Life Without You

For Matt, Flomo, Trev and Doug.

My little family.

(And Mum, if you are reading this, I’ll explain what a cockwomble is to you one day.)

Part One

Chapter One

Present Day

San Francisco, USA- Alex

Tell me again.

Tell you what?

You know what.

You have a great ass? I’m sure that I have a shit-eating grin plastered on my face. Judging by the way she lightly smacks my chest as she lifts her head off my shoulder, I would take that as a big fat yes.

Try again, boy wonder. She’s straddling me now, her face lit up with a smile.

You have great tits, I say lifting my head up to take one of her perfect pink nipples in my mouth and gently suck, before moving my head to make sure that the other one gets the same treatment. She lets out a moan then, arching her back in a move that goes straight down south making my dick harder than steel.

Nuh uh, try again. She gasps as I rub myself back and forth between her wet folds, tempting her into another round of lovemaking.

Our third this morning.

That I want to fuck you? She looks at me then with a look that I can only describe as pure mischief. Her emerald eyes to my brown.

I kind of gathered that. She laughs gently, you’re insatiable. before lowering herself onto me causing me to gasp.

Summer. Her name uttered softly, almost like a prayer as she lifts herself up and down on my cock before I thrust my hips up to meet her movements. I watch her as she fucks me, letting her take control; her head is thrown back in ecstasy, eyes closed. Her long blonde hair is down; wild, untamed. She’s covered in a fine layer of sweat - low growls, gasps and moans are coming from her as our movements get faster and faster as we race towards a glorious climax. This isn’t the slow, sensual love making of earlier. This is raw, desperate and hungry.

I need her.

I need her like the air that I breathe.

I still have to pinch myself that this beautiful woman is mine.

Slamming my hips up to meet hers, frantic to find my release, I chant the words that she wants to hear. The ones that belong to her that will only belong to her. No matter what happens or where life takes us.

I love you.

BEEP

I love you.

BEEP

I love you.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

The sound of the alarm pulls me from my slumber. Reaching out, my hand gropes to try to hit the off-button in an effort to silence the violent sound that ripped me away from my dreams of her. I don’t need to look at the clock to know that it’s 5:30am and I need to get up and face the world. Five more minutes wouldn’t hurt. Yeah, right. Five more minutes turns into ten, then twenty, then an hour and before you know it, you’re late for work and the boss is having your ass. Luckily for me, my boss is a sixty-year-old- tough-as-nails-ex-marine who once saved my life and thinks of me as a son, so he wouldn’t mind. The unbidden thought of old Joe coming anywhere near my ass makes me shudder.

Alex, Alex, Alex you have some sick thoughts buddy.

Ah, fuck it. Five extra minutes won’t hurt before have to drag my ass out of bed and go on my run before work. Once again, I have Joe to thank for the daily run. What was it he said about it?

Running will help you focus, son. Give you a purpose and a goal to aim for, take your mind off that crap you’ve been pumping into that body of yours. Think while you run Al, think about what you truly want....

He didn’t appreciate my ‘wax on wax off, Mr. Miyagi’ comment after he had imparted that little gem. Joe had been right though. Getting up at the ass crack of dawn; pounding the streets as the rest of the city slept, with not another soul in sight did help me ‘see’ properly for the first time in months. It took the blinders off from the shit storm that had been my life over the past few years, and allowed me to be introspective. It was on these runs that I realized what a bastard I’d been to everyone. Christ, I hated who and what I’d become. I’d pushed away my friends, my family and worst of all I’d pushed away Summer, my wife....my ex-wife now. I still can’t forgive myself for what I did to her, to us. I didn’t so much push her away more like destroyed her and her faith in anyone. I let her down, I hurt her and for that, I’ll be eternally sorry.

I can’t think of her, not today of all days. I’ll lose my man-card if I do. I’ll become one pathetic ass-hat bitching about my lost love. I get enough shit from the people at the garage as it is over my moping, and the fact that I don’t date because I'm hung-up over a woman. One-night stands? Yeah, I'll admit I’ve had a few of those. Hey, I’m a normal single guy; not a monk. End of story. It doesn’t mean anything, just a pleasant way to pass the time. Harsh, I know, but true. And I have rules. I even pinned them up on the refrigerator to remind me.

Alex’s sex rules.

Number One: Always use protection.

I’ve only ever wanted little Alex Juniors with one woman and one woman only. I don’t want kids with anyone else, nor do I want to catch anything.

Number Two: They can’t be blonde.

Why? It’s too much of a painful reminder.

Number Three: Don’t fuck anyone from work.

Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt. Not worth it - it fucked up my marriage. That and the fact that I work with all guys now and yeah...not going there. Unless he was insanely hot, I have standards. Just kidding. I couldn’t care less what you do in the bedroom and who you do it with. For me, though, guy on guy is not going to happen.

Number Four: If you’re going to screw her don’t get attached, keep it to one night only.

Being an asshole, I leave before they wake up...I don’t do that awkward morning after stuff. I’ve been in love, I broke her heart and when the fog had cleared? I realized that I’d broken mine as well. I can’t do that to anyone else, it’s not fair.

What people (and by people, I mean friends, family, work colleagues - anyone who pokes their nose in my damn business) don’t seem to understand is that once you’ve fallen in love, your heart has a hard time letting that love go. Well, mine does anyway. I’d like to say that I’m over Summer, but truthfully? I’m not, not by a long shot. I track her on social media, not in an ‘I’m stalking you’ way. I just try to get a glimpse of her life now. I just want to see that she’s okay. That she’s happy... It kills me to see her pictured with other guys, kissing other guys, having fun with other guys. Every time I wonder if he’s ‘The One’. The one to mend her heart, to give her babies, to love her to the moon and back. All things that I failed to do.

When she meets ‘The One’... when she finds him, when I see a picture of a baby growing in her belly. When that day happens, I hope that I’ll be happy for her and that it won’t shatter my already broken heart. My heart beats faster just thinking about it and I can feel the tears start to form in my eyes. Fuck, there goes my man card.  

I really need to get up and go out on my run, shift this shitty mood.

Rolling out of bed, I hunt around for my sweats, tee shirt and a hoodie; pulling them on and heading out the door. Taking the stairs two at a time instead of the elevator, I jog through the double doors which make up the entrance to my building and shove my earbuds in my ears; scrolling iTunes until I find what I’m looking for.

The opening chords of Oasis’s Some Might Say fill my ears as I set off down the steps of my apartment building and head out towards the park.

The morning air is crisp on this fall day as I start to pound the city pavement. No one is around, I’m all alone. I like it like this. It gives me a chance to centre myself, to centre my thoughts. I try to get that dream I had out of my head, otherwise I’ll be walking round with a raging boner all day.

Just as I start to push myself to run faster, I spy some random chick obviously doing the walk of shame as I pass through the entrance to Golden Gate Park. I have to supress a grin, but I let her know I’ve seen her by shouting out Good night? She looks up at me with a sheepish expression and a slight smile on her face before blushing and returning her gaze to the ground.

With a shake of my head, I amp up my speed again.

I want to feel the burn that pain where my legs ache and my lungs feel like they will burst. I need to get any thoughts of Summer out of my head. It’s been three years today since the divorce was finalized. She’s moved on and I’ll just have to do the same. I fucked up my life and have only myself to blame. With that thought, I break out into a sprint. The green of the trees passes by in a blur and I push myself harder and harder. I’m barely taking in any of my surroundings as I try to maintain the brutal punishment on my body.

'Suicide Note Part Two' by Pantera blasts in my ears, the frenetic energy forcing me on. If I don’t die from pushing myself too hard by the end of this run, then my hearing will likely be shot to shit. Phil Anselmo’s screams of rage are suddenly cut off by an incoming call, forcing me to stop so I can try and regain at least a little of my breath and not sound like a heavy breathing pervert to the person on the other end of the phone.

Thorson. I pant not looking at the screen, there is a long pause before the caller speaks.

You sound all hot and sweaty, a deep, familiar voice states huskily. Tell me what you're wearing. Is it red panties? Please say they are red. You look so sexy in red!

Fuck you Becks. You’ve got to get over this red obsession, man. My answer makes him laugh.

Get over it? Never, I’m jealous because you can pull it off, my friend. You just don’t understand, you never will.... My best friend since kindergarten answers with an overly dramatic sigh.

Not my fault it clashes with your hair.

Seriously dude? Are you being red-headerist?

For one, what the hell is red-headerist? It’s merely a statement of fact about your hair color, and two...

Raci... He tries to cut me off.

And two, I raise my voice slightly to speak over his interruption, is red-headerist even a word?

We’re a picked-on minority, man. Don’t even go there. The tone of his voice is deadly serious, so serious that I can’t help it and start to laugh. Knowing William ‘Becks’ Becker as long as I have, I know full well when he’s yanking my chain, and this is one of those occasions.

Godammit Alex, I’m being serious. This only makes me laugh harder. One day redheads will rise up and then you will be sorry.

I’m so scared dude, I manage to say in between wheezes, so fucking scared. Which for some reason sends me back into more spasms of laughter before Becks, after a few expletives on his end, finally gives up the pretence and laughs with me.

It feels good to laugh.

Fucker. He says, as we finally begin to calm down.

Hey, you’re the one that called me! I laugh, parking my ass down on the nearest bench that overlooks the pathway. To what do I owe this pleasure anyway and why the fuck are you calling me so early?

Just got off my shift and thought I’d call you on the way home. Lyssa told me to ask you if you wanted to have dinner at our place tonight? I could hear the warmth in his voice at the mention of his beautiful wife Alyssa.

I’ve told Becks that he is punching well over his weight with her, but they’re happy. In fact, it was Summer who introduced them to each other as she and Lyssa were working together at the time. There was a time after the divorce that Lyssa hated my guts; very gradually she forgave me. Three years later, she’s eight months pregnant with their first child and cranky as hell. If I want to keep my balls, then I will be going to their place for dinner tonight.

You sure?

Do you want to tell my hormonal wife no? He chuckles in response.

Nah, I really like my life.

Good. I can’t see him yet I know that he is grinning at the phone. Also, my brother got some sweet ass tickets to the 49ers in a few weeks. You in?

Who are they playing?

Seahawks, I think. There is a pause before he continues. This time the seriousness of his voice is genuine, you okay Alex? I know what today is.

Is that the real reason for calling me at too-fucking-early o’clock in the morning? I sigh.

We’re worried about you. I notice that he doesn’t give me a direct answer, but I know that he loves me like a brother and he wouldn’t be saying this unless he meant it. I know that today is hard for you.

Look, I’m okay. I’m not going to relapse.

Promise me you won’t Alex. I can’t watch you do that shit again. It would break my heart.

All of a sudden, I’m reminded of that night just a few years ago, when I did something really fucking stupid. I don’t remember much, apart from the look of hurt and disgust on Beck’s face.

The worst part was realizing that the one person I wanted, no needed, with me; the one person who could make it all better wasn’t there because I had pushed her away. I thought for a moment after waking up from the ‘incident’ that I’d had a nightmare. That the past year had been a dream, unfortunately I was wrong.

It wasn’t enough to stop me though. That came a few months later. One thing I did learn during the whole sorry mess was that I never wanted to put the people I care about through crap like that again.

So, when I said to Becks, I won’t, I promise. I meant every single word.

Make sure you don’t A-hole. I kinda like your ugly face, he says before his voice brightens, I’m home now man. I’ve got a lady with a baby to curl up next to.

Cool, see you at your house around seven, okay?

Sounds good. Gotta go, catcha later alligator.

Brighton, England - Summer

Suuummmmmmeeeerrrr! Violet slurs as she slings her arms around me and face plants in-between my boobs. Shouts of ’wayheeey’ and ‘Oi Oi’ ring out from a group of men outside of the fish and chip shop across the road from us.

I’m completely frozen with mortification.

The gang of twenty-something-year old men are looking at us like they expect us to put on a live sex show any minute. All the while they collectively create a new hole in the Ozone layer just above Brighton with the amount of deodorant they are wearing between them. It’s so bad that I can smell it from across the street. To my mortal shame, I have my extremely drunk ex-as-of-one-minute-ago best friend using my breasts as ear muffs. Fabulous.

I really, really could do without this tonight. I didn’t want to come out; I wanted to wallow in self-pity as I drank a whole bottle of wine, ate chocolates and binge watched Game of Thrones. Nothing like a bit of incest, mayhem and murder to make you feel better about yourself, especially today. For the rest of the year I try not to think about it. I try not to let it get to me and tell myself that I am over it and over him. Today is the only day where I allow myself to acknowledge all the crap I went through three years ago when the man I loved, who I thought loved me, and I went our separate ways permanently. The future that I’d looked forward died a nasty death. I lost my husband; my home...everything. I returned home to England with my tail between my legs, humiliated and heart-broken. Moral of my story is don’t give your heart to a boy from San Francisco.

After I had returned home, I spent a good few months crying before realizing that the arsehole wasn’t worth my tears anymore. So, I dusted myself off; decided that I wanted to travel and booked a flight to New Zealand. I stayed there for a month before going on to Australia, Japan, China, Thailand, and India. Basically, ticking quite a few countries off on my ‘fuck-it list’ which is kind of like a bucket list except you have no money and coincides with a sudden urge to be extremely irresponsible. Like maxing out any and all credit cards to do it and sleeping with strangers, for example; that kind of thing. I’d do it again in an instant.

I learned in those few months that I was worth so much more than him and swore to myself that I wouldn’t allow him to affect me like that again. I only allow one day of mourning for what I lost, and today was that day. The anniversary of my divorce. You’d think I’d be over it now, moved on. I am for the most part, but you must understand I loved him completely, with my whole being. He took my heart, stomped on it, gave me back the shattered pieces and left. As I slowly figured out how to piece my heart back together again, I realized a few shards were missing and that it would never be whole again. And I would carry the hurt of his betrayal with me for the rest of my life. The few subsequent relationships that I’ve had after my divorce have been spoiled by my inability to trust the other person.

Usually I’d hide away from the world. I’m only out tonight because Violet thought it would be a good idea to go on the pull, to find me a fuck buddy.

Violet, my best friend since primary school. Violet, who is hopelessly in love with my older brother Seth and pines after him while he shags his way along the South Coast and beyond; allegedly oblivious to her feelings. Violet, who co-owns the world famous ‘Frye & Sullivan’ with me - Indeed we are purveyors of the finest handmade jewellery, clothes and soap that Hastings and the internet has to offer. Beloved of royalty, rock stars and day-trippers with shops in The Lanes, the Internet and most recently San Francisco (yes, we’ve gone international). I’m still not sure how that happened. Violet, who can’t hold her bloody drink and who I would quite cheerfully like to strangle right at this moment.

Summmmerrrr! A muffled voice from my chest region says. Maybe if I ignore her she’ll go away.

Summmmmerrrr! It repeats.

Summmmeeeerrrrrr! The Ozone Avengers from across the road shout in unison, mocking the woman attached to me.

Closing my eyes, I tilt my head back and ask any known gods or goddesses what on Earth I had done to deserve their wrath. Because, right now, at very this moment any chance of finding a man has disappeared in a little puff of smoke. I pray that no one I know is watching...

Summmmerr, she slurs, her voice agitated. Finally, that tiny tendril of patience I had snaps. I didn’t want to come out, I wanted to stay at home, curl up into a ball and sob until there are no tears left. I wanted to hate him, her and any babies that they had produced by now. I wanted to hate the whore who stole my husband, shout obscenities and wish that she had some really, fucking nasty STD. I wanted to be selfish and feel sorry for myself that the only man I loved couldn’t be bothered to love me back; not standing on a shitty street off the seafront with my best friend’s face stuck between my boobs while some pissed arseholes laughed and jeered at us.

So, I do the only thing that any self-respecting, angry, slightly drunk woman can do in my current situation. I lose my temper.

What the fuck do you want? I yell.

Oohhhhhhhhhhhhhh! The large crowd that has gathered to watch my downfall says as a collective.

Violet finally pulls her head from my chest, straightens herself up to her full five feet three inches and looks at me. The drunken haze in her azure eyes has gone, she is staring at me with gimlet-eyes. I know I may have just poked a dragon and lost.

Don’t get your knickers in a fucking twist, just because you are being melodramatic over that cockwomble of an ex-husband of yours! She bites out with venom. I have had to put up with your whinging and whining about him every fucking year for the last three years. We get it, he broke your heart but it was years ago! She continues on a roll. He’s gone, he left you, now get over it. He’s burying his cock in some skanky bitch’s crusty hole while you sit around feeling sorry for yourself. Stop looking backwards all the time. You are missing what’s in front of you!

Everything and everyone is silent, you could hear a pin drop. The guys in front of the fish and chip shop are either staring at us slack-jawed or have found something interesting on the ground in front of them. I can feel the burn of tears forming in my eyes and the heat of embarrassment traveling up my neck on to my face. Am I really that pathetic?

I look up at Violet, knowing that she is right, however, rage is flowing through my veins and she is not going to get away with making a fool out of me in the street. Her anger-filled eyes soften as she meets my ice-cool gaze, knowing that she has hurt me.

You are better than that, Summer. Don’t let him ruin your life, she says quietly before stomping off in the direction of the pier, leaving me to trail along in her wake.

Don’t you walk away from me! You hear me? Don’t you sling all that crap at me and walk off! I screech while trying to totter after her. I can’t run; the five-inch black-patent heels I’m wearing were not designed for that. Do you want to know what is pathetic? You and my brother, that’s pathetic Vi! I shout, storming in her direction. He doesn’t want you. Your dad didn’t want you...No one fucking wants you. The moment those words leave my mouth all my anger dissipates and I desperately wish I could take them back. It was a low and nasty blow- and it hit its mark. For all her faults, for all she said tonight, Violet didn’t deserve that.

Vi I’m... I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.

Violet turns around with tears streaming down her face and starts to walk back towards me. I brace myself for a slap that never comes. Instead she throws herself at me, wrapping me in a tight hug and inadvertently wiping her tear-induced snotty nose all over my brand-new halter neck top. I return her hug and promptly burst into tears, as we both blurt out ‘sorrys’ at the same time.

I only wanted to tell you that you have really comfortable tits, she mumbles into my shoulder making me laugh and I know that all has been forgiven. I’ve learnt over the years that she really is the worst drunk going from happy to angry and back again. One minute she’ll be sad then suddenly.... Violet is my best friend: she is a sister to me, and I couldn’t be without her. No matter what we say and do, we’ll always be there for one another. Always.

I shouldn’t have made you come out, not today, she continues sobbing into my shoulder. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I just wanted to make you feel better, to forget twat-face. You deserve to be happy, Sum. You really do...

Hey, it’s okay... I shouldn’t have said what I said either. I’m so sorry, I reply into her mass of curly rainbow-colored hair. Why don’t I call a taxi to pick us up? We can go back to mine, eat Ben & Jerry’s and watch Game of Thrones? That will make me feel better.

Violet looks at me smiling, Can we bitch about Alex the dickhead and throw darts at his photo? She asks.

If you want to. I thought you wanted me to get over it?

Yup, she replies popping the ‘P’. Buuuuttttt it’s only once a year and the twat deserves it.

You’re right though. Three years is long enough.

She sighs and I get the distinct impression that she is more sober than she is letting on.

When you went to America, you were bright-eyed, innocent and full of life. And when you met Alex, you were happier than I’d ever seen you. It made me happy to see you like that. Your wedding day was one of the best days of my life because I could see that my best friend, my sister from another mister was marrying the love of her life and I could see the joy in your eyes. It was infectious. She gives me a sad smile. When it started to go wrong, we all had to watch from thousands of miles away while the light slowly went out of your eyes. I saw it Sum, I saw it every time we Skyped. With every email you sent you became more and more des...des...

Despondent?

That’s the one! Any-whooooo I was powerless to help you and when you came home the light had gone out completely and has never really returned. Violet grabs my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. I want you to move on because I want to see you happy, Summer. I want to see that spark back in your eyes. Alex took that away, he destroyed it. You’ve spent three years mourning him. He doesn’t deserve to have any more time wasted on him. However long it takes to get over the destruction he caused, I’ll be here.

The tears pour down my face at her little speech and I fling myself into her arms. Violet has been there for me every step of the way. From dropping everything to come and console me when Alex first left me, to leaving her job and starting our new business together when we had no idea if we would be successful.

I love you! I sob into her shoulder and I hear her wails, I love you too! into my hair.

We look up when some moron passes and shouts, get a room or get on with the show! To which we both give him the one finger salute.

In your dreams, thundercunt! Violet shouted back. I grin as I’m reminded, once again as I wipe away my tears, that I really have the best, foulest mouthed friend in the whole wide world and I wouldn’t change her for anything.

Come on. She says linking her arm into mine as we set off back down the street towards the taxi rank. Let’s head to yours. I feel the need to ogle Kit Harrington.

Chapter Two

Summer

San Francisco, USA – Three Years and Seven Months ago

Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong.

I couldn’t tell you what or why; I can’t put my finger on it. Maybe I’m slowly going mad. Alex certainly seems to think so, telling me that I’m paranoid whenever I mention it. That’s when I see him of course, which recently hasn’t been an awful lot. Even when I do see him, he tries either to shut me out or shut me up. Usually with sex, lots and lots of sex. Even that’s tailed off, it’s been weeks. Weeks!

He doesn’t seem to want to touch me anymore. I have to ask him if he wants to make love. Yes, ask my husband if he wants to have sex with me, his wife. Like normal couples do, Alex seems to see that as a chore. Often coming up with lame arsed excuses for not wanting to perform his martial duties. His favorite response to my begging, is Not now Summer I’m... then one of the following; ‘busy’, ‘tired’, ‘watching the game’, ‘going for a run’, ‘going out for a drink’, ‘being abducted by aliens’. You can get the picture.

He doesn’t even seem to want to kiss me properly anymore. No heart stopping, knicker-melting kiss for me, if I’m lucky