Chapter 4

Warning: Although this chapter of the story starts off very positive, the second half is very dark. In fact, the darkest thing I have ever written. And it was not easy to write.

For me a five minute phone call lasts an eternity, but over 25 years ago I spent more than three hours on the phone with a woman who was threatening suicide. A woman I didn’t know. I can tell you that when you see something on TV showing people tracing phone calls in just minutes, well that is, or at least 25 years ago, was make believe. It took over two hours back then to trace the call and get her help. She lived, but was indeed surrounded by guns. By the end of the call, when I heard the deputy sheriffs and EMTs arrive on the scene and knew she was safe, I was mentally a basket case. The big tough Marine actually broke down and cried.

It is a sad fact that every single day 22 veterans chose to end their lives. Twenty-two. I know this is a work of fiction, but I am hoping and praying that perhaps ... someone will read this story and realize suicide is not the answer. If you are ever in the spot where Alan found himself ... please ask for help. Asking for help is not a sign of weakness.

“True love is like ghosts, which everyone talks about and few have seen.” Francois de La Rochefoucauld

I told Mindy that was when I woke up the first time, with her calling my name.

“At first, I felt so sad,” I said, “so incredibly sad.”

“Mindy, my love, why did you stay? Why did you continue to hold me? You must have been terrified at what was happening.”

Mindy admitted she had been very scared at first, not knowing what was happening, but then added:

“I stayed, Alan, because I love you. And I knew you loved me, too,” she answered. “And I knew you needed me.”

I tried to explain that yesterday, then realized it wasn’t yesterday, just a few hours earlier, I knew I had hurt her when I could not tell her I loved her, but Mindy stopped me and had something to say.

“Yes, at first it hurt,” she admitted, “but then – somehow – I felt you NOT telling me you loved me actually told me you did love me – even more! Does that make sense?”

I simply look at Mindy in amazement.

“How did you get to be so smart?” I asked.

“Well, Julie did say I was smarter than you,” she quipped, with a big smile. “Besides, I had a higher grade point average than you did!”

That is when I realized I MAY have made a major blunder in relating everything Julie had said, but of course Mindy LOVED it!

I know people say honesty is the best policy, but the Marine Corps also taught me to never give up a major strategic or tactical position.

“Now I can say it and mean it,” I added, “Mindy, I Love You!”

“And I love you, too,” she replied.

I suddenly started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

I explained to Mindy that Julie said “you had opened the door to my heart,” and I suddenly started thinking about one of my Dad’s favorite songs. The singer was named Doris Day, and the song was “Secret Love.”

“As best I can remember, she sings about a woman who is in love with someone, but she can’t tell anyone, so instead she talks to, I don’t know, a tree ... no, a star, and tells the star how much she loves this guy. Then suddenly she CAN tell everyone. I don’t remember all the song, but I actually have it on my mp3 player.”

I started singing the song:

“How beautiful,” Mindy said, “I would love to hear it.”

Just to prove how stupid men can be sometimes, I started to go out to my truck and get my mp3 player.

I am not yet ready to admit Mindy might be smarter than me, but she called my name.

“Wait a minute, Alan,” she stopped me, “aren’t you forgetting something?”

“What?” I asked.

“You are in bed with a naked woman who just told you she loves you,” she laughed. “We can always listen to the song after...”

And we did listen to the song after ... a long, long time after.

Before going to sleep Mindy asked me what Julie had meant about when she had said the fact I could love someone who had done all the things Julie had done proved I had a big heart.

I briefly explained a few of the details about Julie’s childhood, growing up unloved and unwanted, and how she had turned to sex as a way of feeling love. How she had lost her virginity at 14 and slept with a lot of men.

“She’s right, Alan,” Mindy said as she kissed me on the chest, “you do have a huge heart.”

We spent the night at the beach property, and I woke up at about five in the morning. Of course the covers were all pushed to the end of the bed, and Mindy was lying beside me with her head still on my shoulder and her arm still over my chest.

Was it just 24 hours ago I first saw Mindy asleep on my bed, nearly naked? At the time I wanted so much to lay down beside her and awaken her to the touch of my fingers and mouth.

I could not then – but I could now.

Now she was not nearly naked, but completely naked. And NO tan lines!

Believe me, I had explored every inch of her body with my tongue during the previous afternoon and evening, and I knew there were no tan lines!

I gently eased her onto her back, and captured one of her breasts in my mouth.

She moaned in her sleep as I sucked on her nipple, and moaned even more when I took my hand and pinched her other nipple.

When I moved my hand down between her legs she was already wet. I put one, then a second, finger inside her and started moving them in and out.

She woke up – I guess she is not such a heavy sleeper after all, IF you know how to wake her up.

Her first words were, “Oh God, Alan, I want you inside me!”

A gentleman should always listen to his lady.

We made long slow love together. Both of us were getting used to each other’s body. After a few minutes, I told Mindy to put her arms around my neck and hold tight!

I grabbed her beautiful butt with both hands, then picked her up so I was now on my knees, with my penis still deep inside her. Mindy gasped with the change in position, as I could now go even deeper inside her. I used my arms and hands to just lift her up and down on my penis.

Mindy almost immediately had an orgasm, and bit down on my shoulder to muffle her screams of pleasure.

We continued to make love like this, with Mindy experiencing several more orgasms before I finally had my own orgasm, flooding her insides.

We stretched out together, with Mindy lying beside me. She reached down and grasped my now soft penis, and just started stroking me.

“I can’t believe how hard you are when you are inside me and how big you are,” Mindy said, “and yet how small and soft it is now!”

I warned her if she continued doing what she was doing, then it would not be very long before it became big and hard again!

“We still have to get you to school,” I cautioned her.

Mindy blushed so beautifully, and then asked if we could take a shower together.

“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea,” I agreed.

We took a shower together, washing each other completely, which ended up with my sitting on the bench in the walk-in shower and Mindy straddling my legs, moving herself up and down on my erection.

After we both came (second time for me that morning, about the sixth or seventh for Mindy), we got dressed and drove back home, stopping for some biscuits and eggs at a restaurant.

As we were driving back, I told Mindy for the first time in five years I could relate to the words in an old Andy Williams song titled “Happy Heart” and asked if I could sing it for her. She agreed so I sang:

I repeated the chorus while Mindy cried softly beside me.

“I am whole now, Mindy,” I told her, “because of you. You have filled my soul and given me this Happy Heart!”

She cried some more and we professed our love for each other again, while continuing the drive.

I stopped at Mindy’s so she could get ready for school, and like a gallant gentleman even offered to help her get undressed.

She demurred, correctly saying that if I did that, then we would probably end up back in bed and she would be late for school.

Smart lady.

She did promise as soon as school was over, she might – just might – reconsider the offer to help her undress.

I drove Mindy to school, and exchanged some tongue with her before she ran inside. I drove home and waited ... and waited ... and waited. I don’t think I have EVER had a morning pass more slowly.

I worked out some, took a shower, then waited ... and waited. Worked out some more, took my third shower of the morning, and waited ... and waited.

It just seemed inconceivable that only 24 hours before – actually less – I had been alone, just stumbling through life.

If I had to put my feelings in the name of one of the books both Mindy and I liked it would be “Stranger In A Stranger Land,” by Robert Heinlein.

I felt I was a stranger in a land where other people had someone they loved, and someone who loved them.

I used to have someone I loved and who loved me back equally as much, but it had all been taken away from me.

Now, the book title might be “A Brave New World,” by Aldous Huxley. As I thought about the book title, I started thinking about a song.

It really seemed, at times, songs defined my life in some ways. Growing up, listening to songs with my father was one of my strongest memories.

The song I was thinking about also talked about a new world. The group who sang it was named The Seekers:

Finally ... FINALLY ... it was time to go get Mindy.

When she jumped in my truck, she slid across the seat and threw a lip-lock on me so incredible, I can’t describe it. It seemed to go on forever, at least until the car behind me started honking its horn.

On the way home Mindy said all she had thought about all morning was getting back into bed with me.

We rushed to my house, and ran into my bedroom.

We quickly divested each other of our respective clothes, then tumbled into bed.

The five times Mindy and I made love the day before, and twice this morning, I had been very careful. I was very conscious her only previous experience had ended badly, with a lot of pain.

I was also very aware Mindy was probably the tiniest thing I had ever been in bed with. Her Mom was not much larger, but had had two children.

I am not claiming to have some sort of monster cock, but I had also never had any complaints. I was a little above average in length and width but not abnormally so.

The first time I entered Mindy yesterday, she was absolutely the tightest woman I had ever been in. This despite the fact I had engaged in extensive foreplay with my tongue and fingers, and she had already had numerous orgasms.

So I was very conscious of the need to go slowly, to take my time, and not rush anything and cause her pain.

I had barely started playing with her breasts and sucking her nipples when Mindy surprised the heck out of me, and I think herself as well.

“I want you inside of me NOW,” she screamed, grabbing my erection!

I did manage to slip two fingers inside of her to try to loosen her up before she said to “quit teasing me and DO IT!”

I positioned my cock at the entrance to Mindy’s vagina and pushed inside an inch or so when she again surprised the heck out of me.

Displaying remarkable agility, she somehow reached behind me, grabbed my butt and slammed me inside her. She screamed, had her eyes tightly shut and had tears coming from her eyes.

I was mortified. Oh God, I had hurt her so much.

I started apologizing and asking if she were all right, when she opened her eyes, looked directly into mine, smiled and said, “Alan, shut up and screw my brains out!”

The previous day, I found out that she was multi-orgasmic, now I was about to find out how vocal she could also be.

Still worried about hurting her, I started slowly, but she kept encouraging me (screaming at me) to go harder. By the time I could feel my orgasm approaching she must have cum a half-dozen times, accompanied each time by almost animalistic cries.

I have had a lot of experience with women, but this was the most intense sex I think I have ever had.

Afterward she was extremely embarrassed by what had happened, and actually started apologizing

“Alan, you must think I am horrible,” she began, but I quickly silenced her with a kiss.

I told her how beautiful she was, how sexy she was, how incredible she was, and how I now loved her even more than I did before.

We took a shower together, but no follow up sex this time – I think we were both a little sore.

After our shower, I found the song “New World Somewhere,” by The Seekers and played it for Mindy. She loved it, and agreed we were now in a new world, and she would never leave me, and would always be holding my hand.

After we left my house, we drove over to Mindy’s where she ran inside to change clothes.

“This driving back and forth to change clothes really sucks,” she said.

We then drove to the beach property where we did something we did not do the day before.

We actually saw the ocean!

We walked for miles along the beach, just holding hands, picking up sand dollars and sea shells, and stopping frequently to share a kiss.

We also played in the ocean. Mindy, as an almost-native Floridian, was an excellent swimmer, and I had served as a lifeguard before joining the Marines, and then had extensive training in water related activities while in the Marines.

That last fact had always somewhat amused me. I spent hundreds of hours in the water with the Marines, then they ship me to a desert country!

So, we played in the water, we swam, we walked along the beach, we built sand castles and we drew big hearts in the sand and put our initials inside.

Like the Pat Boone song, “Love Letters in the Sand,” but without the unhappy ending to that song:

On a day like today

We passed the time away

Writing love letters in the sand

And we kissed. And kissed. And kissed.

I could not remember being so happy. And I kept telling her so, and how much I loved her, and she also told me how happy she was and how much she loved me.

As we were walking back to the house I told her how much this reminded me of another of my Dad’s songs.

The song, “In The Middle Of An Island,” had been recorded by both Tony Bennett and Tennessee Ernie Ford.

We went out and had dinner, and returned to the beach property.

Later that evening, Mindy said she wanted to make love again.

At first I was worried about hurting her more, but we made very slow, very gentle love.

It was amazing. It was probably even more gratifying than the mad, passionate sex had been after school.

Later that night I told Mindy I needed to talk with her some more.

She had a very worried look on her face when she saw how serious I was, and immediately asked what was wrong.

“Mindy,” I began, “you now know more about me than anyone else, but I had been holding something back. Do you remember yesterday, just before you kissed me, I told you I had done something I was not very proud of?”

Mindy nodded her head.

“Well, if we are to have a future together you need to know what I meant, you need to know about something terrible that happened in North Carolina, and the real reason I moved to Florida.”

She was naturally very concerned.

I had never told anyone, not anyone, the story, the truth about why I moved to Florida, leaving everything and everyone I knew in my beloved North Carolina behind.

I didn’t know whether it was fair to burden Mindy with my story or not, but I do know I no longer regarded her simply as a young girl.

I now knew Mindy was not just a young girl, but a mature woman.

And the woman I now loved, and wanted to be with for the rest of my life.

And if I did not tell her the truth ... now ... when would I be able to tell her? The more time I delayed telling her what I needed to say, the more difficult it was going to be for both of us.

What I had not yet told Mindy was this:

About three months after Julie and the boys died, I woke up one morning in the hospital. I had been living on hate, and not much else. In those three months I had lost nearly 30 pounds, because I hardly ever ate, and rarely slept.

The first thing one of the doctors asked me was when I had eaten last. This was Tuesday morning, and the last time I REMEMBERED eating was Friday night. I passed out Monday night from malnutrition and exhaustion. I am sure I must have had some kind of sandwich or snack between Friday night and Monday night, but didn’t remember eating at all.

The doctors sent a counselor in to talk to me.

One of the good things about moving back to the town you grew up in is you know a lot of people.

One of the bad things is a lot of people know you.

Just like with the state trooper, I had gone to school with the counselor. They had been a couple of grades ahead of me, but I knew them both.

She knew all about Julie and the boys, and the accident that wasn’t really an accident.

“You are living on hate, Alan,” she said, “and hate cannot sustain life.”

She knew we were suing the beverage company, and waiting for the truck driver’s manslaughter trial to start, but explained I had to start doing something else, or I wouldn’t live long enough to fight for justice in the deaths of Julie, Joseph and Jason.

“You have to think of this as an ongoing battle, Alan,” she explained, adding “I read about what you did in Afghanistan, and your medals, and I know you are a war hero.”

This was something I really did not want to think about or discuss. Too many men died, and I still felt responsible for those deaths. Yes, perhaps I had saved some, but all I thought about was the ones who didn’t make it. The ones who died because I wasn’t there at first. As a staff sergeant, I was the platoon sergeant, and responsible for them.

“I read about your walking, or dragging yourself, nearly a mile with a completely shattered knee and a broken leg,” she continued, “getting to your men and launching a one-man counter attack and drawing enemy fire away from them and to yourself.

“I know you were wounded twice, and yet you never gave up,” Stephanie admonished me. “Don’t give up now! Julie, Joseph and Jason deserve more than you neglecting yourself.”

“If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for them,” she pleaded.

“You were always such an incredible student, Alan,” she said, adding how surprised everyone had been I hadn’t gone directly to college.

I explained about my two degrees, and she said that was perfect, and I needed to go back to school to take my mind off things and to keep myself busy.

One of the problems with a degree in literature is you are forced to read so many tragedies, especially Greek tragedies. And I knew enough from reading all those tragedies to know if I continued along the path I was headed, then I was probably going to end up in a psych ward or worse.

Somehow it never entered my thoughts that perhaps I already belonged there.

I reluctantly agreed with Stephanie and returned to college. That decision probably saved my life and sanity – at least for a couple of years.

A month after earning my bachelors in history, I saw the truck driver sentenced to 21 years in prison on three counts of manslaughter and vehicular homicide, the executive fired, and the beverage company finally settle.

But then – what was I to do next? The hate that had kept me going no longer had a target.

I had WON!

I had won a conviction against the man who killed Julie, Joseph and Jason.

I had won in seeing the woman fired who allowed her brother to continue to drive.

I had won more money than most people will ever see in their lifetimes.

I had won – nothing. Less than nothing.

“If Julie and I had, for some unknown reason, gotten a divorce,” I often thought to myself, “then at least I would have the comfort of knowing she was still alive.”

I think I could have accepted seeing her in another man’s arms more than knowing I would never see her again.

If she were alive, then there was always SOME chance of our getting back together.

And if she were alive, then at least I could see her when I picked up Joseph and Jason for visits.

Now, I had nothing. Or in the words of the Brenda Lee song:

I had never even gotten a goodbye, or been able to say goodbye.

The other women I had slept with over the years were just that: emptiness

How true: “people all around but I don’t hear a sound.”

I knew my heart would never sing again.

And I was becoming so tired of that lonely beating!

One of the things Marines have to learn to do is compartmentalize. Keep the different parts of your life separate, otherwise you can’t be learning to blow things up, and yes, kill people during the day, and act normal at night.

I had always been very good at compartmentalizing, and I became an expert. Alan the student was hardworking and dedicated. He ate regularly, exercised and within six months I had regained the 30 pounds I had lost, and was in excellent shape.

Alan the hater still lived, but occupied less and less time. But it was comforting to know he was always there, ready to be unleashed if he was needed.

Now, however, there was no one, and nothing left to hate.

Justice, such as it was, had been done. I had nothing left to replace the hate with.

I suppose over the course of human history, there have been thousands of stories written about unrequited love. Somehow unrequited love, that is love which is not returned, is seen as noble in the person who is in love.

As powerful as unrequited love might be as an emotion, I learned unrequited hate is even stronger. And there is nothing noble about hate.

Eric Berne, who authored Sex in Human Lovings, wrote that: “Some say that one-sided love is better than none, but like a half a loaf of bread, it is likely to grow hard and moldy sooner.”

One-sided hate does as well.

Roman poet Ovid wrote, over 2,000 years ago, an 814 line poem entitled Remedia Amoris, (Love’s Remedy or The Cure for Love), in which he featured many suggestions on how to get over unrequited love. One of those was to avoid plays or poetry idealizing the concept of love. I suppose an undated version would be to avoid romantic movies, or love songs.

If Ovid had written about unrequited hate, then I am sure he would have suggested avoiding songs emphasizing the loss in your life leading to feeling of hate, such as sad songs about losing the love of your life.

Unfortunately for me, Ovid did not write about unrequited hate, so I continued to listen to those oh so sad songs.

About a week after the beverage company finally paid, I did something I hadn’t done in years, not since before I met Julie. I stopped at a package store and bought a bottle of vodka. I had never been much of a drinker, but Julie actually used to drink a lot in her younger days, so I stopped buying liquor so Julie wouldn’t be tempted.

That night I started drinking and listening to my Dad’s music.

One of the first songs I listened to was the Brenda Lee song I just mentioned, “All Alone Am I.” I followed it up with Johnny Horton singing the incredibly beautiful, yet incredibly sad “All For The Love Of A Girl.” And I followed it up with another beautiful, but sad song of his entitled “Whispering Pines.”

But of course I knew no one could ever send Julie back to me.

But I knew I would never, NEVER, find love, never find happiness again.

“Oh, God, Julie ... Julie, I love you SO!”