Serie Noire 01

By Likegoodwinecopyrighted September 2011

I am starting a new series dealing with the darker side of love relationships. Once in a while I will add new stories but each one will be stand-alone stories.

There is almost no sex to speak of in this short one. Enjoy!

Your votes and constructive comments are appreciated, as they will help me grow.

Thanks to Blackstallion21 for his patient editing

I love power outages at work! If it's early in the day, we just sit around and talk while waiting for the power to come back on. If it happens near the end of our shift, the boss simply sends us back home. That's what happened this nice Wednesday afternoon, near 4PM. We all took off, a joyous bunch of employees having an early dismissal from the drudgery of our work.

I was so happy that I stopped at a liquor store to buy a nice bottle of white wine. I would surprise Nancy, have the supper on the way when she would come back from work, and we would enjoy a nice meal. Fettuccini Alfredo would be perfect, with a side of Caesar salad. I knew that Wednesday both Ross, my eldest, a sturdy 14 year old boy, and Melanie, 12 years old - almost 21 - would be coming home late because of their basketball and soccer practices. My relationship with Nancy has been a bit predictable and even at time distant lately, and it was a great opportunity to do something different.

I pulled in the driveway, noticing an unfamiliar grey Lexus parked at the curb in front of the house. Weird! It was the only car parked at the curb on the whole street. It couldn't be a visitor of the Harris' as they were still in Florida.

I let myself in the house by the kitchen door, put the wine in the fridge and started looking for the ingredients I needed. Suddenly, I stopped in my tracks. I was sure that I heard some noise; noise not belonging in an empty house. I listened carefully but heard nothing more. I shook off the though and checked in the fridge if we had Parmesan cheese.

There, I heard that noise again! I stood straight in front of the fridge, my ears trying to catch and pinpoint what that noise could be. It seemed to be coming from upstairs. An intruder? I though about grabbing a knife, a big one, then though better about it. It was probably Ross or Melanie back home earlier than expected. I decided however to go upstairs and make sure.

As I was climbing the stairs, the noise started to be easier to recognize. A woman was overwhelmed with passion. Oh my God! Ross had a girlfriend upstairs. I felt a little bit of fatherly pride to know that my son was definitely my son, but I soon realized that he was a bit young to be banging a girlfriend. And I hoped all my advice about protection was well understood.

Once upstairs, I hesitated to go and barge on my son while he was probably having sex for the first time in his young life. Shit! He was doing it in our bedroom. Nancy will simply kill him when she discovered it.

All these thoughts were suddenly erased from my mind. I could now recognize perfectly the woman in the throws of a passionate fucking. It was Nancy. I was shocked for a few seconds. My wife of 18 years was fucking in our bedroom. Not that it mattered that it was in our bedroom or in a motel room, I must say. Both occurrences would leave me in the same mindset as right now. I felt a rage I never felt before.

The door of the bedroom was ajar. I kicked it open, and there was my 'loving wife', on her back, her legs spread wide while her boss, Tom Beaulieu, was pounding her. They both stopped in mid-stride – or should I say in mid-thrust – and looked at me. Tom face showed mostly fear. That was all right and suitable for the situation. The look on Nancy face was totally different and maddening. She gave me the 'What now?' look.

Let me explain. For the last year, our relationship had been a bit on the down side. After 18 years of married life, we had lost a lot of the initial love and fulfillment to live as a couple. But it had been going down hill rapidly in the last year. It seemed that nothing I did, nothing I suggested was right.

Our sex life had deteriorated also a lot in the last year. If I could coax her to have sex once a month, I was lucky. It was hard to take. At 40 years old, Nancy was a very attractive brunette, all soft curves and with a killer face. And me, Alex Henry, at 42 years old, I still had a strong sex drive and it soured my mood to be rebuffed so often in the bedroom.

But our problems went beyond the sex. We didn't talk much anymore. She wasn't responsive at all. If I started a serious talk, she would simply give me an exasperated look and brush me off.

I did many attempts over the last year to regain some love and harmony in our life. I had been rebuked at every corner.

Planning a nice intimate supper at an upscale restaurant?

"What now? Your salary just pays barely enough to live decently and now you want to spend it on a supper? Forget it!"

If the kids were away with their friends and we had the house to us for many hours, and I plan a nice supper in a romantic gesture?

"What now? Am I supposed to feel so overwhelmed that I would let you fuck me tonight? Forget it! I'm not in the mood"

But today, it was a loveless and final statement. I had surprised her having sex with her boss. I was wondering what the 'What now?' look meant. She soon made it clear.

"So you finally caught up with life," she said. "It's about time because I was getting really fed up with you. What can I say, I don't love you anymore, and I found somebody way better!"

I am really sorry to describe what happened next. I am not that kind of guy! I don't believe that violence is an answer to anything, except, maybe violence itself. The only way I can describe it is that I snapped.

There was no way I could lift a finger on the mother of my kids. But there was that asshole now standing naked in my bedroom, grinning at me. He was about the same size as me, in every way.

I jumped at him, landing a jab right on his chin. He went down. I started to kick and hit him. I was hurting him real bad. Not that I am athletic, but I was really enraged. My fists were raining down on him as fast as I could, and then everything went black.

***

I woke up, groggy. I was at the foot of my bed, a paramedic on his knees, leaning over me. I saw a couple of policemen behind him, but no sign of my wife. After making sure the concussion wasn't too bad, the paramedic got up.

"He's all yours guys! We've got to be on our way with the other guy" he said and left the room.

Not too gently, one cop grabbed me and lifted me back on my feet. The next thing I knew, the other one was behind me and was handcuffing me.

"Hey! What are you doing?" I asked.

"Arresting you for assault causing bodily harm," said one cop. And he followed that by reading me my rights.

"Oh yeah; that!" I thought calmly. My anger having faded quite a bit when Nancy hit me on the head with the alarm clock, I realized that this was the consequence of my fit earlier this evening. I hoped that the beating I gave Tom Beaulieu was not too serious. Not that I gave a shit about his ass, but I would be in real trouble if he would die on me.

"Oh come on, men! I'm not a criminal. I surprised that guy fucking MY wife in MY bed and in MY house. He got what he deserved!" I pleaded with the cops.

"Well, that's not what we heard," one cop flatly answered, starting to drag me out of the room and pushing me downstairs, a firm grip on my arm.

"What did you hear?" I asked, but received no answer.

Arriving downstairs I saw Nancy, all dressed up, sitting on the armchair in the living room. Before I could say something, she got up from the chair, rushed toward me and slapped me in the face.

"Take that monster away," she yelled. "He scares me and he hurt one of our best friends."

A cop gently restrained her. "It's alright Mam! Let us do our job. We will take that wife beater away now. He won't hurt you anymore," he said.

Only at the Police station did I learn the lies concocted by my wife. When the cops arrived, she and her boss were dressed. Even with him badly hurt, they had time to devise an awful lie. They told the cop that her boss stopped by the house to drop some papers when he walked on a scene where I was about to beat my wife, an occurrence that she said was happening very often lately. He said that he tried to stop me and that I assaulted him. He also told them that a few times before he saw me slapping my kids around.

I tried to have a friend to take my case for my arraignment the next day, but he flatly refused, saying that he was greatly disappointed to hear that I was beating Nancy and the kids. He was deaf to my pleas of innocence. At least, he referred me to another lawyer that works criminal cases.

The next day, I was in for a surprise. My lawyer was still wet behind the ears and totally outmatched by the prosecutor and Nancy's lawyer. Before I knew it, all my assets were frozen – no way to put up bail by myself – and I had a restraining order to stay away from my wife, her boss, and my two kids. I had to stay at the prison another day till my brother was able to come up with the bail money.

One funny thing I learned in that process – well, not that fun from my perspective – is that my alleged behavior was never referred to as alleged. I was a wife beater. When the case went to court, I was unable to have my kids to corroborate that I was not beating on them or my wife. The judge gobbled up the prosecutor claim that the kids were too scared of me and would probably lie in fear of retribution.

In no time, I was sent to jail for 2 years, losing my job and all my friends in the process. I was parole after 12 months. My brother was by my side all the way, despite his wife efforts to cut me off. After all, I might taint my brother with my wife beating habits. During that period, I was divorced and the few assets we had were devoted to replace my child support when I was in jail.

Out finally on the street, my ass still sore from the show of affection of Bubba, my cellmate, it took me a while to find a half decent job. Nobody wants to hire a jailbird. I finally found one, at a third of my previous salary, just a few dollars over the minimum wage.

I didn't date much for the next year. However, my few attempts to charm a lady were successful. I am still a good-looking 44 year old unattached man. The problems – aside from my poor financial situation - always arose when asked about my past. I have a tendency to be an honest guy and always hope that other people will recognize and appreciate that. No such luck! The part about me surprising my wife in bed and beating the shit out of her lover always went smoothly; the part about me being fraudulently pictured as a wife and kids beater, not so smoothly! The two times I reached that level of intimacy with a woman – to tell her the whole sordid story – killed all relationship. Both women even changed their phone number within a day of hearing my story.

I missed my children very much over the last two years. Ross would be now 16 years old and Melanie 14. I still had a restraining order that I can't even fight without money. The closer I could get was 100 yards, but I did went to see them a few times after school, at the proper distance. Two years is a long time to be cut off from your loved ones. They were now living with Nancy and Tom. They married not long after my divorce and Tom's divorce. I heard he wasn't as lucky as Nancy. His wife really took him to the cleaner. She had proof of his cheating.

And then, the sun rose. The birds started to sing again, the flowers bloomed and my life changed. One morning, on her way to work, Nancy was involved in a car accident. She died on the scene.

"Well, that took care of one restraining order," I thought upon hearing the news. "I never visit the cemetery. What about the kids now?"

I learned soon enough that my former in-laws were keeping that restraining order active. I also learned that Tom Beaulieu didn't want to care for my kids and that my ex in-laws would be gaining custody.

Finally came the day of the service, in a funeral home. Restraining order or not, I wanted badly to be there. I was ready to go back to jail if it came to that – I had learned that Bubba was released a few months after me.

The first person to notice me was Ross, my son. How tall he's become in the last two years. He was at least 6'3" and towering over everybody around him. He didn't seem very enthusiastic about seeing me, but made nevertheless his way toward me.

"What are you doing here Dad? You abandoned Mom, Melanie and me for two years, and now you just show up?" he said harshly.

"Oh my God!" I realized. "They were fed lies too. I have to debunk that story."

"Ross, listen to me!" I started to say. "I didn't abandon you guys. Your Mom had me put in jail because..." but I didn't have time to finish as I was interrupted by Malcolm, my former father-in-law.

"Because he was beating on you and your mother," roared Malcolm.

I turned around and realized that I was surrounded by Malcolm and his two sons, my ex brothers-in-law.

"And you get out of here before we call the cops," he added. He grabbed me and began to pull me toward the exit. I wasn't resisting.

"Wait a second Pop!" said my son loudly. It was so loud that we all stopped in our tracks and a lot a people were staring at our little group.

"What do you mean by 'beating on me and my Mom'?" asked Ross. "Dad never lifted a single finger on either Melanie, me, or Mom."

"It's alright Sonny! He can't hurt you anymore," said Malcolm to Ross.

"Pop! Look at me!" Ross said forcibly. "I am already taller and bigger than my Dad and I have absolutely no fear of him, never have for that matter."

Malcolm stood there a bit hesitant.

"He never beat you guys?" asked Malcolm, dubious.

"Never!" answered a determined Ross. "What gave you that idea?"

We were suddenly interrupted when a loud "Dad!" erupted behind us. I turned around and Melanie jumped in my arms.

"Oh Dad! You're finally back!" she said. "I missed you so much."

Her hug was fierce and I gave back as much as I received. I missed them so much.

"OK, fess up grandpa!" said Ross, unrelenting.

I could see that Malcolm wished he wasn't there. After many harrumphs, he started to tell the story in front of everybody.

"Well, when your Dad assaulted your Mom and Tom tried to stop him..." started to say Malcolm.

"Wait a minute!" I yelled. "I never assaulted Nancy. I found her in our bed fucking with her boss. I gave him the beating he deserved, but never laid a finger on Nancy."

That statement was received like a shock. Everybody was simply staring at me.

"Excuse me Malcolm for saying that," I added, "but your daughter was a slut cheating wife that I caught fucking with her boss... in my house... in my bed. She also lied to the cops saying that I was beating her and the kids, making me the double bad guy. I did deserve some jail time for beating up Beaulieu, but not to be completely cut off from my kids... and all my friends." At the end, I was barely audible. I had to refrain from crying and letting out two years of pain and grief. "She took everything from me: my family, my friends, my job, my dignity. I have nothing left but my love for the kids."

I heard from somebody in the back of the people surrounding us: "Don't speak ill of the dead!"

I recognized the voice before I saw him press his way toward us. Tom Beaulieu! He still had his superior grin on his face.

"What lies was he telling you guys?" he said. "Bouah! I heard the last touching part." He added feigning crying. "Well, you can have your kids back now. I certainly won't take care of them, but not before I call 911 and have them arrest you for breaking the restraining order against you."

I made a move toward him but Ross stopped me.

"What? Want to beat me again and go back to jail?" asked Tom, still grinning, and holding his cell phone to his ear.

What happened next surprised everybody.

"Don't Dad" Ross told me. "He is not worth it. You would go back to jail. As for me..."

He turned around, grabbed Tom's phone, dropped it on the floor, and crushed it under his heels. That, by itself was surprising. But then Ross turned toward me and whispered: "I am still a minor!"

He then turned around and with a strong left hand hipper cut, he sent Tom to the floor.

I was totally moved by my boy's gesture. Two years of sorrow received a balm that no money can buy. I was crying, Melanie in my arms.

Some friends of Tom took him out of the funeral home. Malcolm took control and asked to proceed with the service.

Ross turned toward me. "Do you really want to attend Dad?"

"No!" I simply said. "I have nothing good to say about that woman, so it's better if I just shut the fuck up and leave... but before..."

I then walked toward the open coffin and stood there for a few seconds. I raked my throat very hard, and I spit all I had on the very dead and still face of Nancy.

"Nancy, I promised that every anniversary of your death, I'll go to celebrate and piss on your grave."

I walked out of the funeral home.

Half an hour later, my two kids came out and we left together, leaving behind two very sad parents.

For those who are interested, Tom tried to have Ross charged with assault but never succeeded as Ross was a minor. However, we did sue Tom for his perjury at my court hearing two years prior and won an interesting sum of money to get us back on track – that and the insurance money from Nancy's death, of course.