Caden's Tale Pt. 04

Revenge can be an ugly thing, but sometimes, as they say 'revenge can be sweet'. My first wife really had been what Mrs. O'Meara called her, a shrike. For some reason I'll never understand Angela had decided she could never be faithful and she decided she needed an excuse. Her excuse had been her 'alleged' dissatisfaction with my manhood. She'd torn me up on that. She very nearly ruined if not ended my life. I remember for a long while how much I hated her. Why had she even married me? However, once Jeannie came into my life those concerns became moot. Angela had her demons. Maybe she was what Jeannie mentioned - a 'size queen'. Then again maybe she just couldn't 'get off' like other women? I realized those were her problems, not mine. I learned I had to move on.

Now I thank God every day for Jeannie. She showed me there'd never been anything wrong with me.

I looked it up on the Internet, and I know the Internet never lies. It said all men have some level of insecurity about their ability to perform. Men with small penises, I guess, are afraid they can't measure up. Most men worry at one time or other they might just be a little bit too small, and there's always a time or two, usually thanks to alcohol or tension when no matter how hard a guy tries the hydraulics just won't work. Then men with large penises are afraid they'll hurt 'the right girl' and lose her. And every man worries about the day when he just might not be able to 'get it up' at all.

Still I always felt like there was some unfinished business when it came to Angela. I knew that if the opportunity ever came I'd pay her back. The opportunity came in March, just a month before my marriage to Jeannie. It was totally unexpected.

I'd moved on. My marriage to Angela had become a memory. Sometimes I felt bad about how it came out. Usually I just tried to put the bad things aside and remember the good, and there had been a lot of good things once.

Then one night. I guess it was around 8:00 p.m. I remember it was a blustery March night; still winter and everyone was impatient for spring when our doorbell rang. Jeannie and I were still living in the townhouse, but we'd put in a contract on something we both liked. Jeannie was pregnant.

Jeannie went to the door and opened it. She called back, "Caden its Angela, and she doesn't look good."

"What," I said.

I heard Angela's voice. She sounded harsh, no she sounded upset, scared. Jeannie ushered her in. God what a mess. She looked awful! She wasn't wearing an overcoat, and her clothes were wet and soiled. Jeannie had to help her to a chair. She got her comfortably seated in one of the lazy boys; we had two.

I came in, "God Angela what happened. What are you doing here?"

Jeannie scolded, "Caden."

I ignored the scold, "Jesus, what happened to you?"

Angela started coughing. She looked feverish. She looked like somebody had slapped her around. Shit it looked like someone had beaten the crap out of her. I asked again, "What happened."

She said, "I met a man. I thought...well I let him move in...Big mistake."

What's his name? He did this to you," I asked?

Angela kept coughing, "Names Donovan Fischer. Oh Caden. I made a mistake. He's mean."

I said, "He beat you up like this?"

She coughed again and nodded, "He kicked me too. I think he broke something."

Jeannie had gotten some cloths and warm water. She was wiping my ex-wife's face. I could see she was going to have a black eye. I asked, "Do your parents know? Why didn't you go to them? Why didn't you call the police?"

Angela was crying. She was holding Jeannie arm, "Oh Caden I can't let my parents see me like this. God Caden they're still mad about what I did to you. They said Donovan was bad news. I just didn't listen. I never listen. The police? I'm afraid. You know they won't do anything. Oh Jesus I can't go home."

I asked again, "He's at our old house?"

Angela nodded. She coughed some more.

"You said his name's Donovan Fischer. What's he look like?"

Angela couldn't stop coughing or crying, "He's not like you. He's ugly, and he's fat. He thinks he's tough."

I looked at Jeannie, "Honey get Angela to the hospital. She might have cracked a rib," I turned back to Angela, "You say he's at our old house?"

Angela nodded. I was reaching for my coat. Jeannie asked, "What are you going to do?"

I told her, "I'm going to go see Mr. Fischer. I'm going to get him out of Angela's house."

Jeannie said, "Don't do anything to...you know."

I smiled at Jeannie. I got down on my knees in front of Angela. I said to her, "Not to worry. I'll handle this," I looked back to my fiancé, "See that she gets some help. I'll call you when I'm done." I could see the worried look on Jeannie's face. Angela looked scared too. I reassured them both, "It'll be all right."

I left the house, got in my car and drove the distance to where I used to live. Things still looked pretty good. I guessed Angela had hired a lawn service. I parked my car on the street and walked to the front door and knocked. After a short interval the door opened and a somewhat smallish man, a little overweight stood eyeing me up and down.

He said, "Yes? May I help you?"

I'd never met a woman beater, but I had heard they could be pretty smooth. I asked, "Are you Mr. Donovan Fischer."

He nodded, "Yes. Who are you and what do you want?"

I didn't answer. I pushed inside. Fischer was shorter than me. I had about a hand's worth of reach on him. He was flabby, I'd been working out since I proposed to Jeannie, and I think he was half drunk. I guessed, 'That figured.'

My first punch was downward from the shoulder. I'm right handed. Don't ask me what the punches are called. My fist landed right on the top of his nose. I wasn't wasting any time. He was on his way down when my left plowed up into his lower abdomen. Where once his hands were headed toward his exploded nose they started to move downward to his stomach. So did his head. I came down on the back of his head with both my fists locked together with all my might. He dropped like a rock.

He'd kicked my ex-wife. Shit, I was only wearing Nikes. I wished I had my wing tips on. Just the same I hurled my right foot into his rib cage just like I was kicking a football. I wished I could've heard a crack but didn't. I stepped back and watched.

He was on my ex-wife's front rug coughing, and moaning, and crying, and bleeding. I watched.

He looked up at me and said, "I'll get..."

He didn't finish. I kicked his smarmy face with my foot. He keeled over backwards. There was blood everywhere. I was breathing heavy, but I got out, "You're not getting anybody. If that's what you were getting ready to say. What you're going to do is get your ugly fucking ass out of this house. Now! Like right now! Go get your coat and your keys, find your car and never ever come back here."

He'd gotten the message. He was crawling toward the living room where I saw his coat. God I wanted to kick him again. How could the bastard do what he did? I followed him. I said, "I ever hear of you coming near Angela again I'll find you and I'll kill you!"

He looked back at me. The son-of-a-bitch was clearly scared, but I was so pissed! Unless he'd seen pictures he had no idea who I was. I had a gleeful thought that he might think I was being paid. That would help to keep him away. I followed him and with my foot pushed his mangy ass into the sofa. I yelled, "You hear me!"

Through blood and phlegm he whimpered, "Yes. I hear you."

God I wanted to just pound on the bastard all night, but I didn't. I mean, a man hitting a woman? He got his coat. He tried to stand but fell down.

I yelled, "You want some more?"

He managed to get up and scrabble his way out the door. I followed him. I wanted to get the license number off his car. I did, and I watched as he drove away. Then I called my fiancé.

~~v~~

Angela had to call in sick. She missed a week of work. We got her to call her parents. I went back the next afternoon and checked our old house out. I called a cleaner to come and get the rug fixed if they could. Jeannie came over later and together we spent the night cleaning Angela's house from top to bottom.

Angela stayed with us and mended for three weeks. I drove by her house every afternoon just to check. I never saw Fischer so I guess he got the message.

What happened with Fischer seriously traumatized Angela. After three weeks she was still too scared to go home so Jeannie set her up in our spare bedroom. Fact was, Angela stayed with us till we got married. She never went home. We'd gotten the contract on the house we wanted, and turned the lease to the townhouse we'd been in over to Angela. Then she put her house up for sale.

Angela ended up attending our wedding. She's been a close personal friend of Jeannie's ever since, and a friend to me as well. She dates around, but so far she's not found the right guy. I hope she does and gets married again some day. I'd like to be there.

I guess some people might wonder where the revenge was. I couldn't say. I suppose the best place to go for that would be to the late great 'Josephus' and his story "The Best Revenge."

The Epilogue:

Jeannie and I got married. That was some time ago. Did we have any kids? Tell me about it. We have three girls and two boys. Jeannie quit work when our first one came along; she decided not to go back. She's the mom, she's beautiful, she's sexy, and she's just terrific.

And me? I'm livin 'large'.

P.S. By the way About Chad and Lionel; who the fuck cares?

The end.