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Mr. & Mrs. America, Aftermath

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First, I would like to thank Jezzaz for allowing me to use his characters. When I read his story, I couldn't help thinking the main male character was a perfect fit for a story I'd already started, so I emailed him and he told me to go for it.

This story will make no sense at all unless you've read his story Mr. and Mrs. America, found in the non-erotic section here.

A quick note on another subject. I have two Brother Love segments ready to go, but I'm holding them while my lawyer does some checking for me. Seems there is a show out about a woman who wins the lottery and starts her own talk show. Pure coincidence, I'm sure. When the smoke clears I'll turn them loose.

As always, thanks for reading, and all comments are appreciated.

*****

"Hi, Mom."

There was silence on the line for a few seconds. I think it took her that long to realize I had actually answered.

"Jake! My God honey, where are you? Jo and your father have been worried sick. So are your children. So am I. Are you coming home soon?"

"Tell the kids I love them, Mom, and that I'll call them soon. I'm okay, by the way, obvious things aside."

There was another little gap on the phone as she processed what I'd said.

"Jake, I..."

I interrupted her, something I rarely did to anyone.

"I need to know one thing, Mom. It's important to me, so I'd appreciate the truth. Did you know?"

There was another pause. "Honey, I know you're upset, but..."

"Answer the question Mom. Did you know?"

I thought we'd been disconnected, the silence was so long. I could tell by the tone of her voice she really didn't want to say what needed to be said, but, to give her credit, she was honest.

"Not for almost a year. Then I accidentally heard them talking. You were off on one of your trips to England. They were in the study, talking while I finished up dinner. Mike, your Dad, Jo. They clinked glasses, and Mike congratulated them on what he called 'a successful operation'. I wondered what they were talking about, when Jo said she really felt bad for lying about the miscarriage, because you were still grieving. I walked in the door and they shut up, but I went after them, and after a few minutes they admitted they'd constructed a scenario that would keep you out of 'the life', as Mike called it. I was outraged, but they finally convinced me to keep their secret."

She stopped, sighing heavily. "I wanted to tell you a thousand times, but Jo or your Dad always talked me out of it. Honestly, I never felt entirely comfortable with Jo or Mike again. Gone was the woman I loved like a daughter, or the man I treated like another son. My relationship with your father never fully recovered. I found myself examining every decision he made, every course of action he took. When you left, and I found out about the letter, I'm afraid I went a little crazy. I've told Jo to never speak to me again unless it's about the kids, and told your father if he doesn't fix this I'm divorcing him. Can he, Jake? Can he fix it?"

I listened to her ragged breathing, processing what she had told me.

"So you knew. You weren't in on it, apparently, but you knew pretty early, and for over twenty years you kept their secret. Guess that tells me where I stand in the family. Goodbye Mom. I'll call the girls and Josh soon. I love you, but it will be a long time before we talk again."

She was crying when I disconnected.

...

I tried, I really, really tried, but I just couldn't get over the massive manipulation of my life from the people I loved above all others. I guess what really bothered me most was that neither Jo nor my father thought they'd done wrong. Jo even told me she was never sorry she did it. Dad echoed her sentiments.

It ate on me. I took her almost flippant advice and left for a week before coming back home, finishing his letter and reading hers. She took my return as a sign I had accepted what they had done and thought I was moving on. Her shock was obvious on her face when she came home two weeks later, to see me carrying the urn that held Mike's ashes to the car.

"Where are you going?," she asked, rushing up to me.

"The county dump. Wanna ride along? You might find it enlightening." Without a word she got into the passenger seat. We never made it. There was a farm between our house and the landfill, and in a moment of inspiration I pulled over, got out, and walked to a fence. There were hogs on the other side, free range, organically raised beasts that the farmer got premium prices for. I dumped the ashes into a wallow beside the fence.

Jo had trailed behind me, and screamed when she saw what I was doing. She was stunned into silence when I unzipped my pants and pissed all over the ashes. Hope it didn't fuck up his organic rating. I walked past her and got into the car. I had just put it into gear when she jumped in. She sobbed all the way home, looking at me like I was an alien. "Why?," she finally managed to whisper.

"Oh, I thought it would be a good idea to see Mike dumped in the shit, and then be pissed on. Kind of like what you guys did to me, if you think about it."

I thought she was going to faint, but she held on. The first thing she did was call my Dad and tell him. Fifteen minutes later he flew into the drive, almost hitting the house before he could stop. He was roaring when he got out.

"Boy, goddamnit, what the fuck is wrong..." That's all he got out before I hit him. He went down, out like a light. I stepped over him, glancing at Jo.

"I'll be out for awhile. Would you mind cleaning up this mess? And tell him, when he wakes up, every time he comes around me it's going to be the same. Tell him as far as I'm concerned, my father died twenty-three years ago. I don't know this stranger, and don't think I'd like him if I did."

It was two days before I came back. I'd got in early, and was sitting at the table sipping coffee when she came into the kitchen. She looked like she wanted to say something, changed her mind, and got a mug. She poured her coffee, sat down across from me, and stayed quiet until her cup was empty.

"You broke his nose."

I didn't look up. "Good. Did he get the message? Do I need to go down to the sheriff's office and turn myself in?"

"NO! He told the emergency room doctor he'd tripped coming up our steps.

Did you have to do that? The man is sixty two years old. He's your father, for God's sake."

"Nope. He was my father, right up until twenty-three years ago. Now he's just a sperm donor, and I've no use for him."

She slipped off the chair, kneeling beside me.

"Please, honey, let it go! We did it for you. Don't tell me you weren't happy with your life, that you don't love the way it's gone. Think of your children!"

A wave of overwhelming sadness came over me. She must have seen it on my face, and climbed onto my lap, hugging me hard while she cried. "It'll be all right, honey," she crooned over and over. I stood up abruptly, tumbling her to the floor.

"I WAS happy! Until I found out it was all a lie, based on a mammoth manipulation by the people I loved and trusted most. Don't you see, this isn't my life! It's the life I was forced and manipulated into. And I love my children. IF they're mine. Mike said in the letter he loved you. You lied before, what makes me think you aren't lying about other important things in my life. Should I have DNA tests done?"

"One thing I'll wonder about until I go to my grave. Mike did by his own admission horrible, horrible things to a lot of people. With all he'd done, why would he need to confess to me how easily I was manipulated? I mean, you guys went to such incredible lengths to fabricate this lie, why fuck it up by telling me now? What was gained by it? Know what, I think he did it to kind of gloat. "

"In his mind, he was the tragic hero, but to be that hero I had to know what he'd 'done for me'. That I was the reason he was doing it. I call bullshit! He did it because it was all he'd ever wanted to do. If he got disillusioned, he could have walked away. There's always a new crop of idealists like me in the pipeline. No one would have missed him. He could have had a normal life. No, he did it because he got off on it."

"I'm kind of glad he had a miserable life. He damn sure did his best to make mine miserable at the end, now didn't he? I bet every time he visited he was laughing his ass off inside. Fuck, why am I even talking to you? You're just as bad as he was. You're a lawyer. You're whole life is manipulation and bending the truth to achieve your ends. I need a shower."

I was soaping up when she came in to repair her makeup. She had an important bit of negotiation coming up, and had to go. I stepped out just as she turned to leave. She hesitated.

"Please be here when I get home. We need to talk about how to get over this."

I shrugged. "I'll be here. But I need you to consider this. If it had been me, Amy(her best friend), and your father doing this to you, how would you respond? Would the argument we had your best interests at heart cut it, if it denied you the career you wanted? Think on it and tell me the truth tonight."

...

I had my own important meeting to attend. I'd asked for an appointment with the Dean earlier in the week. He called me back in less than an hour.

"Jake! How are you? Listen, I'm glad you wanted to see me, I actually have a pretty urgent matter I'd like to discuss with you. Will Wednesday at two work? Good. See you then."

I walked in to find him with someone. A woman about my age. She was probably a bit younger than me, maybe forty, conservatively dressed, jet black hair in a bun, almond shaped eyes. Obviously of Arabic descent, she seemed all business, until her smile came.

"Professor Trammel! A pleasure to meet you. Your reputation is stellar. Many of your translations are spot on, even better than our homegrown experts."

I smiled and thanked her, having no idea who she was. The Dean grinned. "Jake, I'd like to present Sherry Hamoud, your counterpart in her country."

Recognition was instantaneous. "Let me guess, You write under S. Hamoud, right? I've read many of your papers, probably everything you've written, truth be told. Sorry, but it never occurred to me you were female. I find you very insightful, you've even helped my research on occasion." I'd taken a chance and spoke in Farsi, one of the non-dead languages I was fluent in.

She smile got deeper. "As I yours. In fact, your paper on the Scrolls Of Faisal Hussein was..."

She'd answered in British inflected English, which I found quite charming. The Dean cleared his throat, or we may have talked for hours.

I turned to the Dean. "Sorry to interrupt you, sir. I must have gotten my appointment wrong. I'll leave you to your guest."

"You didn't get it wrong, Jake. I had Miss Hamoud linger to meet you. I'd like you to get together with her some time in the near future. She has several interesting things to discuss with you. Miss Hamoud, if you'll excuse us?"

She smiled at both and handed me her card. "I'm at the Towers downtown. Call when you have some time. Dean Howard, a pleasure to meet you."

We both watched her leave. Despite the conservative clothing, she had a very nice shape. Dean Howard turned to me.

"Jake, my friend, we should really get together more often. Have that lovely wife of yours call mine, and find a time when we can have a nice evening out. Now what do you need? More funding? Not going to happen, the budget this year is locked up pretty tight. I may be able to squeeze out another research assistant or two, if I hit up the right alumi. No promises, though."

"No sir, it isn't that." I handed him an envelope. "That's my resignation. I know I just barely made twenty years, but recent events have made it impossible for me to stay here. I truly apologize for such short notice, but the semester is almost over, and there are plenty of qualified candidates that would jump at the chance to teach here."

Dean Howard looked at me like I had just slapped him and called his mother a whore. I felt really bad, because we had always gotten along well.

"Why? Why would you do such a thing? Everyone knows Jones is retiring next year, and you're sure to get the chair. Department Head isn't to be sneezed at, surely you know what an opportunity this could be for you. Is there any chance you'll change your mind?"

We had taken chairs, and he reached behind his desk to grab a decanter and two glasses. Rye whiskey, an excellent brand. I knew because I had given him the bottle.

"All right Jake, tell me what's been going on."

I gave him the bare bones, and he read between the lines. He pulled out a pipe, stoked it, his tell that he was doing some serious thinking. We walked out on the small patio overlooking the campus, and he lit up. After several puffs he grinned.

"Jake my good friend, what if I had a way to keep you on staff, yet away from the University for a year? A year is a long time, you may reconsider your plans by then. Interested?"

Of course I was. He grinned. "You have her card, give Ms Hamoud a call, listen to what she has to say. Can't hurt, and we may all benefit."

...

I called when I got back to my office, and she agreed to meet the next night. She actually seemed quite excited. It brightened my day considerably. My smile faded as I made my way home.`

My mood worsened when I saw my father's car parked in the drive. I didn't even pull in, just kept going. Pulling into a fast food parking lot, I dialed her number. She answered happily.

"Honey, will you be home soon?"

"Depends. I'm going to kill twenty minutes. If that son of a bitch is still there when I come home, I'll either drive on by and get another motel room, or I'll come in and give him another helping of what he got the last time I saw him."

I heard her small gasp. "Please, honey, come home. Let's sit down and clear the air. Your father loves you very much, or he wouldn't have done what he did. He needs you to listen and try to understand."

Rage washed over me. Seeing red, and unable to restrain myself, I told her to put him on the phone.

"Son, I..."

"Shut the fuck up and listen, asshole. You gave me life. I actually think you loved me, at one time. But just because you gave me life didn't give you the right to control it. In all honesty, I can't think of anything lower than what you did to me. It was my life! MINE! It should have been my decision to make. You took any semblance of self determination away from me. All for the greater good. Your greater good, not mine. I really, really hope I didn't inherit the asshole gene from you when it comes to the kids. I'll let them choose their own paths, whether I think they're good choices or not. Oh, I may tell them I don't agree and give them my reasons why, but after that it will be their decision, and I'll live with it. This is the last time I want to hear your voice in my lifetime. Tell your accomplice I choose the hotel option tonight. Frankly, the thought of listening to her platitudes and justifications is just a little more than I can take tonight."

I hung up, wishing you could slam cellphones down. Instead of a hotel, I parked my car at a dorm several blocks away and walked back to my office and crashed there. I had a bathroom with a small shower, a small closet of clothes, and a comfortable couch.

I actually slept pretty well. It would be a few more weeks before the semester ended, so I decided that if it was going to my last days of teaching I was going to enjoy every moment of it.

Truthfully, I loved teaching. A lecture hall, filled with sharp young minds that mostly hung on every word I said gave me a great deal of satisfaction. I was in full stride, enjoying the moment, when the door opened and she slipped in. Jo just stood and listened. When I saw her I went blank, talking for three or four minutes in what my students must have thought was one of the dead languages I'd mastered. By the time I'd recovered she'd left. As she turned, even at the distance, I could have sworn she had a small smirk on her face. I wondered over lunch if it was some kind of lawyer trick.

I pulled my phone out, and put it back together. I'd taken the battery out last night because the constant ringing was bothering me. It was full of messages and texts, the last from two hours ago. Pure curiosity made me listen to it.

"Hi, honey. Please let me say I was really impressed watching you this morning. Some of those students had pure adulation on their faces. No wonder your classes are always so hard to get in to. It reaffirms that I had made the right decision all those years ago. You belong..."

I never listened to the rest of it, erasing everything in my phone. It was ringing again two minutes later, and I almost disabled it again. The thought of missing a call from the Dean or Ms. Hamoud stopped me. Instead, I blocked her number, the number of her office, the house phone, the cells and land line of my parents, her parents, her friends, everyone but the kids.

I waited until I was pretty sure she wouldn't be able to answer, and left a message.

"Don't call me for a while. I'm taking your advice, and taking some time. Since I don't know how long it's going to take me to sort this out, I can't give you a timeline on when we'll talk again. The kids can get hold of me, but if you try to get them to push your agenda I'll let them read the letter. Wonder how they'll feel about dear old Mom, their grandfather, and Uncle Mike when they find out what you did to me? I'm sure you'll still be considered a paragon of virtue in their eyes. When I'm ready, and not before, we'll talk."

...

Sherry Hamoud was dressed to the nines for our dinner, and I realized my initial assessment of her body had been spot on. Oh, to be sure, the dress was conservative, the hem an inch below the knee, and the top scooped just enough to give a hint of cleavage, but it clung to her softly, accentuating her breasts and a very well shaped rear end. I stared at her until she giggled.

"Sorry to stare. Not to belabor the obvious, but you are a very attractive woman. I feel a bit under dressed."

She smiled warmly. "Thank you for the compliment. I hardly ever get to wear something like this, so I decided to indulge. And you look quite dashing. Shall we?"

We dined at the hotel restaurant, a surprisingly good meal. I enjoyed it immensely, the pressure and angst of my life receding into the background for a little while. Over dessert, she got down to why she had come.

"I need someone in our field to help me with a project. To be honest, I was here to interview your chief assistant. When the Dean told me you might consider doing what I need instead, I was stunned. In my wildest dreams, I never considered you. But it would be perfect, I'd have an equal instead of an assistant. The work would be much easier, and immensely quicker."

I was more than a little interested. "What does the project entail?"

She looked around, obviously uncomfortable. "For that, we need to go to my suite. It's very confidential, involving some sensitive documents. Shall we?"

Sherry paid for dinner, citing business, and we went up the ten floors to her suite. I was surprised to to see a very large man waiting, even more surprised when he ran a wand over me, nodding to Sherry when he was done and disappearing into a bedroom. I was about to speak when she raised her hand, stalling me, then dialing a number on her phone. When the party answered she put it on speaker.

"Peter, old boy, is that really you?"

I recognized the voice instantly. My old boss, from the British Museum. "Lord Bevington?"

He laughed. "Quite right. I assume by this conversation darling Sherry has offered to bring you into our fold?"

She spoke up before I could answer. "We've only just returned from dinner, Teddy. I haven't made the proposal yet."

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