The Fix-It Man

by Donald Wells

  “We’re not getting married to spite you; we’re getting married because we’re in love.”

  Felicia took my hand. “Why are you being so cold to me?”

  “I’m tired Felicia, tired of the back and forth, of going in circles. Never forget something, I didn’t end us, you did, a long time ago. Now, I’m getting married and starting a new life, I hope you respect that, I hope you give me space.”

  “I’ll have to, won’t I? Have you read this agreement she drafted? Tori wants me to live at least a thousand miles away from you, that’s part of our deal, basically I guess we’ll never see each other again after the baby is born.”

  I looked down, unable to bear the pain in her eyes.

  “Maybe it’s for the best.”

  “I can’t live without you Johnny. I tried it once and nearly went mad.”

  “Felicia, please?”

  “I know; you love Tori.”

  “Yes I do.”

  “And what about me? Have you stopped loving me?”

  I shrugged. “I’ve come to see that it doesn’t matter what I feel for you. I’m marrying Tori and spending my life with her, end of story.”

  Felicia released my hand and began crying.

  Sophie walked over and took her in her arms. “Maybe you should leave now John.”

  “Yes, goodbye Felicia, and baby, take care of yourself, and that little girl you’re carrying.”

  She didn’t respond to me, but only cried harder.

  I stepped carefully through the rubble and made my way back to where I parked the car. For long moments, I just sat there, looking at nothing. The first tear rolled down my cheek barely noticed, and then the floodgates opened and I cried so hard that I couldn’t stop.

  I started the car and rolled away from there while viewing the world through a shroud of tears. I would see Felicia one more time, at my wedding, and then I would most likely never lay eyes on her again.

  At the driveway’s end, I turned right and made my way toward the highway, and for the second time in my life, I left the grounds of the Thorne Estate with a broken heart.

  50

  Valentine’s Day, Wedding Day

  The weather was beautiful and the ocean calm as our guests gathered. Some floated about the stilt house, admiring it, while others congregated under the caterer’s tent on the lawn outside.

  We had kept the gathering fairly small, only twenty-four of our friends and loved ones were in attendance and would be spending the weekend as our guests at a local hotel.

  All but two that is.

  As I was getting dressed in the guest room, I heard a knock at the door. When I went to answer it, it was Felicia.

  She looked as if she had been crying, but her eyes, although red, were dry of tears and she sent me a faltering smile.

  “May I come in?”

  “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.” I said, and then I waved her in, but I left the door open.

  “Why the open door? Do you think I’m going to try and seduce you? I’m hardly in any condition for that.”

  I stared at her belly. It seemed to have grown considerably since I’d last saw her.

  “You look beautiful Felicia; you always look beautiful.”

  She came to me and kissed me.

  “Don’t marry Tori, please don’t repeat my mistake.”

  “I love Tori, why you married Thorne I’ll never understand.”

  “I thought you had decided that I only married him for his money.”

  “I wasn’t calling you a gold digger that day; it’s just that‌—‌no, I’m not doing this again. No more talk.”

  “Fine,” She said, and then kissed me again.

  I pulled her off and stared at her.

  “Enough! We’re over! Finished! I’m getting married today and that’s that. I can’t do this anymore, claiming to be that baby’s father was the end.”

  “Oh Johnny, we could be a family. I know you love Tori, I do. But I also know that you can’t love her as much as you love me, and I’m betting that when the time comes, you won’t be able to go through with it, you won’t be able to marry her.”

  Tori appeared in the doorway in a flowing gown of white.

  “I’ll take that bet.”

  I gasped. “Tori, my God, you’re breathtaking honey.”

  “Thank you John, now please leave us alone. Mrs. Thorne and I have things to discuss.”

  “I’m Ms. Delgado again, I had my marriage annulled.”

  I hesitated to leave. “Tori, not today, today is for us.”

  “Felicia and I need to come to an understanding, don’t worry, there will be no violence.”

  “I’ll be right outside.”

  I stepped into the short hallway and found Bill speaking with Sophie.

  “My John, you should wear a tux more often, you’re dashing.”

  I spoke, distractedly, “Thank you Sophie.” while staring at the door.

  “They’re in there together, aren’t they?” Bill said.

  I nodded. A minute passed, and then Tori stepped into the hall, smiling radiantly, a moment later, Felicia drifted out, her face a mixture of shock and despair.

  Tori kissed me. “Ready big boy?”

  I smiled. “Let’s do it.”

  * * *

  We spoke our vows on the bridge, above the waves, above the sea.

  We were now Mr. and Mrs. John and Victoria Faron, and at that moment, I think it would be fair to say that I was the happiest I had ever been.

  Bill had been my best man, while Tori’s friend Carol acted as maid of honor.

  While the rest of our guests began to feast, Tori and I led Felicia, Sophie and Bill back into the house, through the living room and into the rear of the great room, where the ocean view was supreme.

  Piled high on a long table, were numerous wedding gifts and cards from well-wishers, and along the right wall was a microphone and the band instruments of our entertainment.

  Over on the left, near the tables, some of the catering crew were still setting up the indoor bar.

  Felicia handed Tori a sheaf of papers, the agreement.

  “It’s signed.”

  Tori looked over the papers and smiled. “Good, and now our business here is done, thanks for coming.”

  Felicia looked about uncertainly. “I… guess we’ll leave.”

  Tori softened. “Stay for the reception too, if you’d like.”

  Felicia wandered over to the table, her back turned to us.

  “I’ll stay as long as I can. I need to say goodbye to Johnny.”

  Bill took Sophie’s arm and gestured toward the door.

  “Tori, why don’t we give them a few moments alone, hmm?”

  Tori hesitated, but then she smiled and nodded.

  “Take all the time you need, I’ll be with the other guests.”

  I kissed Tori’s cheek. “Thank you honey,”

  In the next instant, Felicia scurried backwards, away from the table.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  She pointed to an oblong-shaped package, it was bright red with a yellow bow, there was also a large, hand written card attached. The card read:

  May your future be a blast

  “That’s David’s handwriting.”

  Bill walked over to her. “Are you certain?”

  “Yes, he used to write me little notes, each and every morning, ‘Notes of instruction’ he liked to call them, outlining what to do and what to cook for that day’s meal. I know his handwriting.

  Sophie, come look at this.”

  Sophie walked over and stared at the card.

  “That is David’s writing.”

  Bill shouted. “Everybody out! It may be explosive.”

  While Bill herded Felicia and Sophie toward the door, I grabbed Tori’s hand and started running. The catering crew gave us odd looks and then began running along with us. We were nearly to the sliding glass door when the bomb went off.

  I don’t
know what Thorne used, but it blew apart the back of the home as if it were made of balsa wood, and lifted all of us off of our feet, sending us hurtling through the air.

  Bill and Sophie were thrown through the open doorway, along with two of the catering crew, and landed unceremoniously onto the living room’s carpeted floor.

  The rest of us smashed into the glass block door like insects on a windshield and slid limply to the floor, a floor that suddenly tilted downward, as the stilt supports at the other end of the room ripped away from the floor joists, amid a cacophony of rending steel.

  The glass wall at that end of the room was gone, and the room now dangled at a precipitous slant, above the jagged rocks in the sea below.

  I managed to snag the brass handle on the glass door as it rolled shut, while stretching out my other hand for Tori.

  Too late!

  The blast had thrown her far to my right and she now slipped away from me with sickening speed, toward the open end of the room. As the ringing in my ears began to fade, a scream of terror came from my left and I jerked my head around to see Felicia also sliding away, headfirst, toward the precipice, near her were three of the catering crew, a man and two women.

  I watched in horror as all five figures disappeared over the edge and then squeezed my eyes shut in agony as I heard the screams of women falling, punctuated by the heartrending sounds of flesh hitting stone.

  I pulled myself up to a slanted standing position by using the door handle, and peered downward, toward the end of the room.

  Tori was alive! Alive!

  Although I could not see her face, I could see the train of her wedding dress blowing in the breeze, and a hand, gripped tightly about a sprig of reinforcement bar that jutted upward from the demolished floor.

  Fifty feet to Tori’s right, one of the caterers, the man, was trying to climb back up by using the mangled reinforcement bars, his bearded, ruddy face, a study in terror and panic.

  Thirty feet to his right was a mane of hair blowing in the wind that could only belong to Felicia, while one white knuckled hand gripped a bar. Just as the man managed to get a knee back onto the floor, the building shook and the room skewed even lower, throwing the man off balance and sending him howling backwards toward the rocks below.

  I stood gripping the door handle tightly with both hands as my head swiveled back and forth between Tori and Felicia.

  Both of them were now sobbing in little mewls of agony at the certainty of their own deaths.

  My mind raced, trying to find a solution, searching for a resolution, a way out, a fix, that would save my beloved from their fate. There was none. They would both struggle to hold on, they would both weaken, and they would both die.

  I gazed upon that wide expanse of floor, empty now, save for a series of bent metal support posts that jutted upward like branchless trees.

  I could not save them both, but perhaps, I could save one.

  With Tori on my right and Felicia to my left, I relinquished the safety of my door handle and leapt.

  * * *

  I have been told by one of the foremost psychiatrist in the world that I must under no circumstance probe my mind in search of what went on within me that day, of my thoughts, on what I based my decision, my choice, my… my… preference, to save one and not the other.

  It is her belief that to do so could cause a psychic break in my mind from which I would not be able to recover. A colleague of hers agrees, but he does not believe that I was choosing who to save, rather, he believes that I was attempting to kill myself, knowing that no favorable outcome could occur, no matter what actions I performed, and that my rescue attempt, looked at in the cold light of reason, had a zero probability of success.

  I don’t know about any of it. I only know I leapt.

  * * *

  As I braced for the leap, Bill yanked impotently on the handle on the other side of the glass, the thick glass block door was cracked and wedged in its wide track from the stress of the collapse, essentially sealing the room off.

  Bill shouted, “John, no!” as I kicked off the glass as hard as I could.

  I landed on my stomach with such force that it made my ribs ache. I began rocketing downward immediately, and as I slid, I endeavored to turn my body, so as to reach the precipice sideways.

  Moments from the edge, I felt the floor quake and knew it had just dipped a little more, and I wondered if the entire house was not about to just simply collapse into the sea.

  My speed increased, and as I neared the edge, I spotted her, holding onto the bar now with only two fingers, two fingers that were losing their grip.

  I reached the edge just as she lost her battle and fell, screaming in terror.

  With my arms outstretched and my mind on laser focus, I simultaneously grabbed onto her wrist with one hand while clutching with the other upon a mangled bar, which was jutting upward two feet away from the one she had just lost hold of.

  My momentum was too great though, and my hand slid along its length and slipped from the end of the bar and out into empty space.

  For just a moment, it was as if we were hovering, and below us laid the grotesque sight of the bodies shattered upon the rocks, the breaking waves, now frothing red with their blood.

  Then gravity flexed, and we plummeted.

  From the corner of my eye, I spied the serrated edge of one of the twisted red support stilts and grasped at it for dear life, my own, and that of the one I sought to save.

  The pain that followed was so intense that I nearly relinquished my hold, as jagged metal sliced into my fingers and the palm of my hand. We dangled there, the two of us, hanging by one arm, and that’s when I heard the scream.

  The one I chose not to save. The one I loved with all my heart; as God is my witness, I swear it’s true. That one, plummeted to her death with the knowledge that I had chosen not to save her. For as she fell, I looked across the divide and saw her eyes staring at me, and then a moment later, she was gone… gone.

  The grief nearly killed me, but at that moment the saved one cried out and I bent my arm until she could fasten hers about me and then I swung my other hand up and gripped the jagged metal now with both hands, while clamping my legs about her.

  How long we hung there, I do not know.

  As the saved one cried and clutched onto me for dear life, I closed my eyes and waited, waited for the sound of the helicopter that I ascertained could be our only means of rescue.

  I hung on, for minutes? Hours? I don’t know.

  I only knew that I had saved one, and that I would allow nothing to take her from me. That I would not let her die, that short of God himself reaching down and peeling away my punctured, bloody fingers, that I would endure until rescue, even if I had to hold on until the end of all time.

  51

  We were in the emergency room at Community Hospital.

  I sat in a chair with my head hung low, gazing at the stitches sewn into my wounded hands.

  Beside me, Bill sat with a comforting grip on my shoulder.

  I raised my head and looked across at her, and for perhaps the thousandth time, I thanked God that I had been able to save her.

  I had nearly lost her. Oh my lord, she almost died.

  I stared at Bill. “I know she’s gone, but the baby, maybe they coul—”

  “No John, I’m sorry,”

  “But maybe medical science could—”

  “John, Johnny… she fell over a hundred feet.”

  I nodded my head vigorously.

  “Right, right, I understand,”

  I looked over and saw that the doctor was finishing with her. She had sustained a gash across her side as she went over the edge, but otherwise she was fine. She looked at me with a wobbly smile on her face and I sent her a sigh of relief.

  I had saved her.

  I had saved her.

  Against all odds, I had saved her.

  But what of the other John?

  Why couldn’t you save them both John?
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  Do you remember the look in her eyes John?

  I reached into an inside pocket and brought it out yet again.

  It was just a tiny strip of paper, but for a while there, it meant the world.

  As I sat in tortured silence, I became aware of the sound.

  It started low, and then built into an unmistakable cry of agony, of emotional human anguish, and I remembered that I had not suffered the only loss that day. That three of the caterers had fallen to their deaths as well.

  As the sound intensified, I realized that it must be coming from a man and that he must be mourning the loss of a wife or lover. The poor bastard, from the sound of him, he must have loved her very much.

  I looked around the room, searching for the source of the lament and realized that all eyes were staring at me, especially hers. She left her seat and ran to me, and it was only then that I realized that I was the source of the wailing.

  I attempted to close my mouth, but couldn’t, and then all mastery of my body abandoned me and I slid from the chair and rolled onto the cold tile floor.

  A moment later, I was drifting upward, leaving my body.

  That screaming hulk of flesh that moments ago I claimed as I, now seemed as impersonal as a stone.

  I was now free of it, free of him and his horrendous failure as a man, as a lover, as a husband… as a father.

  While a doctor tended to me, Felicia spoke to him frantically.

  “What’s wrong doctor? You said he was all right?”

  The doctor called to a nurse, as the thing on the floor continued its banshee cry.

  “Get Dr. Matthews down here, right now!”

  Felicia grabbed his arm. “Who’s Dr. Matthews? Is he a specialist?”

  “I’m sorry miss, but Dr. Matthews is a psychiatrist.”

  Felicia collapsed to the floor beside my body and caressed it.

  “Oh Johnny it’s going to be okay, I swear baby it’s going to be okay, please don’t cry, please don’t cry.”

  But the banshee on the floor continued to wail.

  Bill helped Felicia up and hugged her, while peering down in an agony of sorrow at my form on the floor.

  Lying beside me was the narrow strip of paper, it was blue, blue for a boy, a son.