by Lee Heaven
I smiled as I listened to his friends laugh and make fun of him at the insult I just left on him with my put down. They gathered their belongings and headed out the door all calling a goodnight to me. I locked the door behind them and went about wiping the tables before closing out the till.
I was lucky and only had to walk around the building to the back steps up to the apartment above the bar. When Jim, the owner of this dive retired and moved to Florida a few years ago he let me have the place and run the bar for him. While he still owned the place, I ran it, paid the bills and did everything needed to be done to keep it full of liquor and customers. I have to say I was doing a pretty damn good fucking job at it to.
I locked the front door as I left and turned toward the side of the building to walk around it. I saw the blonde hair man was leaning against a rusty pick-up truck. I wanted to run and jump into this man’s arms and kiss him till we were both breathless. It was crazy right? I didn’t even know his name. I barely said more than two dozen words to the man. But there he was standing there as if he was waiting for me. Where were his friends?
“Need a ride?” He asked.
Yes! In more ways than you could think, I wanted to scream, but I bit my tongue instead. I shook my head no, “No need, I’m only upstairs.”
He nodded his head, “I’m Kristopher Marshal.” He offered me his name.
“Well you already know my name is Chrissy, Chrissy Richards,” I smiled at him.
“Where you from?” He asked.
“Jersey. You?”
He walked closer to me. His smile stretched across his handsome face. He stopped right in front of me, our toes almost touching. “You’re shitting me right? I’m from Jersey to. What part?”
“North Jersey a small town near the PA border. What about you?”
“Woodbridge.”
Before I could even think, I was dragging Kristopher up the stairs to my apartment. We spent the next two days in my bed not only having sex but getting to know each other. When I had to work he sat at the bar and talked with me. Sunday afternoon came and I was dreading Kristopher walking out of my life. He wasn’t like the other Marine’s that have walked into my bar over the years. I was more than willing to let them go after our time was done. But Kristopher was different. I didn’t want to let him go. I wanted him to stay with me.
“Can you take off next weekend and come up to the base and see me?” He asked as he wrapped his hand around my neck pulling me closer to him.
“I’ll drive up Thursday night,” I said in a whisper as I brushed my lips against his.
We spent the next six weeks traveling back and forth for the weekends. Mostly I traveled, but as long as I was with him at night I didn’t care. On that sixth weekend Kristopher pulled out a tiny little diamond ring and asked me to marry him. Two weekends later we were standing in front of the Justice of Peace and were married. The next three weeks were more of the same traveling, we had to wait until base housing opened up before I could move in. As soon as one opened up I was packing my apartment up and handing the keys to the bar over to my manager.
Our three month anniversary was September 11, 2001, less than a month later Kristopher and the rest of his unit were deployed to Afghanistan. Jeremy was flown back in late December after a freak accident where a tank backed over him and crushed his leg. He was sitting on my couch a month later, when the day that changed my life forever happened. The doorbell rang and the second I opened the door to find a chaplain and Officer standing there I knew my world was over. I hadn’t even known Kristopher a year, yet it had felt like a lifetime of loving him and now all that was gone. Jeremy had me in his arms before I even hit the floor when my legs gave out. For a man with a busted leg he sure moved fast.
“He’ll never know,” I cried into Jeremy shoulder.
“What won’t he know?” Jeremy asked as his hand stroked my hair.
“I’m pregnant,” I sobbed into his shoulder. I felt another hand settle on my shoulder as the chaplain began speaking but all was lost and I heard none of what was said.
~~~
“Marry me,” Jeremy said from his side of the couch as he massaged my swollen ankles. I moved back down to Myrtle Beach, living above the bar again and working at the same time. I was pushing seven months pregnant, but needed something to keep my mind off of Kristopher, so I worked. Jeremy came down to visit me about every other weekend, always slept on the couch and never had even as much as made a sexual joke towards me. He has been at every single doctor’s appointment and if you didn’t know any better you would have guessed he was the baby’s father.
“What are you talking about?” I laughed at him.
“Let me take care of you and the baby. You don’t have to love me. Just let me take care of you. Kristopher would want it. He wouldn’t want you sitting in this small apartment raising his baby by yourself when I am more than willing to help. I’ll never take his place, I know that, but I can’t let you live like this when I know I can help.”
What could I possibly say? Did I really want to marry Jeremy? Could I marry him? I could already hear my step-father’s taunts, ‘Really, another Marine?’ ‘Can’t make it on your own now that you have a baby coming? You should really just come home, let me fix all your mistakes.’
“Let me think about it,” I said as the baby gave me a strong kick making my stomach shake a little. Jeremy’s hand let go of my ankle and he placed it lightly against my stomach. The baby gave another swift kick right where his hand rested. Was it a sign? If I married Jeremy would I take his last name? Would I give the baby his name? Or would I give it Kristopher’s? If I gave the baby Jeremy’s name how do I explain who his real father is when he is old enough to understand what happened? “I need to go to bed,” I said as I looked at the clock and its gleaming numbers flashing three-fifteen in the morning at me.
Jeremy nodded his head and removed his hand from my stomach. He stood and helped me up off the couch. While I was in the bathroom getting ready I heard the squeak of metal as he pulled the couch bed out from its hiding spot. I walked out of bathroom and crossed the little hall towards my bedroom, as I walked past the living room I turned to find Jeremy standing there in just a pair of tight grey boxer briefs. His massive thighs strained the material as it stretched over his muscles. They led up to a lean torso that supported a six pack of abs neatly defined by grooves that screamed to be licked. My jaw dropped a little as I looked up a little farther to rock hard pecs, strong shoulders and massive arms.
Fuck!
I knew he was in shape but I didn’t know he was this ripped. After his leg was crushed he worked twice as hard to get back in shape and make sure his leg was strong enough to get back to his unit. While he hasn’t been able to go back to full duty yet, he is at least back working with another unit on base until he gets that clearance.
Don’t tell Jeremy but I secretly hoped he won’t get that clearance. I don’t want him going to a war zone and losing him like I had lost Kristopher.
I looked up into his violet colored eyes. Yes he has violet eyes. They are very hypnotic too. I knew I was in trouble if I stayed there much longer. I mumbled a quick good night and rushed into my room, closing the door and resting my head against the cool wood.
An hour later I was still wide awake. I slid out of bed and quietly opened my door. I slipped out and walked into the living room. I stood behind the couch looking down onto Jeremy. It was dark and I could only make out the shape of his body. Could I really move on with him? In all reality I’ve known him longer then I knew Kristopher. If I really think about it, I do love Jeremy in his own way and I couldn’t imagine living without him. Maybe this is where my future was supposed to be. Maybe I was supposed to marry Jeremy.
“Chrissy, if you have something to say, just say it. If not stop staring at me,” I could hear the laughter in his voice.
How long was I staring at him? I walked around the back of the couch and lay down next to him. It wouldn’t be the first time I la
id next to him after Kristopher died but it would be the first that I would kiss him besides on his cheek. As I turned to face him I latched my lips on to his. I felt his hesitation for a moment before he wrapped his hands around my head and lower back pulling me closer to him, at least as close as my growing belly would allow. His lips molded to mine, they were perfect. It was the first time I had kissed a man in close to seven months. Not since the day Kristopher left for war had I let a man touch me more than a hug or kiss on the cheek. Now I lay here with Jeremy holding me as his tongue slid into my mouth to meet with mine. I could feel my arms wrap around his shoulders as one of my legs went over his hip, pressing as tight to him as I could. His hand slid from my waist and down to my thigh, his fingers burned my skin as he dragged them up my thigh and under the hem of my oversized nightshirt. His lips skipped a beat when his fingers met the juncture of my legs and found it bare.
“Turn to your other side,” he whispered as he dragged his lips down my neck and helped me turn around. He pushed my nightshirt up and over my head. He lifted my leg and hooked it over his hip. At some point he had shed his grey boxer briefs, or was he not wearing them at all when I climbed in bed with him.
Seven months it had been since I slept with a man. Kristopher was the last one, but here I am with one of his best friends. Jeremy pushed inside me. Despite being pregnant I was tight. It took a second for me to adjust to his size. He was bigger than Kristopher in both length and girth. With a sigh escaping from my lips his hips began to move and he slid in and out of me. It wasn’t long before I was reaching my climax and him following close behind.
“Marry me, Jeremy,” I whispered as we laid there wrapped in each other’s arms.
Two weeks later Jeremy and I were married and right before my due date base housing opened up and I moved back to the base and in with Jeremy. I can remember the looks of some of the other wives, while most were excited and happy to see me, I could see the judgment on the other’s faces. I knew what they were thinking, after all I did marry my husband’s best friend and I was pregnant, no doubt they were thinking Jeremy was the father and I had cheated on Kristopher while he was away fighting. If they only knew the sad truth.
Kristopher ‘Kris’ Marshal McAllen was born two weeks after I moved back to the base. Jeremy insisted we name him after his father, even put a picture of Kristopher on the dresser facing the crib. Late at night as he rocked in the rocking chair, I would hear Jeremy telling Kris stories of his father. About the type of soldier and friend he was.
Felicity Rain followed three years later. While I was pregnant with her they found cancer on my uterine wall, fallopian tubes and ovary. While there was no harm to the baby, when she was born they also did a hysterectomy. Twenty-five and I was no longer going to have any babies. I worried more for Jeremy than myself. For all intent purposes Kris was his son, but I know a piece of him still hurt because biologically he wasn’t. I knew, even though he wouldn’t admit it, he wanted a son of his own, and now, now I’d never be able to give him that.
Felicity was about a year old when Jeremy hit me for the first time. He had been out drinking with his buddies one Saturday night. It was about three in the morning when he came stumbling in the door. Kris had left one of his toy cars on the floor and after Jeremy took his boots off he stepped on it. I jumped up from where I had fallen asleep on the couch and raced over to him when he swore loudly. His palm came up and smacked me across the face. I fell to the floor from the weight of the blow and he stumbled to the bedroom where he collapsed face first into the bed before passing out.
In true fashion he apologized profusely, claiming he was sorry and it would never happen again. I of course believed him. Six months later he was discharged from the Marines after medical testing had proved that there was nerve damage from his leg being crushed and he would never be able to return to duty full time.
We moved back to his home town of Joliet, Illinois. That was the beginning of the end for Jeremy. He was never the same and the abuse became an almost everyday occurrence.
Chapter 2
It’s been eight years since Jeremy hit me the first time. While at first it was only every once in awhile, as the years went by it became an everyday occurrence. I’ve left him three times since then and all three times it always ended with him on his knees begging me to come back and that things will change. And like the statistic I seem to have become, I always take him back.
He has broken my nose twice, my cheekbone once and fractured my spine after slamming me against a door frame. Every time he begs for forgiveness and every time I give it. I’m at my breaking point at this point. I’m holding in one hand the foreclosure notice from the mortgage company and in the other hand a bank statement.
“Where the fuck is all the money?” I mumble to myself. It’s not the first time that Jeremy has hidden money over the years. It was always some excuse. ‘I was trying to save for a surprise vacation,’ ‘I was going to buy you a new car,’ ‘The bank must have messed up. I know my paychecks are going into the account.’ They were never the truth though. His paychecks were going towards his drinking or gambling or once he was even paying some girls rent over our own mortgage. I swear he was having an affair with her, I just couldn’t prove it. It wouldn’t have been the first time he cheated on me.
My phone ringing under the pile of papers drew my attention away from my foreclosure papers. Looking at the screen I saw it was my best friend Sarah Starr. We had known each other since third grade. “What up bitch?” I answered the phone. “How was your interview?”
“Holy fucking shit!” She screamed into my ear. “You’re never going to believe who the fuck I just interviewed for?”
“Who?”
“Decker Fucking Jensen!” She yelled even louder.
“Wait…thee…”
“Yes!” She cut me off. “Thee fucking Decker Jensen. Yankee fucking shortstop. Drop dead fucking gorgeous almost had me fucking orgasming right there on his fucking dining room chair just from fucking looking at him, Decker Fucking Jensen.”
Sarah had what we liked to call a Jersey Trucker’s mouth. When she got going every other word out of her mouth was a curse word. Being out of Jersey for so long my mouth wasn’t as bad, but I knew it was only a matter of time since I was on the phone with her before my mouth started.
“You’re fucking with me right?” See what did I say, there goes my mouth.
“No, I’m not fucking with you. I’m totally fucking serious. I almost collapsed at the front door when his fucking lawyer answered the door. The man was so fucking hot. Then I walked into the dining room to find another fucking hot lawyer looking man and Decker Fucking Jensen sitting at the table. I couldn’t fucking talk for a few minutes. All I could do was stare at some freaking painting he had on the wall. I swear his eyes were trying to bore into my fucking soul the whole time, he never stopped staring at me.”
“Uhhh…” I was fucking speechless for a second. “Holy shit that is something. Did you get the job?”
“I don’t know, he said he was going to fucking call if I got the job or not. Holy fucking shit! Holy shit, Decker Fucking Jensen is going to fucking call me! On my god damn phone! Holy shit!”
“God damn you are one lucky fucking bitch! What I wouldn’t give to have been you. Hell, what I wouldn’t give to had been the lint in your pocket! Oh shit! Does Shawn know?”
“He knew I was going for an interview. I can’t tell if he was happy or not about it. He fucking yells all the time that I spend too much money, but yet he had a scowl on his face as I was getting ready this morning. I’m sure once he finds out who it was and if I get the job, all hell will break fucking lose.”
“How did we end up this way?” I asked, my voice changing from the happy tone it was to my normal beaten to a pulp sound.
“What happened now? Did that fucker hit you again?”
“The other day, he didn’t let me know he was coming home for lunch and I had nothing ready, so of course it was a ha
nd across the face before he slammed the door shut shouting about having to buy lunch now. That is nothing new. It’s the mail I got today that is really getting to me. The bank statement says we barely have two hundred dollars in the account. On top of that we got another foreclosure notice. I thought he learned when they tried to foreclose last time, but no, he hasn’t paid the mortgage in almost four months and I have no fucking clue where any of the damn money is again.”
Sarah sighed before talking. She knew everything about my life just like I knew about hers. Somehow we both were living lives that we never wanted and were somehow stuck in, despite wanting to leave. “I hate to say it Chrissy…” she sighed again, “…but is she back in town? Every time she’s around all the money goes missing. Remember last time, he was paying her rent and that’s why you went into foreclosure?”
I knew she was right. Every time Kathy Foster comes around he drops everything and screws us over. This girl has been playing with him since high school and he falls for it every time. I thought he loved me enough to not pay attention and go running when she called, and he did at first, he didn’t run to her, but now he does.
I wiggled the mouse around and the computer screen jumped to life. I wedged the phone into my shoulder as I logged into the phone companies website. As I pulled up the list of calls made and received my heart sank.
“They’ve been talking. Multiple times a day. Like I’m talking not sure how he’s getting any work done because he’s always on the phone type of talking,” I sighed dropping my head into my hand.
“Come home. I know it sucks for both of us, come home. We can figure a way to start over for both of us.”
“I miss Kristopher,” I sobbed into the phone.
“I know sweetie. I wish I could have met him. Come home. Just think about it. Maybe after the holidays or when the kids finish school this year, just think about coming home.”
