A/N: Ray's point of view.
About My Writing Process: I'm not a linear writer, which means the end of my stories is probably written long before the main characters ever say hello. Speaking of characters, the people in my story are very real to me. Sometimes I get pissed with them and have to walk away to cool off.
With the advent of All Hallow's Eve on Monday, I've done a thing! Yep. A one-shot titled The Honeymoon. It's sad, awful, violent, dark, and horrific. Angst junkies will love it, especially those who look askance at HEAs neatly wrapped in a bow when dangling plotlines and baddies are still busily leaping in the background like fleas even after authors type "The End."
Inspiration Song(s): George Michael - Everything She Wants, Dire Straits - Money For Nothing
"Quite a spread you have there!" came an awed voice from behind me. The homeowner leaned over my shoulder, taking a gander at all that Annie had made. "You must have some wife," he complimented.
"What makes you think it was a wife? I could have made all this myself," I countered. Carla was never a great homemaker, even when she was masquerading as a decent human being. I wish did have a wife to prepare homemade meals for me. Annie had taken over as chief cook and bottle washer as soon as she could stand on a chair. My ex-girlfriend Helen was a good woman, but a chef she was not. Our relationship was new, but, man, I missed her.
Taking Carla in so precipitously might have been a mistake. I hadn't given a thought to Helen until she knocked on the door the next morning. At least she gave me the benefit of the doubt. The average woman would have run away when she saw my ex-wife comfortably perched on the couch. But even her patience wasn't sufficient to bear the strain of Carla moving back in with me because she had no place else to go.
Helen had moved here half a dozen years ago, but rumors about the breakdown of Carla's and my marriage were still thick on the ground. This was a small town. Everyone knew Carla had screwed around on me and run off with another man, dragging Annie with her. Helen thought I was a fool. She wasn't wrong.
Before Carla had come back, I'd been making headway with Helen, a newly-widowed woman, which in Montesano meant widowed for about five years, but that ship had sailed. It was challenging to maintain a romantic life while working two jobs and having my ex-wife living under my roof. Hell, since she couldn't manage the stairs, she had planted herself right in my living room. She couldn't have been a bigger cockblock had she planned it. If I was Helen, I would've run, too. She didn't have time for that type of nonsense. But that was just one more brick on the stack of resentment that I felt for Carla. Though at this point she was too afraid and grateful to me to say boo. I was only here to provide medicine and food and disaster relief. Because Carla has always been a walking, talking disaster.
"Yeah, right," he guffawed. "You normally make origami flowers to accompany your lunch?"
"I hadn't even thought you had noticed," I replied blandly, flicking my hair. "Besides, my daughter Annie made my lunch today."
"Daughter," he said. "I didn't know you had a daughter."
He wouldn't. I didn't make a habit of sharing my affairs with the world. I liked to keep to myself.
"Oh! I meant no disrespect. It was just interesting because you seem to have the best lunch out of all the guys today. Just trying to make conversation. Sometimes it gets lonely up here in the big house."
That was something that I could understand. I felt tremendously isolated when Annie transitioned from high schooler to college coed, leaving me alone in my house which wasn't nearly as large as this one. I guess it helped that I had a lot of individual hobbies to keep me busy, not that I could do much now with Carla here sucking the vitality and solvency out of me.
I could imagine Jesse rattling around in this huge house. He was barely a few years older than me, and childless. Place like this needed a family, deserved to have kids running all over the sprawling property, sliding up and down banisters. We made some conversation, but I was tired and I knew that I had to sneak an all-too-brief catnap before starting my next shift lest I accidentally lost a hand. Before Ana came home, I'd have been lucky to catch a quick bite at the diner because Carla couldn't cook worth a plumb nickel. I barely had time to grocery shop these days.
I often had to bite back my resentment for Carla, considering she was barely able to shuffle from one room to the next. At least she cleaned up after herself, though it really wasn't much since she seemed to eat like a bird. Perhaps if she'd had been as good a roommate then as she was now, I wouldn't harbor so much resentment for her, but it was important to me to at least try to do the Christian thing. I shudder to imagine what it will be like when she declines even more. I can't afford a home care aide, and I never planned to touch her again.
It was hard for me to recognize the fiery young woman that stood by Frank's casket as it was lowered to the ground with the baby in the stroller. She had left the hospital against medical advice so she could make it to the funeral. But as much as she liked to claim to all and sundry that Frank was the love of her life, she certainly didn't prove that with the rearing of his only daughter. Standing in front of the registry office signing the documents that made us husband and wife, I didn't know just how poor a parent she would turn out to be.
I'd thought maybe she was just experiencing some of those baby blues I'd heard about. It never occurred to me that she wanted to get married so she could just simply drop all the responsibilities of Annie into my lap. Thankfully, Annie was a beautiful and sweet-natured child, and she didn't notice at first how badly she was neglected. But as Annie got older and the marriage wore on, she began to see little things that signaled that things probably weren't quite right.
The beautiful young woman Carla once was, however, was completely gone now. All that was left of her was a washed-out, dried-up wraith. At this point, she looked older than me, though she was ten years younger. The idea of her being the kind of stay-at-home wife that produced the bounty for her husband to take to work was laughable back then but even more ludicrous now.
She once had a fairly brisk social life, but no-one was coming around to visit her now. She had thoroughly burned every bridge before her departure. Even the church ladies snubbed her though they usually delivered food for the sick and shut-in. Carla wouldn't dare show her face in church.
She would be stupid as hell to pursue any man right now even if she could draw one based on the fact that she was living under my roof and depending entirely on my largesse and sympathy, such as it was. I guess the old adage was true; you never knew what you had until it was gone.
Her beauty and allure had long since evaporated and the only thing left was a shallow, hollow husk of a woman. I'd only initially hesitated to slam the door in her face because at first, I didn't recognize her. Thankfully she hadn't bothered to attempt to seduce me. Just seeing her broken like that was depressing enough without having to further disenchant her with her absence of charms. Besides I'd be insulted.
Leaving the big house, I went to my carpentry studio where I employed two others. They had done excellent work, leaving me to perform all the more intricate and time-consuming finishing touches. I took several cat naps before my second shift to ensure that I wouldn't cut or injure myself to the point where I couldn't work. Then I finished off Ana's abundant lunch, grateful for such a wonderful, caring daughter.
I wondered what I would tell her when I finally returned home. What Carla had told her already. I would be surprised if Carla had the brass balls to admit she'd returned to me cap in hand to once again protect her from the fallout from her poor choices.
When you have a child no matter how much you want to shield them from the world you teach them about natural consequences but it seemed as if Carla had never learned that lesson and everyone else had to suffer for it. Hopefully, she would either get better or she wouldn't. But she needed to pick a door pretty soon, because I didn't know how long I'd be able to manage working double, sometimes triple, shifts. I wasn't getting any younger. I was starting to feel worn down and weary, barely knowing if I was coming or going from one day to the next. I'd never had such a busy schedule, not even during my time in the service and basic training.
War was a young man's game. And there was no doubt that fighting this disease was a war. I just didn't feel spry enough to continue. And the last thing I wanted to do was rely on Ana for any help in this regard. She didn't deserve this, especially as she was doing so well completely on her own.
Between scholarships and work, Annie paid for her college education pretty much in full with very little debt. From time to time, I was able to chip in a time or two, but the last thing I bought her was Wanda, her Beetle. She had ponied up almost half the cost from the money she had earned in high school.
Self-reliance was very important to her. I would hate for Carla's illness to derail my daughter's life when she was so close to graduation. The last thing she needed to do was to take care of Carla since Carla had never nurtured her. The irony isn't lost on me that Carla abandoned our marriage because my blue-collar life wasn't good enough for her. Now she needs me to support her because she wasn't satisfied with Richie Rich either.
Secure in the knowledge that Carla had kept herself scarce, I knew I had only a short time to develop the story as it were the dialogue. And he didn't want to lie but the truth was a harsh taskmistress.
Finishing my work, I wasn't surprised to see that it was past 11 o'clock. This has been the pattern of my days for the last few months. I hadn't watched the game or spent any time hunting or fishing, unless I counted hunting for extra side jobs and fishing for more money. Since Carla's been around, my life had become decidedly depressing. The brief moments when I had time off, I was required to take her to her doctors' visits, most of which were many miles away from my little town.
Carla had burned so many bridges, one of the best doctors in town wouldn't even see her, citing their previous relationship as an excuse. More like his angry wife at home had forbidden him to examine any more of my ex than he'd already seen. Yeah, she'd fucked the town doctor. Therefore, instead of the five short miles to his clinic, we had to travel thirty miles to a more expensive doctor that didn't take into consideration what a great pillar of the community I was, and work with us in terms of expenses.
This highfalutin physician wanted the best of everything, it was hard to explain that they had a beer budget considering all the medicine was beyond champagne prices. She required drugs to keep her breathing and shuffling around which didn't even attack the cancer. Soon, buying a bottle of aspirin was going to send me to the poorhouse. The only thing I hadn't done yet was mortgage the house and the land.
Though she seemed to look at me with great pain, I just couldn't bring myself to sell the old homestead. Squandering the work of generations for a woman who had essentially thrown Annie and me away? That wouldn't be Christian charity that would be committing financial suicide. Besides long after she was gone, I would still need a roof over my head.
When I finally returned home, I knew it was time to face the music. Annie was waiting, sitting in a chair at the kitchen table, while Carla slept once again on the couch. After she left, I'd happily go outside and toss that couch on a bonfire. It wasn't a pull-out and it was never meant to be slept on.
As I walked in, I heard her making noises in the kitchen and the sound of two cups being poured. Coffee for him, tea for her. Just like when she was younger, except I would also indulge in tea with her. Now that I'm sleeping less than five hours a night, I need the caffeine coffee provides.
Though I expected the Inquisition to begin right away, I was pleasantly surprised when, after taking a seat, she immediately reached over, grasping my hand in hers.
"Ray," she began, "Dad, I'm worried about you. What is going on? Do you need some help? Because I have some money saved up," she offered in a low, urgent voice.
Surprisingly, she didn't even ask why Carla was there. I guess she couldn't even imagine Carla as a permanent or even semi-permanent resident. She was clearly delaying that part of the conversation for as long as possible. I'd too had those moments of utter denial. Until finally the truth wouldn't let me escape and I had to face up to it. But I'd have let her have this moment.
"Well, I've been working so hard because Carla needs the money."
I could see her withdraw into herself as I made the egregious error of mentioning Carla and need in the same sentence. Had Carla shown up a couple of years earlier, I would have drop-kicked her ass onto the street. Thankfully, the majority of my rage had diminished, or there would have been a body to bury.
"It turns out, sweetheart, that Carla's sick, very sick," I told her.
"What about her husband?" Ana demanded indignantly. "What about him? Why isn't he taking care of her? Whatever happened to in sickness and in health?"
"Your mother and Bob," I began as Annie's mouth quirked as if surprised the newest sucker had a name. I could understand her negativity, but it wasn't helpful to the situation at hand, "have divorced. And he owes her nothing else in the settlement."
"How could that be? If she got sick, wasn't whoever he is supposed to take care of her, even in a divorce? If she hadn't remarried Steve almost as soon as the ink on your divorce was dry, you would have had to give her some insurance coverage," she argued.
"Well, their divorce wasn't typical. He had an ironclad prenup with pretty harsh terms, and since she violated their agreement, she was left with a minuscule settlement. Soon after the divorce was granted, she was shopping when she suddenly collapsed. She got a work-up and found out she was sick."
"So you're telling me the reason she doesn't have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out is completely her fault? Why am I not surprised?" she sneered.
I could hear Carla sniffling in the other room having overheard that last statement. Even at death's door, she was laying it on pretty thick.
"Annie!" I admonished. "I'm ashamed of you. You should know better. I didn't raise you that way."
My rebuke was the only thing that stayed her angry retort. Because she knew I had raised her to be a decent, caring person. For my sake alone, she wouldn't go in there and beat her mother bloody. But I wasn't expecting her ever to show Carla anything beyond the milk of human kindness. That would have been far too much to ask.
"She didn't raise me at all," she muttered, gripping her mug and making her way up the stairs.
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Nichole Stewart FB