How the Mighty Have Fallen

How the

Mighty Have

Fallen

Justin Maxwell

ABSOLUTELY AMAZING eBOOKS

Published by Whiz Bang LLC, 926 Truman Avenue, Key West, Florida 33040, USA.

How the Mighty Have Fallen copyright © 2015 by Wayne Kadar. Electronic compilation/ paperback edition copyright © 2015 by Whiz Bang LLC.

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How the

Mighty Have

Fallen

Chapter One

Emily tossed her backpack in the dinghy, climbed over the transom of the Biscayne Beauty onto the small swim platform then climbed down into the inflatable boat.

Jimmy Davidson, Emily’s husband waved to his wife from the cockpit of their boat. Go bring home the bacon! he yelled to her.

She responded to him digitally saying, I’ll be late. I’m going to get a few groceries and check the mail. You get your ass working on that carburetor!

Jimmy watched his wife row across the harbor as the early morning mist hugged the surface of the water. He walked back into the cabin, yawned, stretched, scratched his nuts and climbed back in bed. He was thinking of going to shore to look for work today but Emily got a call from the high school looking for a substitute teacher for an English class and she took the dinghy, leaving him stranded with no way to get to shore. Maybe I’ll go tomorrow, he thought as he curled up in the forward berth.

Splash… splash. Splash… splash was the only sound on the harbor that morning. Splash… splash. Splash… splash, the sound made by the blades of the oars as they entered the water, were pulled, propelling the 10-foot inflatable boat forward then the blade broke the surface to return to the starting position. Pulling hard on the oars, Emily quietly said in unison with the rhythmic splash… splash, Damn… Karma. Damn… Karma.

It was only a little over 1/8 of a mile from the Biscayne Beauty to shore but she hated every stroke on the oars. She hated that it was she who had to row the rubber boat to shore at 6:15 am each morning she was called in to substitute while her husband slept in. She hated that every cent she made as a substitute teacher went to pay for keeping the Biscayne Beauty floating, paying to empty the holding tank, eating store brand canned food and the other debts that were piling up. She hated having to go to the Tavernier, Florida Post Office to pick up their mail; mostly bills and threatening letters from creditors who they owed several hundred thousand dollars, a reminder of their past life. She hated that her dad had to scrimp to save a few dollars from his monthly pension check to mail to his daughter so she could eat. He even had to forgo his annual vacation so he could afford to help his baby girl. She hated that someone had stolen the old bike she had found next to a dumpster and used to get around on shore, and hated that now she had to walk the mile to the high school. She hated that her husband had not fixed the dinghy’s outboard engine that had quit and whose carburetor has been spread out on a Coconut Telegraph newspaper on the galley table for almost two weeks. She was also beginning to hate her husband, who was once slender, handsome and ambitious and was now soft, unshaven and lazy.

How the mighty have fallen, slipped out of the recesses of her mind as she rowed the dinghy. Was it a famous quote, something her grandmother used to say, or maybe something she read? She couldn’t remember. She would have to do a Goggle search at the high school library some day and find out where the quote was from or even if it was an actual quote. But she thought it suited her and her husband to a tee.

Emily neared shore at the unofficial dinghy dock for the live-aboard boats moored in the small harbor in Florida Bay. It was just a small clearing in the mangroves where a city storm drain emptied into the Bay and the live-aboard community tied their dinghies along the shore and chained their bikes to the trees. Emily eased the inflatable between two other dinghies tied in the mangrove trees; one a 12-foot Boston Whaler with a brand new 15hp four stroke Mercury outboard engine that Emily coveted. The Boston Whaler belonged to the retired couple aboard the Gulfstream temporarily moored in the harbor.

The retired couple preferred to moor the boat rather than dock at the marina, although the price of the dock didn’t seem to be an issue. Their boat, a 42-foot Gulfstream Oceania, Emily thought, was probably worth between 4 and 5 hundred thousand dollars or more, and the gold dangling on the woman’s wrists and around her neck and the rings on her fingers reeked of affluence. That was me once, Emily said softly.

The other boat tied next to Emily’s dinghy was a sun bleached, partially deflated Zodiac inflatable with the word Bubbles painted along the sides looking like the artwork of a five year old, and a very old white 3HP Johnson outboard engine hanging off the stern. The engine was so rusted by the saltwater that the lower end could no longer be tilted out of the water and the lock securing the motor to the boat was so corroded that if the owner could find the key the lock probably wouldn’t open, so the non-functioning motor couldn’t be removed. The engine didn’t run anyway, at least it hadn’t since Emily and Jimmy had moored the Biscayne Beauty in Community Harbor. The sloppily painted name, Bubbles referred to the constant stream of bubbles which leaked from the forward air chamber which was always in a state of deflation, or partial inflation, sort of a glass half empty or half full thing.

The owner of the dilapidated Bubbles that needed to be pumped up every day so the forward air chamber wouldn’t deflate and fold in on itself causing the bow to sink below the surface, was Danny Delgoda, a 28-year old bartender at Crabby Bill’s, a bar known for its cold beer and it’s shady patrons. Emily looked at the old inoperable white Johnson outboard and thought, And he is the guy who is helping Jimmy rebuild our carburetor. Yeah, like that’s going to happen.

For the last two years Danny had lived on his boat, Wanderlust, which had not left the mooring ball in all that time. Emily thought it should just be named Lust after the way he was always leering at her. She couldn’t sit out in her bikini without him rowing over to their boat to borrow something, or since she often didn’t wear a bra, when Danny came by the Biscayne Beauty he constantly stared at her chest. Six days a week Danny rowed Bubbles ashore, sometimes he walked to the public beach to bathe at the showers provided for swimmers to rinse off the saltwater then he walked to Crabby Bill’s to serve drinks from four till close.

Danny must have hooked up last night, Emily thought, since his dinghy was still at shore, the forward chamber wrinkled and sunken, almost totally deflated.

Emily tied her dinghy to the mangrove tree, grabbed her back pack, carefully climbed out without getting wet and started walking to the high school where she would be teaching students how to conjugate verbs in a sophomore English class, use a comma in a class of basic grammar, in a remedial English class she would hope the students just sat quiet and then she would try to help another class to appreciate the nuances of the classic English authors in Advanced Placement English literature.

The students at Emerald Isles High School were different than her previous school; for one thing there were no uniforms. At Emerald Isles the students pretty well dressed as they pleased, within some loose guidelines printed in the student handbook. Of course in the Florida Keys’ tropical climate, shorts were worn by the majority, tee shirts were worn by almost all the guys and many of the girls wore tops that would have been deemed inappropriate back at Emily’s school in Michigan.

At her previous school, piercings were limited to a single earring per ear and only in female ears. At Emerald Isles Emily observed piercings in eyebrows, nostrils, cheeks, tongues, ears displaying multiple studs and probably in places hidden from view, and the piercings were not limited to female students.

At the prep school in Michigan, the students had to wear their hair in a conservative cut, which was not the case at Emerald Isles. As she was shown to her classroom by a principal’s office aide, Emily saw students with orange, purple, blue, pink and extremely black hair. She saw a guy with a rainbow Mohawk, a girl with the left side of her head shaved and the hair on her right side hanging down to mid back and dyed a brilliant yellow.

Not all students at Emerald Isles were wildly dressed, obviously dyed or perforated with piercings. Most students looked like typical high school students, some males and females chose the stereotypical Florida bleached blonde, well-tanned look, and of course there were the jocks that wore tight tee shirts to display the results of hours in the weight room and the geeks who dressed and acted the part.

The first class of the day, the sophomore class, went well; the students weren’t very motivated and showed very little interest in the subject matter but for the most part they behaved. Emily only had to send one student to the principal’s office, a boy who disrupted the class by farting loudly during quiet reading.

During second period, her conference/preparation period, Emily went to the faculty lounge to read the lesson plans the teacher had prepared, munch on a granola bar and sip a bottle of Diet Coke.

There was only one other teacher in the lounge when she entered. The man looked up from the papers he was grading, smiled at the pretty substitute and said, Hello! Welcome to Emerald Isles High School. I’m Scott. He stood reaching out his hand, Economics, government and history.

Emily, she said taking his hand, giving it a polite shake. "I’m in for Mrs. Parks.

You’re new here, he said releasing her hand.

Emily smiled at the man. Yes, this is my first day subbing in the high school. I’ve worked in the elementary school a few days.

How long have you been living down here in paradise? Scott asked, not wanting to conclude the conversation.

About five months. My husband and I brought our boat down from Miami.

Where are you docked?

We’re on a mooring ball in Community Harbor. Emily responded.

So, you keep a car on shore to get around? he asked.

No. I used to have a bike but it seems someone wanted it more than me and stole it last week.

Scott, admiring Emily’s natural beauty said, That’s crappy. How do you get to school?

Walk, Emily answered, realizing she was enjoying the man’s attention, attention she had not been receiving from Jimmy in some time.

I can give you a ride back to the harbor after school, Scott offered, hoping she would agree. He wanted to get to know this pretty lady better.

Aww, that’s sweet of you but I have to go to Winn Dixie on the way home to pick up some groceries, Emily said.

Then I’ll drive you there then back to your boat. I should pick up some food too. I keep putting off grocery shopping. See, you’re actually doing me a favor by forcing me to go shopping. I won’t take no for an answer, Scott said realizing he was babbling like a love-struck seventh grade boy. But he was attracted to the sub in Mrs. Park’s class and wanted to get to know her better. Looking at the pretty substitute teacher, he secretly wished Mrs. Parks would take sick for the rest of the year.

Okay. I’ll meet you here after school, Emily hurriedly relented as the electronic bell sounded alerting them their conference period was over and it was time to go see the unmotivated, and under achieving students in Mrs. Park’s third hour class.

Most of the students sat somewhat quietly reading or pretending to read, George Orwell’s Animal Farm, while two girls sitting in the back row talked quietly in Spanish, a blonde girl with too much eye liner texted on her cell, and a rather large kid with his head laying on his crossed arms quietly snored.

Emily looked out the classroom window seeing lush green palms gently stirring on a breeze and the turquoise water of the Atlantic Ocean beyond. Toto, I don’t think we’re in Michigan anymore, she thought to herself.

Then her thoughts turned to Scott. I wonder where he’s from? How long has he been teaching here? I don’t know anything about him and I accepted a ride with him. What’s wrong with me? I know better than that. That’s how women get raped these days. You read it in the newspapers all the time, the victim saying the guy was so nice, and his neighbors are interviewed on local news saying the guy seemed like such a mild-mannered man they never expected him to do something as ghastly as keeping six women chained up in his basement. Her imagination was running at one hundred miles per hour. Panic was starting to set in.

Heck, I don’t even know his last name, she thought to herself. Accepting a ride was a mistake. I’ll just tell him something came up and I can’t take the ride.

But, she thought, her mind doing a flip flop, there is something about the guy that is reassuring, something trusting, and he is good looking.

She decided she would take the nice looking teacher up on his offer to drive her to the store then to the harbor. She convinced herself she was only doing it because it would save her from walking over two miles with a full pack on her back and a plastic grocery bag dangling from each hand.

Before the end of the school day, Mrs. Cahill, the principal’s secretary, knocked on the door to Mrs. Park’s classroom. Emily opened the door. Mrs. Davidson, Mrs. Parks will not be able to return for another week, maybe longer, can you stay on for a while?

Sure, not a problem, Emily responded. I’d love to.

Chapter Two

Danny Delgoda and his girlfriend Lindsey had taken a week-long vacation to Key West and fell under its spell. Using her daddy’s credit card, they stayed in a small bungalow in Old Town. Lindsey and Danny slept in late and stayed out late, hopping from bar to bar along notorious Duval Street. They ate and drank at the tourist bars, trying them all. Never having been there, they took in the museums, sunset cruises, trolley ride and local entertainment. They loved the atmosphere, the non-stop party so much they decided they wanted to live the carefree life of Key West; living on a boat gently bobbing at anchor, the year round warm Florida Key’s sun, and the perpetual party that is the heart of Key West. They didn’t consider the boat dragging its anchor in the frequent violent storms, the tropical sun beating down on a small cramped boat with no air conditioning, or how they would be able to afford the non-stop party once Lindsey’s credit cards were tapped out.

Six months later the young couple said good bye to friends and family and sailed, but mostly motored, Danny’s 53-year-old, 30-foot Catalina sailboat, Wanderlust from Chesapeake Beach, Maryland through the Chesapeake Bay, down the Intracoastal Waterway along the Atlantic coast of Maryland, Virginia, North and South Carolina, Georgia and Florida. They were heading for a life in paradise.

Lindsey and Danny had met at Wave Crest Marina where her father, Dr. Howard Anderson, a nationally respected cardiologist, kept his 56-foot Carver Voyager and Danny pumped gas and emptied holding tanks for minimum wage and tips. Despite her parents very vocal displeasure in her choice, Lindsey and Danny began dating. By the end of the summer they became engaged with a $19.98 Wal-Mart engagement ring and she announced to her parents she would not be returning for her junior year at Mount Holyoke College in Massachusetts. She tried to convince her parents her plans to become a nurse anesthetist were not cancelled, merely put on hold, while she and Danny set off on an adventure sailing for points south.

After traveling nearly 800 miles in the old, leaky, moldy sailboat, 26-year-old Danny and 20-year-old Lindsey anchored in Community Harbor in the Florida Keys. They stopped when both the boat’s engine and Lindsey’s credit cards ceased to operate. Lindsey quickly became disenchanted with the dream, grew tired of rowing to shore to do anything; laundry, shopping, work. She was tired of serving food at the Hogfish Grill, waiting on sun burned drunks in from a day of fishing with an attitude that she was the catch of the day, sick of being poor and sick of Danny Delgoda.

One day Lindsey told Danny she had to work the morning shift at the Hogfish, rowed their leaking inflatable boat to the dinghy dock, she was met there by her mother waiting in a rented white Lexis, air conditioning blowing on high. Her mother drove the car to U.S.1 turned north and Lindsey never looked back; the Danny Delgoda chapter of her life was closed.

Chapter Three

Splash… Splash. Splash… Splash. The oars sang their mournful song. Splash… Splash. Splash… Splash. At 6:45 in the morning the temperature was already 78 degrees, the sun was shining, not a cloud in the sky. It was going to be another beautiful but hot day. Emily was in good spirits this morning, partly because Jimmy slept in and she didn’t have to put up with him pawing her as she got ready. She also didn’t have to explain why she was spending a little extra time fixing her hair and she didn’t have to explain why she was leaving a half hour later than usual; she didn’t have to walk to the high school this morning, she had a ride.

Splash… Splash. Splash… Splash. What was the quote? she wondered, Something about the mighty falling. It was a re-occurring thought she had when she thought of her and Jimmy’s life. There was a time when they had it all, luxury house, fancy cars, jet skis, power boats, a vacation condo in northern Michigan. Now, they lived off the money she earned as a substitute teacher and what little her dad could send.

Her résumé was impressive, the principal of Emerald Isles High School said as he flipped the pale violet pages. Emily had done her undergraduate work at Grand Valley State University in secondary education, and her master’s degree was from Western Michigan University in English Literature. After two years teaching remedial English in a Detroit Public School’s program for under achieving students at risk of dropping out of school she landed a job teaching advanced placement English at a very private, very exclusive, very expensive high school in a wealthy Detroit suburb, where to be accepted for enrollment the students were either academically gifted, athletically gifted, excelled in some form of the arts, or their parents made a large donation to the school.

Within four years she had become respected by the administration, enjoyed a congenial and academic friendship with the faculty, and was well liked by her students. It was she whom many students asked to write a faculty recommendation to accompany their university applications.

Emily was so well liked by the students she was honored when the senior class requested her to be the faculty speaker at their graduation. She spoke to them about the road of life; about what lies ahead of them, college, career, marriage, and maybe children. She addressed the seniors about how the road of life was theirs for the taking, but warned them that there were many curves, pot holes and forks on the road. They would need to, at times, slow down for a curve, and that they would need to swerve to avoid pot holes, and they must carefully analyze and select the best fork in the road for them.

Without naming names, she told of her older sister who was an above average student, well behaved, and a stout Christian with a goal of becoming a pediatric physician. But in college she took the wrong fork in the road, met the wrong guy, at his insistence she began to experiment with illegal substances, dropped out of college, and was eventually found dead; the victim of a drug overdose.

For a conclusion, she brought the speech back to a positive note, naming notable alumni of the school and their accomplishments. She talked about Larry Plumy the CEO of a successful software company, Buck Martinson a linebacker who played four years in the NFL for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, Linda DeVereau, her real name was Linda Kolwoski, and her success as a fashion designer, her dresses appear draped on the bodies of starlets walking the red carpets at all of the A-list events. Emily also spoke about Dr. Adam Yatieze a surgeon with a very prosperous Detroit area practice. The school principal asked Emily to mention Dr. Yatieze’s name in the speech to make sure his generous contributions continued.

Splash… Splash. Splash… Splash. Emily rowed with a bit more enthusiasm this morning, she didn’t mind rowing today. She was getting a ride to school this morning with Scott.

Chapter Four

James Jeffery Davidson was a winner. From elementary school through college he excelled at anything he attempted. He had it all; he was smart, athletic, good looking and charismatic. If his high school had the award, he would have been voted most likely to succeed. It’s not that he worked at being a high achiever, in fact he considered himself lazy, everything just came easy for him.

Jimmy, as he was called, not only excelled at most everything, he also possessed a charming personality and people liked him. Both guys and girls were attracted to him; the guys all wanted to be like him or at least bask in his shadow and the girls and many women all wanted to be with him and several proved they would do anything for the opportunity.

He learned how to get what he wanted from the fairer sex from a friend of the family before he was old enough to drive. Mrs. Druery drove Jimmy to or picked him up after football, basketball or baseball practice when his mother was busy showing a home to a client, which seemed to occur frequently. One day as