One of my favorite authors here is BigGuy33, who has written many great stories. He has an open invitation to write an alternate ending to any of his stories -- my problem with that has always been I thought they ended just as they should.
One story finally tempted me.
Melody
. If you've not read it, I strongly suggest you do so. It is well written and great fun.
In addition to the author's blanket invitation, I requested (and received) his express permission to write this alternative ending.
The premise of the story is the protagonist, Henry overhears his wife on the phone. She is telling someone his children are not his. Henry finds out an accident when he was young caused him to be sterile. His mother knew, but never told him.
After Henry was married and both he and his wife were disappointed in not having children, Henry's mother approached his wife with the idea that Henry's younger cousin could father the children. Henry and the cousin looked enough alike that no one would ever find out Henry was not the father.
An accident involving Henry's oldest son reveals the secret.
Henry cannot abide that his mother, his wife, and his cousin all betrayed him. He takes a leave of absence from his job, buys a motorcycle, dresses like a biker, and heads for parts unknown.
Henry is traveling when he meets Melody. The original story is from Henry's point of view. This tale from Melody's. The six days of Henry's and Melody's meeting are chronicled in the original story.
The six days accounts, which follow are nearly identical to the original story. The tag-lines are changed because my story is from Melody's perspective, instead of Henry's.
DAY 1 - Saturday
Paul and I were sitting in our usual spot at The Dirty Dog. Paul is my brother; my name is Melody. The Dirty Dog is the hang out for us -- free spirits and bikers, who work in the area. We are here, most nights, doing what we do.
I smiled at Paul, "Nice day today."
"Wow, Mel, you always were the talker."
"Oh, up yours." I laughed, truth was there was not much to talk about, but that didn't matter, this wasn't a debate club, it was a bar. The same crowd eating and drinking the same things, night after night. Steady. We loved it.
"Oh, Yo! Look at this!" I looked up and Paul was pointing toward the door.
I hadn't seen anyone like him, maybe ever. He was dressed like a biker and looked like man used to an office and regular hours. He nervously scanned the room, found a table and sat down. He was new scenery and might be worth watching, so I did. Every so often he looked our way but was too polite to stare back at me.
I was ready for him. I had my hair down; it goes almost to my waist. I was wearing skinny jeans, boots, a black T-shirt, and denim vest. He might not fit in here, but I did. "Isn't he cute! Just tryin' to blend in." I tried not to giggle as I said it.
Paul was having fun with his appearance, too, "Oh, he's fucking adorable. I wonder if he's in one of the bigger gangs?"
Have you ever seen anyone trying to act nonchalant? His look was like he'd farted and was pretending it wasn't him. I told Paul, "I keep smiling at him and he can't look at me long enough to smile back. I guess I am going to have to introduce myself."
"Mel, leave the poor city boy alone. He ain't ready for you."
"I might be ready for him, though." I got up and walked to his table. He kept his eyes down until I was standing right in front of him. He looked up and finally smiled, so I sat down.
"Accountant?" I said.
"I'm sorry?"
"Are you an accountant?"
"No."
"Mmm. Dentist?"
"Nope, not a dentist," he answered, a smile slowly came to his lips. "Why the questions?"
"Well, you're sure as hell not a biker so I figure mid-life crisis, and those guys are usually accountants or dentists or something similar."
The smile left; he was no longer amused.
"Didn't pass the test, huh?"
"Not at all," I threw my head back and laughed.
He stood up.
"Thanks for the reality check," he said, and started for the door.
I grabbed his arm and turned him back toward me.
"Hey, wait. I wasn't trying to run you off."
"No, just trying to embarrass and humiliate me. Well done."
He pulled away from me yet tried to stealthily move toward the door. Sensitive! Somebody did him dirty not long ago. I guess I better undo my part of his woe. I caught him getting on his bike, helmet in hand.
He looked at me like I was offending him, "What are you doing?"
"Letting you take me for a ride."
Walking out I'd tied my hair back with a blue bandana. I figured for a guy like him, it was all the protection I needed.
"Helmet?" he asked
"You gonna crash?"
"Not planning to but..."
"Then let's go."
"I don't want any trouble from your boyfriend."
"No problem. Don't have one."
"Oh. I thought the guy you were sitting with..."
"That's my brother."
"That might be worse."
"It'll be fine. Let's go."
He started the engine and I wrapped my arms around him, I held tight driving "the unbridled girls" into his back. I felt him stiffen, well maybe not like you think, I guess he probably stiffened there, too. But his back got more rigid; he was fun to torment. We just started riding.
I thought I'd show him the town, so I shouted turning directions, now and then. That was boring so I started directing him to my house.
"Who lives here?" he asked.
I had gotten off the bike. I sighed, turned, and looked back at him, shaking my head. "I do. C'mon in."
We walked into the house, and I offered him a drink. He settled for water. I handed him a glass and we sat down on the couch.
"You're not nervous, inviting a guy you just met into your house?"
I had to suppress an outright laugh, "No offense but I'm pretty sure I can take you,"
He is just too precious.
"What's your name?"
"Henry. You?"
"Melody. Everyone calls me Mel."
"Okay Melody." He smiled. "So why are we here?"
"To talk. I obviously hit a sore spot and now, I don't think you're having a mid-life crisis, at least not a traditional one. I thought you might wanna talk about it."
I guess I must have hit a nerve. He launched into this tale of his wife, his mother, and some cousin, who looked like him conspired to have his children fathered for him. I didn't say much, an occasional nod or uh-huh, but it was hard to wrap my head around.
Of course, my crowd is almost exclusively single. The men are all such macho ass holes, they would never admit to being unable to father children. The women, on the other hand, were most often caught with a pregnancy, whose originator they didn't know, or for other practical reasons would never take to term. Life is cruel, married people wanting kids they can't have and single people with pregnancies they don't want. He was finally ranting about this cousin fucking his wife and I asked, "Do you believe that it was solely to get pregnant?"
"I think so. I've been angry and lashing out, but I don't think they were ever really 'lovers' in that sense of the word. But that doesn't change how I was deceived and manipulated."
"I agree. I'm just trying to pinpoint the real problem. Any chance you'll be able to forgive her?"
My agreement was more an acknowledgement of how he felt. The whole thing didn't add up, to me. Why didn't his mother tell him he was sterile? How did she talk the wife into the scheme? This is not the time to ask, he's too mad.
"Part of me wants to, to get back to where we were. We were happy, right up until Nate getting hurt. But even then, we came together as a family. But I can't un-know this and it's tainting everything she says and does or has ever done. Every time I think about my kids, I think about what she's done."
"Did you notice you called them 'my kids'?"
Curiouser and curiouser.
"Because they are, Melody. What she did doesn't change that, at least not in the practical sense. I've been there every day of their lives and will continue to be. This isn't about them; it's about her."
I cocked my head, like I didn't understand -- well, not like I didn't understand -- in fact, I didn't. He is going to continue to be there every day of their lives, but not hers? Why is he here? But I didn't want to push, now. I sat and listened. He kept talking. Finally, he looked at his watch, like it was later than he thought and started to stand up. He was going to leave!
"It's kind of late, Henry. Are you sure you're not too tired to ride?" Poor guy is definitely cut from different cloth than my usual companions.
"I am kind of tired, but I think I'll be okay. It's not far."
"Why not just crash here?"
Is it going to take dinner and flowers? He's not been in too many biker-girl's homes, lately. I guess it would be sweet if we weren't biological creatures. This is what they do in fairy tales; I always suspected those people were not anatomically correct.
"I appreciate the offer, but I don't think this couch is gonna be big enough for me."
I'd seen him peek into the second bedroom I used mostly as my exercise room; a stationary bike and no bed. "That's not really what I had in mind," I said and smiled.