Mr. and Mrs. America; Aftermath

by qhml1

Tags: Ma/Fa,

Desc: Romantic Story: The aftermath of the previous story.

This is a follow up to A Woman Waiting to Happen

First, I would like to thank Jezzaz for allowing me to use his characters. When I read his story, I couldn’t help thinking the main male character was a perfect fit for a story I’d already started, so I emailed him and he told me to go for it.

This story will make no sense at all unless you’ve read his story Mr. and Mrs. America, found in the non-erotic section here.

A quick note on another subject. I have two Brother Love segments ready to go, but I’m holding them while my lawyer does some checking for me. Seems there is a show out about a woman who wins the lottery and starts her own talk show. Pure coincidence, I’m sure. When the smoke clears I’ll turn them loose.

As always, thanks for reading, and all comments are appreciated.

“Hi, Mom.”

There was silence on the line for a few seconds. I think it took her that long to realize I had actually answered.

“Jake! My God honey, where are you? Jo and your father have been worried sick. So are your children. So am I. Are you coming home soon?”

“Tell the kids I love them, Mom, and that I’ll call them soon. I’m okay, by the way, obvious things aside.”

There was another little gap on the phone as she processed what I’d said.

“Jake, I...”

I interrupted her, something I rarely did to anyone.

“I need to know one thing, Mom. It’s important to me, so I’d appreciate the truth. Did you know?”

There was another pause. “Honey, I know you’re upset, but...”

“Answer the question Mom. Did you know?”

I thought we’d been disconnected, the silence was so long. I could tell by the tone of her voice she really didn’t want to say what needed to be said, but, to give her credit, she was honest.

“Not for almost a year. Then I accidentally heard them talking. You were off on one of your trips to England. They were in the study, talking while I finished up dinner. Mike, your Dad, Jo. They clinked glasses, and Mike congratulated them on what he called ‘a successful operation’. I wondered what they were talking about, when Jo said she really felt bad for lying about the miscarriage, because you were still grieving. I walked in the door and they shut up, but I went after them, and after a few minutes they admitted they’d constructed a scenario that would keep you out of ‘the life’, as Mike called it. I was outraged, but they finally convinced me to keep their secret.”

She stopped, sighing heavily. “I wanted to tell you a thousand times, but Jo or your Dad always talked me out of it. Honestly, I never felt entirely comfortable with Jo or Mike again. Gone was the woman I loved like a daughter, or the man I treated like another son. My relationship with your father never fully recovered. I found myself examining every decision he made, every course of action he took. When you left, and I found out about the letter, I’m afraid I went a little crazy. I’ve told Jo to never speak to me again unless it’s about the kids, and told your father if he doesn’t fix this I’m divorcing him. Can he, Jake? Can he fix it?”

I listened to her ragged breathing, processing what she had told me.

“So you knew. You weren’t in on it, apparently, but you knew pretty early, and for over twenty years you kept their secret. Guess that tells me where I stand in the family. Goodbye Mom. I’ll call the girls and Josh soon. I love you, but it will be a long time before we talk again.”

She was crying when I disconnected.

I tried, I really, really tried, but I just couldn’t get over the massive manipulation of my life from the people I loved above all others. I guess what really bothered me most was that neither Jo nor my father thought they’d done wrong. Jo even told me she was never sorry she did it. Dad echoed her sentiments.

It ate on me. I took her almost flippant advice and left for a week before coming back home, finishing his letter and reading hers. She took my return as a sign I had accepted what they had done and thought I was moving on. Her shock was obvious on her face when she came home two weeks later, to see me carrying the urn that held Mike’s ashes to the car.

“Where are you going?,” she asked, rushing up to me.

“The county dump. Wanna ride along? You might find it enlightening.” Without a word she got into the passenger seat. We never made it. There was a farm between our house and the landfill, and in a moment of inspiration I pulled over, got out, and walked to a fence. There were hogs on the other side, free range, organically raised beasts that the farmer got premium prices for. I dumped the ashes into a wallow beside the fence.

Jo had trailed behind me, and screamed when she saw what I was doing. She was stunned into silence when I unzipped my pants and pissed all over the ashes. Hope it didn’t fuck up his organic rating. I walked past her and got into the car. I had just put it into gear when she jumped in. She sobbed all the way home, looking at me like I was an alien. “Why?,” she finally managed to whisper.

“Oh, I thought it would be a good idea to see Mike dumped in the shit, and then be pissed on. Kind of like what you guys did to me, if you think about it.”

I thought she was going to faint, but she held on. The first thing she did was call my Dad and tell him. Fifteen minutes later he flew into the drive, almost hitting the house before he could stop. He was roaring when he got out.

“Boy, goddamnit, what the fuck is wrong...” That’s all he got out before I hit him. He went down, out like a light. I stepped over him, glancing at Jo.

“I’ll be out for awhile. Would you mind cleaning up this mess? And tell him, when he wakes up, every time he comes around me it’s going to be the same. Tell him as far as I’m concerned, my father died twenty-three years ago. I don’t know this stranger, and don’t think I’d like him if I did.”

It was two days before I came back. I’d got in early, and was sitting at the table sipping coffee when she came into the kitchen. She looked like she wanted to say something, changed her mind, and got a mug. She poured her coffee, sat down across from me, and stayed quiet until her cup was empty.

“You broke his nose.”

I didn’t look up. “Good. Did he get the message? Do I need to go down to the sheriff’s office and turn myself in?”

“NO! He told the emergency room doctor he’d tripped coming up our steps.

Did you have to do that? The man is sixty two years old. He’s your father, for God’s sake.”

“Nope. He was my father, right up until twenty-three years ago. Now he’s just a sperm donor, and I’ve no use for him.”

She slipped off the chair, kneeling beside me.

“Please, honey, let it go! We did it for you. Don’t tell me you weren’t happy with your life, that you don’t love the way it’s gone. Think of your children!”

A wave of overwhelming sadness came over me. She must have seen it on my face, and climbed onto my lap, hugging me hard while she cried. “It’ll be all right, honey,” she crooned over and over. I stood up abruptly, tumbling her to the floor.

“I WAS happy! Until I found out it was all a lie, based on a mammoth manipulation by the people I loved and trusted most. Don’t you see, this isn’t my life! It’s the life I was forced and manipulated into. And I love my children. IF they’re mine. Mike said in the letter he loved you. You lied before, what makes me think you aren’t lying about other important things in my life. Should I have DNA tests done?”

“One thing I’ll wonder about until I go to my grave. Mike did by his own admission horrible, horrible things to a lot of people. With all he’d done, why would he need to confess to me how easily I was manipulated? I mean, you guys went to such incredible lengths to fabricate this lie, why fuck it up by telling me now? What was gained by it? Know what, I think he did it to kind of gloat.”

“In his mind, he was the tragic hero, but to be that hero I had to know what he’d ‘done for me’. That I was the reason he was doing it. I call bullshit! He did it because it was all he’d ever wanted to do. If he got disillusioned, he could have walked away. There’s always a new crop of idealists like me in the pipeline. No one would have missed him. He could have had a normal life. No, he did it because he got off on it.”

“I’m kind of glad he had a miserable life. He damn sure did his best to make mine miserable at the end, now didn’t he? I bet every time he visited he was laughing his ass off inside. Fuck, why am I even talking to you? You’re just as bad as he was. You’re a lawyer. You’re whole life is manipulation and bending the truth to achieve your ends. I need a shower.”

I was soaping up when she came in to repair her makeup. She had an important bit of negotiation coming up, and had to go. I stepped out just as she turned to leave. She hesitated.

“Please be here when I get home. We need to talk about how to get over this.”

I shrugged. “I’ll be here. But I need you to consider this. If it had been me, Amy(her best friend), and your father doing this to you, how would you respond? Would the argument we had your best interests at heart cut it, if it denied you the career you wanted? Think on it and tell me the truth tonight.”

I had my own important meeting to attend. I’d asked for an appointment with the Dean earlier in the week. He called me back in less than an hour.

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