Bedtime Stories for Grownups
Can’t I Just Die?
I WOKE WITH A START when the garbage truck dropped the dumpster behind my townhouse. Oh, my head. I snuggled up against Jane and cupped her breast in my hand as we spooned together in bed, my hard cock wedged comfortably between her ass cheeks. She moaned a little and turned to kiss me good morning.
Fucking hell! This wasn’t Jane.
And the worst day of my life began.
Again.
I knew without asking what day it was. I pushed away from Suze without speaking to her and locked myself in the bathroom. I didn’t bother showering. I curled up around the cold toilet and stayed there.
I think I slept some. Someone pounded on the bathroom door.
“Open up, Dal. This will help you,” Suze said.
“No, it won’t.” I heaved again.
A couple of hours later there was another knock.
“Dal? Come on out now. We need to talk,” Jane said.
“No, we don’t. Go away.”
“Dal…” I heard her voice break and a sob but she left me alone. I’d already replayed in my mind what was happening on the street. It made no difference that I wasn’t there. I could still feel the boy’s blood spatter against me. I heaved again.
It was late in the day. I was still in the bathroom. I knew the sun had gone down but I didn’t really know what time it was. I ran a bath. Maybe I could drown myself. Before I stepped into it, I looked in the mirror. Not just angry and hung-over and afraid. Haunted.
I got in the tub and went to sleep.
I woke with a start when the garbage truck dropped the dumpster behind my townhouse. Oh, my head. I snuggled up against Jane and cupped her breast in my hand as we spooned together in bed, my hard cock wedged comfortably between her ass cheeks. She moaned a little and turned to kiss me good morning.
Fucking hell! This wasn’t Jane.
And the worst day of my life began.
Again.
Seven times. I was in hell, doomed to repeat this day over and over. Happy Valentine’s Day. Fuck.
I stumbled into the bathroom and vomited. It seemed routine now. Every day I’d get up hung over and vomit in the toilet. I didn’t even feel it anymore. I didn’t feel the headache. I didn’t taste the coffee or the V8 concoction. I didn’t say anything. I met Jane as she opened the door. I looked at her with tears in my eyes and pushed past her into the cold.
I hurried my steps toward the bus stop. I could see it coming. I could see the little boy. I ran.
I scooped him up just as he was about to step off the curb. I held him in my arms as the bus rolled to a stop. Not this time. There would be no blood on my clothes this time.
“Help! Bruce! My baby! That man stole my baby!”
I turned to tell her that I wasn’t stealing him. I was going to explain how he’d almost stepped off the curb.
I was met with a fist to the mouth and the little boy was snatched from my arms. The fist was only the first. By the time I hit the pavement, I’d been pummeled nearly unconscious. After I was down, I was kicked the rest of the way.
I woke up in pain. I reached to touch my face. My wrist was shackled to the bed.
“All right, who are you and why were you trying to kidnap that baby?” a police officer demanded as he loomed over me.
“Not kidnapping. Saving.”
“For who?”
“From the bus. About to step in front of it.”
“Yeah, right. We have a dozen witness who say you snatched that little boy right out of his mother’s arms.”
“Wasn’t in her arms. Walking toward the curb.”
“So that’s your story.” He unfastened the cuffs from the bed and ripped my IV tube out of my arm. They hadn’t even bothered to undress me in the hospital. He pulled me to my feet and dragged me across the room.
“Shoes.”
“You don’t need shoes where you’re going.”
Apparently, I didn’t need my jacket, either. The cold wind bit into me and the pavement stuck to my feet. I was shoved into a squad car and then confined in a cell with half a dozen other men who stank to high heaven.
“I didn’t do anything!” I protested for the twentieth time.
“Child molester,” the cop said. He turned and walked away. A hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me around to face my cellmates. This wasn’t a friendly welcoming committee. They made sure it took a long time to lose consciousness.
I woke with a start when the garbage truck dropped the dumpster behind my townhouse. Oh, my head. I snuggled up against Jane and cupped her breast in my hand as we spooned together in bed, my hard cock wedged comfortably between her ass cheeks. She moaned a little and turned to kiss me good morning.
Fucking hell! This wasn’t Jane.
And the worst day of my life began.
Again.
Two weeks. Or was it more? It made no difference. It was still Valentine’s Day. I puked, showered, dressed, drank Suze’s magic potion. There was nothing for me to say. I pulled on my hat and gloves this time and walked to the door just as Jane opened it. I turned. Suze was right behind me crying. Something snapped.
“I want you both to know that I love you very much,” I said. I stepped past Jane and hurried to the bus stop. I saw it coming and rushed. Just as the kid started to step off the curb, I leaned down and shoved him into his mother. I knew the action would kill me. Well, why not die a hero. I didn’t really feel the impact of the bus. Too much.
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