Disclaimer: All the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this story are the product of the author's imagination and used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
PART ONE
Being the foreman for some time now, Ι kept saying the project manager -don't get me started with that clueless jerk- that we should have put a heavy-duty chain on the crane for this project. 'No, it's a big expense to buy a new one, ours will be fine'. Take it now, asshole, the chain broke, the load plummeted to the track and the ground. Thank goodness I saw the chain was about to break, I pulled with hands, feet, kicks, punches and shouts the truck driver and everyone under the crane, and luckily there were no casualties, just some minor scratches and a truck smashed from the cargo crashing into it. The manager-my-ass and the representatives of the insurance company arrived, and had to inspect and settle things up so they took the decision to shut the site down for the day. The guys were going to the pool bar but I wasn't in the mood, best get home early for once.
"Come on, chief, what are you gonna do at home alone?"
"Thanks for the invite, but I think I'll have to pass on the morning beers. I'll putter around the house instead and save my drinking for later when the game's on".
In fact, since Alice died, I'm not in the mood for much. My daughter Abigail makes fun of me. "Dad, have you turned into a cave dweller? You're always cooped up in here. Seriously, you're 40, not 80."
"No, I'm not. I go to the gym, I box, and I can still lift more than most guys half my age."
"Yes, I know that, Dad. But socializing is what you need, not just growing mice"
"Mice? What mice?"
"Your muscles, Dad! In Italian, as you should know better, they call them 'muscoli' which actually comes from the Latin word musculus - that means little mouse!"
"Muscoli, huh? Great. Now I get to be schooled by a smart-ass
bambina
."
"Actually, it's Gail and I'm a 20-years-old smart ass Applied Physiology and Kinesiology major, so I think you should be grateful and proud for the lesson".
"Actually, it's Abigail, you are 19 and I'm grateful and proud for my mice."
Truth is, I am grateful for Abigail. And proud. Back when I was 26 and just starting out as a lead worker, I was a kind of wild. Hot chicks, fast cars and always ready to trade blows...adventure was out there and I wasn't one to shy away from it. Then I met Alice. She was a year younger than me, but let me tell you, she seemed like the most serious person in the world, with this stern look on her face most of the time. But when she smiled, man, it was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.
Turned out Alice had been through a lot before we met. She was only 20 when she had Abigail, and she had to raise her all by herself since that sorry excuse for a man left her high and dry just some months after their baby was born. And wouldn't you know it, every male around tried to take advantage of her because of her beauty. That's why she became so damn cautious. Thing is she wasn't looking for any more drama in her life, and she wouldn't put up with any BS. That's when I realized: this was the woman for me. I decided to cut the wild boy's crap, to pull myself together and get serious. So, a year after we first met, we took the plunge. When we got married, I was 27 and Abigail was 6. It wasn't always easy. But we made it work. The job was going well, Alice was a great wife and mother, and I did my best to be a good father to Abigail. Everyone was surprised that Alice and I, being so young, had such a beautiful daughter. Those who didn't know our story playfully teased us, saying that our daughter looked nothing like the father, that meant me, and had inherited absolutely everything from her mother-the looks, the body type, the blonde hair. They were right: Alice and Abigail bore an uncanny resemblance.
We had eleven good years together. Eleven years of memories, laughter, love... a whole damn lifetime packed into a single decade. But it wasn't enough. Two years ago, the news hit us like a truck: cancer. Aggressive. And just like that, Alice was gone. Just two months after the diagnosis. Gone. She was only 37, for Christ's sake. Abigail, our little girl, just 17. Eleven years of marriage, wiped out. It was a fucking nightmare. I didn't know how to keep standing. But I had to. For Abigail's sake if nothing else.
And thank God, Gail's doing great. She's 19 now, and a year and a half ago, she graduated high school with straight A's, just months after Alice's death. On top of that, she was also a champion in several junior tennis tournaments. Despite being accepted to colleges far from home, she opted for the University of Florida so she could stay with me in her childhood home, save money, continue dominating college tennis tournaments and keep a sense of stability.
As I was heading out from the construction site, I swung by the grocery store to grab some essentials: definitely a six-pack of beer since there was a big match goin' down tonight, a frozen pizza for me, and some tikka masala chicken for Gail, who was supposed to come home around 8 p.m. Parked in the driveway, noticed a new car out front. Didn't recognize it. Walked in, groceries gotta get unloaded. Then, bam! Sounded like a wrestling match erupted upstairs. Voices too, muffled, couldn't make out a word. Didn't waste time. Grabbing my trusty baseball bat, I crept up the stairs, silent as a shadow. Reached my room, voices hushed now. Inched closer, floorboards creaking a silent warning. Door... cracked open a sliver. Heart hammered a frantic rhythm. Two figures, backs to me.
The man's forceful movements sent the woman's body lurching forward, her knees scraping against the floor as she was brutally taken on all fours. Oblivious to my presence, I stood frozen, my gaze fixed on the scene unfolding before me. What in hell's name was happening here? Who's fucking in my room?
I went a little closer and heard them:
"...and what did he do?"
"He was downstairs, he thought I was asleep, he had his pants off, watching porn and jerking"
"And you saw him coming?"
"Yeah...oh my god...yes"
"Did you like his dick? Tell me, you fucking bitch."
Was that my daughter's voice? Did I hear right? Was that Abigail I heard? And the guy she was with calling her a fucking bitch? I tightened the bat, but I stood frozen.
"It was big and thick...hairy...I wanted to...ohhh..."
"You wanted to swallow your father's cum? Suck his cock and swallow it?"
"Yes, oh fuck...yes
"Say it"
"I wanted to swallow his cum"
"What's his name? Say it and I'll fuck you harder"
"Oh, oh god...Rob"
"Do you like it that I fuck you on your father's bed? Do you want Rob to fuck you? Do you want daddy to take you on all fours like the bitch you are?"
"Yeah, yeah... harder...harder..."
I couldn't listen anymore. My knees were shaking. I came down the stairs without making a sound. I stepped out of the house. Dizzy. I didn't want to know anything. I wanted it all to be a dream, a bad dream, a nightmare. I got in the car and drove off. No idea where I was going.
PART TWO
I got in my car and aimlessly drove around. I couldn't bring myself to admit that I kept replaying what I heard and what I saw, my daughter fucking like a bitch and saying that she wanted to...oh no, no, no, I felt my dick getting hard, I had an erection. God, what can I say... since Alice died, I haven't gotten over her death, I mean, ok, in these two years there were a couple of incidents with some ladies...but not in our home, never in our home, and besides, it wouldn't be right, I have a teenage daughter living there, and now she caught me jerking off and saw me coming. Ι had never felt like this in my life, feeling so guilty and being so horny at the same time. I thought I'd go to a bar, drink myself into a stupor. I knew this one spot, open from morning to midnight that was always dead, no familiar faces, no asking questions, no explanations. I didn't want anyone seeing me like that. I got in. Α washed-up weathered blonde behind the bar, a couple of old drunks sitting at a table and an old pool table that had seen better days. I sat at the counter. Jack neat.
I realized I didn't want to get drunk. I left the bar, got in the car. I was driving around at random; I didn't know where I was going or what I wanted to do. After almost two hours I found myself in an area that was familiar, but without being able to recall exactly. I started driving slowly, circling through deserted streets in a park. I did remember. I was at Patch Reef, near the house we first lived in, before moving to Orlando. There were no people, no cars, no one. I parked the car in a deserted place. I was sitting in the car without being able to think about anything, just staring into space. I remembered Abigail as a kid, driving her to her tennis lessons and I also remembered when I was returning home from the second shift, even if it was very late Alice was waiting for me and we'd put Gail in the back seat, lying down with a sleeping blanket and I'd drive to the sea gossiping, telling the news of the day, basically she was doing all the talking and I, as usual, wouldn't say a thing, without telling her how much I love her and how lucky I was that we were together. In fact, it must have been somewhere around here where once we were waiting for Gail to finish her tennis lesson and get home and all of a sudden Alice pulled down my pants and gave me a quick blowjob in the car and then laughing with her dazzling smile, like a little girl who'd just made a mischief. Oh my god that woman, I miss her so bad.
Speaking of bad, it was getting late and I had to figure out what to do. I wanted to go home, but I didn't know what I was going to see. What could I say? What would she tell me? Well, I was sure she doesn't know I was there. They didn't listen to me. I went in and out without a sound, nobody saw me. So, nothing happened. What happened was that I saw a completely private moment of my daughter sharing a fantasy of hers. None of this I was supposed to know. Abigail's a grown girl now, she has her own love life. Let's not make an issue of it. Everyone creates fantasies. Some are weird, some are weirder. Who are we to judge? When I was 15 years old Ι accidentally saw Auntie Flavia, 65 years old and 400 pounds changing clothes, it was the first time I'd ever seen a woman naked and for a month I was jerking off like crazy remembering her boobs. Did I want to fuck her? Of course not, it was a fantasy. So was this. I wouldn't say a word. I had to go home and everything would be like I never saw anything; I was at my job as normal, had a couple of beers with the guys after work, that's all.
I pulled into the driveway and parked my truck. As I entered the house, I wondered if Gail was home; probably she was. I closed the door loudly so she would know someone was home. Turning on the lights, I heard her voice upstairs.
"Dad, is that you?" Gail called down to me.
"Yeah, it's me", I replied.
"How's it going, dad?" she asked, coming down the stairs.
"I'm doing alright. I had a couple of beers with the guys after work. How's the college?" I asked.
