The Knight Before Kristen
THE KNIGHT BEFORE KRISTEN
(based on a dream)
by
Clem Mason
(warning: graphic language and description)
(age 16+)
(wc-3200)
You know, now that I look at the houses in my neighborhood, I can see that this part of town really sucks. Look at all the goddam run down shacks. Hell, my place is a dump. This is nothing like where I grew up. No sirree! When I was young and free, I was able to go out with the guys and really do some wild stuff. Man, the shit we’d pull. Now? Now I’m saddled with a goddam wife and kid and I’m only eighteen years old for Christ sake. My buddies? They’re all off starting college somewhere and I’m stuck here in nowheres-ville; a goddam hardware salesman going absolutely no place at all. This really sucks big time man! When I get home, I’m going to give Kristen hell because this is all her fault; the little bitch. I am one pissed off, bitter son-of-a-bitch I tell ya.
“Hi Jeff,” she says sweetly. “How was your day?”
“That’s my fuckin’ line,” I snapped.
“What?”
“I said that that’s my goddam line. Your dad said I should tell all the customers leaving the store; ‘have a good day’,” I mimicked him. “Okay?”
Her eyebrows raise. “Gee, are we a little gritchy today?” she said with a frown. Then she smiles sweetly. “Come on. Supper’s ready.”
I exploded. “I told you I don’t want to eat as soon as I get home,” I yelled at her. What? Are you stupid?”
“What the hell is your problem, Jeff? Just because you hate your job doesn’t mean you can come home and take it out on me.”
“Yeah? And why the hell not. It’s all your goddam fault, you know,” I yelled.
She puts her hands on her hips. “My fault! How is it my fault?” she demanded.
“You could have told me no; kept your legs together,” I said, pointing.
She blinked slow like. “I loved you, Jeff. It’s…very unfortunate I got pregnant right away but that doesn’t mean I don’t love that baby in there,” she said, pointing. “Or you for that matter. I don’t blame you. I’ll tell you something, Bucko,” she said, poking a finger in my face. “This is our fault. You and me.”
I can tell she’s getting pissed. Her face always gets red from the neck up. But mind you folks. I’m not afraid of her, the little slut. “Yeah? Well you told me you was on the pill.”
She blinks. “I was on the pill for awhile and you know the reason why. It wasn’t because I wanted to. I needed to. The doctor said… Oh, never mind. It sure didn’t mean that I was now ready to go out and screw very Tom, Dick and Harry that came along.”
I faked surprise. “You mean you didn’t?”
That really pissed her off. “You bastard,” she almost whispered. “I loved you Jeff and you are the only one to ever touch me.”
“Yeah? I’ll bet I was.”
Tears came to her eyes. “Supper’s ready,” she whispered and left the room.
It was a real quiet dinner since I ate alone. She went in and took a shower. I saw her walk down the hall to our bedroom without saying a word and it pissed me off. “I could have been somebody,” I yelled after her.
She came back to lean against the door frame, drying her long, blond hair. “Your point?”
“I could have been a star. I could have gotten a basketball scholarship if it wasn’t for you. I would be playing at some top ranked college somewhere, right now! I’m good and you know it, Kristen. I’ll bet I could have gone pro.”
“I doubt it,” she said quietly.
“Yeah? And why the hell not?”
“Because your attitude really sucks.”
“Attitude has absolutely nothin’ ta do with it, dork. Lack of ability and talent keeps you out of the pros. I have both plus desire.”
“But you do lack humility and respect, little man.”
I jumped up. I could really beat her ass right now. “Little man! Little man? I’m six foot ten, you short assed little bitch. I was the best high school basketball player in the state.”
The tears came again and ran down her face. “I…am not a bitch, Jeff Isley. I am your wife and I’m more woman than you are a man. At least I can accept our mistake; learn to live with it. That’s more than I can say for you.”
“So? Okay! So I haven’t learned to deal with it but that don’t mean I couldn’t have been another Jerry West or Larry Bird. Now I’ll never know how far I could have gone.”
“So, what’s your point, Jeff?”
“I’m saying…that if you had your goddam shit together, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
Her eyebrows raised. “Had my shit together?”
“Got an abortion,” I said bluntly.
She stood erect. “You…scum,” she hissed. “You thoughtless piece of slime. How in the hell can you say that when your own flesh and blood is sleeping right back here?”
“Yeah! Right! Lay the old guilt trip on me. Sure. Go ahead. It’s just old Jeff. Don’t worry about how he feels about it. Hell no! In fact, nobody ever asked me how I felt about it. When you got pregnant, both our parents and you said that we should get married. Nobody asked me what I wanted to do. Hell no. Don’t worry about Jeff’s life or the fact that he wants to play basketball because he’s damn good at it. Hell no, we have to protect the little slut’s good name, don’t we goddammit?” I yelled. “Did anyone ask me what I wanted to do?”
She didn’t answer.
“Well, did they?”
“Jeff, do you know how much you just hurt me right now? she asked in a whisper. Then she starts crying. God I hate that.
“Yeah? Who the hell cares?” I yelled at her.
She clears the table and goes in to wash the dishes. I figured that since I go out and work hard all day, I think I deserve to read the sports page rather than help with the dishes. But seeing all those names in the paper really pisses me off. I smack the paper. “My name could be here.”
She finishes the dishes and goes to bed without saying a word. It’s late when I finally come to bed and she’s lying awake, waiting for me. She rolls over against me. “Jeff, I’m…really sorry you feel this way. I had no idea you were so…bitter about it,” she whispered. “Although I still love you,” she started sobbing out of control. “You can have your freedom if you want it.” She sniffed. “That’s all I have to say.” She rolled back over.
I thought about it. “I’ll think about it.”
“Whatever,” she whispered.
I heard a voice then. It was Kristen. I couldn’t make out what she was saying. I opened my eyes and I saw her floating out of the bedroom door with her arms stretching for me to help her. She looked horrified. She was naked. I cupped my ear. “What?” I shouted. Suddenly, I was holding the telephone and I could hear her scream; loud and long on the other end of the line. It really scared me. “Kristen,” I yelled into the receiver. “What’s happening?”
“Jeff, I killed our baby,” came the shocking news.
I threw the telephone down. “Nooo! You didn’t have to kill ‘em.”
“It’s going to be okay,” the man sitting behind the desk said. “Don’t worry, I have people who can take care of it,” he promised.
“Sure coach,” I said calmly. “I’m not worried.”
“Good.” He tossed me a basketball and suddenly I was dribbling down court between all these huge black guys. There was more than a dozen, trying to grab the ball. There are too many and it’s not fair. “Blow your whistle, Ref,” I demanded of him. He only shrugged. I pivoted and was right under the basket and they were closing in on me. Jump. Jump.
Coming down out of the rafters, I slammed the ball into the hoop just as the buzzer sounded. The crowd went wild and they all spilled out onto the floor, pounding me on the back and shaking my hand. All the black guys formed a line and filed past, grinning and giving me high fives. “Good game, man,” they said. I had just won the game and God it felt great. Then everybody started leaving. I looked around. “Kristen. Where’s Kristen?”
The coach came up and put his hand on my shoulder. He looked sad. “She’s not coming, Jeff. She told me to tell you she was through with you and your stupid basketball.”
It really pissed me off. I jerked away from him. “The little slut. Who the hell does she think she is? Doesn’t she know there’s more to life than a nagging wife and a crying baby?”
The coach started laughing. And all the black guys started laughing. Everybody was laughing at me so I ran out.
The street was dark and quiet as the crowd had totally disbursed. I looked around and found my red sport convertible with the top down. I jumped in and sped away with a loud roar. The air was cool and it felt good, blowing in my face. I drove past a pizza parlor and suddenly, I was hungry. I did a U in the middle of the street and went back.
Just as I walked in the pizza shop, two policeman who had witnessed the illegal u-turn, came over to me. I thought I was going to be arrested. They smiled. “Hey! Aren’t you Jeff Isley, the basketball phenomenon?” they asked. They wanted my autograph and they left.
The girl behind the counter kept smiling at me. She was a real cute little blond and was coming onto me big time. I think it was Toni McCall, Kristen’s best friend who always had the hots for me. “Come in the back, Jeff. We can escape out the back door.”
“Why do we need to escape,” I asked her.
“Because the building is on fire.”
I turned to look and the front of the store was totally engulfed in flame. We ran into the kitchen but there was so much smoke that I couldn’t see. The sprinklers were going off. “We’d better crawl,” I yelled.
When I got down on the floor, Toni jumped on top of me, kissing my face all over. “Take me now,” she said and laid down in the ice cold water. Though she was naked, she didn’t seem to mind it at all. She just smiled up at me. When I laid down on her, my hand touched something and I looked and saw a dead baby. I yelled out in fright and jumped up. Toni stood up and asked what was the matter. “Didn’t you see the dead baby?” I asked.
She shook her head and pulled me to her, kissing my neck. I pushed her away and she frowned. “Kristen’s left you, Jeff. It won’t matter anymore.”
I woke up, back in my bedroom. It was lavishly decorated with all kinds of sports paraphernalia. A stranger came in, carrying a tray. “Do you want your morning wine and caramel popcorn now, Sir?” he asked with an English accent.
“Yes! Yes I do, Jenkins.”
“Very good, Sir.” He sat it on the night stand. “I’m real sorry to hear about Kristen leaving you, Sir.”
I shrugged. “It ain’t no big loss, Jenkins.”
“Very good, Sir. Keep a stiff upper lip I always say.” He left.
When I got up to pee, the door of the bathroom opened out into a dark alley. Before I could catch the door, it slammed shut with a loud bang. When I turned around, it had disappeared. I felt where it had been. No door. So, there I was, totally naked and locked out. Hugging the wall, I made my way to the street. It was deserted and I didn’t know where I was. Just then, a school bus came by and I flagged it down. The bus driver said that since I had no clothes on, I had to sit in the back. All the kids laughed and pointed as I made my way to the rear. I was so embarrassed. There were no windows back there. But then I realized I was sitting on a bale of straw in a farm wagon, drawn by two Budweiser draft horses. “Where are you taking me?” I asked the driver who was dressed in bib overalls.
He turned and smiled. It was my brother John. “I’m taking you to the victory parade, dummy. You won the championship.” He nodded. “You’re gonna be real famous now, Jeff.”
I could hear the band as we got closer. It played loud as we pulled into the front of the joyous throng. There were baton twirlers, cheerleaders and the mayor himself, decked out in his tuxedo, was riding in a convertible right behind us. He was waving and smiling. The confetti and streamers falling down from thousands of people, leaning out the windows, stuck to my uniform. Absently, I brushed it away. The streets were all lined ten and twelve deep with waving, smiling people. I sat proud and tall on the back of the limousine, waving back at them. Kristen, wearing a chauffeurs uniform, was driving. She turned to look at me but acted like she didn’t know who I was. Her eyes were vacant and emotionless. Then we stopped. She got out and opened the door and there was a red carpet leading right up to the foul line. I toed the mark but the hoop and backboard was waving back and forth. I looked and Michael Jordon was wiggling the goal post. He was laughing at his mischief.
I started laughing too. “Come on, Michael. I have to make this shot,” I said. He stopped. He went and put his arm around Kristen’s shoulders. She was smiling. She wanted me to make the shot too. Then the coach came up and said he needed to see me in his office.
“Now? I have to sink this shot.”
“Now,” he snapped.
I followed him in and my parents were sitting at his desk. They looked like tired, hungry refugees.
“Jeff,” mom said. “We need some money. We lost the house.”
Dad jumped up and grabbed my arm. “I know you’re making boo-coo bucks and we’re hungry and have no place to live,” he growled. “Now give us some goddam money”
I reached in my pocket and pulled out a couple of hundred dollar bills and tossed them down. Mom dove to get them before they even hit the floor. She grabbed them up. She looked up at me, holding onto my legs. “We need more. You owe us son. We want more money.”
I kicked at her and started backing away and my dad grabbed ahold of me and wouldn’t let me leave. “No,” he yelled. “Not until you give us more money.”
I pushed him off and went back to toe the foul line. The referee gave me the ball and I looked for Kristen. She was gone. “Where’s Kristen?” I asked him. He just shrugged.
Then someone came up behind me and pinned my arms to my side with such strength that I dropped the ball. I could hardly breathe his grip was so powerful. I turned to see and all I saw was a huge, dark man; about eight foot tall, behind me. He looked evil. His eyes were red and serpentine. I could not take in air. He lifted me off the ground and I was helpless against his strength. I struggled, but to no avail. He held me high and then flung me so far that I bounced off the wall above the bleachers. I slammed against the wall and was momentarily stunned. I knew that I had to get up and run because he was going to kill me. He was coming up after me. I was no match for him. I slipped down the crack between the bleachers but he was too big to follow. He let out a thundering roar and started ripping the seats up, trying to get at me. I ran to the exit door and flung it open. He saw me then and gave chase.
Out in the street, I turned around and saw him bent low, looking for me out the door window. When he saw me, he shoved the side of the building out, door and all and came charging towards me. I have never ran so fast in all my life. I ran and ran but I could tell he was gaining because his footsteps were getting closer. When I reached to grab the door handle on my car, he got me. His fingers dug into my body in a crushing grip. He held me up so he could look in my face. He was grinning; an evil grin. And then I saw the huge, chrome pistol in this other hand. The barrel was long and big. I knew it was going to fire. I felt the concussion and when the bullet struck my forehead, I experienced the most excruciating pain I have ever known in my life. I yelled out and woke myself up. I was soaked with sweat.
Kristen grabbed me. “Jeff, what’s the matter?”
It was great to hear her voice. “I was dreaming,” I said. And then I thought. If it was a dream, then why does my forehead hurt so bad. I felt a large lump on it. “What the hell.”
“What’s the matter,” she asked.
“I dreamt I got shot in the head and now I have a lump here. How can that be?”
She turned on the light and saw the cross she had hung over the bed. It had fallen down and it had hit me. She giggled. It sounded good to me. “I sorry, Jeff. My cross fell down.”
“Well, that explains the lump.”
“What was your dream about?” she asked, turning out the light.
“Oh my God! You should have been there. You were there. I think it was a glimpse into the future.”
She hugged me. “Really? Are you joking?”
“No. I’m dead serious. It…it really scared the hell outa me, Kristen. I think my anger and bitterness is going to get me hurt; real bad.” I almost got chocked up. “Listen, I’ve been a real jerk here lately…”
“Asshole,” she said.
I nodded. “Okay! I’ve been a real asshole and…I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Do you think you can forgive me?
She didn’t say anything. She climbed on top of me, kissing me tenderly. I could feel her tears on my face.
The End.
If you liked this story and you feel the poor, old author deserves compensation in his retirement for this creation, please feel free to send $1.00 to Clem Mason, c/o Backwater Publishing. 66021-0213.
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