed me.
