Soccer Mom - Chapter Ten By Pac (pac) Eric's regret Thankfully Haylee was staying with grandma tonight, so she didn't have to see me beating myself up. I had gotten a bottle of Jim Beam from the liquor cabinet and a water glass from the kitchen and was sitting out on the deck, having a pity party. I heard the phone ring, and I'm sure the machine picked up, but it was in the entryway at the front of the house, and I was out back, so I didn't hear who called. The world turned and my mind swam, punctuated by the bottle as it clinked against the glass. The hazy mantle that covered my thoughts cleared to a dreary scene. Two men sat at a bar against a black background, looking for all the world like the minimalist stage set of some Arthur Miller play. A young man, in trendy clothes and a fashionable haircut, fit and tan, struck a leisurely pose to the left of a plain older man huddled at the bar. The elder of the pair was dressed in what looked like after-work business attire from the 60's: a tightly buttoned, starched shirt with suspenders, an unimaginative tie, and sensible penny loafers. Young, pompous Mr. Smooth looked at his utilitarian counterpart with contempt, and Mr. Practical looked at his flippant antithesis with disdain. 'You're such an ass.' Mr. Practical said. 'Maybe Amanda was right, you were just a big kid and all you cared about was yourself and having fun and not being responsible. You're up to your old tricks again, and this time, you're throwing away perfection. I mean look at her!' The homunculus pointed toward the back of the bar, which lit up as if someone turned on a spotlight. A beautiful woman was cleaning a glass behind the bar, and the muscles played over her arm as it twisted in the simple motion of drying a glass. She was dressed in a naughty barmaid's outfit, looking a bit like the St. Pauli Girl in brunette. Her amazing breasts, incredible even in her usual business attire, were positively screaming "take me" as they pushed up out of the overstressed dirndl. She looked up over the bar and shot Mr. Practical a wink, and turned her nose up at the mouthy other guy. 'You ARE an ass,' she said, and turned back to cleaning glasses, the muscles in her thighs rippling with pure power. The lederhosen on her one leg split right down the middle from her surging muscles, and she looked down, then shot a naughty look toward the men, putting her hand over her mouth dramatically. Her other hand pressed down into the full bosom of her dirndl in mock surprise, and the boys looked on, waiting for that to fail as well. My throat burned from the bourbon as it raced down, lancing through my guts like a bolt of fire. The warmth afterward, though, softened the burn, turned it into something more sensual. Mr. Smooth leered at the continued spectacle of the barmaid. 'Yeah, bullshit,' Mr. Smooth said, setting down his half empty glass. He tended to be a bit vulgar. 'Amanda had such a stick up her ass that winning the lottery would have given her a panic attack. I can hear her bitching now: all the work it would take to line up a financial planner, make investment decisions, set up a trust, blah, blah blah!' He took the bottle off the bar, strangely mimicking my own movements. 'I tried to put a little fun into her life and she responded by calling me a baby and a bastard,' Mr. Smooth kept up. "And as for Terri: that smug bitch! Every time she did something today it was like spitting in my eye. She could use a little humility." Mr. Practical in my head snorted in disgust, as Mr. Smooth reached for the bottle again. 'You should hear yourself. The so-called good sport had a temper tantrum like a five year old today. How mature was that? Did you see the look on her face? If there was any justice in the world, you would be lucky if she remembered your name on Monday. What you did was inexcusable. You knew what she went through before, and how worked up about this whole competition thing she was. The worst part was YOU were the one who needed to test your mettle against her." Mr. Practical took a sensible sip of bourbon. "You heard her: she begged you not to challenge her. But NO... you had to prove you could go toe to toe with that goddess... and guess what? You couldn't!" The glass clinked, and Mr. Practical was on a roll. "You need to GROW UP! As far as Amanda goes: you calling her an uptight bitch probably didn't help things in your marriage. Sure, she was concerned about day to day things, but did you ever stop to think that if you took on some of those responsibilities... things YOU have to do now anyway as a single guy, I might add, then maybe she could have loosened up?' The bourbon was flowing tonight at the Self-Pity Bar. And it most definitely wasn't Ladies Night. "Oh fuck you! So you would just bend over for Terri, show her you're her bitch? YOU need to grow up and have a little dignity. You are such a pussy. 'Ooh, she's so strong and so beautiful and so sexy; ooh, and successful! Youngest partner ever in the firm,' you said, you mincing pansy. You are practically fawning over her pussy hairs in the shower!" Mr. Smooth said in his self-righteous anger. Mr. Smooth, certainly not living up to his name, took his bourbon glass and hurled it over the bar and it shattered over the head of the busty barmaid, who flinched and ducked as the glass exploded. "You fucking perfect bitch!" Mr. Smooth screamed at the cringing barmaid. I just about fell out of my chair when I realized what was going through my head. What the hell was wrong with me?!? Am I insane? Oh, I guess I did fall out of my chair.... I jumped up off the deck and ran for the phone... or I tried to, but Jim Beam said otherwise and had me catch my foot in one of the slats between the deck planks, and I sprawled out again. This time, though I was only about a foot from the door. The wind was blasted from me, and I had the hardest time getting up, since the deck now decided to flip flop around in a big circle. I did manage to make it in the door, lurching back and forth into the kitchen. I got to the phone and thought I tapped out the numbers to Terri's cellphone, and I heard a voice, but I couldn't tell if it was her or not. "Terri?" I slurred, "Hey, it's me, Eric, and I think I'm a dumbass." I heard talking on the other end of the line, but I was on a roll, so I kept on blaring away. "I think I was having a hard time realizing how great you were, and I think I'm not able to let myself be happy." I said, or think I said. "I have been so crazy about you from the first day we met that I felt like you were too good to be true, and I just wanted to apologize from the bottom of my heart." I heard a reply on the other end of the phone, and distinctly made out the word 'crazy'. I must be getting through to her, I thought and kept on going. At some point, I must have bumped the speakerphone. "You are the most wonderful thing I ever had happen in my life, and I know you don't want to be called perfect, but you are perfect for me. I understand if you never want to see me again, and I won't bother you, but please give me a second chance. I promise I'll take my beatings like a man and never get upset again. I just want the chance to be with you, and make you happy. I promise I'll do a better job from now on." "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" screamed the guy on the other end of the phone. "Wha-?" I slurred in reponse. I think my ability to put together sentences had now been trampled thoroughly by Mr. Beam and his cast iron shit-kickers. "Terri?" "No, this isn't Terri, you dumbass, for the thousandth time. Get off my line, you drunken ass, I need to call my wife! Your love fest was funny as hell, though... I got about every third word. I've been laughing so hard my side hurts. Thanks, buddy!" the guy said, and hung up. I heard laughing from the far side of the room, and I looked up, and a tall, strong-looking woman stood in the doorway with a beautiful half-smile on her face. She looked a lot like Terri. Her clothes looked like the same golf clothes Terri had on, only very dirty, as was her body. "Hey! You're a dirty girl!" I said, laughing like a fool as I tried in vain to hang the phone back up on the hook. The cradle kept moving on the wall though. Damn thing, I wished it would hold still. "Hold still, you sucker!" I yelled at it, and reeled backward. I felt strong arms catch me. "I wish I knew how you moved so fast," I said, and gagged as I felt a sudden urge to empty my stomach contents. My feet flew off the ground so fast that the room really DID spin, and I ended up looking into the gaping maw of the garbage disposal, staring up at me like a baleful eye. I can't be sure, but I think it winked at me. The nice mid-morning breakfast I had shared with Terri ended up shooting down that hole like a scene from The Exorcist. I guess that was appropriate, since it felt like my head was spinning around, too. I felt like I was floating now and my entire body felt like it was weightless. I kept wondering how I had floated up over the sink. Maybe it's a power I didn't realize I had... or somebody turned off the gravity? I'm sure I paid my bill. Things got a little blurry after that. I remember hot water splashing all over me, and I remember I kept trying to fall down, but something kept me upright, even when I picked up my feet. Maybe it's that crazy gravity thing again. And I remember talking to this strong lady about Terri, and how she didn't think she was perfect, but she was, and I kicked Mr. Smooth in the balls when he called her a smug bitch, because she wasn't. I also told the lady she was a really good listener, and I heard her laugh again. Thank goodness things finally faded to black after that.