0 comments/ 12915 views/ 2 favorites The Last Goodbye By: Kindrell 'This is our last goodbye... I hate to feel the love between us die' (... do you know the lyrics of Buckley?) 'Must I dream and always see your face... kiss me please kiss me. Kiss me out of desire, baby no consolation. oh you know it makes me so angry because I know that it died, I don’t want to make you cry, this is our last goodbye'... The wet street was scattered with a few trees and tall buildings, which hardly let the light from the moon cast its slummy elegance. His shadow had no face... a professional, slipping by unnoticed. He was paying attention. He rounded the corner and then slowed his pace and stopped suddenly. Backing into a crease in the architecture around him, he waited blending into his surroundings. She looked into the rearview mirror and put on a fresh coat of lipstick. It was almost time to meet him. She didn’t know what would happen... Inside the restaurant, the hostess said that he called ahead and reserved their table and would be there soon. As she was seated, a bottle of wine he ordered was waiting for her to start. As she waited, he watched her from across the street. She was very beautiful. She gulped her wine, and he knew she would be nervous. He walked around and then across the street. When he stepped in their eyes met and she grinned. Time shifted into later that evening where they were sitting on the floor by the fire. His kisses explored and she put her hands on him following his curved muscular frame. She whispered into his ear of how long she had waited for him to be with her and how it was worth the wait. Before he knew it she started with his feet, and removed his shoes. She massaged each foot... lifting his toe in her mouth and swirling her tongue around it. She giggled at his reaction. She slowly removed his pants and warmed his skin with her hands. She opened one button on his shirt then to another part of his body and kissed it. Each time he put his hands on her, she would stop everything quietly and stare at him pouting until he just laid them over his head. She returned to the last button of his shirt and pulled it off. A warm palate of skin waited under his tee for her to taste and explore. She pushed her hands under and up his last layer and removed it. She licked him and then drowned him with deep kisses. She laced his skin with light teeth marks and popped his fingers with her hands and massaged his forearms, shoulders, neck, and the back of his head. Slowly moving to his mid section, she scratched silently writing on his body with her fingernails. She wrote secrets on him that would never be revealed except by God. Still fully clothed, she backed away and undressed and touched herself revealing for his pleasure a matching set of lingerie. Then she pulled his foot between her legs and rubbed it up and down her clit. Her panties started to visibly become wet as he watched. He reached around her hips, pulled her panties off, and pulled her forward kissing her hard. He put his hand on her crotch and she started bucking her hips as he fingered her until she dripped. Then he pulled her legs apart and up and whipped them over his strong shoulders kissing her thighs. He massaged her breast, trading touches with licks then the same between her legs making her scream. Her body rippled with goose bumps and red flashes. She was hot and bothered. He turned over and pulled her to him positioning her on his belly. She smiled and started sliding back and forth joking with him that this was mounting someone (he would use the term when referring to his fighting verbiage). She turned around on him and he smacked her ass and ordered her to fuck him. She slid above his dick that was rock hard. He groaned and worked his way inside her. She rode him this way in a rhythm he controlled by pushing and pulling her hips. She bounced up and down and each stroke made her more and more crazy. She tried to turn around with him inside her giggling and fell over on him nibbling his neck and telling him how good he felt. He told her to turn around. He spit in his hand and also on her ass. She buried her head and waited as he pulled her hips up and back then pushed into her rippling pain as he broke through the ring. He told her that he knew she wanted him this way and he was taking her ass like she promised him. Her screams muffled by the pillow made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and he stopped. But then after a moment she backed up making his dick push into her ass. He thrust again. She screamed and cried and wiggled while getting her ass fucked until he orgasmed with a mighty grunt. Then he fell over beside her and she placed kisses on his neck and said that she loved it. The crackling wood from the fire woke her up. She stretched then eased to the shower. She thought he was asleep. He watched and followed her. She took the soap and washed herself then washed him while they kissed. He picked up her legs and heaved her against the wall penetrating her. He teased her with his words as he told her that he knew she wanted him to fuck her and he was going to give her a good and proper fuck like she deserved. He made her say how much she liked it. She repeated over and over how she wanted him and how much she loved his dick inside her. When she came, he whispered in her ear to take him into her mouth and finish the job. She slid down and as the water poured over them, she licked his balls and around his dick then wrapped her lips around it. She pulled him closer and pushed him back giving him motion that he soon repeated then started fucking her mouth. She sucked and watched, as he talked dirty to her about how much she liked his dick in her mouth. He lifted his foot and played with her clit with his toe. She began grinding his foot and sucking harder. He told her how he knew she wanted him to cum in her mouth. He pushed hard and gagged her throat choking her with his cum. She swallowed it all and it slid down her throat... Before leaving they kissed passionately. She smiled and one last time eased her hands down his pants. She told him this was their last goodbye. She squeezed his dick and rubbed up and down lightly until she felt his juices on her fingers. She brought her hand to her head and behind each ear dabbing herself with his pre-cum. She licked off the stickiness, and winked as she walked away. The Last Goodbye (c) Daniel Quentin Steele - 2010 AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the third story I've done for Literotica. I hope it's a little different from the first two and once again I hope readers like it. I've been very pleased, and surprised I must admit, that readers have responded as strongly as they have to my first two efforts. I would again like to thank editor LadyPineRose74 for her help and contributions to this story. Her comments were very welcome. And I'd like to thank her publicly as I have privately for being willing to donate her time to help me in this way. * All of our lives, no matter how long we live, boil down to moments. Moments and decisions we make in those moments. The rest of our life is just the filler, the stuffing to occupy the space between those moments. Right now, I'm in one of those moments. My last moment. I see my death spelled out in stark detail on the instrument panel in front of me. It says that my single engine Cessna Centurion will be airbound for a few more seconds, maybe a half minute or more, and then it is going to plunge to earth a half mile below like the proverbial rock. There is no rabbit I am going to pull out of my hat, no McGyver stunt I am going to carry out using rubber bands and plastic cement to somehow keep my little plane aloft. Below me is only the rugged terrain of what must be Gilmer County in Northeast Georgia. I passed the lights of the small town and county seat of 20,000 plus residents, Ellijay, a few minutes before. It's too late to turn, and even if I could, I don't think there's much of anyplace I could set down. The whole county is lousy, with rivers and national forests, no really good easy sites to try a controlled crash landing. I must be approaching the outskirts of the Chattahoochee National Forest. If I try to turn or if I head straight ahead, I'm going to come down in a forest wilderness no matter what I do. Right now, I hope that my Sunday school teachings about Heaven are correct, but I have my doubts. I've always had my doubts, although I've always kept them from my family and loved ones. I'd call myself an agnostic, but deep down I know I'm an atheist. There is nothing after this. There will be a moment of pain, a moment only I hope, and then nothing. Like a candle in the wind, Lewis Walters and everything he's known and seen and loved and been in the last 34 years will simply vanish into the ether. I'm an attorney, and don't even bother. I've heard every lawyer joke ever made and even coined a few myself. I wonder if it's too late to draft a last minute contract, a deal with God, to spare me if he's up there, and walk away from this, but I know the answer already. A few more seconds gone by, as I frantically fiddle with the radio controls. The only thing worse than contemplating my imminent demise is the thought that I will die without a single word to anyone I've loved or cared about. I will just vanish, and they will never know what and who I was thinking about in my last moments. I've lately developed a liking for music again after years of basically being addicted to talk radio. One of the songs, "Live Like You're Dying' has a line it it, "Who would you call with your last goodbye?" I was listening to it on my IPOD just a few minutes ago, as a way to pass the time during a boring commute from a Tennessee court date for a client on my way back to Jacksonville, Florida, which is where I was born and bred. I find myself thinking real hard about that line right now, as it has been transformed from an idle speculation to the most important question in my life. The other thing on my mind, oddly enough or perhaps not so oddly, is a comic book. Besides being a late developing music fan, I also have loved comic books and science fiction and fantasy, since I was a kid. One of the greatest comic book series ever made, and I think hands down the best movie from a comic book, is called The Watchmen. It's an adult story about superheroes and one of the characters, the only real superhero, is Dr. Manhattan. As a result of some typical comic book accident, he has gained godlike powers, which is okay but what always fascinated me was the fact that he stands outside of time. For him, every instant, past, present and future is NOW. He sees them all simultaneously. I'm not Dr. Manhattan, but in a sense, as I'm staring at my death, I see time the same way. Even as I sit in the tiny cockpit and stare at the controls and rain hits the grayish cockpit windshield and wind rocks the tiny aircraft, I'm also... ########################## ...at the wheel of my 2007 Escalade. I turn in to the gated entrance of the Queen's Harbor Golf Club and Condominium community and wave at the guard on duty at the gate. This is some new guy I've never seen before. Usually there's black Sam or Hispanic Eduardo. He makes me show him my ID, and I ask him where the usual guys are? "Oh, Sam came down with one of those stomach bugs. It was sudden. They had to call me in from my day off. And Eduardo's father died yesterday. He took time to go be with his family in Puerto Rico." I don't think anything more about it. I'm just anxious to get home and get a hot bath. I've just flown in from New York when a trial ended after both parties to a particularly nasty, multi-million dollar divorce intricately intertwined in an epic family business battle had suddenly decided at the last minute that they really loved each other and wanted to make another effort to save their marriage. As an attorney who makes money off broken hearts and dysfunctional families and companies, it's always depressing when a happy ending comes along and slaps you in the face. I would have called Norman, my partner in our two-man firm, but it was Friday, and he had told me he was going to be turning off his cell phone early. "A hot date" was all he had said, but I could hear the grin in his voice. He's a hound, always has been since we went into business 10 years before fresh out of the University of Florida law school. I lost track of the number of secretaries, legal aides, female reporters, waitresses, female judges, female cops, you name it, he's fucked, sometimes juggling three or four of them along at the same time, usually without any of them knowing about the other women. I've always been fairly happy with my marriage to Mona, but even if I'd been of a cheating nature, I got exhausted just watching Norman running from flower to flower depositing his load of -- well, the anology breaks down there -- but anyway, I got tired just watching him juggle his women. How the hell he could even managed to get it up that many times a week amazed me. Mona is Mona Walters, formerly Harrell; a tall, 5-10, brunette with long hair, respectable boobs and an ass that at one time I thought should have been insured for at least $10 million. We had met school, and she actually had her law degree and had practiced for a while after we started dating. But after we married and I started pulling in decent bucks, she decided she was going to became a Volunteer Queen. She volunteered for EVERYTHING. Of course, her contacts helped our business, and after we found out we couldn't have kids and we -- that's basically me - didn't want to adopt, the volunteering filled a void in her life. I was busy as hell and only occasionally found myself staring at friends' kids and missing what we'd never have. We'd had a fairly hot love life when we married. But, we were young. As we got older and I poured more of myself into the practice, basically making up for the energy that Norman poured into chasing pussy, Mona and our face time got less frequent. It seemed like she got most of her pleasure from doing good works and similar shit, and she was tired more and more often when I'd roll over late at night and try to play with her. Our sex life never ended, it just kind of dribbled away. And, I found myself more often than not jerking off to some movie on Cinemax involving huge breasted starlets simulating sex with limp dicked studs. So, long story short, from experience I pretty much counted on Mona being out at same charity event, and she probably wouldn't much care when I got in. As I pull around a corner and see our two story townhouse in front of me, it surprises me that the lights were on in the upstairs. I'm even more surprised when I get out of my car and look into our two car garage and find it occupied by -- two cars. One is Mona's sporty little mustang. The other is - surprise, surprise - my loyal partner's SUV. It's 1 a.m. in the morning. I'm an attorney and while I don't specialize in divorces, I do come into contact with them. So you can't call me naïve. Like you, the first thought that pops into my head is not a nice one. But then, feeling pain that I didn't really expect to feel, I make myself take a deep breath and consider the options. It could be something really bad, But, it could be fairly innocent. Norman has been a partner for a long time, I thought he was a friend, and as best I could tell, I thought Mona at least cared for me, even if we didn't share the white hot incandescent passion of our early years. Norman's hot date might have fallen through, Mona might not have had an event this weekend, and maybe they were just having a drink and talking or maybe they had gone out to dinner. Despite everything you read in porno stories and my experience as an attorney, every time a man and woman meet they don't automatically fall into bed and start fucking with great abandon. I can't deny nervousness, as I unlock the front door and quickly press the alarm code on the downstairs burglar alarm. I don't think anything is going on, but I don't know. Even if all was innocence, the alarm going off would probably scare the hell out of both of them. I set my suitcase down in the living room. The downstairs lights are on, but that's no big deal. We pretty much keep them on all the time. I do wonder why they're not down here in the living room, but we do have a den on the second floor where there's a music center and a big screen television. I hear music from above. I almost turn around as I put my hand on the staircase to head upstairs. If there is something going on -- let's call a spade a spade -- if my wife is upstairs fucking my partner, do I want to know? If I go away and come back tomorrow, I'll still have a marriage and a working partnership that has made me prosperous and fat and happy. If I find out something I don't want to find out, then I'll have to do something and my life will change drastically. I've discovered that I hate change. I think about it some more. She's always been a good wife in most ways. Do I still love her? I hadn't even thought about that in years. I guess I do. That strange pain I feel in my gut wouldn't be there if I didn't have some feeling for her. If she's screwing around on me and it's just for sex, maybe I can heat up our relationship. Or go out and find some horny divorcee or secretary to fuck myself and boost my ego enough to live with her stepping out on me. I put my hand back on the staircase and start walking up slowly. I'm not even sure why I'm going upstairs. It makes so much more sense to just walk away and preserve the life I've got. But still I climb the stairs. Then I'm on the second floor. One way lies the den. The light is on, but the music is coming from the other door. Our bedroom. There is music. And other sounds. I am feeling more and more nauseous. Must have been something I ate on the flight home. It's like something out of a damned stupid horror movie. You know, the witless teenagers are running toward the serial killer with the big knife, and you scream at them, "go the other way you dumbasses," but they don't listen and run to their doom. I try to tell myself, 'don't open the door, don't open the door, don't open the door,' but NOOOOOOOOO, I open the door. Only the lamp on the bedroom stand closest to the window is on, casting a pale light on the scene in front of me. But it's enough. And I realize with a sudden shock, I really do love my cheating bitch slut of a wife. It's true, that old saying. You don't know what you have until you don't have it any more. I had a wife I loved, even though I'd forgotten that fact. But now I don't have her any more, and I never will again. They're not looking at me. They're too caught up in what they're doing. Mona has her eyes shut tight as if she's in pain, Norman is staring up at something on the ceiling, it looks like. They're naked on our bed, on my bed. Mona's legs are spread wide and Norman is hammering his cock into her pussy, which I notice dully is wet and glistening with white. Apparently, he's been a busy boy and already come inside her at least once tonight. It's weird, really. I've seen porno films, but this is my wife. Every time she's ever had her pussy open and wet and ready for fucking, I've been the guy inside her and too close to really get a birds' eye view. It's kind of impressive. If I wasn't ready to throw up, I'd probably be getting a hardon. I take a closer look at Norman. I've seen him in the shower, that kind of thing, but never seen him hard. Naturally, I don't swing that way. He's pretty impressive. He looks to be bigger than me, maybe eight or nine inches and I'm lucky on a good night to hit maybe seven. It's thick and glistening with my wife's juices all over it. It's as if I turn on the sound and suddenly I'm hearing their voices. "Oh oh oh oh God, baby, baby, harder harder...so good....." So clichéd. Why the hell don't people having sex come up with better lines. "Oh shit, I love that pussy. Mona, it feels like you're on fire down there..." If I wasn't already nauseous this conversation would have sent me over the edge. "Your damned dick is so big, Normie. Oh my God! I can never get enough of it, no matter how many times we do it." "Then why the hell aren't you married to Norman, Mona?" I say it in a conversational tone, and it takes a moment for it to register. Now, NOW, I wish I'd brought a videocam. The expression on their faces, as they realize what they've heard, and that I'm standing near them., would probably have won me the $100,000 prize on America's Funniest Home Video contest. Norman's mouth just gapes open. Mona opens her eyes, as she turns toward, me, then she closes them. This is priceless. Norman's pistoning motion has ceased. Wanting to be polite, I say, "Looks like I interrupted you guys in the middle of something. Carry on and finish up and when you're ready to talk I'll be down in the living room. You should know your way around here by now, Norm, obviously." I stand there for a moment, and suddenly, Mona shoves Norman backward, and he and his still hard dick fall backwards. She opens her eyes for a moment, stares at me with an expression that after ten years of marriage, I can't read, and rolls off the bed and runs toward the bathroom. Trying to shield her tits and pussy from me, her goddamned husband. That pisses me off. She gets into the bathroom, I hear the door shut and then there's the unmistakable sound of wretching, hard vomiting. What the hell is wrong with her. Just seeing me is enough to make her vomit? I now realize we had some serious problems in our marriage, but this is adding insult to injury. Norman leans back against the wall, his dick still hard and leaking cum or pre-cum. "Lew...I ...this is...I mean...you ....Mona..." "I sure as hell can't figure out how you can charge $200 an hour with those kinds of speaking skills, Normie." He takes a deep breath, tries to compose his wits, finally realizes his hardon is very visible and covers it with a corner of the sheet, which I realize is virtually soaked through with various male and female fluids. Even naked and embarrassed, he's still a good looking guy. I can say that because I'm not gay, not that there's anything wrong with that.... If you're too young to remember Seinfeld, just forget it. But Norman is the traditional tall, dark and handsome ladies' man. About an inch taller than me at 6 foot 3, lean because he works out every day to keep his midsection, even at 35 fairly, taut. Like I said, I don't have an innate emotional reaction to his looks, but I've talked to enough of his current and ex-girl friends to know there's something makes him catnip to a lot of females. "Lew, Lew, you know...this is not....not what it looks like." "Coulda fooled me, Normie. Looks like you were fucking the living daylights out of my wife, with her enthusiastic cooperation." He makes a desperate attempt to regroup. "I know, that was stupid, Lew. What I meant was...was...this just happened. Neither one of us meant for it to happen. We thought you'd be...you'd stay over in New York, and my date fell through. Mona called...and said her event had been cancelled. We were just going to have a couple of glasses of wine and....we drank too much. And, it was my fault Lew. You know me, I'm an asshole around women, and Mona is so fucking hot. Blame me." "Oh, I do, Norm, trust me, I do. So this was a one-time thing?The first time you two stabbed me in the back, so to speak?" He is almost pathetic, so eager to feed me this lie. "Oh, yes, man. We're -- believe it or not, Lew, we're friends. I would never have moved on Mona if I wasn't drunk and horny, because of that date that went south." The vomiting sounds have stopped, but there's silence from the bathroom. "Mona, sounds like you're better now. Come on out. We need to talk." Silence. I keep it light and conversational, but I can't keep the edge of anger out of my voice. "MONA. If you're not out of that fucking bathroom in five fucking seconds, I'm going to start trying to kick it down, and even I don't, I'm going to raise such a fucking ruckus that the cops are going to be called and pretty soon all of your high society friends are going to get an earful on how you were caught by your husband while you were fucking his partner." I give her 15 seconds, and then the door opens and she steps out. She's found a robe, so she's not naked anymore and doesn't have to hide her private parts from her husband. She walks gingerly like she's crossing a minefield until she reaches the bed, then realizes Norm and his rapidly deflating dick are sitting there and almost falls as she moves backward to sit on a chair by the nightstand. She won't look me in the eye. "Look at me." She keeps her head down. "Look at me you motherfucking, cheating slut. Look at your loyal husband, you bitch." She looks up at me, and I realize there are no tears. She's unhappy, because I interrupted her fuck session, and she's probably figured out already that our marriage is over, but she's not hurt by what she's done to me. "Normie says this was the first time. It just happened, because you were alone together and started drinking. He says it was all his fault." She looks over at him, and he's visibly begging her to confirm his story. She shakes her head. She's talking to him, not me. "Norm, don't be so fucking stupid. He's an asshole, but he's not stupid. He heard us." Then, she looks at me. "We've been fucking for a year. Almost every time you went away and anytime you were tied up on a case and he and I could get together." I am determined that this bitch will never see that she has ripped my heart out, how much she's hurt me. I am going to walk away with my pride, if nothing else, and I am going to make sure these cheating assholes never forget me. "Why?" She looks at me and smiles, and this is when I realize that I not only don't love her any more, I hate her with a white hot burning passion. "Just look at him, Lew. Look at that cock. He is so much bigger than you, and he really is a much better lover than you've ever been. You may have noticed that I haven't been interested in you lately. I really didn't need your fumbling efforts, and I really did worry that you'd notice he'd really stretched me out with that big dick." The Last Goodbye "And all our years of marriage meant-" "Absolutely nothing, Lew. You ever hear the old expression, what have you done for me lately? You weren't bad, not really great, but at least you tried, when we got married. But for most of our marriage, you haven't even tried very hard You're pitiful. You don't know that I knew you were jerking off watching those Cinemax movies? Instead of coming into bed and rolling me over and fucking me like a husband, you were jerking off like a little boy in the den. You disgust me." Norm starts to say something, and I say, "Shut up, Norm. Okay, Mona. That's straight talk. Thanks for letting me know where I stand. I could argue about your interpretation. It's hard to get really hot or be masterful when your wife treats you like a piece of furniture and as far as rolling you over, I was never much into marital rape. And, I had no idea that's what turned you on." I rub my chin, as if thinking for a minute, then say, "I'm going to be leaving now. I wouldn't feel safe going to sleep around either one of you. But now, I know how you were able to screw around without worrying about being caught. Norm, you were paying off the entrance guards to tip you off if I came in, right? Unfortunately, you didn't spread the grease around widely enough. They had a new man on tonight, and he didn't know to give you a heads up. "And, that makes me realize that there are going to be enough loose ends that I'll be able to find evidence of your affair. Mona, I'm going to find a judge who's been burned by a cheating wife, and I'm going to rip you a new asshole as big as I can. No alimony, as little of my assets as humanly possible. You were an attorney once, so I'm sure you can find a job somewhere, probably with Normie's new firm. But your society volunteering days are behind you, plus I'll do as much as I can to spread the word about your activities, so you might not be as welcome in polite society." She just stares at me. I'm sure she's already seen that coming. She was always smart. Top of her class, in fact. Just below me. I turn to my former partner and friend. "As for you, old buddy, I know this penny ante attorney shit has never been your goal. It's always been a means to an end. You're a political animal. I know you've been grooming the Hunts, the big money banking family, for years, to back your run for State Attorney. I know you've been hitting on that big tittied Gayle Hunt who runs the bank, but I doubt she'd ever have anything to do with a toad like you. "Well, you have to know the Hunts and the people they work with are very moral types, goes back to the deceased grandpa who got them going. When this scandal gets out there, I think your chances of getting any money from the Hunts is going to be nil. So while you get to continue fucking my wife, who by the way isn't anywhere near as young or stacked as you usually like them, you can kiss your political dreams goodbye. It's not as satisfying as cutting your dick off, but it will have to do." Mona stands up and drops her robe. She's still got an amazing body. "So that's your revenge, you miserable little wimp. You're going to make me go back to work? And you're going to make Norm hustle a little harder for his political seed capital? I shudder to think what you'd do if you were really pissed off. Give us paper cuts or something like that?" She walks up to me, tits bouncing, and stands there, hands on luscious hips. "You want to know why I fucked Norm? This is why. You don't have any blood in your veins, you miserable jerk. Any normal man would have kicked Norm's ass. Any normal man would either beat me or throw me down and fuck my brains out. "But, oh no, not you. You just stand there cool and calm and collected when you find out your wife has been cheating on you for a year. You don't scream, you don't shout, you don't cry. "And that's because you really don't care. You never loved me, did you. It was just a marriage that allowed you to get all the free ass you had an appetite for without having to go out and wine and dine some poor damn bitch and get her out of her pants." I am so damned proud of myself, as I manage to smile at her, and I love the expression on her face as my words sink in. "I always knew you were a smart girl, Mona. No, I don't love you. Looking back, I guess I never did. That's why it was so easy to let it slip away, because deep down I never really gave a damn. It was just easier being married to you than going to all the trouble of divorcing you. And honestly, I came harder jerking off watching those hard bodied sluts on Cinemax than I ever did in your cunt. You're really not in their league." I turn and walk to the door, but I have to get one last shot in. There is a strange expression on her face, and since I now know that she doesn't give a damn about me, it's hard to tell why she looks so unhappy. "I don't really care that you two were screwing your brains out. But, I'm sure too many people already know about it. I will not be made the butt of jokes -- the dumb husband whose wife and partner are laughing while they fuck him over - among our friends, other lawyers, people we work with. "I'm going to divorce your ass, Mona, and I'm going to do my best to ruin you, Norm, to salvage my pride. That's the only reason I give a damn what either of you do. And now, I hope you two have really miserable, short, shitty lives. Bye." ################################# I'm still fiddling frantically with the radio controls trying to get somebody, anybody. The rain is coming down harder, which is going to screw up what little radio reception I might get. The wind is starting to whip the lightweight Cessna up and down like a badminton ball. It's getting almost too dark to see which means in a few minutes I'll be hurtling to the ground blind. I have no hope of survival now. This is a tough little bird. Made in 1984, and so, it's a quarter century old, but it's been well maintained. It's not tough enough to survive an unplanned encounter with the ground, though. Why the fuel gauge shows up empty in the middle of nowhere I'll never know. Hopefully mom or Cyndi -- oh hell, she's not my wife yet, so she won't have legal grounds to sue, but Mom can -- will take the small private airfield where the Cessna was fueled and maintenanced to court and give them a legal enema. Somebody screwed up big time. Either they didn't bother to check the fuel gauge to make sure it wasn't giving a false 'full' reading resulting in its sucking air 400 miles from home, or they allowed trash or debris to get into the fuel lines where it's clogged and choked off the supply of fuel to the engine. I hope Mom will enjoy a wealthy final few years, both from my estate and a whopping big judgement against the air field. I hope Cyndi will forgive me for doing something stupid like getting myself killed two weeks before our wedding. God, that sucks worse than anything else. But all of that will go on without me and it's all academic now, anyway. The only thing that really matters, the only thing I have any control over, is the next few minutes or seconds and whether anyone will hear me in my last moments. Time shifts again. ################################### I whisper to Ken Klavius, who is representing me in the never-ending struggle to shed my former wife's presence in my life. It's been a year. Divorces NEVER take a year. "What the hell is she up to this time?" He gives me a tight, grim smile. "God only knows, Lew. When you hired me and told me your wife was another lawyer, I figured that might pose a few problems. But this has turned into a Goddamned War of the Roses. I'm starting to have nightmares about what she's going to come up with next. "So far we've had abuse, mental abuse, legal abuse, conspiracy, inter-state commerce- although I still don't understand her argument about that, and I don't think the judge does either - the fourth amendment, 14th amendment, the still unpassed ERA...." Then, he gives me a look that convinces me he's only half joking. "Is there any chance you'd consider a reconciliation -- just to make this damned case to go away?" "Not while there's breath in my body. Or rather, over my dead body." "All rise." We stand and an unfamiliar figure steps through the doorway from the judge's chambers. It's not Circuit Judge Katherine Holden, who has been hearing most of the motions. This is a man I'm not familiar with in these kinds of cases. But, I know him. It's Judge Herman Herring, the "Hanging Judge' from the Criminal Division. Standing at his side is his bailiff, a former ex-con named Charlie Case. He's almost literally as big as a house and has muscles where most normal humans don't. He's a friend and bodyguard to Herring, who has had some of the hottest criminal cases to come down the Jacksonville Judicial Circuit over the last 20 years. But what the fuck is Herring doing hearing a divorce case? Klavius gets up and approaches Case. They whisper back and forth, while Herring looks through papers. He comes back with an amazed look on his face. "Herring and Holden used to be an item before they had an amicable split about a year ago. She asked him, as a personal favor to take this case. Case says she told Herring if she had to hear one more motion from your wife, she thought she was going to leap over the bench and strangle her. Quote unquote." There's a noise from behind me, and as I look around, I see Mona coming in. What pisses me off even moreso is that she's insisted on keeping her married name. She's dressed in a smart, very legal looking blue blouse and skirt. What I hate is that I would still insure that ass for a million, even knowing what she's done with it. She sits at the desk to the side of Klavius and myself. Herring clears his throat and addresses her. "Ms. Walters, I presume." "Yes, your honor." "I have been made aware of the -- tortuously -- long history of this case and told that you have yet ANOTHER motion to present today. Is that correct?" "Yes, your honor." He gives her a glance said to reduce hardened hitmen to blubbering wretches and says, "Would you care to inform the court of the nature of that motion. And please, Ms. Walters, be concise. You realize, I hope, that you are nearing a local, if not statewide, record for one of the longest divorce proceedings on record." "Yes, I know that, your honor. I also know, of course, that as the presiding judge of the Smithright contract murder case which lasted 18 months and is still the longest criminal proceeding outside a grand jury case in this nation, you understand that sometimes justice must move slowly to obtain equitable results." Herring's eyes open wide, and Case can only barely stop himself from laughing. I sit there dumbfounded. My soon-to-be ex-wife who has been a practicing attorney for only a couple of years has just put one of the toughest criminal judges in the country back on his heels. I think I must have died and gone to Hell. "Anyway, Your Honor,I have just come into possession of a new piece of evidence that has bearing on this case. It is an audio recording. I ask permission to play it for this court." "To what end?" "After it is played, I will present a motion to the court, and a proposal to Mr. Walters. If he accepts it and the court accedes, I think it will allow this case to finally come to a close." Klavius puts his head in his hands and says softly, "Thank God." I nudge him. "Ask her what kind of audio recording she has." "Your honor, may we ask before she presents it, the nature of this recording? Mona looks at me with the smile a cat would present to a canary it was getting ready to swallow. "This is a recording, your honor, made nearly a year ago of a telephone call between Mr. Walters and his mother, Mrs. Justine Walters. " I know what it is and Klavius can't keep me from bouncing to my feet and starting toward the bitch. "She can't play that recording," I scream. "That is privileged, personal communication. I don't know how the hell she got it, but it's not hers." I'm at her table reaching for the tape when my arms are pinned to my side and there is no way in hell I can free myself. I can sense Case's huge body behind me. There's an uproar, and I hear Herring shout, "Mr. Klavius, get your client under control before I send his ass to jail. Charlie, put him back at his table." Case seats me at the table beside Klavius and stands over me to make sure I don't move. Despite his size, I'm thinking of some way to hit him in the balls and incapacitate him long enough to reach the tape. Holden is asking Mona, "Do you have the legitimate authority to possess that tape, Ms. Walters?" She holds out a document. "I have here a signed and notarized statement from Mrs. Walters, who heard and recorded the conversation, that it is here with her permission. As I'm sure you're aware, under Florida law an individual can tape a telephone conversation without the second party's knowledge or consent." Good old mom. "Let me see it," Herring says, but I interrupt him. "Don't bother, your honor. I concede that it's from my mother. Let her play the damned thing." Herring looks at me strangely for a moment, then asks in a gentler voice, "Would you rather we play it in chambers with just myself, counsel and yourself there?" "Who cares. No, I know what's on it. And it doesn't really matter who else hears it. It won't change anything." "Ms. Walters, would you play the tape. Loudly enough that I can hear it. My ears aren't what they were in my 20s." "Yes, your honor." "...is that you Lewis? So you finally return my call? Where have you been. I've been calling you all day." "I was probably out at several bars getting stinking drunk, mom. To be honest. Sorry." "Lewis, what in the world is going on down there. I got a call from Mona that I couldn't believe. She said you've left her and told her you're getting a divorce? I can't believe that." "Believe it." "But why? I thought you two were happy. I know it was terrible that you couldn't have kids, but you'd moved past that." "I left her because I caught her fucking another guy." "Lewis Walters! Watch your mouth. I'm your mother. And I refuse to believe she would do that." "I'm sorry Mom. But it's true. I caught her in bed with Norman, my partner. And she told me they'd been having an affair for a year. For a solid, fucking year. Not a one night stand. Not a temporary affair. But one year!" " I...I..I don't know what to say, son. I'm so sorry." "So am I. So am I." "....She said that she still loves you and doesn't want to lose you." "How do you love someone and fu-sleep with another man for a year? And she's already lost me. There's no going back, mom. I know you liked her. Hell, I loved her, but there's no way." "Son, Lewis...she said she thought you were divorcing her because you didn't love her anymore. Actually, she said she thought that maybe you never loved her. That you just married her for -- sex. For convenience." "The miserable lying bitch." "Did you tell her that, Lew? That you'd never loved her at all?" "...Yeah, I did mom. Right after she told me she'd been having great sex with my partner for a year and that I wasn't half the man he was and that I didn't do it in bed for her anymore and she basically laughed at me, mom. She laughed. "You would have been proud of me. I didn't strangle her. I didn't take out a gun and blow her brains out, all of which occurred to me. "I just lied and told her I'd never loved her. I wanted to hurt her the way she was hurting me. Not that I can see why it would have hurt her, because no way in hell could she feel anything for me and do what she did." "I don't understand any of this, Lew, but when she told me she loved you, I believed her." "(sound of crying) Then if she loves me, and I know I love her even though I don't want to, we're two really fucked up individuals. Look mom, I can't talk anymore. I'll call you later...." There is absolute silence in the courtroom. I have never been in an absolutely silent courtroom. I have never been around so many people trying so hard not to feel pity for me. I feel like sliding under the table and holding my breath until everything goes away. I want to hate my mother, but I know why she did it. She's being a mother, trying to the very end to help her son. When I called her the way her phone system is set up, the call was automatically recorded. She had picked up just after the recording kicked in and it continued to tape as we talked. When she realized she had a tape I know her motherly brain started working on how she could use it to help bring her two favorite people on earth back together again despite themselves. I know that she held off giving it to Mona because she knew it would hurt me. But when she thought we'd never get back together again, she gave it to Mona. The nuclear bomb of divorce cases. But, she can't help me here. I make myself look up at Mona. I don't know what I expect to see. Triumph. Revenge. She's proven that she won the exchange. She ripped off my balls and made me not so much a man anymore, and my attempt at revenge was revealed as a petulant act. I loved her, and she obviously didn't love me. One up for her. Big deal. I break the silence. "Congratulations, Mona. If I haven't said it before, you're a hell of a lot better attorney than I ever gave you credit for being. Maybe you're going to win here today, maybe you'll get your ruling, whatever it is. Maybe you'll keep this dragging on for the next 10 years. But one thing will never change. I will never take you back. We will never be together again." She ignores me and speaks to Herring. "Your honor, can I now present my motion." Herring looks down at his paperwork, as if embarrassed by what he's heard. He's undoubtedly more comfortable hearing people confess to stabbing and bludgeoning each other than this kind of romantic crap. "Yes, go ahead." She stands up and moves toward Herring at the bench. "Your honor, I'll concede that I've thrown up every possible roadblock to prevent my husband from divorcing me. I've probably wasted the time and resources of the court, but I was fighting for something very precious to me; the man that I love and a chance to have a life with him again. "Without going into too much detail, as the tape indicates, I engaged in a year-long adulterous affair with another man. I have no excuse for that, although I had what I thought were reasons. I thought my marriage was a lie and a sham and that a man I loved did not love me any longer, if he ever had. There was another man, an exciting man and a wonderful lover, who wanted me. I gave myself to him. "When my husband discovered us, I said the things he mentioned on the tape. I said those things to try to hurt him, to enrage him. Because I was making one last, final attempt to force him to demonstrate any kind of feelings for me. I thought that if those statements did not arouse his anger, did not move him to demonstrate any desire for me, then I was right all along and we simply didn't have a marriage any longer. "You've heard his comments on the tape. He told me had never loved me, that he did not love me. He confirmed what I had feared. But as the tape also confirms, those statements were lies. I have no assurance that he could ever forgive me for what I did, but I do know now that despite his words, he did love me. I think he still does. "All I'm asking, your honor, is that you order Mr. Walters as a condition of his divorce to undergo 10 counseling sessions with me. If at the end of those 10 sessions he still wants a divorce, I'll stipulate that he be given the divorce. No more fighting, no more motions. I'll just walk away." The Last Goodbye Herring looks at me. "Alright. I'll do it. 10 sessions." "Done." Klavius mutters quietly, "Thank you, God, Thank you. Thank you." ###################### ####################### Static and then... "hearing you faintly. You say you're going do....where... coordinates... I clutch the radio as hard as I can in my left hand, while with my right I try to physically hold the wheel steady. It's almost dark. I can see shapes more than actual objects, but I know I passed the crest of a tall hill on my left. My airspeed is still more than 90 mph even though I've throttled down as low as I can and still keep my wings up. I can see what might be trees below so close I can almost see the tops. What, maybe 50 -- 75 feet below. I imagine what it would be like to hit those trees in my Escalade at 90 mph, and this Centurion is nowhere near as well built as my Escalade. There will be little pieces of airplane and me scattered all over the place. I have a tiny bit more chance of surviving if I hit from this altitude than a half mile up, but the downside is that when the gas goes, I won't have more than a few seconds. Not a minute or so to plunge down. "About 30 miles south southeast of Elliway, just coming into the Chattahoochee Forest. I'm Lew Walters, from Jacksonville. Get that?" "30 miles south southeast of Elliway. Waters..." "No time. Write this down, please." "Shoot." In the next seconds I look deep inside myself, into the place where truth lies hiding from you most of the time. I just don't have the time to lie to myself. I realize what the truth is, and I say the few words I think I'll have time to get out. There's a sputtering sound and then the single engine shudders to a halt, and there is only the howling of the wind and the sound of heavy rain hammering at the cockpit windshield and then.... ################################## The marriage counselor is a woman. Dr. Marilyn Myers of the Family Counseling Service, an independent firm under contract to the Duval County Family Court. She's tall, blonde, looks a little bit like the attractive, but mean-spirited cheerleader coach on that TV show, "Glee." I always wondered why she never got romantic parts. She's tall, beautiful, hot and has lips to die for. But she never gets the fucking parts, only the funny ones. Maybe she's so damned hot, guys are intimidated. Dr. Myers is not that hot, but for a woman who's got to be pushing her late 40s, she's pretty damned hot. I try to mentally strip her with my eyes to kill time as she drones on. "Mr. Walters, could we get your input??" Myers' voice is a little irritated. I guess she's entitled. I haven't been the best marital counseling subject this last six visits. "I'm sorry, Dr. Myers. My mind wandered. I hope you don't mind. I was actually thinking just how hot you are. I've never asked before, but are you married?" Her eyes open wide, and I'm pretty sure she doesn't get that line very often from her counseling couples. Mona sits up straighter in her comfortable leather chair beside me and glares at me. If looks could kill. "Mr. -- Mr. Walters....that is unfortunately completely inappropriate. Thank you for the compliment, but could we get back-" "I have to ask, if you're married, is your husband older or younger than you? Vigorous and healthy or is he a typical older guy?" She frowns, and then a smile I know she hates flashes across her face for just a moment. "Mr. Walters! Enough please. You don't think I know what you're doing. This is just another cheap ploy to anger your wife and score points in this ongoing battle you two have waged since the minute you walked in here. Actually, make that that you have waged. "Mrs. Walters seems, and I believe her, to be making a good faith attempt to try to save your marriage or, if that's impossible, at least bring the relationship back to one of friendship. You, on the other hand..." Her voice trails off, then... "Let's try one more time, please, Mr. Walters. And, by the way, yes, I'm married. My husband is the football coach of the Lee High Commodores, and he is very strong, very big and very, very vigorous." I swear to God, she swivels in her chair and moves her legs in a relatively demure skirt so that I catch a tantalizing glimpse of nylon encased leg, licks her lips and then glances down at the papers in front of her. Mona looks like she's sucking on a lemon. I love it. "We were discussing your wife's feelings that after you learned that she could not bear you children, and you refused to consider adoption, that you in some way blamed her for this lack in your marriage and that your sex life seemed to be where you took out your frustrations with her. I think we're talking about passive/aggressive retaliation. You simply withdrew from her. Do you think there's any validity to her views?" I look down at the floor to avoid looking at either one of them. This is all such a fucking waste, and I can't wait to drop the bombshell on Mona. But I'll wait and let the suspense linger before I unload on my loving soon-to-be ex-wife. "Maybe. I'm not a shrink. Looking back, yeah, it hurt. I was an only child. I wanted children. I always thought a boy and girl combo would be nice. I don't think I ever blamed Mona. Maybe, maybe thinking about sex made me a little sad. Maybe I wasn't quite as hot to trot as I would have been otherwise. "But it was mostly that I was putting in 80 and 90 hour, seven-day a week weeks trying to build our business to give her the life she seemed to want. And pulling the weight for that sorry ass, big dicked lover of hers. My friend. I knew all his attention was focused on pussy, so I had to carry the major weight of the firm, but I thought he was my friend. Had been since college. So I worked myself so hard I hardly ever even thought about sex, much less had the energy for it." Myers taps her pencil on her desk. "Mr. Walters, you don't seem to be -- excuse me -- the most self aware individual who has ever sat across from me. By that, I mean, I don't think you've ever thought much about your emotions, about why you feel the way you do, why you do the things you do." "What the hell does that mean?" "Don't be offended. It's not an insult. You're a very hard working, driven man. You set goals for yourself a long time ago, found a woman you loved, married her, and then put all your attention on becoming successful in your career. There are a lot of men -- a lot of people -- out there like you. "As far as who you are, and why you do the things you do, I think you've been on auto-pilot for a long time. You told me in one of our first meetings, remember, when you talked about walking in on your wife and partner, that it surprised you to find out her adultery hurt you as much as it did. You said you had forgotten that you loved her." "So? You've described most of the legal profession and half the guys living and breathing in the United States so far." "I know. But just think about this for a moment. If you -- you -- had forgotten that you loved this woman, how did you expect her to know that? You had a marriage, an arrangement set up to allow both of you to share the same house, share expenses, share sex when you were both in the mood. "But as time went by you spent less and less time together. You were working, she filled her time in with volunteer activities. The marriage went on like a perfectly oiled machine, but you shared so few intimate moments that you were actually able to shove your feelings about her into the back of your mind. "What, did you think that someday you'd be able to ease off, start sharing morning breakfasts and romantic suppers with her with the Blackberry and Pager turned off. You would remember, and she would remember that there was actually a day when you wanted her so badly that you gave up the chance to have sex with every other woman in the world to possess her?" "I repeat, Mr. Walters, if you forgot, why did you expect her to remember?" I stare at Mona and try to visualize a particularly ugly hag with a huge wart on her nose, sitting in her chair. "I guess I couldn't, could I, doc, and she obviously forgot, too. At least, doc, I didn't fuck my husband's best friend. Wait, that didn't come out right. I didn't fuck any other women. Not that I would have had that much time and energy, but Mona, honey, you may not think my dick was all that hot, but before we married there were more than a few women who wanted a taste. And loved it." I drop the mental image, because I want to see her eyes and face when I say what I say next. "You probably know that Norman was fucking just about anything that walked. Our secretaries, paralegals, judges' secretaries, female cops, reporters, waitresses. If it had a pussy, he was after it. What you don't know, you stupid bitch, is that I could have been right in there with him. "I ate at the same damned restaurants! I flirted with the same damned secretaries. I deposed female cops that showed leg and left their home numbers on the pads on my desk with a heart and the words, 'call me,' on them. I could have had 50 women while we were married if I'd wanted them. Norm isn't a God. I've passed on some of the women who wanted me to him, just to get them out of my hair. "You said I was a wimp, because I jerked off to Cinemax cuties. Well, you stupid fucking bitch, the reason I jerked off is, because I was trying to stay faithful to you. I could have been fucking my brains out with other women, but I still thought we had a marriage. "Even if you were a cold, sexless bitch, I told myself, you were still my wife. I took an oath and, remember, I'm an officer of the court. I take oaths seriously. You are an attorney. You know all about oaths and contracts and what they entail. But you threw your oath, and your honor, into the toilet when you started fucking my partner." She has been watching me closely, her eyes honed in on mine. As if she's trying to gauge the truth of what I've said. She closes her eyes, and I can't believe the tears that start to steam down her face. I am literally speechless. I can't remember the last time I saw her cry. Certainly not since she tore my heart out that evening with Norman. Why now, why now, you stupid bitch, I want to scream at her. Why now when everything is lost, when you've ruined it all, why do you show some human emotion now? I can't wait any longer. I am going to scream, going to make a fool out of myself, if I don't say what I've been waiting all this session to say. I stand up, catching them both by surprise. "Dr. Myers, I know this is unorthodox, but I have something to do and say. I'll continue with these sessions as mandated by the court, but there's something I need you and my -- wife -- to know. I think it will put a new light on what we're doing here." She gives me a warning look, but nods her head. I go to the door of her office and step into the waiting room. She's sitting there. I motion to her, and she stands and walks toward me. I kiss her and smell her perfume, and the day starts getting better. We walk back into Myers' office. She stares at us, as if I'd grown a second head. Mona just stares, her expression unreadable. "Dr. Myers, Mona, this is Cyndi Mathews." Cyndi lays one slender arm on my hand and says in that soft southern drawl, "It's Carter, honey. Cyndi Carter now." I kick myself. I should have remembered. "Sorry, Cyndi Carter. Mathews was -- her married name. She just got divorced." I turn her slightly so that Mona can get a better view. She's a natural blonde, five-five, breasts maybe a little smaller than Mona's, but she's got five years on her, and her tits are perky as hell in the Carter Family company t-shirt she's wearing. She's dressed in jeans, which she almost always wears, and her ass could give my loving wife a good run for the money. And she is so damned pretty. I feel like twirling her around in front of Mona, to rub her nose in the fact that I have moved on. "You're right, Mr. Walters, this is highly unorthodox. Who is Ms.?? Carter??, and why have you brought her in here?" "I told you that I would obey the court order to come here for ten sessions, but I feel it only fair to let you and Mona know about a development that affects what we're doing here" Mona knows. I said she was smart. "The whole point of these sessions are to determine if it's possible for Mona and I to get back together. I've told her over and over that's not going to happen, but for whatever twisted reason she has in her head, she won't believe me. "Well, believe this Mona. I've been dating Cyndi for a month. We have become very serious and very attached. I know it's only a short period of time, but the chances for a real commitment are there, and I want to explore that possibility. I'll let Cyndi tell you for herself how she feels." Cyndi looks at Mona, and this time the sadness is on her pretty blonde face. "Mrs. Walters, I argued with Lew about doing this. I told him it was cruel and unnecessary, but he finally convinced me you deserve the truth. I'm not here to hurt you. "Believe me, I know where you are. I got divorced six months ago. He was a real scum bag. He only married me to get at my parents' money. They own Carter Paving, it's a big paving company here in Jacksonville. But even though he was a scumbag, I still had feelings for him. It took me two years to finally break away. "I didn't go looking for your husband, and he didn't try to pick me up. Andy, my ex, had started hassling me again, and I went down to the courthouse to try to get some help from my brother, Lyle. He volunteers down there. But he was off that day and I was lost, I have to admit. "Then I saw Lew standing by the elevators. He looked like he belonged there, and I just asked him if he could help me find the office I needed. He was so nice that when I finished and I walked out and saw him standing at the snack bar, I stopped to thank him again and we started talking and... "We've seen each other almost every night since then." She blushes. "I mean every night, all night. It sounds so terrible, but there was an instant -- chemistry, a connection between us. I didn't want -- want to -- get physical with a married man, but he convinced me everything you had is gone." Now, she blushes a flaming red. "I know this will hurt you, but you need to know. I think I love him, or I could. I know I can't get enough of him in the sack. I feel like I'm 17 again, and I never thought I'd feel that way again after Andy. He is so damned good in bed. I can't imagine any woman - I can't imagine you - throwing him away for another man. But, you did. And, I want him." Mona just looks at her, then at me. "You could be pulling a con on me, Lew. You're that smart. She could just be some cheap tramp you hired to play your girlfriend to get me to back out of these counseling sessions." "Check it out, Mona. Use some investigators. Her parents are Richard and Ricky Carter, and they own the big paving company on the Westside. They're millionaires, and she can tap into their money. Her brother is some homebuilder, who's fairly well known. Her brother, Lyle, in addition to being a court volunteer, teaches at JU. There's all kinds of ways you can check her out. She's not a ringer. And, I don't have enough money to pay her to lie about this." Mona glares at me and Cyndi. "So, you found some bimbo willing to fuck you. Big deal. You're just doing this to get under my skin. You love me, not her." Cyndi steps toward Mona, and I have to grab her arm to hold her. I've met her parents and family, and they all tell me she's a spitfire. I believe it. I don't want a catfight to erupt. Or maybe I do, but I don't think Herring would be amused. Cyndi stops, then removes my hand politely and looks down on Mona. "I didn't believe him when he told me how big a bitch you really were. I thought he was just bitter. But he was right. I don't see how he put up with you as long as he did. And, maybe you're right. Maybe, he does still love you. I loved Andy for a long time after I decided to get free of him. But Lew's going to be on top of me tonight and I'm going to be on top of him and if I can make him love me instead of you, you damned well better believe I'm going to." She turns, kisses me and marches out of the office. Myers just sits there with a bemused expression on her face. As might be expected, the rest of the session is spectacularly unproductive. #################### #################### There are a lot of embarrassing things that can happen to you in this life, but one of the most embarrassing as I've learned the hard way is to survive when you fully expect to die. I make myself as comfortable as you can get with a broken right arm, broken right collar bone, broken right leg, surgically removed spleen, bruised heart, three broken ribs, concussion and broken nose. I wake up at Shands Medical Center in Jacksonville, where they had flown me when the rescue team found my almost-still-in-one-piece Centurion nestled nose down in the mud on the shore of a small lake right on the outskirts of the Chattahoochee National Forest. I come to, as they are wheeling me into the private patient -- read paying patient -- section of Shands from an air ambulance. A short bald doctor is walking beside me, and when I ask him with an unbelieving tone in my voice if I'm dead, he just laughs and tells me to never ever play any lottery, because I've used up seven lives worth of good luck in a few seconds in Georgia. For the next two days the world dissolves into a collage of needles and fussing nurses and glimpses of familiar faces as I slip into and out of consciousness, sometimes because of what they are sticking into me, sometimes because of the demands of my body. I think Mom is there. I can't believe it, but I think I might even see Herring accompanied by his big shadow. I know vaguely what is happening to me, and what had happened. I remember the flight from Tennessee that ended in north Georgia. It comes back to me in flashes of sight and sound, sometimes silent pictures and sometimes sounds that I can't associate with pictures. I remember, in pieces, what it felt like to know I was going to die. I remember how frightened I had been just before the end. I didn't want to go out like a candle in the wind. And I remember how strangely calm I'd been during those last seconds as I heard the crackling and snapping as the Centurion dove through tree limbs toward the ground. I don't remember the most important thing, the only thing that will make me truly wish I had died in those moments. That comes back to me later. I've had some intimations that something strange is going on during the first couple of days, as I slip into and out of consciousness. I look up once in a while and catch a nurse or a couple of nurses staring at me with the strangest damned look on their faces. I can't put a handle on it, and that bothers me. One time a nurse is changing a dressing on my right arm, and she stops for a minute. I look over to see her hands resting on my right arm and shoulder. And she has tears in her eyes. What in the hell? I don't know her, and I know damned well that she doesn't know me. Norman had banged a few nurses, and I'd met a few through him, but she isn't one of them. And she's too damned old, anyway. She has to be in her 50s. I would say something, but I don't know what to say. She just wipes the tears away, finishes her job and walks away. But before she leaves the ICU where they still have me, she turns and gives me that same damned strange look. Three days after I'm brought in my mother comes into the private room they've moved me too. She hugs me and fusses and cries and then cries some more. I tell her I'm alright. She doesn't have to cry anymore. And then damned if she doesn't burst into tears again.