Traces of Hope

Daryl Flannigan parked his car on the street in front of Warren Prince’s residence. Warren had been a client of his for too long. Daryl exited his SUV and approached the old, rundown house, which was painted a sickly color of moss green. He noted the familiar old station wagon parked in the driveway as well as an old pickup. The pickup belonged to his client’s father. Both vehicles made his stomach churn. Although the father didn’t have much of a record other than a few DUIs and minor assaults, there was something about him that didn’t sit right with Daryl. His son, however, gave off a much heavier air of disgust. The happily married father of two young children had been a probation officer long enough to see the same never-ending cycle of bullshit occur time and time again. The offender violated. The offender went to jail. The offender was released to repeat his crimes. Daryl couldn’t fathom why they’d give so many chances and take so many risks with offenders like Warren Prince, who was one of the many criminals virtually impossible to rehabilitate. Once a rotten apple, always a rotten apple, especially when it came to violent criminals who committed rape and murder. At least, this is what he believed to be the case. Prince had been convicted of rape four times, and God knew how many other victims were out there who hadn’t come forward. He’d also been either accused or convicted of theft, possession, indecent exposure, drunk and disorderly conduct, and fondling a minor. Oh well,he thought with a sigh. If I can’t put them away forever, then at least I can put them away for a while. Wasn’t some time better than no time? He rang the doorbell and waited. A moment later, he heard Prince shout something to his cat as he shuffled to the door and opened it. Prince stood before him as disheveled as ever, his auto body shop uniform wrinkled and greasy, his hair in disarray. “What’s up, Daryl?” “I think that’s what I’m supposed to be asking you, Warren. Your father visiting?” “Yeah, he’s here,” said Prince. Daryl entered the cluttered, foul-smelling house and took in his surroundings. The house was in shambles, as always. The worn carpet was caked with dirt, the sofa and recliner had many tears in the old, faded fabric, and the blinds were thick with dust. Strewn all over the coffee table were God only knew how many days' worth of dirty dishes, cups, mugs, and empty takeout cartons. Ashtrays chock-full of cigarette butts were on the table as well. “How’s work going?” Daryl asked, moving toward the kitchen in the back. “It’s going. Just got in not too long ago,” replied Prince. Daryl entered the kitchen, where the father sat at a badly scuffed table, eating a sandwich. This room also looked like a tornado had blown through it. The foul odors that overwhelmed him were almost nauseating. “You gonna clean this place anytime soon, man?” Prince slumped against the kitchen doorframe and folded his arms across his chest. “Hey, man, did you come here to insult me or what?” Daryl turned to face him, wishing he could do a lot more than just insult him. Instead, he handed Prince the standard form that all his clients filled out when he went to see them or when they came to see him. It asked for general information on the client’s residence, place of work, and other details. Prince took a seat at the cluttered table and began filling it out. “How are the therapy sessions going?” Daryl asked him. “Okay.” Daryl then turned to the father. He looked filthy. His uniform was just as rumpled as his son’s, and he had a few days' worth of stubble on his face. This, along with his long, matted hair, which ran astray in every direction, gave him a mountain-man appearance. He looked no different than the homeless drunks Daryl had come upon on the streets time and time again. The man continued to chomp away on his sandwich as if he hadn’t eaten in days. “How are things going with you?” Daryl asked him. “Still at the shop yourself?” The man nodded, not taking his eyes off his sandwich. When Prince was done filling out the form, he handed it to Daryl. “Any problems with drugs or alcohol?” Daryl asked. Prince shook his head. “Any police contact?” Again, he shook his head. “Good. Keep your payments up to date, attend your community service and counseling sessions, and report to me on Monday?” “Okay,” Prince said glumly. Once Daryl stepped outside, he quickly inhaled a fresh breath of air to cleanse his lungs of the filth he had been breathing for the last few minutes.

Crystal shuddered with ecstasy and moaned in delight at the heavenly sensations Jewell was creating as her tongue circled Crystal's breasts, slid downward, then crept in between her legs. Crystal opened her legs wider as each stroke of Jewell’s tongue pulled her closer and closer to the brink of climax. When she did climax, it was intense—so much so that it took her a few minutes to catch her breath. “I needed that so bad,” Crystal said, as Jewell, still fully clothed, pulled herself up on the bed so that they were at eye level. “It’s been too long.” “We’ll have to make a point of doing this more often,” Jewell said. “Yeah, we’ll have to,” Crystal agreed, although she had her doubts that they would. Deep down, she knew to enjoy every moment of the delicious sensations Jewell so skillfully created, because it would be weeks, maybe even months, before she experienced them again. Jewell shifted onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. “You okay?” Crystal asked. “Mmm-hmm,” Jewell said, glancing momentarily at her. “You never even got undressed, let alone participated in the sex. Why is that?” “Oh, I don’t know. I suppose I wanted to concentrate more on taking care of you. As you said, you needed it.” “But what about you, Jewell?” “I’m fine,” she answered, sitting upright as Sheena began her infamous wailing from the next room. “Perfectly content.” Jewell left the room, leaving Crystal wondering how she could be “fine” and “perfectly content” to have one-sided sex. Perhaps everyone was different, but she knew she would feel left out, deprived, and unsatisfied if she only took care of Jewell and didn't have her partner take care of her in return. What kind of a relationship would that be, anyway? Putting it out of her mind, she rose to shower and dress for later, when she and Kaori would go to a movie. When she was dressed, she headed downstairs with a half hour or so to kill before Kaori arrived. Jewell was sitting in her favorite recliner watching TV while Sheena played in her playpen not far from where she sat. Crystal went into the kitchen and fetched a plateful of freshly picked strawberries that they had grown in their backyard garden. “Are they ripe enough yet?” Jewell asked as Crystal returned to the living room. “I think so. Want to try one?” “Sure.” Crystal held the plate out to Jewell, and she took a couple of the strawberries. Just then, Sheena, who could now stand, rose and smacked her little hand against the plate, causing the strawberries to fall to the carpet. “Damn you!” Crystal yelled as the baby tugged at the plate. She shoved Sheena back a little harder than she intended to. The baby fell backward, emitting a loud wail as her bottom hit the floor of the playpen. Jewell rose and took the plate from her. “I’m sorry,” Crystal said shakily. “I didn’t mean to push her that hard. Oh, Sheena, I’m sorry.” Jewell seized her by the upper arm just as she went to reach for Sheena. As large as Jewell's hands were, her fingers practically overlapped. “Ow! You’re hurting me. I said I didn’t mean to do it!” Still not saying a word, Jewell dragged her through the kitchen and into the dining room, away from Sheena. She shoved her against the wall. Crystal cried out as the back of her head struck the wall behind her. “Yeah, it’s no fun being shoved around, is it!” Jewell screamed. “Jewell, I said I didn’t mean—” “Oh, cut the shit, Crystal!” Jewell hissed, backhanding her across the face. Crystal’s cheek stung with red-hot heat. “Hey! What did you do that for?” Jewell slapped her again. “Stop it!” And again, she slapped her. Crystal’s vision was beginning to go double. “I said stop it! You have no right to do this to me. Hit me again, and I swear I’ll be out of here so damn fast.” Jewell smacked her one last time in the head, causing a heavy wave of dizziness to sweep over her. “Your leaving may not be such a bad idea, Crystal, so don’t think you’re threatening me with some big old tragic and heartbreaking loss of any kind.” Crystal held the sides of her head and slowly looked up at Jewell. Her eyes narrowed with anger. “Get away from me.” Jewell took a step or two back and said, “Shove that child around again and that’s your ass, you hear?” Crystal continued to eye her with anger. “Remember that,” Jewell added before she went to comfort Sheena. Crystal’s back slid down the wall. She remained seated there until Kaori pulled up and honked in the driveway, wondering how the day could start off so wonderfully just to end up taking such a sour turn. Crystal ran outside, never more grateful to escape the house than she was that night. She felt guilty for what she’d done to Sheena, yet furious at Jewell. Perhaps a bit frightened as well. She wondered if she should’ve attempted to slap back at Jewell, even if she didn’t stand much of a chance against her. Kaori could sense something was wrong as soon as Crystal got in the car and asked about it. Crystal filled her in. “What a shitty day,” Kaori agreed. “To go from being made love to, to being slapped around like that.” “I don’t think we made love,” Crystal interjected. “I think we had sex. Better yet, I had sex. She just took care of me was all that happened.” “Was it fulfilling?” “Yes and no. It’s always nice to get off, you know?” Kaori nodded. “She took care of me physically.” “But mentally, she’s still leaving you in the dumps. Crystal, you’ve got to get out of there. This is no life for you. I mean, if you’re going to stay, at least get what she isn’t giving you elsewhere.” “She’d kill me if I did that.” “Why would she do that if you two are basically just roommates? I don’t get it.” “Jewell’s not an easy person to get, Kaori. She doesn’t want me having sex with others, no matter how much she neglects me, yet she’s indifferent as to whether or not I stay with her.” “What does she expect you to do? Be forever celibate or get out?” “Seems that way for the most part,” Crystal answered with a sigh. “I don’t mean to sound pushy, but you’re so young. Too young to resign to a life of this sort. Do you think you stay with her simply because it’s easy, since you have a nice place to live and all your expenses are paid?” “Maybe that’s part of it, though I’m still attracted to her and she still has a lot of good traits, believe it or not.” “I’m sure she does, Crystal, but it doesn’t seem like she has enough of those good traits. I know it would be hard to leave such a beautiful house in such a nice neighborhood and to give up all that security, but you’re unhappy with her and you don’t feel you could ever bond with Sheena in any way, so what’s there to stick around for? An occasional one-sided quickie?” “Yes, I know what you’re saying,” Crystal said, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice. “I’ve heard it before and I’ve been through it in my mind time and time again.” “Okay, I’ve got a better idea,” Kaori said, pulling into the bowling alley’s parking lot. “Instead of thinking about leaving her right now, why don’t you concentrate more on taking care of yourself?” “What do you mean?” asked Crystal as they exited the compact car. “I mean that it’s time to be a little selfish.” “Be a little selfish?” Kaori nodded. “Come on. Let’s get inside and then I’ll tell you.” The bowling alley was crowded that night. They had to wait a while to get a lane, but once they had the proper shoes on and were set to bowl, Kaori let Crystal know what she had in mind. “This better be good,” Crystal said as she aimed at the pins at the end of the lane. She knocked down half of them. Her friend smiled and rolled her own ball. She finished off the rest of the pins. “Oh, it’s a good one, alright. For starters, we agree that meeting people in bars isn’t a very good way to go, right?” Crystal nodded. “Too many phony drunks and druggies in bars. Why?” “Roy has this friend,” Kaori began. “Oh, please! Not some blind date from hell.” “No, it’s nothing like that. His friend runs an escort service. Know what that is?” Crystal nodded. “But I thought they only catered to the straight community.” “Oh, no, they’ll cater to whoever wants catering.” “And you think I want catering?” “Well, it’s a safer way to meet someone who may lure you away from Jewell. Someone good. Someone who will give you what you need both in and out of bed. Someone even better looking. Maybe instead of going off on your own and hunting someone new, maybe you just need her to come to you. Maybe if she finds you first, it’ll give you more of an incentive to leave Jewell. Get it?” “I get it, but I don’t know if I like it. I think if I were going to leave Jewell, I’d rather just be alone.” “Forever?” “No, but maybe for a considerable amount of time.” Kaori’s ball veered off the lane and into the gutter. “I hate it when that happens!” Crystal rose and picked up a ball. She took aim and rolled. This time, she only knocked one pin down. “As I was saying,” Kaori went on, “these services are a lot safer. They really screen the hell out of their employees, and of course, they do regular surprise drug testing.” “But it’s their job to date people, not to fall in love, sweep them off their feet, and live happily ever after with them.” “True, but who says you can’t meet someone who will fall for you and do just that? Even if you don’t meet the ideal woman, you can at least get some of what Jewell’s not giving you, can’t you?” “I suppose I could, but I don’t know if I would be able to go through with it. I still love Jewell, even though I don’t always like some of the things she does. She’s no axe murderer. She’s just a bitch with a temper who would rather take care of the kid than her wife.” “It’s a woman thing.” “Huh?” Crystal asked. “The mothering of the child. You’d be the same way if you hadn’t conceived her in the manner you did. I’ll bet you anything that if Jewell were a guy, it’d be the other way around. Then she’d be more attentive to you rather than to Sheena. Jewell may be masculine in a lot of ways, but she’s still a woman, and men and women tend to be opposites at most things.” “Then they need to create a third sex. One who will be more in the middle and will want to care for their significant others just as much as their children.” The two laughed heartily. It felt good. Crystal rarely got to laugh much these days. “I would take a few days to digest what I’ve told you and really sleep on it. There’s no cost or obligation, and you can always bail out if you decide it’s not for you.” “How can there be no cost? I thought those escort services were expensive.” “Some are, but some dating services are free, and this is one of them. Roy says the couple that owns this particular service puts the emphasis on making matches, not making money. They get enough money from the seminars they do, as well as from those who subscribe to their magazine, which is something new they just started.” The two friends bowled in silence for a while, then Crystal said, “I’ll think about it, but don’t count on me trying it out. What if Jewell ever found out?” “I guess the worst she could do is kick you out. But would that really be the end of the world?” “I still hold out hope for things improving in time.” “I hate to say it, pal, but I doubt they will. Not if things have been the way they have for this long. You’re going to practically have to get down on your knees and beg every time you want some booty, and then there’s the issue of all the attention going to a child you can never truly love. Is that the life you want? Is the big fancy house in the peaceful neighborhood really worth it? You say she’s always got one excuse after another as to why she can’t spend more time with you or have sex. Don’t you think she’d find a way and make the time if she really, really wanted to?” Crystal let Kaori’s words sink in, then she said, “Maybe I’ll give it another year and then consider splitting. A year isn’t much when you consider the fact that I could live another sixty years or so.”

Warren Prince woke up in a sweat. The sheets were soaked beneath him. He had dreamt about that fatal night once again. He didn’t understand why the dream haunted him so often, especially since his mother had deserved the abrupt and violent end her life had come to that night. He had considered bringing up the subject to his father many times but always decided against it. Although there was no reason why he should be afraid, something told him it was best not to let his father know what he knew. Perhaps his father would constantly worry about him spilling his secret in a bar or at a friend’s house when they were partying and he got drunk. After all, he wasn’t going to be on probation forever. Sooner or later, he would be partying again. Nah,he thought. His father wouldn’t care if he knew. He knew he could trust his son, whether he was drunk, stoned, or sober. His only friend in life was his dad, and he was his dad’s only real friend as well. Maybe he already was aware of what Warren had seen on that hot summer night twenty years ago and simply hadn’t mentioned it, hoping he would forget it as he got older—though he never did. Instead, he remembered that night as if it were just last night. He rose from his old, sagging bed and crept through the darkness into the bathroom to splash some cool water on his face. Then he went downstairs to grab a beer from the refrigerator and plopped himself down on the couch in the dusty, cluttered living room. He closed his eyes and let the memory come back to him. He was just eight years old. It was a hot, sticky night in August. He had been sent to bed early as punishment for pulling his baby sister’s hair. His sister had been five years old at the time, and neither he nor his dad had seen her since she turned eighteen. Rosie. That was her name. Nosy Rosie, who wasn’t half-bad looking the last time he saw her. Was she still slim and trim? he wondered. Did her long, pale blond hair still glisten in the sunlight? Was her skin still so creamy smooth? Rosie. Nosy Rosie, whose hair he was obsessed with pulling back as an eight-year-old kid. Didn’t all big brothers love to tease their little sisters? Well, he certainly had done just that on that particular night. After his mother beat the shit out of him and sent him to bed, he lay there for hours. He was too pissed and too hot to sleep. Nosy Rosie was the only one who could sleep that night. He’d been lying there for over two hours when the shouts began in the living room below his bedroom. They both screamed one accusation after another at each other. His mother accused his father of being a lazy, drunken bum while his father accused his mother of being a whore who had cheated on him. Had she really been a cheat?Probably. All women were sluts. The sound of slapping, kicking, punching, and furniture being toppled over was soon added to the shouts. Curiosity now greatly piqued, he quietly shuffled out of his room and into the hallway. He knelt down and peered through the railing at the top of the stairs. From this angle, he couldn’t see his parents clearly. All he saw was an occasional arm or leg as the frenzy continued. Because his mother’s arm was in a cast from a recent car accident she’d been in while driving drunk, she didn't make much of a fighter that night. Though she tried to sock his dad with her free arm, she wasn’t very effective against someone with two working arms. He strained to get a better angle and felt himself begin to slip off the stair, but he quickly caught himself by clutching the railing of the banister. “You sleazy, rotten, no-good whore!” his father screamed as he clamped his large, callused hands around his mother’s neck and began to squeeze. His mother made choking sounds for a few minutes, then she went limp in his father’s arms. The stair creaked beneath him. He ducked out of view just as his father’s head snapped in his direction. As quietly as he could, he got back into bed. That night, he heard sounds coming from the basement that lasted for hours. He was too young to know it at the time, though he had come to understand with age what his father had done. He’d busted away some of the concrete of the basement floor, buried his mother, then covered it back up. No one had ever discovered the body, and he doubted they ever would, especially since his father still lived there. Many times Rosie had tried to urge him to move into a smaller place after she and Prince had moved out, but he wouldn’t budge, and Prince understood why. If someone else bought the house and decided to tear up the basement floor for any reason, they might be in trouble. Throughout the years, his father had maintained that his mother had simply up and run off on him. Prince knew that not everyone believed that story. It’s just that no one other than Rosie had had the gall to question their father like she did one day when she stopped by to return some tools. Their dad had erupted into a fury that Prince had found rather scary, even as a grown man of the same size. He was surprised their dad hadn’t struck Rosie that day before she turned to flee the house that final time. An image of Crystal Pierceson filtered in and replaced his memories of that deadly night. Although the bitch was still carrying too much weight, he thought she looked good earlier when he followed her and her friend to the bowling alley. He wanted to accost the two of them so badly when they left the place. The parking lot had been deserted, save for a few cars that probably belonged to the employees. He wanted to grab them and make off with them in the back of his wagon so bad that he practically had to sit on his hands to keep from reaching the door handle and springing from the old wreck he drove. However, he knew and understood the value of patience and proper timing. It would be pointless to snatch the bitch in front of potential witnesses who could either follow him or give his license number to the cops. Also, he still had another week to go on probation and he had taken enough risks as it was. He was going to quit while he was ahead. And stay ahead he would, no matter what the cost.

Jewell and Pam sat talking in the bright, sunny kitchen. After a bit of small talk and a discussion about the cases they were working on, Pam asked how things were going. “Are they getting any better, or are things still the same?” “Same old, same old,” Jewell said with a sigh. “So it’s been a long time since the two of you had any close encounters, so to speak, huh?” Jewell nodded. “I don’t know what to do.” “I hate to say it, but she has grounds for stepping out on you if she gets the mind to do so, and any court in the country will side with her, saying that you failed to meet your role as her partner. They may even encourage her to sue you, since sex is a part of any marriage unless there is mutual consent to live as married friends.” Jewell chuckled. “You don’t marry your buddy.” “Right,” agreed Pam, “so I think it’s time to either live like a typical married couple or get divorced, don’t you?” “It might be.” “I’m only saying this to you because I care about you as a friend, and well, when we neglect our loved ones, we ultimately lose them. Is that what you’re trying to accomplish? Do you think deep down, perhaps on a subconscious level, that you’re neglecting her in the hopes of her leaving you? Perhaps you feel it’d be easier if she left on her own rather than for you to give her the boot.” “I don’t know. I just don’t know what to think anymore.” “Maybe it’s more of a physical thing. Meaning, maybe it’s not that you’ve fallen out of love with her, but that you’re just not attracted to her anymore, what with all the weight she’s gained since having Sheena.” “I haven’t got a clue as to what it could be. I just know that it’s not that easy for us to be intimate for a number of reasons. We’re busy people, the bed’s kind of soft, among other things.” “Sounds like lame excuses, if I do say so myself. There are people just as busy who don’t even live together, and they manage to get it on in the strangest of ways and places. You said you’ve never really been much of a sexual person to begin with.” “This is true,” Jewell admitted. “Maybe you just need to work on that. I mean, I know we can’t always make ourselves be what we aren’t, and therefore you can’t make yourself horny if you’re not, but maybe you just need to take the initiative to be with her more often. People don’t always like to have to ask for intimacy. It makes them feel like you’re only giving in to please them. If you put the moves on her first every now and then, maybe she’ll feel more wanted.” “Yeah, maybe.” “How does the idea of seeing a therapist sound to you?” asked Pam. Jewell pondered the idea a moment, then said, “Not good.” “Why is that?” Again, she took a moment to think. “I guess it’s because I’m okay with the way things are. She’s the one that’s got a problem with it, not me.” Pam shook her head. “No, it’s both your problem, not just hers.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “It means that we simply cannot decide to hang up sex and expect our spouses to do the same. How many people, gay or straight, do you suppose would stay with their spouses if they suddenly knew they would have to be just friends? You’re asking too much of her, Jewell. To never allow her to at least have sex with others, if you don’t want her yourself, is both unfair and unrealistic. You’re going to lose her by doing that.” “Then why is she still here?” “I don’t know, but unless she comes to feel as you do, I don’t see how you’re going to manage to hang onto her forever this way.” “Well, it’s her choice. I can’t make her stay.” “But you can drive her away. You don’t think she’s worth fighting for, do you?” Jewell shrugged.