Eat. Drink. F*ck. And What Happens Next on The Hierarchy of Need.: #2 How I Became A Handyman Kindle Edition

Tuesday Evening. July 3, 2018.

I looked in the mirror at the widow Haskins.

She was standing in front of her vanity, hands clenching the edge, her eyes screwed tight, and her mouth making the perfect O shape as she orgasmed.

I was behind her, buried to the balls.

I still had a ways to go. Hoped the old girl was up to the challenge.

We fucked in front of that vanity through three more of her orgasms before I came deep inside of her.

I was impressed with her stamina for a 60-something.

She was just glad she had someone to fuck.

“Can we spoon a little on the bed before you go?”

“What? This isn’t an overnight thing? I really wanted to watch you ride the pony in the morning!” I chided.

“Grandbabies are coming to see me in the morning.”

“I totally understand. Have grandbabies myself, although they don’t come around much. That’s OK. I make time to go see them.”

“Thank you. This has been very therapeutic.”

“Yes, Ms Haskins, it certainly has.”

“Call me Jill.”

“OK. Jill.”

She paused. Waiting for me to give her a call sign.

I winked at her. “You can call me the handyman.”

Friday Afternoon. November 3, 2017.

The kids were finally gone.

They had been around the house for the last four days helping me divest myself from Carmen’s belongings.

The clothes were gone. The dresser was gone. Any piece of furniture that was attached to Carmen were gone. Her personal devices–phone, computer, ipad–hard drives destroyed and devices discarded.

“Dad, you going to be OK?” James wanted to know before he drove his own family back to Chicago.

“What did Pete and Andy say in the hospital? ‘We’re a fucking long way from being OK.’?”

James smiled. “Yeah. I get that.”

“I gotta get this foot right, James. Then I gotta get this house right. We’ll see where we go from there.”

“Love you, dad.”

“Love you, too, son. Take care of those ladies of yours.”

“Will do.”

Pete was a little tougher to deal with. 

“You know, dad, I kind of blame some of this shit on you.”

“Yeah, I know, Pete. You’re an asshole.”

“And you’re an asshat.”

“Well, the nut don’t fall too far from the tree.”

That said, he hugged me and was gone.

Andrew and Maryanne were last.

“Love you, dad.”

“Love you guys, too.”

“If you need anything we’re six miles down the road.”

“I know, son. If I need you I’ll call you.”

“Good.”

Andrew was like talking to a mirror. Looked just like me. Thought just like Carmen. In hindsight, that was probably a terrible combination.

The house was finally empty.

For the first time in 35 years I was responsible for no one but myself.

The thought terrified me for about 30 seconds.

Then I realized that not much was different.

Carmen had floated through this house for quite some time like a ghost. If she came back as a ghost that wouldn’t surprise me at all.

But not now.

Now was time for drinking.

And that’s what I did.

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