Shut Up and Drive My Way!

This story is not my own, or it is only partially my own. I read a story called "Shut Up and Drive!" by Denham_Forrest and it inspired my small contribution here. I think the sign of a good story is that the reader gets caught up in the moment and begins to anticipate what might be coming. Denham's story did this for me in a big way! I kept wondering why and finding only one explanation. Then, halfway through the first page it went in a direction I didn't anticipate. The direction was entirely correct and consistent with the first part of the story. It just wasn't what I had so vividly imagined. So I asked his permission to write my own ending to his story and he graciously obliged. With the permission of Denham_Forrest, here is my ending to his story. The italics part is from the first half page of his story reproduced without change.

You will need to return to Denham_Forrest's original story to appreciate the setup for this story. The administration would not allow me to include all the setup here so that it would read cleanly. It's a good story and I would ask you to go back and read it before reading this.

My thanks to Denham_Forrest for allowing me to play with his creation. I hope I didn't butcher his British too badly. I only speak American. Oh, and there is no sex in this story.

>>> >>> >>>

Ted enters a bar in a part of town where strangers and the well-to-do seldom visit. It's edgy and a reputation is your best defense. He spots her immediately, drinking too heavily, and entertaining a couple of lowlifes who clearly have plans for her later. They drive away the competition and ply her with alcohol and too much attention until she is no longer able to defend herself. He watches and he waits until it is time to act. The story picks up as they are walking her out of the bar and into the night.

Ted elbowed his way in amongst the chancers' and then swept the - by that time - almost unconscious woman into his arms.

"'Ere, what's your bleeding game?" One of the chancers demanded.

"Just taking the lady home lads; just taking the lady home!"

"Well, wha'd'ya think we wuz doing?"

"I don't know lads. But if that is the case; tell me, what's the ladies name and where does she live?"

"Stella! And if you know so bloody much, why don't you tell us where she lives?" The chancer replied.

"Her name gentlemen, is Estelle Cooper... Mrs... and I'm sure... when she's sober, she'd prefer it if the likes of you guys, didn't know where she lives!"

Ted's reply had been for the benefit of the two police officers, which were by then showing a marked interest in the confrontation.

A nod from one of the door staff caused the officers to take more interest in the chancers' than in Ted. The four guys hurriedly decided to disperse, once their names had been requested and dutifully noted down in the officers' notebooks.

The police officers had no need to ask Ted's name. His younger days had left him a little more notorious locally, than he'd have preferred to be.

Assisted by one of the door staff, Ted loaded the semi-comatose, but still babbling Estelle onto the backseat of his car.

"Are you taking her home, Ted?" One of the police officers enquired. "She don't look too clever!"

+++ +++ +++

"I'll watch over her. She's going to be sorry in the morning, but she'll survive." Ted knew what he was talking about. His reputation with the bottle was well known. He was also known to be fast with his fists when drinking, but honorable in his own way when sober.

Ted walked around to the driver's door, opened it, and got in. He glanced back at Estelle who seemed to be unaware of where she was or who she was with. "Estelle, what are we going to do with you?" he muttered quietly and sadly to himself. He took a deep breath, started the engine, and slowly crossed the parking lot to make his way into traffic.

It was a short drive, and he took his time, letting the traffic pass around him as he made his way along the city streets. Driving slowly, he had time to think. He'd known this woman for eight years and for eight years she'd looked down her nose at him. Sure, she was pleasant enough when she had to be, but he knew what she thought of him. If the truth were known, he didn't really disagree. He had always been a ne're-do-well with a well-earned reputation for the bottle and his fists, but he was not without compassion. How did it come to this? He knew, of course, but at the same time it seemed like one of life's cruel jokes that someone so far above his station would fall so far before his eyes.

He had appreciated the help getting Estelle into his car, but that was mostly for keeping the chancers off his back. She was light enough, and he carried her easily. Even while juggling her and his apartment keys he managed to get her inside. Ted carried her straight to his bed and sat her down on the edge. By now Estelle was unconscious, whether it was exhaustion or just the alcohol was hard to say, so he propped her up with one arm as he removed her coat and laid her head on the pillow. He considered his options and decided simply to remove her shoes and unbutton a few top buttons around her neck and on the sleeves. Tonight, that would have to do. Ted covered her with a blanket, turned out the lights, and made his way to the sofa in the living room where he settled down to sleep.

Sometime in the night he was awakened to the sound of Estelle emptying her stomach in the loo. He waited until the house was quiet, checked on her, and found her once again in bed. She had regained sufficient awareness of herself, if not her surroundings, to shed her blouse and slacks and had crawled back under the blanket to sleep.

Satisfied that she was safe, he returned to the sofa and slept until dawn.

Ted rose not long after the sun and fixed himself a simple breakfast. He worked quietly so that Estelle could sleep. Ted knew well what awaited Estelle when she awoke and for now sleep was what she needed most. There had been many mornings when Ted had slept until noon after a hard night of drink, but that had ended six months ago. When you have a well-earned reputation like Ted's, expectations are slow to change. The bar tender that had commented on the way Ted had nursed that one beer last night still had not figured out that Ted never drank more than two now and was always sober. Pain will do that to a man. Some retreat into the bottle and some crawl out.

As he sat there, contemplating the discussion that was to come, he thought about those chancers the night before. As he thought, he felt his rage rising. They were cowards and cheap-ass predators every one of them! Ted was not proud of everything he'd ever done while drinking, but he never took advantage of a woman too drunk to consent. They spotted her early, knew she was vulnerable, and exploited her weakness like predators always do. They had preyed on her like a pack of hyenas, running her down with cheap words and booze, until they exhausted her, and she fell into their grasp. There would need to be an accounting, a little lesson in manhood for those who were not men, but that could wait.

He heard Estelle moving about at 10:00 and poured a second cup. Sitting on the sofa that had been his bed, he arranged the extra cup on the table before him along with a glass of water and some aspirin, and he waited.

Estelle entered the room slowly, staggering toward him with her eyes half open. She sat on the sofa next to Ted, threw back two aspirin and washed them down. Exhaling and in a quiet voice, she said, "Did I do anything stupid last night?"

"You could say that."

"Do I need to go to the chemist?"

"I don't think so."

"Where did you find me?"

"The wrong bar on the wrong side of town."

"What side?"

"My side."

"Oh."

There could hardly be a more misfit pair than these. She was, when sober and presentable, an astute and highly educated woman who worked in the world of finance. He was a man with a misspent youth who labored with his hands and his back.

"How did I wind up here?"

"A couple of chancers were walking you out of the bar and I convinced them to let me bring you home."

Estelle looked at the knuckles on Ted's hands. "It must not have been much of a conversation. You aren't even bruised."

"The law was on my side."

She smiled. "Good to have friends in high places."

He looked at her for the first time and smiled.

Estelle looked at her knight in tarnished armor, smiled a sad smile, and laid her head on his shoulder.

Ted responded, putting his arm around her shoulders, and kissed the top of her head.

She began to sob quietly, and he held her, his own eyes wet with tears. "Why? I just need to know why?"

"I don't know."

"I miss him so much!"

"I know."

An hour later they stood together before the stone that read, "James Cooper, Loving Husband, Son and Brother."