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Why I continue to torment myself is beyond me. Not really, it was that bitch, Misty.
Misty, that bitch whom I loved.
Maybe I was just more reflective at this time of day - sunrise. I hadn't always been like this. I could watch either a sunset or a sunrise and miss the other. Those were the days I slept normally, before...
I'm getting ahead of myself. I met Misty in the ninth grade. We quickly became friends because we had three classes together. Also, she seemed attracted to my 'bad boy' image, and truly, that's all it was. I brought a flask to school filled with whiskey and occasionally cut class but that didn't make me James Dean. I blame all that on my family and my upbringing.
The thing I liked most about Misty, always had, was her earnest and honest way. She had a carefree sincerity that drew people in. She even watched out for her kid sister, Angie, which was commendable. She also would not hang out with fake folk, which meant she had few girlfriends at school. Her way of working around the hierarchy was to simply avoid it. If one of the popular girls decided to try and bully Misty, that girl got bad shit done to her. Misty always seemed to be elsewhere when those things happened too. Her timing was uncanny.
Jed Carruthers went to our high school, even though he wasn't supposed to. Their home was a town over from us but like many towns in the south, our West Texas high school needed a quarterback. Jed was recruited on the down low. He started while I played tight end or safety - off the bench. That never bothered me because Jed was pretty damned good and I wasn't.
I blame that on my parents, too. My father jumped and left us when I was three, at least that's what mom told me. I found out later in life, from an uncle in Aberdeen, that dear ole dad got taken to the ditch by some coyotes of the human variety. Pops got involved with drugs and got jammed up. They made him pay his debt by being a runner. Those were the days of coyote gangs, before the 'war on drugs' and organized cartels. Those bastards didn't telegraph or broadcast their kills. You fucked up, you went to the ditch, end of story.
Mom didn't fare much better. She got drunk one night during the summer between my freshman and sophomore years and played chicken with a tree two blocks over and one down from our house. I ended up with my aunt, Mother's sister, and uncle. I missed her a lot because we used to talk about everything. I was a mama's boy, looking back.
Mom taught me about women, their emotions, their insecurities, and what made them happy... and I loved her for that. After she died, it dawned on me that while I was pretty far ahead of other guys my age when it came to the intricacies of women, I didn't know shit as far as men go. That's when I decided to join the Navy.
Misty and I gave each other our virginities earlier that February when she turned eighteen. I was four months older than Misty. She was the one who wanted to wait, for what reason I didn't know. I think she was afraid of her parents - like petrified. Her father had a bad temper. Sometimes, he'd cuss and scream at me for no reason when I'd go to pick up Misty.
Our first big speedbump occurred in the week of our senior prom. Jed Carruthers had asked her to the prom, even though the entire school knew Misty and I were an item. Misty stood her ground and informed me about politely declining Jed's almost daily invite but she was also on me for not formally asking her. That sort of pissed me off. As far along into the relationship as we were, I didn't feel the need. It should have gone without saying.
Things were going great at the prom until Jed came over to our table and asked Misty to dance while doing everything possible to pretend like I didn't exist. In that short span of time, my mind had already painted a picture of Misty scorning him and scolding his lack of manners. That didn't happen. She stood up without so much as a glance in my direction and headed off to the dance floor. I was fuming mad but it got worse as she stayed out there with him for two fast songs and a slow one, during which Misty seemed to allow him to get inappropriate with his hands. She was also dancing way too close. I'd seen enough.
"That's enough," I stated brashly while tapping Carruthers on the shoulder. "Cutting in."
"What's wrong, Simpson," he almost cackled like a little girl, with his sickening smirk, as though he couldn't get over himself. "Jealous?"
"Actually," I cleared my throat, "I was just being polite. Looks like your date just stepped outside with Aaron and Glenn from the basketball team. Probably to smoke some weed. You didn't leave your car unlocked, did you?"
Jed's face changed immediately. I don't think he believed me, but he was trapped in a damned if you do, damned if you don't scenario.
No words were needed in the following seconds. Misty knew exactly what she'd done wrong. I wasn't going to embarrass her or me right there on the dance floor, so I reached out to resume the dance. She let out a bunch of nervous air and placed her head between my collar and jaw, wrapping her arms up and over my shoulders.
The rest of the night did not go great. Jed never came back around to our table but I hadn't expected him to. He'd already done the damage he'd set out to cause. The ride home was tense and quiet. Neither Misty nor I were used to that so there was nervousness and a fair bit of anxiety. When we pulled up in front of Misty's house, I put it in park and just looked at her. She did the same but either couldn't or wouldn't say anything.
"Good night, Misty," I said as I broke eye contact and put my hand on the gearshift. With a sniffle, she exited the car.
Just a few short weeks later, Misty, I, and our class graduated. I'd kept her at arm's length since the prom, and she started getting upset, playing that silly game girls play of 'I'll show you.' I hadn't ghosted her; I just didn't go hang out with her like we always did. Since I wouldn't commit to anything about graduation or, any after-parties, she stopped talking to me altogether. I'm pretty sure that worked against her. Or me.
I was clearing out my locker on the last day of school when Misty approached. She looked like a lady on a mission.
"Are you ever planning to call me?" she half-shouted, half cried.
"Why?" I asked without looking at her, staying on task. "Why do you care?"
"Jesus," she replied in astonishment, "You're kidding, right? Are you my friend or not?"
"I always thought I was, until the prom," I answered nonchalantly.
"That's what this is about?" she looked incredulous but it seemed more of an act. She was worried. "Damn, Darin. Are you still pissed because I danced with Jed?"
"Cut the shit, Misty," I growled. "You know I am. Quit playing games. Quit acting surprised. I know we never said we were exclusive but you're my closest friend, or at least that's how I felt. We shared our love for each other and gave something precious to each other. That prick didn't ask, he never even acknowledged me, and you went right down the same path. Put yourself in my shoes and tell me how humiliated you'd have been if I'd done the same thing to you."
Misty looked at the floor and swiped her foot across the hardwood like girls often do. She looked back at me, to find I was finally glaring into her eyes. "I'm sorry if I hurt you, Darin," she said, all of her bluster gone.
"Don't say it if you don't mean it," I scolded. "What are you sorry for?"
"For disrespecting you," she started, thinking. "for not getting your permission, well, not permission, but maybe I should have looked at you and hoped for acceptance."
"Well, you're on the right track," I could have kept at her. She was still off the mark but not by a lot. I just didn't want to waste our last few days arguing.
"I really am sorry, Darin," she repeated. "Can we go out tonight? I miss us and I'd like to try to make up for things."
"Well, what about Jed?" I asked raising an eyebrow
"That's over," she replied. "A couple of dances and he copped a feel. I told him what an ass he'd been in front of his buddies in the lunchroom the Monday after prom."
It was time for my own declaration, way too late. Misty knew I wanted to join the Navy but I never told her when. I guess she probably thought we had the summer.
"I can't Misty," she looked shocked and hurt. "We can go for pizza or a salad or something, but I have to get up very early. The recruiter is picking me up at six in the morning to take me for my Navy physical. If I pass, I'll be shipping off later in the week."
Misty's mouth hung open. I don't know why she looked scared. Then her expression changed in an instant.
"You heartless prick!" she said in a low tone. "You were going to sneak off and what, not tell me?" Misty held back a sob. I could tell she was hurt. It didn't feel as good as I thought it would, doing it like that.
She turned and walked away.
I passed my physical, then I sat discussing options with some other guy. I told him I wanted to learn things that I'd never been taught by my father. He suggested diesel and heavy machinery mechanics. It seemed a little drastic until he explained that I'd leave the navy having full knowledge of tools and machinery. I could even advance into something more specialized like welding.
The idea appealed to me enough, and it was better than mess cook, so I signed on the line.
Misty was sitting on my Aunt's front porch swing when I got home. She looked awful.
"Can we talk, Darin?" she asked in a tiny voice. I nodded.
Misty again apologized for dancing with Jed. She apologized for hurting my feelings, then told me she now understood how I'd felt. She held my hand and she cried. She'd thought we would have more of the summer together.
"I want you to have this," out of her pocket she pulled a necklace from which hung her grandmother's ring. "It's my promise to you. You're special to me, more than I knew, and I want to wait for you. I'm going to be your girlfriend while you're away, and I hope you'll feel the same way. I want us to be together when you get back."
Misty always had a knack for making me emotional. "I... I don't have anything," I stammered. "Any jewelry to give you in return."
Misty gave a half-smile. "Do you want me to wait for you? Darin, do you want to commit to me?" I nodded.
"Then give me your football jacket," she asked. "And whatever T-shirt you wear to bed tonight so I can sleep with it." I understood what she wanted.
We moved and sat out back watching the sunset and right there, we pledged ourselves to each other. Misty had more to say.
"Jed keeps after me," she told me a little hesitantly. "Since the prom."
"Have you guys done anything?" It was my turn to be hesitant, unsure if I wanted to know. "You know, kiss or anything?"
Misty looked me dead in the eye. "No, but he's made it clear he wants to. He tells me how much he likes me and how much I'll like him if I would just give him a chance."
"Is that why you want us to commit to each other?" I wanted to know.
"No," she said immediately. "I... well, I think I love you, like as in I'm 'in love' with you. I don't want either of us to get ahead of ourselves, so that's why I want to be your girlfriend while you're gone. It only helps me to get Jed to back off. He's quite persistent. I know he'll be relentless when he finds out that you're gone. This will help."
We made our promises and discussed how and when we could stay in touch. I didn't know much about that. I did tell her I'd be home after boot camp. She told me she was going to start looking for a job right away. We watched as the orange sky turned to blackness and kissed each other good night.
The navy agreed with me, or rather, we agreed with each other. Other than boot camp, I actually had fun. My first real gig was on a destroyer in the Mediterranean where I learned how to use impacts and other air tools, besides really big wrenches, and later learned how to weld.
On leave, Misty was my girlfriend. We spent almost every moment together but the time always seemed too short.
While I wasn't the smartest guy around, I wasn't born yesterday. Misty was beautiful. She'd already had Jed chasing her, which meant others would try their luck while I was gone. I was in it for a four-year haul, so I didn't expect complete faithfulness, even though 'going steady' was her idea. When you put too high a hope in someone, an unachievable expectation, you must accept disappointment, so I thought I was going into this with my eyes open, especially as it related to Jed.
The fact that Misty wanted to be known as my girlfriend, especially in my absence, spoke volumes to me. It felt like she wouldn't let Jed openly and publicly pursue her. It also told me that if she happened to slip with anyone, during my four years away, it would have to be done discreetly. Those thoughts were substantiated in my mind because she never mentioned being engaged or any other such promise of greater significance.
I appreciated Misty for that although I was still pissed about the prom. Knowing Jed, while I wanted to believe Misty could uphold her promises, he's a guy used to getting his way... in everything. His family was that way and they probably taught him from an early age. Being the star quarterback only validated what his family told him. She was looking after my heart, in a way, and at the same time, not over-extending or committing herself or us as a couple. However, she'd already rebuked Jed several times, probably even causing him a good deal of public shame. He wasn't going to give up. I could only hope that Misty would do the right thing. She solemnly promised she would. In return, that made me willing to allow minor indiscretions on her part, even though our pact was rooted in silence and mutual respect.
I also wasn't going to be a hypocrite. Of course, I partied with my shipmates in many a port. Although I only ever once spent the night having sex with a well-educated woman, I never turned down handjobs or blowjobs unless the lady looked like she might give me a little something, something that would later require penicillin.
I never asked Misty about other guys when I was home for a visit. We had too much to catch up on and I didn't think those questions would lead to anything productive for our future.
Misty had taken a part-time job at our local watering hole, The Bronco, a honky tonk with a live band most nights and a large dance floor. When she told me, I worried more about her. She was a beautiful woman and everyone in town knew it, including her.
All the fun, came to an end late into my third year in the service, during a shit-your-pants two hours, in the Sea of Sardinia, on a sunny Saturday morning.
Poorly stored barrels of fuel aboard our destroyer on the afterdeck ignited somehow, and it was literally all hands on deck as the fire continued to spread. Then the explosion came and that's when all hell broke loose.
I'd been about forty yards away from the blast point but my ears were still painfully ringing. My eyes saw sheer horror. Shipmates, awash in fuel, and on fire, screams that I could hear with my eyes but not my ears. I think I was crouched in a 'catcher's' position when I realized someone had ahold of my wrists. Then, I felt the hard slap.
"Move your ass, Seaman," the bloodied deck Lieutenant yelled. "That's an order!"
That's when I heard and saw the second explosion.
Seventy-six of one-hundred-ninety-eight of us went into the water that day. Forty-six survived the tragedy. Many of the survivors, including me, had some form of hearing damage. Even minimally or partially deaf humans don't make good sailors. Regardless of compensation, many of my shipmates were honorably discharged, just like me.
The worst part for me was the dreams. That's when I could sleep at all. The first week in the German military hospital was bad. Every time I got to REM sleep the horror began playing itself out in variations of what I'd witnessed in real life. The dreams tempered, and the frequency slowed by the time that I returned stateside.
I remained in Norfolk, under evaluation, for two months. I guess the Navy wanted to be sure I was alright before discharge, or just worthy of discharge. I'd have gone crazy over those two months if not for a fellow shipmate, Dan Wilkins. He'd been a Chief Petty Officer, promoted to Lieutenant JG. On the day of the disaster, he'd earned lieutenant commander stripes - literally - under fire.
Lieutenant Dan, as he was teased about mercilessly, did not lose any limbs in the accident. He did, however, receive third-degree burns to one side of his face and body in the process of saving crew members. Lt. Wilkins had a rosy outlook on life, and our conversations helped me put aside our ordeal's horrors.
The other person who helped keep me sane was Misty. I wrote to her first in Germany, and her return letter got there the day I flew back to Norfolk. My second letter probably confused her, but I was then able to talk to her from the phone in my room. My cell had been lost or destroyed in the incident and I hadn't been able to get a new one. The Navy took care of alerting my aunt and uncle. They were in the midst of making arrangements to come see me when I found out about my discharge.
Misty seemed very concerned about me, I mean overtly. She would usually start or end our conversations earnestly, maybe vigorously, asking me if I was truly all right.
Continually, I reassured her, but I felt it, too. Everything was different, I was different, and definitely not all right. What had happened that day had fundamentally changed me. What I told my assigned Navy therapist wasn't exactly true, either. I had so many thoughts and emotions swimming and competing in my head that I couldn't put a finger on the exact issue. That only led to more confusion and I started to become scared and anxious about going home.
One thing I determined; I would need Misty now more than ever.
Finally, I was released and headed home. Misty and my family met me at the airport. Misty cried, gut-sobbed actually, and held me for a long time. My uncle held my shoulders as he stared into my eyes and gave a perceptible nod in understanding.
I stayed with my aunt and uncle while continuing to recover. Misty was there every day with me. That was even with her working now full-time at Bronco's. She tried to get me to open up about my ordeal and I did to a small degree, because of her love for me. I held much more back though through sheer embarrassment on my part. I didn't want her to see me as less than - less than a man, less than a potential mate. I still felt terribly guilty for freezing like I did on the deck. I should have been helping to save my crewmates.
My uncle got me a temporary job at Smitty's, a car repair shop in town. That was another slap in the face as far as I was concerned. I was over-qualified for the job based on my Naval experience, but I had lost hearing in one ear, and my other was functioning at only fifty percent. I needed a hearing aid for my one good ear, but the eardrum in the other had ruptured beyond repair. That made me legally disabled, even though I'd recovered fully from my burns, three broken fingers, a cracked rib, and a fractured clavicle. My navy career shot, I'd have an uphill climb to advance in the field I'd planned.
Misty was my rock. I did everything in my power to reciprocate but knew I fell short in those early days. Regardless, Misty didn't bat an eye when I proposed and almost cracked another rib hysterically proclaiming, "YES!"
The wedding was a simple affair and my uncle sprang for a Hawaiian honeymoon on Maui, which made us both very happy and content. We watched the sunset fade into the Pacific horizon while in a hammock one of those nights when she asked me something.
"Darin," she started squeezing my hand. "Is this the sort of view you saw on board that ship?"
"It was," I told her. "The only thing missing was you." She reflected on my response, but there was more. "Are you in a better place finally? Can we start talking about our future and maybe some babies when we get home? I want to see what we'll need to get a house of our own. An apartment if we can't get a loan. Do you think we're ready?"
I knew the talk was coming and had prepared for it. I wanted to please her. She'd been my friend, and she'd proven her loyalty as a friend many times over.
"Yes, dear," I teased. "I'm ready. I'm sorry it's taken a while. I went to the VA before we got married to put my name onto a few lists for employment and got the paperwork for a VA loan. We make enough now to buy a starter home, but if we decide to have children right away, I'll need to make more."
Misty thought about that, too, but she seemed happy that I'd at least considered things before she brought them up and taken some action.
As it turned out, her father, Ralph, gifted us a single-wide mobile home upon our return. Misty's younger sister, Angie, helped clean up and decorate the place in our absence. She and her sister had never been all that close, but Angie had always been nice to me and I liked her. She always seemed jealous of Misty. The house resided on the back forty of one of Ralph's friends' ranch, so it was secluded. At least we had a private road.
Life went on for that first year and into our second. Misty and I figured out quickly we weren't ready to start a family, financially, so we decided to wait another year or two. The job at Smitty's Automotive turned into a permanent one. Misty picked up an extra shift at Bronco's. We were both working six days a week with very little time for ourselves.
The little time we did have, we made the most of it. Our sex life was always very good and Misty gave as good as she got. I could feel the love which also made it special to me. Often times though, we'd be too exhausted and would often postpone our lovemaking until the next night or the one after that. Doing so ruined our spontaneity but I understood our dilemma. Still, being so busy was good for me because I had to focus.
The dreams had also subsided. I still had them and I still felt 'off' at times, but I was feeling better about myself.
Just after our first anniversary, a bouncer position opened up at the Bronco, and Misty encouraged me to apply. I got the low-down from my fellow bouncers and from my wife about customers and how the servers handled them. It was a typical West Texas bar with entertainment five nights per week. The bouncers made sure I knew that most of the servers, including my wife, knew how and where to draw a line. They were working for tips after all. I had to learn how to spot the signs of things going south so I could be there for the servers and the other patrons.
When my wife arrived for her shift the next night I was still there being given a little orientation by the other bouncers. Misty figured I got the job when she saw me with 'the boys' and ran up, jumping in my arms for a congratulatory kiss and hug.
Misty was very good at 'the game' as she put it. She was able to absorb all the flirting and even the crude comments with a smile on her face. She let them play 'the game', and made it look like she was going along. It was easy to see that she enjoyed the compliments they plied her with, as well as the tips.
During this time, I felt Misty and me moving in slightly different directions. I couldn't put my finger on it. She was hanging out with her friends from the club more and I was becoming withdrawn. Yes, analyzing our first two years after Misty and I married, things were different. I was often either more on edge or more relaxed. Misty often repeated herself and could become frustrated. I thought it was my hearing, but she'd say I was daydreaming.
The Naval therapist was in Aberdeen, quite a drive from our house. She was a nice enough lady. Nice, because she was patient with me. I couldn't really explain how I was feeling. She also didn't show pity or any signs of feeling sorry for me, but she did take a lot of notes. That suited me well because I got enough of that at home and in my job.
Things progressed with Misty and me. I knew she loved me because she treated me with love. That wasn't the problem. Our intimacy was off enough that I could sense it.
When I told the Naval therapist about my concerns, she surprised me by asking if I'd considered it might be me who was pulling away. For some reason that made me especially angry. She took some more notes.
It was a week after Halloween when circumstances hit me from all directions. I doubted I had anything to do with it, but others disagreed. A semi-regular customer rolled up in his Mercedes on Tuesday morning and when he got out of the car, I knew there'd be trouble.
He walked right into the shop like he owned the joint, scanning the room. When he found Harry, the mechanic who recently worked on his car, he walked up and started in.
I couldn't hear the conversation on account of my ears, and the tool noise, but I could see perfectly. The customer, a fat stumpy man with a fat cigar was berating Harry, and it looked to me like Harry was about to do something stupid. I quickly closed the distance between us.
By that time, the fat guy, had a stubby finger pointing in Harry's face, so I gently, yet firmly, gripped the customer's shoulder. Before I could say anything, fatty turned and sucker-punched me, cursing me as I staggered to stay on my feet. He then tried to kick me in the nuts. His kick missed but when I realized what he'd tried to do, I lost it. He got a good punch in the Solar Plexus, and then I slapped him twice in the face. I figured I was justified in defending myself since he struck first. Harry and our boss pulled me back as I stood over him.
I'd only slapped the guy but he came up from the ground with a bloody nose, screaming at my boss to fire me. I was sure that I'd acted in self-defense, but then couldn't understand why the boss was hollering at me to 'get out'. Before I could figure out what was happening, I was fired.
Misty was visibly upset with the situation after I got home and explained. Once I figured out that she was mad at me, I was totally confused.
"You need help, Darin," she said in a strange tone. "I want you to see a new therapist."
"You haven't heard a word I said," I came back defensively. "This has nothing to do with my PTSD or any anger issues. The guy attacked me as I was trying to calm the situation. Harry was defenseless. I was protecting him and myself. You're supposed to be on my side...I did nothing wrong."
She looked at me with a certain amount of confusion, then softened. "Okay, Okay. But I still think you need another opinion. Please, for us."
That made me angrier with her. She was supposed to be on my side. But I didn't yell or fight back, I simply left and didn't come home until one in the morning. Misty was mad about that, too.
Things were frosty around the house for several days. Misty asked for my Navy doctor's number and even went to see her. She never said another word about me seeing someone else but made sure I always went to my appointment. She also never apologized.
Initially, I thought it might be the meds my therapist had prescribed. My mood was more... euphoric, I guess. I often wanted to engage with my wife and take her somewhere nice or just to go shopping in Aberdeen. Then I wouldn't. I didn't understand why I was becoming disinterested at the drop of a hat. Maybe I'd gotten distracted, or maybe I was tired. I always felt bad about it after it came back to me.
The few nights I worked usually coincided with the nights she worked. It made our lives easier and especially made Misty happy. Those nights we came home together were some of the best of our married lives. She would always head straight for the shower to get the 'Bronco' smell off her, and many of those nights invited me to join her. We'd get started under the water and then it was off to bed, but not to sleep. After losing my job at the garage, I went back to work at the feed store, so I struggled a lot at my day job after those sessions.
Then out of the blue, I was at a dive bar for lunch with a couple of guys from the garage with whom I'd tried to stay in touch after I'd been let go. Nothing serious, just blowing off steam. This one I'd never been to before and I wasn't drinking.
Our waitress was superb; average looking but she had a way with a quip or a hip shake that was as entertaining as it was cute. I had never seen her before around town, so I was a bit surprised when she handed me a slip of paper as we were paying the bill.
"Don't look at it until you're alone," she winked mischievously.
When we returned to the shop, I slipped into the head and looked at the paper. What I read there was a heart-stopper! "Your wife has been stepping out on you."
I froze, shock was replaced by anger and then rage. My concerns about us going in different directions were now front and center but I needed to be smart rather than go off half-cocked.
"How does this possible revelation about your wife's infidelity make you feel?" My therapist asked at my next session.
"How do you think?" I was on edge. "I thought we were getting closer then, more recently, we seem to be drifting. I'm not sure what to think other than the worst and when I do I get angry, very angry."
"I really can't blame you under the circumstances," she consoled. "But keep in mind that people in town know about your PTSD and that hangs a reputation on you, deserved or not. I can't tell you how to respond but think long. Your best interests are served by calm, reason, thought, and control. If you let anger drive you, you lose control and if you lose control, they will simply nod knowingly that you are still damaged and someone to be avoided. Please think hard about this, even if you think that divorce is the answer.
"But let's start at the beginning," she kept going before I could respond. "At the moment, you don't know for sure if the information you were given is true, right?"
I nodded because she was right. "You say you don't know the woman who handed you the note, so even though the idea of your wife cheating is wearing on you, don't you need some sort of proof?"
"Yeah," I wearily replied. "I don't know how to get proof and that's also killing me inside."
"Darin," she said leaning forward, "You're in a precarious place right now. Your dreams have subsided quite a bit, which is a good thing. You are still, however, experiencing feelings of malaise and that is directly related to depression."
"I know," I told her. "What should I do?"
"I can't tell you exactly what to do about your wife. What I can suggest is that you focus on you. Regardless of how accurate that note was, you can't control Misty or things she may, and I stress this, may not be doing. Keep the focus on you, Darin. When your mind goes to what Misty is or isn't doing, ask yourself, 'What could I be doing for me right now that's more productive?'"
I took her advice seriously and vowed to refocus my behavior accordingly. It did little to calm my anger or my suspicions.
Two months later, we had an altercation on a slower weeknight. Misty was off that day, and I was glad she was. A big 'ole boy was sitting at one end of the bar drinking. Then a scrawny guy and a girl came in, and the big guy went to join him. Somewhere in that shuffle, the bartender and server didn't communicate about his tab, even though the server brought drinks for his friends.
Before anyone knew it, he was verbally hammering the bartender, a real smart ass of a dude, who liked to show customers his 'shine', and then the guy started in on the server. One of the other bouncers saddled up plenty close to intervene in case things went wrong. We were all shocked when the giant, still hollering at the server, just turned and cold-cocked our bouncer friend, knocking his ass out.
My co-worker and I immediately jumped and restrained the guy which, I can attest, took some doing. The cops were already arriving before we had him fully under control. To make matters worse, the cocky bartender jumped the bar while we were handling things and started punching and kicking the bastard, shouting obscenities the whole while.
It was a very late night for me, after talking to the cops and filling out all the incident reports that were part of my job. Cocky barman was fired that night. Misty was horrified when I got home and told her about it.
"Do you think he might come back when he's released?" I could tell she was worried.
"I don't think he's getting out unless someone can afford a fat bail," I reassured her. I planned then on stopping by the club on my nights off when she worked. That should make her feel safe and probably appreciative too.
The next night, Misty was on duty and I strolled in after I got off work. I didn't go home and shower or change so I was a dirty mess. The owner of the bar saw me right away and pointed in the direction of his office. I scanned the room and didn't see Misty anywhere but headed to see the boss.
"Darin," he said as soon as I closed the door. "We have a problem." There was a pause and the Owner, whose nickname was Hoss, asked me to sit. "Darin, Misty has been a valuable employee of mine since day one," He restarted. "I hope you'll let her continue to work here when I'm finished. Darin, that big lug is pressing charges against us now. Mostly because of that little bitch of a bartender, but he's also claiming you took a few liberties... with his nuts. I've reviewed the security tapes, but I'll be damned if I can prove that you didn't. The angles are all wrong."
He looked at me like I was supposed to be understanding something more. After a quiet minute, he began again.
"Darin," he stated. "I have to let you go, son. I don't want to but my lawyer told me it's the best way for him to defend the club."
"That doesn't make any sense, Hoss," I told him.
"Sometimes, kid, things don't," he answered. "How do you want your last check?"
After he handed me the cash I'd asked for I walked out into the bar. One of the bartenders approached me and took me aside behind the main bar away from any sightlines. There at the service bar was Misty, and standing way too close, and acting way too chummy, was Jed Carruthers.
Jack, the bartender, nodded in their direction, then spoke. "Dude, I overheard the conversation with Hoss and I don't want to add to your troubles but they have been like that way too often lately. That's all I ever saw but I thought you should know."
I thanked him and tried like hell to regain my composure as I entered the room. Both saw me as I approached. Carruthers leaned into Misty's ear, saying something, then turned in the opposite direction. I'm pretty sure I saw a confident smile as if he'd taken something of mine that I hadn't missed yet.
"What the hell was he doing here?" I asked straight away. "And what were you talking about?"
"Not now Darin," she scolded. "I'm working. I'll explain when I get home."
"You'll explain now," I told her getting in her face.
"Look," she said with an impatient sigh. "Calm down. Nothing is going on. He was just talking to me, okay? Now, I need to serve these drinks. Neither of us can afford to lose our jobs, so we'll discuss it at home."
"You can't afford to lose your job," I replied. "Mine's already gone."
I turned and showed her my back. As I was heading out the door, Jed gave me a smirk from the table where he had joined his friends, the kind that brings trouble.
Misty was reticent and apologetic when she arrived home. Starting the conversation centered around my termination was probably a strategy, as I saw it. Finally, when she was all talked out on the subject, I asked her about Jed.
"He and I were just talking," she said in an irritated tone. "There was nothing to it."
"Talking is one thing but he always hangs all over you," I retorted, "when I'm not around? I suppose there isn't anything to that, either. What did he say to you?"
Misty's expression changed to a cold resolve. "Darin, he and I are friends, okay? We talk sometimes. That's what I mean by 'nothing to it'."
"That's no answer," I was getting pissed. "It doesn't explain his proximity to you, looking at me like he owned you. I couldn't have been the only one who noticed. And that's just tonight. What happens when I'm not there? How long have the two of you been 'good friends'?"
Misty considered her next words. It was easy to see the rapid eye movement. I knew before she opened her mouth that I wasn't going to believe her.
"We've been friends for..." she looked at the wall behind me. "A long time. Since you left for the Navy. He stopped trying to get in my pants because he knew I loved you. He's been a friend... a friend and a gentleman."
I just stood there frozen and infuriated. I was about to drop the hammer given what she admitted. I thought hard about what the therapist said about control before responding. I was sure the ensuing argument would be the beginning of the end of us.
"Gentleman my ass!" I declared. "You're standing there telling me he's been sniffing around you since I first deployed? He hasn't cornered you, forced you? Just talking? That's bullshit, Misty. That's not Jed or any of the Carruthers and you know it, Misty. For once, be honest, even if it hurts!"
The next thing Misty did, though, shocked me more. She stood there with an aggressive posture until she broke down crying.
"I can't..." she sobbed, "do this... anymore! I don't know if I can." She wiped her nose with a kitchen towel and tried to compose herself.
"I want my husband back," she was quieter and soft. "You, Darin, I want you back. Something happened to you, on that ship. I know the terminology and I know the medicines you take. I just want my Darin back, the man I fell in love with before you left. I don't know what to do." She was crying hard again.
"You're up in the morning, watching the damned sunrise. You sit out there watching it go down too, and everything I say to you goes in one ear and out the other. I've tried. I've tried to be a good and understanding wife, you know I have.
I had no plan to interrupt her because I did not know what to say.
"I talked to my friends," she continued. "My girlfriends. Women are such bitches. "Dump the grease monkey," they say, or, "You can get any man in this town, honey. Wake up."
"I stopped talking to them, you know?" She looked at me like I should. "Told them to fuck off, actually. Who did that leave? Jed. He listens. He makes suggestions. Yeah, he gets a little handsy sometimes. He is a man, after all, but when I shut him down, he always apologizes. I'm going to my Mom's, so I can think, Darin. You need to think, too. I want our lives - I want us the way we were - alive and vibrant, not half-dead and not talking or listening to each other. I'll call you in a few days."
With that, Misty swept into the bedroom and packed some things in a bag. She came out and kissed me on the cheek without another word and left as I sat silent.
The following morning's sunrise was spectacular. It was a clear, crisp morning, and the sun broke the horizon further south. Fall was upon us. I studied the fireball as it fully appeared. My life was a mess.
Misty was right about some things she'd said. The other thing was she'd been honest. I knew that because I knew her. My therapist had used the term - PTSD - but only a few times. I think they are taught to be gentle about it, or maybe they think a person can heal better, no faster, if the diagnosis isn't constantly in your face.
By that time, I knew it wasn't my bad hearing when I zoned out on Misty. I'd done it with almost all the other people in my life. No one wanted to call me on it. To them, I was the hero. I'd survived something unfathomable to them. Sometimes I wished they would.
Misty stayed at her mom's house for more than a few days. I called her, usually getting her mother on the line. "Tell her I love her," I'd always finish the conversation with.
But I couldn't get Jed off my mind. We'd known each other since high school. His grandfather made his money in oil, although he was a geologist by trade. He was good at finding the mirky black gold. He'd found over fifty of those little gems, put derricks on them too, and then let the oil flow. Later, Jed's father took some of the dried-up pieces of land and leased them to radio and cell phone companies. They needed to put towers there, and Jed's dad was in the right place at the right time - right when the cell phone craze was in its infancy. Jed's parents had bought a huge place in West Palm Beach, Florida when I was in the Navy. Jed lived in their old house, five bedrooms and forty-two acres.
Misty didn't ghost me. We talked some nights, even some for a long time. I missed her a lot. At the beginning of the second week, I let her know my work schedule in case she wanted to talk or get together. Two of the nights I said I'd be working until eleven; I lied.
The berm wasn't a hill, more like a huge pile of sand, whipped up and put there by centuries of West Texas winds. I turned out my headlights as soon as I turned in, facing away from Jed's place. I crawled up to the edge until I had a good view of Jed's house. Then I opened the binoculars and began to focus.
I'd followed the two of them from the Bronco and decided to see things through. When I saw the upstairs bedroom light come on, I headed over and down the small hill towards the house. There was an open shed off to the right with lawn equipment. I noticed two five-gallon jugs of gas. For a tiny second, I thought about it, then quickly decided I wouldn't deny myself the pleasure of looking him dead in the eye.
Fortunately, when I got to the base of the stairs, I heard mumbled voices talking instead of moans. It took a minute to decide if I was going to wait to see what happened next or not. As I carefully crept up the stairway, the words I was starting to identify were nearly as bad as the sex noises I'd earlier anticipated.
"... why are you here then?" came a perturbed male voice. "We've been over this again and again. You're never going to be happy with him. He's a loony tune!"
"Fuck off!" came my wife's immediate response. "You don't get to talk about him like that. The things that happened to him weren't his fault. I wonder how you'd be sitting right now, had they happened to you instead?"
"That doesn't matter, now," Jed argued back. "We can have a life together. I can give you things you couldn't imagine with him. I want to be with you, can't you see? You can feel bad for the guy all you want, but that isn't going to change anything."
I heard some rustling and squeaky bed springs. "Come on, Misty, you know in your heart this is right - it feels right - and you know it. Let me love you. You know how good it is when we fuck...you can't stop moaning and screaming and you always want more. Let me take you and treat you the way you deserve."
So, the whispers are correct, my wife is a slut! My wife certainly wasn't bad-mouthing me, but she wasn't exactly sticking up for me either, or she wouldn't be sitting on Jed Carruthers bed with him.
"You just don't get it, Jed," she said more forcefully. "You've had that silver spoon so long, it's a part of you. You don't know struggles and you don't know sacrifice. That's what Darin is and that has been his life, even before the Navy. He's not the same man I married but I still love him. I let you have me when he was overseas. I felt like shit about that, but then I let you weasel your way back in and we did it again lately but this is not right. Yeah, the sex is good but's that all it is. It relieves my tension and takes the edge off. Think about it... I'm a cheater. Is that who you want to 'love'?"
I decided to intervene at that moment because I didn't think I'd be able to stand any more new revelations.
"Hello, lovers," I deadpanned.
Their necks shot around so fast I'm surprised they didn't snap. Misty looked horrified. I'm pretty sure this wasn't how she wanted to be found out.
Jed, by contrast, looked like the cat who got the canary, with a startled expression that quickly morphed into a big all-telling smile.
"Well look who it is," Jed was enjoying this sudden intrusion too much. I moved to the foot of the bed and pointed the gun at his head.
"No! Don't Darin!" came a panicked warning from Misty. "Please, Babe, don't kill him. Let's leave right now and talk about this calmly."
I noticed that Misty may have been protesting but she'd only been there a few minutes and already her breasts were half-out. At least her clothes were still on.
"Are you sure you wouldn't rather stay and complete what you had planned, Misty?" I used my other hand to point out her dishevelment.
"Yeah, Babe," Jed mocked. "Stay. Get loved by a real man, not some flunky whack job."
Misty looked at Jed very curiously. She then looked at me and back to Jed. I couldn't grasp what she was trying to find but she seemed to comprehend she was in a mess of her own making. Misty stared at the gun.
"Darin," she started again, trying to be the voice of reason. "Let's please go. I didn't mean for you to find out like this. I know you are hurt, I just think..."
"You know I'm hurt?" I asked her incredulously. "What? Hanging with this dipshit taking your IQ down several levels. I thought you were better than that. You used to be. Now I hear you two have been at it all along. I'm pretty sure it's all over town, too. Suddenly, it's hurtful finding out your wife's a slut, when he's the one pointing the gun. You fucked this loser while I was in the service?"
"Yep!" Jed exclaimed proudly. "We've been close for a long time, she and I. Now, you're in my house, and you're interrupting, so fuck off, will you."
Misty shot him a look that would melt steel and I didn't care if it was that he finally spilled the beans or the way he said it but she was royally pissed. I wondered if he was trying to get me to shoot him. It wasn't lost on me that a guy in his situation shouldn't be anywhere near that cocky and belligerent. My wife seemed as stunned as I was and she knew him better.
He looked gratified by the confused look on my face as he ran the back of his hand down Misty's shoulder-length hair. In my shock, I'd lowered my gun a bit. Misty pulled away from him then, a disgusted glare forming on her face.
"It's just like high school, Benchy" he taunted. "Guys like me don't lose. Now hand that piece to your wife and then turn around and walk away. Or you can stay and watch if that's your thing. Hell, you might learn something. Either way, I'm impat..."
"Shut the fuck up, Jed!" Misty screamed at him. "Stop goading and ridiculing him. You don't know him like I do. Do you really want to get shot or killed?"
"He would have done something already," Jed wouldn't let up. "He knows my Daddy will destroy him if he does. He'll go to prison and Daddy will make sure he suffers every day until they decide to kill him - slowly."
I lifted the pistol and pointed it at him. He still wore a confident cocky grin like he wasn't willing to believe what I had already resigned of myself. Misty quickly stood between him and my weapon.
"Misty?" I questioned. "You'd really take one for him? He means that much to you then?"
Misty walked toward me, while dickhead continued to push his luck from behind her. She was within arm's reach and I couldn't read her face. She looked... determined.
"Give me the gun, Darin," she softly ordered me. "This isn't going to happen."
"Yeah, you heard her Benchy," he chuckled. "not gonna happen."
"Shut. The. Fuck. Up, Jed." Misty told him never blinking and never taking her eyes from me.
She slowly reached for the gun. It was pointed right at her chest. "Darin," she said. It wasn't a question. I'm sure she saw the indecision in my eyes. I wanted him dead. In my rage, I wasn't sure I wanted her alive.
In that indecision, he must have seen a moment. A moment where it looked like I was going to listen to her. Misty grabbed the gun, spinning to her left, and Jed was up with speed as he grabbed my hand. All three of us had a hand on the gun and chaos reigned as we struggled. I was determined that this was one physical confrontation I was not going to lose. But I also didn't want Misty shot.
A shot rang out just as my hand released it, I looked at Misty whose side was pressed to my chest but she stood frozen. The screech from Jed grabbed my eyes and I saw that he was hit in the neck, blood spurting everywhere.
The look of surprise on Jed's face will last my entire life as I witnessed his life leave him. It was only seconds before he fell sideways on the bed.
Misty turned toward me, my Glock now trained on me. "Misty, don't," I begged, not able to process what had just happened.
"Sit down, Darin," she said. "Take two of your pills. Do it!"
Still stunned, I did as she asked. "Why?" was my simple question.
When she saw the rage dissipate, she lowered the weapon and turned to look at Jed.
"Because," she answered. "I had to."
"That's no kind of answer," I replied. "You risked getting yourself shot. Why do you do that? Didn't you love him?"
Misty quickly turned toward me. "I don't..." she stammered. "No, that isn't true. No more dishonesty." She thought through her response and took a breath.
"I didn't plan on him attacking us so it got out of hand. I love you," she said, seemingly resigned to it. "I suppose I loved the idea of him. He was after me the day you left for boot camp. The more I resisted, the more he took it as a challenge. Somewhere along the line, he decided for whatever reason, to back off for a while - become my friend - get in my head. And eventually, I bought into it. No, I let him. He became a constant and I was alone. We had history. I let him have me while you were away. But what I told him is true. It was only sex; there was nothing when we were not together, nothing but self-loathing.
"But this time," she wiped her face again, "since you've been back, you weren't blameless in that. You'd changed. I worried endlessly about you. I was worried sick about us. He calmed those fears. I'm ashamed to say I told him every detail of our lives together. He listened, he consoled, but he couldn't hold out...and I fell because I was lonely for you. We haven't been right in forever and I grew tired of all the guys at the bar coming on to me. I guess I went with what I knew. I'm sorry...I don't know what other words to use.
"Then why shoot him?" It didn't make sense.
"Because," she responded. "He lied to me and spoke about me like I was street trash he picked up and used. I felt he used me just to ridicule you; you don't deserve that. He said he fucked me, not made love to me, and was bragging as if he is the only guy who knows how to please a woman, belittling you and I snapped. I thought you were going to kill him anyway. He lied and you were going to kill him anyway. I couldn't let you do that. Your life has been... hard enough."
"He lied to you?" I asked still not seeing the big picture. "And you figured that out when?"
"Honestly, right here on the bed," she admitted. "He talked so kindly of you and told me he'd researched your condition. He gave me advice on how to help you. Then, here in ten minutes of pure hatred, his humiliation of you, I knew he'd lied. Lied all this time."
"Where you really here to have sex with him?" I couldn't look at her.
"Yes," she said almost immediately. "You were getting worse. I told myself I needed to see for myself if we... he and I... had a future with each other."
"Why didn't you just tell me how you felt?"
"Oh, I did, Darin," she said with some venom in her tone. "God, you'd sit there on the couch, just staring at the TV or the wall, or out the window. I tried. I tried, but you rarely responded."
I looked at the bed. The white sheets were quickly turning red and I needed a plan. Misty picked up on my changing thoughts.
"Let's go, baby," she encouraged. "Let's go now. We'll drive all night toward my sister's house in Ventura. There aren't even any traffic cameras to catch us until we get to Albuquerque. Except we won't stay on I-10. We'll take the back roads. We can make Vegas by tomorrow night. We can even stay the night there, play in some casinos, and put on our happy faces, so we're not suspicious-looking when the cops get their hands on the footage. They won't find him right away. We've got time on our side."
Even in my current state, I could see the flaws in her plan, but she was at least half-right. I got up and she handed me my Grandad's gun back. We walked hand-in-hand out of Jed's front door toward her car. I couldn't imagine ever holding it again.
"How did you get here?" she asked looking around.
"Up there," I pointed to the eastern rise. "Drive me up there to get my truck."
Without a word, we got in her car. She drove down the driveway and out to the main road, then to the turnout about a quarter-mile away.
I reached over and turned off her ignition when she parked next to the truck. She gave a look that said shock but with comprehension all at once.
"You know what you have to do," I told her, squeezing her hand. "Now just keep driving as long as you can, don't stop unless you get sleepy, and pull over when you get drowsy. I'll take care of things here."
"No," she said definitively, then more frantic. "No! You need to come with me. "Come on. Like I said at the house. We can be somewhere else. Somewhere we can prove. Please, Darin, I don't want to lose you."
"You know you won't," I assured her. Based on what I'd heard walking into Jed's bedroom, she'd already lost me. She'd never remain my wife, but damn it, she had been my friend for so very long. "I'll be just a little bit behind you. I know what needs to be done here, and you don't. One of us needs to put distance between this and..."
Misty knew the score. She knew I was right. She also knew she caused it. She could have told Jed to fuck off, long ago or yesterday. She could have just gone to him and divorced me. She could have done dozens of little nuanced things in between.
"Promise me right now," she looked deep into my eyes like she used to in school. "You promise me, you'll come to my sister's house in California."
I told her I would. I don't know if she believed me or not, but she finally kissed me and resigned herself to what had to be done. I climbed into my truck and as Misty put the car in gear she said with tears streaming, "I love you, Darin."
"I know," I loved her, too. I almost told her so but after all the revelations, I couldn't. She looked so lost then. I wanted Jed to pay, but he already had. There wasn't anything left except my task.
I waited until her taillights faded into the distance. What I really wanted was for her to turn those headlights around. Then I started the truck and drove down to Jed's place with only my running lights on.
Jed was a little short on throw rugs. His blood had already soaked through the mattress. I went into his garage and then his large pull barn, making a mental list of what I'd need. The first thing I grabbed was a pair of work gloves. Shovels, a spade, and two five-gallon jugs of gasoline were next. Then I had another thought. I looked around almost giving up, but there was a roll of screening about the right length for my needs. Luckily, Jed's house had some very large screened-in windows. I found the rope I needed.
Then I went inside and went through his cleaning supplies. I didn't need much of that for my plan but I did need to erase any presence of Misty in that home. I headed back out to the pull barn and there were some sixty-gallon trash bags. I lined the bed of my truck, then took two into the bedroom, where I stuffed Jed's feet into one, and pulled the other over his head and down his torso.
He was a big bastard, but I carried him out to the truck over my shoulder and laid him in the back. I attached the screen to the tailgate with the rope so it lay barely on the ground. Then I drove out over the fire trails to the border of his property. With the shovel and the hoe, I dug a shallow grave. My goal wasn't to hide him, it was to attract wildlife. The Buzzards and other game birds would start to pick at him almost immediately after I left. My four-legged Texas friends would finish the job if I was lucky and the cops didn't find him too quickly.
It took longer than I thought. He was tall, besides being big. Arriving back at the house I put the tools back where I'd found them. The trash bags went into the bedroom along with the clothes I had on. I still had a change of clothes in my truck from when I had been working at the repair shop. Then I set about removing all traces of Misty from the house. I had to guess at the rooms she'd likely been in.
I put new sheets on his bed hoping to throw off the investigation a bit, but knowing that was probably a waste of time since the blood had soaked into the mattress. I had about half an hour until daybreak so I grabbed a beer from his fridge and sat on the porch thinking.
I loved Misty, that much I knew. She'd betrayed me in such a way that I didn't think I could forgive. It wasn't the probability of sex that night, it was the long-time deception with Jed. She'd lied about that, over and over. Why she really took his life... maybe it was me or maybe it was Jed who pulled the trigger... I might never know. If I didn't get jacked for Jed's murder, then I might find her someday and ask why.
That takes me back to the beginning of this tale.
The beer was gone and I looked up at the familiar sight on the horizon. That orange was like a dear, old friend to me. I shivered as the new day began to remove the night's chill. I loved the way the light interacted with the clouds just before sunrise. A storm was already brewing in Central Texas, based on the clouds, and like many days this time of year, it would later bear down on the eastern half of the state.
I watched for a while longer, then went for the gas cans. I'd already soaked the floors in the main rooms I'd wanted to focus on, now it was just a matter of making a trail outside. Fire in the early morning is almost undetectable, especially in West Texas. Ranchers always burn when the dew point is still low. Way out here, the smoke would have to last a long time before anyone reported a possible problem.
As I stood and watched my handy work take on a life of its own, my memory went back to that ship. I got lost in the visions. I felt the heat, the awful heat. Yet I basked in the glow of the fire's color. I heard the screams and remembered the house was empty.
The visions overtook me and I almost stayed too long. I jumped in my truck and drove a mile and a quarter until my tires were on the paved road then I got out and untied the screen, carrying it fifty or so yards into the dry hard ground and placed it behind some scrub brush. It would take a long time for another human to find and there were no tire tracks to link me to the scene.
Still running on adrenaline, I showered and made myself something to eat. Misty haunted my thoughts as I tried to decide how to play it with the cops once they arrived. If someone at an adjoining ranch got a bead on the smoke and realized it might be Jed's house, then they'd be here sooner. However, I'd neither seen nor heard any emergency vehicles as I headed out. If it took a few days before someone went looking for the prick, I might be okay.
The problem was that there were a lot of witnesses at The Bronco when we got into it. The law probably wouldn't let up on me for a long time. And I could only hope that Jack wouldn't reveal to them what he told me. If I'd left any evidence at his house, well then, I'd be going to prison.
The next morning, I awoke as always after a fitful night. I sat again looking at the orange sun rising slowly as it became yellow. For some reason, I fell asleep in the chair on the porch and dreamt of the accident on the destroyer. It was in the high-arching flames that Misty appeared. She was ghost-like, shapeless body but her face as beautiful and vivid as ever. She smiled and softly told me she loved me, only me, and that she would wait. "Hold my love, my dear, it is yours alone. I'll take care of everything."
When I awoke again, about mid-morning, something did not feel right about that vision but I could not pinpoint what it was.
Two mornings later they arrived. I was surprised and hopeful by then. Two detectives whom I'd never seen before asked if they could come in. I played it cool, I think, and offered them coffee which they declined.
"Is Misty Simpson your wife, sir?" they asked. That was unexpected and I'm sure it showed on my face.
"Yes," I'm sure my surprise seemed quite normal.
"Do you know her whereabouts?" they asked but something in how the female detective asked didn't seem right.
"She's," I paused, "on her way to visit her sister in California." Then the thing that seemed off struck me. "Why?" I asked, panicked. "Is she alright?"
"We're sorry to inform you, Mr. Simpson..." was all I heard. It took them several attempts to get through to me. They found Misty's car at the bottom of a ravine on a tricky curve near Henderson, Nevada. She was in the car.
I want to say that I don't know why I broke down and cried, but I did. I did know. Amid my mind's chaos and turmoil, one thought reminded me that I'd never cried for my shipmates. I don't know exactly what that said about me.
I had to give the officers her next of kin, although I told them I'd make the calls.
Operating on some emotions I didn't know were even a part of me, I wandered through the day in a fog, my vision of her from the previous night now a haunt. The truck drove itself into town and my wallet purchased a case of beer and a bottle of Maker's Mark. I had nothing to do with either.
After I was sufficiently drunk, I called Misty's father, Ralph, and her other sister, Angie. They wanted to gather at my... our house for support, but I told them to wait until the morning. I wasn't ready to talk or see anyone. They, of course, had questions about why Misty would be headed to her sister in California without telling anyone. All I could say was that I didn't know. I knew that only made them more suspicious.
The sunset didn't appeal to me that night. I lay in bed thinking. I'd lost Misty and nothing was going to bring her back. All thoughts of Jed were gone and I didn't care if I was charged or convicted. Nothing mattered now, not even her betrayal seemed to unnerve me as it had.
I thought back to my early days with my Misty. I remembered the time she almost fell out of that tree, and how my arm ached trying to hold her wrist and pulling her up. I remembered that episode of The Simpsons when something funny happened just as she took a swig of her soda and everything came out her nose. We always watched that damned show due to my last name.
Her last name. I remembered her time with Jed. I remembered our wedding and I remembered that night at The Bronco when I realized something between them, something that wasn't right given the piece of paper from that waitress, then from Jack, something that wasn't right. I certainly remembered overhearing them before the confrontation and shooting but again, it didn't seem as important because she was gone now for good.
I remembered everything.
What I don't remember much of was Misty's funeral. Our collective family asked me a lot of questions, mostly worried about my well-being. One week after Misty was laid to rest, I walked into the sheriff's office and turned myself in for the murder of Jed Carruthers. The truth - the only truth - was, I no longer trusted myself to be alone.
Six months later, after much testing, I was admitted to a mental health facility upstate. I'd confessed to killing Jed in his bedroom. I gave them the details of both of us struggling for the gun and that it discharged while we were grappling. But that didn't fit the crime scene and no one ever found Jed's carcass, or bones, by then. I claimed it was his gun we wrestled over. Jed had one still locked in a charred safe. Therapists spent our time convincing me that what I'd offered to the police was a paracusis delusion, or hallucination due to unresolved grief and ongoing trauma, and physiologically, possibly my inner ear.
My Aunt and Uncle came to visit me those first two weeks. That was nice. They told me that Carruthers' parents had posted a million-dollar reward for any information concerning the whereabouts of their son, Jed. I was tempted to tell them where his bones lay so they could get the money.
Toward the end of my third week, I had an unlikely visitor, Angie, Misty's kid sister. I think the surprised look on my face made her blush.
"Hello, Darin," she tentatively said. "How are they treating you in here?" Her question wasn't asked in malice and made me laugh, which broke the ice. We spoke of things in town, how the employees at The Bronco had been doing volunteer work in Misty's name and other things.
I talked about my wife favorably. With her dead, I'd lost my animosity for her treacherous actions. Angie and I seemed deadlocked in uncomfortable silence.
"It was me," she said, meeting my eyes. "I'm the one who wrote that message the waitress gave you." I wasn't very sure I should respond to her. Had I heard correctly?
"Yes, I know," she continued. "A shock, huh?" She gave a sideways giggle.
Angie looked guilty on the one hand and relieved on the other. I couldn't figure her out. She found her resolve and leaned closer to me on the sofa. None of the hospital staff were watching us, but we were in the front lobby.
"The girl," she quietly stated. "That was my friend, Lara, from school. We followed you for a few days looking for an opportunity. When you walked into the very place that Lara worked, she smiled, grabbed her uniform out of her backseat, and headed in."
"Why not just call me or text me yourself?" I had to ask the obvious question.
"I didn't want it to come from me," she replied like I should already know. "Jack, the bartender at The Bronco warned me. He didn't want to tell you directly because... of your condition. He wanted someone to know that Misty was in trouble, but not to start trouble."
I still wasn't connecting the dots and she could tell. Her face got a bit red as she looked at her lap.
"I... like you, Darin," she was very nervous. "I always have. I confronted my sister. That's when I found out she wasn't in trouble like Jack thought. She was in a quagmire of her own making. I thought if you knew, well, I don't know exactly what I thought."
"So where's Jed," I had to keep up the façade regardless of what she'd just said.
"Only three people know that," she suddenly became quite serious. "You, me, and my friend Lara."
I tried for a straight poker face and raised an eyebrow. Angie leaned even closer, almost sitting in my lap.
"A bunch of people from town went out looking for him," she recalled. "You know, the reward and all. I saw some straight-line tracks in the dirt and dragged Lara along with me. I just had a feeling. The wind had hidden much of the trail but eventually, we picked it up again, and there less than two hundred feet away was Jed, or... what was left of him.
"A lot of him was exposed," she went on quietly. "There were people spread out about fifty or sixty yards apart. They couldn't see what we saw, but we couldn't stop and try to cover his bones either." She paused and looked away, sadly.
"Is that what happened to my sister?" She asked stoically. I knew what she wanted to know.
"No," I immediately responded. "That was truly an accident and I'll tell you someday, but not now."
Angie visited about once per month at first. I weaved together the details carefully for her.
Of course, she had questions, but as I answered them all a little at a time, she became more at ease and we started to enjoy each other's company, spending less time on the past and more discussing the future.
Two years later I was released. No, Misty wasn't there and she never would be again.
It was just me, the grass, trees, and dew and I hated her for it. My therapist had finally gotten me to admit that. Hate and love were two sides of the same coin, after all.
But Angie was waiting for me at my old home when the Uber dropped me off. The future we'd planned over those past two years was going to be a very slow burn. I needed to fully trust her, she'd told me many times, and I still had big trouble with trust. That didn't mean we couldn't date or be intimate. Her Father, Ralph was very cautious of me around his daughter, but I think by the time Angie and I got married three years later, I'd won his trust just like his daughter had won mine.
I never forgot Misty, but neither did I forgive her. Angie knew that and accepted it. She also loved me enough to accept a broken man who was continually on the mend.
I make it a point to be doing anything else when the sun sets or rises. Angie and I buried that ritual on a beach in Santa Barbara during our honeymoon. My tears were due to the coastal wind blowing sand in my eyes.
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Posted on : Apr 14, 2025
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