Author's notes:Thanks again to everyone to wrote in or commented on November(my Halloween Story) As I promised in my comment there, this story is a bit different for me. No one flying through the air backwards and upside down with their hair on fire. It's a more emotional simpler story. My esteemed editor suggested that there should be two endings, but a lot of you guys hate that so I wrote one and I'm sticking to it.Of course that means that about half of you will hate the ending, but I'll have something really nice for the BTB people soon. Thanks for reading my stuff and thanks to mikothebaby for editing it. without her this whole story would be one long sentence with about 2000 commas SS06
My supercharger's whine as it pumped pressurized air into my engine's intake manifold was louder than the rapid thumping of my heart. I was surprised that my heart could even beat in its current condition. It was getting hard to see from the tears pouring out of my eyes. I figured that I should slow down before I rolled the only thing in this world that I could really call my own.
As the needle on my speedometer moved back into the readable zone, I heard the sirens again. I guess I thought the cops would have given up when I passed 140 mph. No such luck. Fuck it, I thought. I pulled over to the side of the road. Let them take me to jail. Maybe some time in the pokey would help me to get away from the nightmare that my life had become.
The cop pulled up beside me. Strangely enough, he didn't pull out his gun, he just came over to the car.
"Jeezus Grant," he spat. "Do you know how fast you were going?"
It was Fred Lively. Fred and I had grown up together. We'd been friends for most of our lives until he became a cop. I wondered how the friendship would fare since today I'd become a notorious speeder. I guess I should make that felonious speeder because in some states, mine included, driving over a hundred and fifty miles an hour on a public road is a felony.
"What's wrong?" he asked. Fred had been at the hospital earlier when I got there. It was hard to believe from the way I felt or looked right now that today had started out as the happiest fucking day of my life so far.
I'd been at the hospital all night after the birth of my third or first daughter, depending on how you wanted to measure it. They'd sent me home last night because I'd been there all day and all night. There'd been complications with the birth. Nothing life threatening or life altering, just a few problems they said. The problems might've been brought about by the fact that my wife Bonnie is over thirty five.
It turned out that Brandy, our baby had an inguinal hernia. It wasn't really serious but it did require surgery. And though surgery on a newborn sounds really scary, it happened more often that people believed. This was especially true now since more babies were being born to older mothers. Older being anything over thirty and my wife was definitely over thirty.
She's thirty six actually and she's never been the healthiest person I know, but I love her like there's no tomorrow. I got up and dressed for the occasion today in a T-shirt that I'd had made to show my pride. Now when I look down at it, I realized that it just showed my gullibility and stupidity. The shirt was the same bright yellow as my Mustang. It had a giant smiley face on it with the tongue sticking out. Under the smiley face and on the back the shirt read, "My name is daddy."
Since I was kind of a conservative guy, I'd never normally wear anything that bright. Even the color of my car was unusual for me. I'd been looking for a black Mustang when I bought it. But after test driving the car, I just couldn't give it back.
Any way as I sat there in my car crying, I realized that I, not the shirt was the joke. I was the only thing around here for anyone to laugh at.
"I remember when my youngest was born, a few years ago," said Fred. "I realized that I was locked in for at least 18 more years. I had 18 fucking years of paying for everything and putting my-self last. 18 more years of putting my dreams and the things that I want to do second. I went a little bit crazy." He looked at me as if he knew what I was going through.
"I actually went into a depression and had to see a shrink," he said. "Things between Grace and I weren't the best back then either. I was going through the male version of a post-partum depression. They don't even have a fucking name for it, but a lot of guys get it. I just don't understand you having it though. You've been looking forward to this baby for a long time. You and Bonnie are the two most in love people I've ever come across. I guess it can hit anyone though, can't it?"
I didn't say anything. I just wiped my eyes. It was embarrassing to let another man see me with tears on my face.
"Bonnie is pretty broken up about you leaving the hospital like that," he offered. "Why don't I escort you back there?"
"Fred, I just want to go home and get myself together," I said. "If you'll allow me to, I just want to go home and think. I promise to drive under the speed limit. You can even escort me there if you want."
"No need for that, Grant," he said. "I'll see you later. Drive safely." He put those weird mirror sunglasses that only cops wear back on, got back into his squad car and pulled back into traffic. He turned around and went back in the direction of the hospital. I drove up my driveway and stopped my car. I went into the house I'd shared with Bonnie and our two girls for the past 11 years. I'd been 23 and Bonnie 25 when we moved in.
I've known Bonnie Anne Franklin for 11 years. We were almost total opposites, but we just seemed to fit together perfectly. Even at this moment, I kept waiting for her to come into the house and tell me that everything was going to be fine. But everything wasn't going to be fine. Everything was fucked up. Things were never going to be fine again.
I thought about grabbing a beer and sitting down on my deck, but I'm just not like that. I need movement to think. Sitting down and relaxing was Bonnie's idea of how to think. I could only remain still with her near me.
I went upstairs into the bedroom that until this moment we'd shared. I grabbed a pair of running shorts and changed into them and a t-shirt. Another T-shirt, I threw the yellow one in the trash. I grabbed my iPod and headed out to run the trails behind our house.
My name is Bonnie Martin and I feel empty. I also feel very lonely and neither of those feelings would make any sense to anyone who saw me right now. My guess would be that the throngs of family, friends and other well-wishers surrounding me right now think that I'm tired or sore from giving birth yesterday. Only my very closest friends and family members think they know why I'm upset.
They are partially correct. They realize that my unhappiness has something to do with the fact that my husband and the love of my life left the hospital unexpectedly. My dad tried to make me feel better by telling me that the birth of a child is a traumatic experience for the father too. He told me that when I was born, he was just overwhelmed and wanted to run out of the hospital and never come back.
My daddy was smiling as he told me that Grant would be back soon, he just needed some time to get himself together. "Grant is pretty tough," said Daddy. "When you were born, I fainted in the delivery room. Grant was there to cut Brandy's umbilical cord. You just watch. He'll be back here at any second."
Brandy, my youngest daughter had been born yesterday. We'd named her Brandy, because it was the perfect combination of both of our names without being one of those weird sounding names they were giving kids these days.
I had two other daughters, Marie, who was 14 and Tara who was 8. Marie was the result of a previous relationship that I'd had before I met Grant. I'd gone a little bit crazy and ended up pregnant. The guy I was with at the time took off so fast it seemed like time went backwards in his wake.
Marie was three years old when I met Grant, but she couldn't remember a time before he was in our lives. As far as she knew he was her daddy and no one could ever tell her any different. Not that Grant would ever let anyone tell her anything different either. Even when Tara came along there was always a special bond between Grant and Marie. My daughter thought the sun shone out of her daddy's ass.
When Grant and I got married, it was the happiest day of all of our lives. Even the wedding was a special day, not just for Grant and me, but for the three of us. I guess you're imagining a wonderful scene with Marie as the flower girl? Nope, Marie said that she wanted to get married too. So she stood there in front of the preacher with us, holding onto Grant's hand tightly.
When we said our "I do's," there she was yelling, "me too." When Grant gave me the traditional first kiss, before we were done, there she was tugging on Grant's pant leg and asking for her turn.
Grant, to the delight of our friends and family picked her up and gave her a peck on the cheek. I knew then that I loved that man more than anything else on the planet. I mean I knew already that I loved him and wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. After all that's what a marriage means, right? But at that moment, all of the feelings I'd previously had for him were simply eclipsed. It was as if my heart and soul just opened up and blended with him. Grant might not have been Marie's sperm donor, but he was more her father than anyone else could ever claim.
.... There is more of this story ...