- Joined
- Nov 22, 2025
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- 298
Welcome to my second story. It has an interesting history. I have been editing stories from a prolific author here. He mentioned that he had several unfinished stories and I asked if he would care to share one with me. He sent me a stop and told me to have fun with it. His story, Walking in a Daze, is the basis for the first half here. I made one big change and a few smaller ones but he set the table so to speak. Then I crafted an ending to the story to something that I would find acceptable. Thank you to my editor, Rusty Puddles, and EOUL for graciously allowing me to create my ending for Jack's problems. I am responsible for any errors and remember, this is fiction aka, make believe.
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As I walked through the resurgent downtown area, I replayed the lunch I just had with my soon to be ex wife.
She had been fighting the divorce ever since I caught her cheating; she was cheating with her ex-husband. Kate was pleading with me that it wasn't a big deal; it was just sex with Andrew, her ex. I should have expected this to happen; she cheated on Andrew with me. I know it sounds like something that would be a typical Jerry Springer episode.
My sister, Anne was my confidant and advisor since I was young. Anne wasn't happy I had taken up with a married woman. Hell, it surprised me too, but she told me Andrew was controlling and abusive. I was her hero, or so she said. And the sex? Mind blowing! Before Kate and I married, Anne counseled me that, "Any woman who would cheat on her husband would cheat on any husband whoever he was." And when I told her that I was filing for divorce citing adultery, the conversation ended with, "I told you so, isn't karma a bitch."
Over lunch, Kate pleaded with me to rescind my petition for divorce. I refused. We went around in circles on that point for a half an hour; the wait staff watched us carefully and asked us to keep our voices down. It soon became apparent that she realized her ex-husband had no desire to make their arrangement permanent; he just enjoyed fucking her. Kate complained to me that I worked too much and she didn't like being alone which caused her to be unfaithful. When Andrew contacted her, she wanted to have some fun and didn't think it would be a big deal. Towards the end of lunch, Kate said she was going to demand counseling. I rolled my eyes and prayed to any god who would listen. I just wanted to move on with my life. I fucked up. I cheated with a married woman; I married that cheater and I should have even foreseen that she would cheat again. My pain was well deserved and well earned.
While walking to my car, the lunch continued to replay in my head. Over the half hour, we kept repeating ourselves through most of it. Kate was behind me continued to badger me about counseling and withdrawing the divorce. I was doing my best to ignore her and the other distractions around me. Suddenly I hear screaming and realized people around me were running. I heard several rapid gunshots. I saw a man's lifeless body nearby and then Kate collapsed behind me with blood pouring from her chest. More gunfire rang out.
I must have looked like an idiot, standing there watching everyone else run, but they were running haphazardly in every direction possible. Another shot hit the sidewalk near where I was standing and showered me with some debris. I started to run in no particular direction crashing into people flying by when a shot echoed through downtown and I found myself flying backwards. Somewhere in my mind, I began to consider the possibility that I was shot. I began crawling away from where I landed. My left arm was useless and my shirt was already drenched in blood as I tried to crawl under a bench at a glass enclosed bus stop. More shots rang out and the glass walls of the bus stop exploded and I felt a severe pain in my leg. Was the shooter was aiming at me; that was absurd? My eyes closed and the world went black.
The beeping of medical machines woke me up, that and the incredible pain in my shoulder and leg. A nurse was standing by my bed, "Welcome back Mr. Cartwright, let me get Doctor Henderson."
A harried looking Doctor Henderson came into my room. "You are a lucky man for someone who has been shot twice. One bullet entered right below the collar bone and exited out the back leaving some serious muscle damage but nothing that will kill you. Physical therapy will allow you to recover full use of your left arm. You were also shot in your right leg just nicking the femoral artery which is the size of your thumb. You could have bled out in minutes. But it was just a nick and the EMT recognized and treated the injury right away. You should thank her; she's the reason you're still alive. As with your shoulder, there's a lot of muscle damage which will also require physical therapy. With a good deal of effort, you should recover fully. Any questions for me?"
"Who shot me and why," I asked.
"That is a conversation you need to have with the police who are standing outside the door waiting their turn. I'll be around for the rest of the day if you have other questions."
The doctor left and a man and a woman came in dressed in plain clothes but they were wearing badges. The male cop, obviously older than the woman, did the introductions, then the woman took over.
"Mr. Cartwright, may I call you, Jack?"
"Jack will be fine," I said, "So are you going to tell me who shot me?"
"We'll get to that but let me ask you some questions about your wife, I understand you are separated and you have filed for divorce."
God, my life sucked and explaining my hell to two strangers wasn't going to be easier than explaining it to my family.
"Yes. A few weeks ago, I found out that my wife was having an affair and I filed for divorce."
"Why were you in that area today Jack?"
"Kate, my soon to be ex-wife, wanted to meet for lunch because she wanted me to rescind the petition for divorce. I declined and we spent the better part of an hour going in circles on the issue."
"Who was she having an affair with?"
"Andrew Gould, her ex-husband. To be completely honest, Kate and I were having an affair while she was married to Andrew which was the cause of her divorce from Andrew. So in short, what comes around goes around. So are you going to tell me who shot me?"
I was stunned but shouldn't have been when she said "Andrew Gould".
"Did Mr. Gould know you were meeting Kate for lunch today and any of the details like time and place?"
I looked at her incredulously. "I certainly didn't tell him.", I said. "I'm not sure why Kate would have told him. From what she said over lunch, it didn't take her long to remember why she divorced the controlling creep in the first place, those were her words not mine. That didn't make sense to me, I always thought the cause of her divorce was her affair with me. What I do know is that I'm an idiot for getting myself into this mess in the first place. How do you know it was Andrew and can you give me some details?"
"Mr. Gould was sitting on the roof of an abandoned building downtown with a high powered rifle. He obviously knew where and when you would be there. He fired multiple shots, one of which hit and killed another man named James Jenson. Did you know him?
"I don't think so, why would you ask?
"He looked a lot like you, maybe he was an innocent bystander hit by a stray bullet or Mr. Gould thought it was you when he took that first shot. Two shots hit you. The others fired wildly; one of which hit and killed your wife. Mr. Gould was observed in a security camera exiting his car on the way into the vacant building and then returning to his car after the shooting. We're still looking for him."
"I understand why he would want to kill me but why would he have shot Kate?"
"Our best guess at this time is that it was an accident. With all the chaos happening, she ran into his line of fire while trying to avoid his gunshots. The only way Gould could have known you would be there is if she told him, at least that's the assumption we're going with right now."
They gave me their cards in case I needed anything.
A few minutes later, a nurse came in and gave me some additional pain killer, I think she said it was morphine but it was really powerful shit which I really liked. My eyes glazed over and I faded away to dreamland. There was an upside to getting shot.
The next time I woke up, Anne was sitting by my bed.
"If you say one word about how I deserved this or karma..."
"Relax Jack, there will be a better time and place. The detectives told me everything, way more than I needed to know. My compassion is certainly tempered by the history here but nobody deserves to be almost killed and then Kate and that poor innocent man who had a wife and two children. Let's concentrate on your health and getting you out of here.
"
Later in the week, Anne was wheeling me into my house. She had taken a week off from work to help me settle into my new reality. It would take two weeks of physical therapy before I could return to work.
I'm not sure who's idea started the discussion about attending the funeral for Mr. Jenson, who the police were now calling an innocent bystander. Anne wheeled me into the funeral parlor and I offered my condolences to the widow. There was an odd look of recognition on her face and then she thanked me for coming. She was in shock and I'm sure she had no idea who I was as I heard her repeat the same words thanking the next person in line for coming.
I didn't want to stick around. Anne and I probably spent more time getting my ass in and out of the car than we did in the funeral home. I was almost in the car, holding myself up on the door as Anne put the wheelchair into the trunk. The technique I had developed required me to hold onto the car door as I positioned my ass in the right spot that I could fall into the passenger seat. My right arm slipped off the door and my left wasn't strong enough to hold me up and I fell onto the pavement. As I was falling, another shot rang out and the windshield exploded, a second shot hit the door right above my head. I laid down and rolled under the car screaming at Anne to get down.
The police were there in minutes but Andrew had taken off before they could catch him. The two detectives pulled in and wanted to know who knew I was going to attend the funeral. They gave Anne and I a ride back to my house because they were impounding Anne's car.
Andrew was still on the loose and the police once again had me in for questioning.
My work medical coverage paid for some daily in home care. The nurse reminded me of an evil torturer from medieval times. I cried to my sister for help but there was only so much she could do for me because she had to go back to work.
Anne used some flex time at work to take me to my first PT appointment downtown, not too far from where the original shooting occurred. Seeing the plywood sheet covering the shattered bus stop glass sent a chill through me. Physical therapy was more painful than the doctor described. The therapist pushed me hard; I felt like I had earned all of this pain.
At the second PT appointment, Andrew tried to kill me again. The bullet had whizzed over my head shattering the concrete a few feet in behind pme. I dove under a nearby ambulance. A couple more shots rang out but they didn't come close to me. I stayed under the ambulance until the police told me it was safe to come out. There were two bullet holes in the ambulance.
I was questioned again by the police and they searched all of my tech gadgets. Some tech wizard at the state police found an app on my phone that was forwarding all calendar appointments and text messages to an unknown number.
The police realized that was how Andrew knew where I was going to be and set up a trap. Using my phone, they sent a message from me to Anne asking her to take me to the cemetery so I could put flowers on the grave of the innocent bystander, James Jenson. I don't know all the details, except that they borrowed Anne's car. They found Andrew on a hilltop with his rifle. instead of surrendering, Andrew pointed the rifle at one of the officers and died in a hail of bullets. They found some writings in his car detailing his plans to get rid of me to have Kate all to himself. When Kate was killed, he blamed me and wanted to make me suffer.
All of this left me depressed with the pain of PT and the guilt of having caused this circus of pain. I started therapy and I was diagnosed with PTSD. Dr Tyler and I discussed what happened, my behavior and what I could do towards recovering from the trauma. I realized my self centered and narcissistic behavior lead to my affair, failed marriage and shooting not to mention three deaths. We had numerous sessions that were painful but insightful. I knew I would be in therapy for a long time.
The newspaper did a big spread on the shooting, it was the biggest news in our town in decades. There was also a human interest story regarding Jenson's wife, Sarah and her twin six year old boys. That just sent me into a deeper funk. Someone had set up a 'go fund me' page so I made a sizable donation and wrote a letter to the widow, apologizing and taking some of the blame for her husband's death. I gave her my phone number and offered to help her anyway I could.
My phone chirped and a text appeared from Sarah Jensen. Her response surprised me: "He tried to kill you three times and shot you twice, this can't be your fault."
I told her about my relationship with Kate.
Her next text read, "None of that matters, my husband was cheating on me but who's going to teach my Luke how to ride a bike or JJ how to play soccer? I understand why you feel some guilt but this is all Gould's fault, him and his ex-wife. All she had to do was keep her legs closed like a good wife should. If it wasn't you, she would have spread 'em for someone else. Give yourself a break and move on. The world doesn't need another martyr."
One of the things that my therapist suggested was finding an outlet for helping others, a way to be less self-centered. I countered, "I can still teach your son how to ride a bike and find someone to help the other one learn how to play soccer. What position does he play?"
There was no response that night; maybe it was time for me to move on. There was an ending date coming up for PT and I needed to get on with my life. I returned to work and began to get caught up with my responsibilities. Fortunately, the distractions at work helped take my mind off reliving the shootings.
Two days after my texts with Mrs. Jenson, she responded: "He wants to be a goalie."
She sent me her address and asked if I could be there at 6:00 the next day. I didn't know shit about soccer or being a goalie. Tim, a coworker had pictures on his desk of his son playing soccer and I asked him for advice. He told me his son, Max, was the goalie for his high school team. After a few calls between father and son, I hired Max to help me and made plans for us to start working with the Jenson's kids the next day.
Max couldn't be nicer and brought a bunch of his younger brother's equipment that he no longer used. The greeting we received at the Jenson's couldn't have been more awkward. Mom and the kids were still in a state of shock. Mrs. Jenson introduced herself as Sarah, as the two boys hid behind her until Max pulled the goalie gear out of duffle bag. Jimmy Jr. or JJ stared with his mouth open. Max helped Jimmy put on the shin guards and goalie gloves and the two of them headed out back. Luke and I pulled his bike out of the garage and started riding the sidewalk. Luke was going to have to build up some leg strength before we could take off the training wheels.
After an hour, we headed inside. Sarah's house was not neat, "lived in" might be a better word but what could you expect for a woman who just lost her husband. Sarah asked us to stay for dinner and we did which became the regular routine. Max and I would stop by a couple of times a week, helping Luke learn how to ride a bike while Max and Jimmy worked on soccer skills. I was enjoying myself and felt like I was contributing to the world, not taking.
On the third week, Sarah told us dinner was on the stove and she had to run out. It was really strange. After we ate dinner, Max and I helped the boys with their homework while Sarah came in at nine that evening. The next time we came over, Sarah ran out and didn't return until after ten. I was beginning to feel like an unpaid babysitter. I asked Max to start driving himself over so he could leave as soon as the soccer drills were over.
A week later, Sarah wasn't there when we arrived and an older woman greeted us at the door. She identified herself as June, the next door neighbor who watched Sarah's kids occasionally. She had a grandmotherly feel about her. Luke wasn't feeling well and was laying down.
As Max and Jim headed out back, June said, "So you're the guy Sarah roped into babysitting her kids so she could go out and get laid."
So much for the grandmotherly feel.
June continued, "Sarah came home trashed one night, looking like a slut, and started telling me the whole story. She had been a tramp for as long as she could remember. She and her husband cheated on each other since before they got married but they each hid it well from the other. Maybe a couple of years ago, they realized what each was doing and agreed to open their marriage. It's easier for a woman to get laid; he resented that and became jealous. He left and hasn't lived here in over a year. Believe me, there's no love lost between the two of them. What did she tell you?"
"She told me her husband was cheating on her but who was going to teach her son to ride a bike or play soccer. So I volunteered."
"Boy, she suckered you in. One of the reasons her husband left was because the kids weren't his to begin with. He had DNA tests done and when he got the results, he left; that was a year ago. He was never going to do anything with the boys ever again. You know, you do look remarkably like him. It must freak the boys out."
"Do they know he wasn't their father?"
"That argument between Jim and Sarah was pretty loud, the whole neighborhood heard it and someone called the police to rein them in. I can't imagine that the boys didn't hear it. That's probably the last time they saw Jim," June said.
I shook my head. "That must have been hard on the boys, you find out the man you have been calling daddy isn't and then he disappears. Why did she do the grieving widow routine?"
"I don't think it was an act. I watched the boys for her when she had to go down and identify the body. Legally they were still married; neither of them pursued a divorce. Sarah really tied one on that night. She always believed they would get back together again and always believed that Jimmy was the boys' birth father." June sighed, "I never understood those two, one day they looked like they were madly in love with each other and then the next day they would be screaming at each other. They just couldn't stay on the same page."
June left after that. I checked in on Luke periodically, he didn't seem sick but I had no experience dealing with kids. I fed the boys dinner and helped Jim with his homework. By nine, both boys were in bed.
I sat on the couch, trying to watch a game and wondering what I got myself into now. It seemed everything I touched turned into crap. I tried helping a wife trapped in a supposed horrible marriage only to cheat on me with the horrible guy to whom she had been married. And then he tried to kill me. I tried helping these poor boys who had lost their father only to find out he wasn't their father. Their mother was a flake and using me.
Sarah came in around ten again. She was dressed really nicely, she looked attractive before but she was rocking the dress she was wearing that showed a lot of leg covered in black stockings.
