When Hope Returns

This story is for the ladies of this world who are used, abused, and seldom, if ever, loved. 'Tis a true tale of life and death, seasoned with a bit of fiction to make it believable to doubters ...

When Hope Returns

Written By Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn de Graham

Copyright © 2013 Marvin Thomas Cox

DBA: Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn de Graham

All Rights Reserved

A Thomas C. Flynn Story

It was a windy summer day when he saw her for the first time. The sky was angry red with dust from the freshly plowed fields of local farmers. Thermometers were on the verge of bursting. Anyone you might have stopped to ask that day would have told you so, cursing the damn heat, the wind, the dust, and the lack of rain.

Smalltown is one of those little communities where everyone knows everything about everyone else, even if it's not true, much too busy minding the business of others to mind their own. He knew this for a fact, because he was born right here at the old hospital, closed and bulldozed down years ago now; snatched right from the womb by good ole Doctor Peters. Dr. Peters had delivered his uncle as well. Dr. Peters was gone; passed away, along with all the jokes folks used to make about his name behind his back, while they knew damn well he was one of the finest doctors in these parts back in those days ...

Smalltown lies just west of Dallas and a little east of Odessa, right smack in the middle of Texas, yet not really in the heart of Texas, as it just so happens the town of Brady lays claim to that honor. The population always rose and fell with the economy, with newcomers moving to town and then moving away to greener pastures. A few newcomers would stay every now and then, but the increase in population would quickly be offset by young folks, graduating from high school and going off to college, who couldn’t wait to get the hell away from their hometown and try their luck in the big city. Most of them would end up right back in Smalltown sooner or later. That's the way it had always been. Most likely that's the way it would always be …

____________

It was a Saturday afternoon, and a miserable son of a b***h outside. Ryan was wiping sweat soaked dirt from his face with a shop towel, when he saw the car slowing to turn into his uncle's shop. The shop was closed on Saturdays, but folks around pretended not to notice and would come driving out anyways.

His uncle was a Sabbath keeper. Folks didn't fault him for it. Hell, his uncle had the only decent mechanic shop in town. So they came, and he would politely tell them to come back first thing Sunday morning. They, in turn, would say that Sunday was their Sabbath, and so this unending ritual had gone on the same way since the day he had first opened his shop many years ago. First thing Monday morning the folks would be back smiling, as though they had never showed up at his place on Saturday.

“S**t, don't they ever learn?,” Ryan muttered under his breath.

These words had hardly left his lips when he saw another car coming from the opposite direction, clearly on a collision course with the vehicle full of prospective Saturday customers now beginning a laboriously awkward left turn into the parking area. Tires screeched as the oncoming automobile sought to avoid a collision. Apparently the anti-locking brake system on the car was not working properly because, almost instantly, the driver lost control with the auto spinning off the road, whirling round and round before coming to rest only a few feet away from Ryan. Two ladies were in the car, apparently unharmed but badly shaken.

While the dust of the near miss between Ryan and the spun car settled, he turned his attention to the folks who had pulled into the parking area. Some guy was already getting out of the driver's side. From his wobbling gait, it was obvious he was three sheets to the wind. A young lady sat on the passenger side, while both she and her friend stared in puzzlement at the ladies whose car had spun off the road. Instinctively storming off towards the two and their vehicle, Ryan fought to control his anger.

“What the f**k man! F****n' b*****s can't drive for s**t!,” the young man was ranting out loud, when Ryan walked up to face him.

“What the hell were you thinkin' a*****e! You almost got yourself and this lady killed; those ladies in that car too, not to mention the fact that I came damn close to gettin' killed myself!,” Ryan demanded angrily.

“F**k dude, we ain't thinkin', we're drinkin',” the young lady in the car leaned out the window to say with a hearty laugh and a smile.

It was the most beautiful smile Ryan had ever seen, and he had seen himself a lot of smiles on a lot of girls faces in his fifty plus years of living; most of 'em was fake, hiding something behind 'em. This girl smiled right from her eyes like sunshine. He couldn't quite understand it, but her laughter had simply melted his anger away.

“Why don't ya take a f****n' picture old man! That's my girl you're starin' at!”

The anger returned as rage welling up inside of Ryan; rage at this stupid drunk; rage at allowing himself to be enthralled by a young lady too damn young for him anyway. Damn she was pretty; prettiest tomboy he'd ever seen.

“This place is closed on Saturdays. If you live around here, then you damn sure already know that,” Ryan replied quietly, gritting his teeth in an honest effort to not explode.

“My radiator's leakin' and I need it looked at,” the boyfriend replied.

“Like I said, we're closed on Saturdays. Come back in the mornin' and my uncle or I will take a look at it for you.”

Ryan wanted to punch this a*****e in the mouth.

“You're here workin' on that old car, so what's folks supposed to think?,” the guy retorted sarcastically.

At the sound of tires spitting gravel, the two men quickly turned to see the ladies in the other car had apparently recovered from their scare, and were properly pissed and headed off towards town.

“They're supposed to think the damn big sign in the window says closed Saturdays, but then you ain't thinkin', you're drinkin'. Get the f**k out of here! Get that girl home before you get her killed!” Ryan commanded firmly, stealing one last look at the young lady, while pointing towards the road back to town.

“F**k you old man! F**k your uncle too!,” the boyfriend yelled back at Ryan, pretending to be in no hurry to get into his car.

“Take that girl home!,” Ryan shouted, when the couple began pulling back onto the road.

____________

That was the day hope returned to Ryan Robert Rearden's life; hope for finding someone; hope for finding happiness.

___________

It was several months, before Ryan saw her again. A friend, of a friend, of a friend, had invited him to a barbecue. The word was that there would be brisket, ribs, beans, cold beer, and ladies out the wazoo. Ryan didn't eat pork, but the brisket, beans, and ladies sounded damn good to him. A little recreational drinking and eating with friends was exactly what the doctor would have ordered, if he had ever taken the time to see a doctor.

Life had lost its savor since his divorce, after thirty plus years of marriage. He accepted his part for the failure of his marriage. Hell, he was willing to take all the blame. But life sucked without a reason for living it. He was not cut out to be a bachelor. Yet, he wasn't a womanizer either, remaining celibate since he and his now ex-wife had separated. Not that he wanted to, hell no, but he had never been into one night stands. Ryan was looking for something, someone, worth having; someone worth spending the rest of his life with.

The brisket and beans were good, and the beer was going down smooth. Several friends he had known for years were at the barbecue, along with a few guys he had seen around town, but really did not know. The place didn't exactly have ladies out the wazoo, as the affair had been billed, but there were a few ladies who showed up; showed up with their husbands and boyfriends that is. The lack of unattached women to mingle with was discouraging. Though a man gets a little older, he ain't dead. He still yearns to bask in the presence of a woman. From the looks of things, his Irish luck was failing him once again.

Later in the evening, with his gut busting full of brisket and beans and over a six pack of beer, Ryan was thinking about calling it a night. He was having a good time, and the boys had invited him to ante up in an ongoing poker game. His heart just wasn't in it. Besides, he always lost at gambling.

“S**t Ryan, if you ain't gonna play poker, you can at least fetch us all another beer from the cooler. Come on, a few more beers will do you good. Lighten up!,” Bob commented encouragingly.

“Well, what the f**k,” Ryan replied with a laugh, heading off to fetch some more beers.

Bob had been Ryan's friend for over twenty years. Ryan couldn't even remember how or where they met, because it was hard to remember a day without Bob being around. He was a true blue example of what a best friend really is.

As Ryan wandered out to the cooler in the backyard, he concluded that he would save himself a lot of steps if he simply carried the damn thing inside. Clearly the boys did not intend to see him go home anytime soon. If worse came to worse, he'd just sleep in his car tonight, rather than chance a DWI. He was lugging the cooler up the back steps when he heard a woman laughing inside the house. Stopping for a moment, he paused … He remembered hearing that laugh, but from where?

Struggling to open the storm door, Ryan stepped into the kitchen, and set the cooler down. Grabbing a round of beers for the guys, before making his way into the living room, he looked up to meet her eyes. For a split second, his eyes locked upon hers, he thought he felt a little dizzy; then shook it off.

She smiled that wonderful smile. Her eyes seemed a deeper blue than the first time he'd met her, that almost fateful day. Letting loose another laugh, she turned towards her boyfriend, who was engaged in conversation with one of the guys.

Ryan somehow managed to drop a couple of the beers, picked them up, and began to make his way towards the den where it sounded like the poker game was beginning to get wild. He tried his best not to stare; not even look at her.

“Hi, nice to see ya,” She comment warmly, when he walked by.

“Nice to see you again too, and safe and sound,” Ryan replied, instinctively giving her boyfriend a disapproving look that was ignored as if Ryan wasn't there.

“What the hell's wrong with me?,” Ryan thought to himself.

He felt like a teenager with his first crush. His heart was beating a hundred miles an hour and he felt like he got a rush just talking to her. Funny, he hadn't noticed until he passed by that she was wearing a pony tail laced through the back of her cap. Was her hair brown, auburn? No, there was a red tint to her hair; dark but definitely red. He chuckled to himself giddily. When was the last time he'd paid that much attention to how a woman looked? To make things worse, he thought he'd caught her watching him as he headed down the hallway to the den. Was he just imagining her eyes were following him?

“Wishful thinking,” Ryan said to himself, entering the den and passing the beers out to the guys around the table.

“Thanks Ryan,” Bob offered, popping the top on his beer.

“Hey Bob, whose the girl with the happy a*s laugh?”

“That's Kayleigh. Man that girl can laugh. Makes you feel good just listenin' to her.”

“Yeah,” Ryan responded quietly, sipping on his beer.

A few minutes later, the house was rocked by an explosion of screaming and cussing. From the den, it sounded to Ryan like it was coming from the living room. A moment later, there was a slam of the front door. Everyone around the poker table became quiet, waiting, listening, and wondering what the hell had just come off. Ryan was sitting on pins and needles, emotion painting his face.

“Ryan, you wanna see what's up in there?,” Bob asked, shuffling the cards.

“Sure, why not. Anybody need a beer?,” Ryan asked politely.

It wouldn't have mattered if they did, Ryan's mind was focused on making a beeline for the living room.

Entering the hallway, Ryan could see her sitting on the sofa with tears streaming down her face, a beer in one hand, and a lit cigarette in the other. Her eyes had become dark, sad, and smokey. She looked up to see him coming, somehow forcing a smile on her face when he entered the living room.

“You okay?,” he asked, sitting down beside her.

“Yeah, I'm fine.”

She didn't look fine at all.

“Where's your friend?,” Ryan inquired, getting up to fetch more beers from the kitchen.

“Son of a b***h left.” She was still wiping the tears from her eyes while she spoke.

“Maybe that's for the best,” Ryan commented, returning to sit with her; handing her a beer, and opening a cold one for himself.

“Maybe so. He got pissed off because I said hello to you. Accused me of makin' eyes at you, the sorry b*****d. I hate him!”

She was beginning to cry again now, but not out of hurt, out of anger.

“I hope I didn't do anything to cause you problems,” Ryan offered, as she began sobbing uncontrollably.

“No, it's not you. He's a jealous piece of s**t,” she replied, choking on her tears.

The sight was more than Ryan could bear. His arm was around her shoulder before he even realized he had put it there. By then it was too late, although she didn't seem to mind. They sat together on the sofa with his arm around her until her crying began to ease up. He was enjoying every minute of it, except for her crying. Ryan hated to see a woman cry.

Then … Like clouds parting to reveal a bright sunny sky, she suddenly looked up at him and laughed; her smiling eyes every bit as big as the spontaneous smile that had come upon her face; her eyes becoming that beautiful deep blue once again.

“Be some funny s**t if that a*****e walked in right now.”

“Yeah, it would. Me sittin' with his girl and my arm around her, and she don't even know my name. I heard yours is Kayleigh. That right?”

Ryan's heart was pounding again.

“You heard right dude, Kayleigh Joann Dwyer, but you can call me Kayleigh Jo. That's what my friends call me,” she offered, lighting another cigarette.

“Mine … Mine's, Ryan,” he stammered like a school boy. “Ryan Robert Rearden. Most folks call me Ryan, but my parents called me Rob.”

“I like Rob. It has a nice ring to it.”

“Rob it is then,” Ryan laughingly replied, thinking just how nice his name sounded rolling off her tongue.

“You're awesome dude,” Kayleigh Jo added jovially, leaning closer to give him a big hug.

For a moment he thought he'd died and gone to heaven. He didn't want the hug to end but, when reality began to sink in, he found it was he who ended it.

“You Ted Dwyer's daughter?”

Ryan had pulled back to look into her eyes. He didn't want to hear her answer. What he really wanted was to drown in her eyes.

“Ted's my dad. I thought everybody knew that.”

It was hard for Kayleigh Jo to believe that a short time ago she had been crying her eyes out. Rob was a sweet guy, even if he was old.

“So, Bob's your uncle?,” Ryan asked inquisitively.

“Sure, you know ole Bob, don't ya? He's cooler than s**t,” Kayleigh Jo replied.

Draining the dregs from her beer, Kayleigh Jo gave Ryan a mischievous look, her eyes sparkling as if to say I'd like another.

“Bob's one of my best friends. Ted is too, but neither of the b******s ever said a word 'bout Ted havin' a daughter,” Ryan added. “Need another?”

“Hell yeah,” Kayleigh Jo answered, letting go her hearty laugh. “The old farts keep family matters to themselves, mostly … Besides, I just came to town a few months back.”

Ryan rose from the sofa for another trip to the cooler. He'd never been so confused in his life. It made his chest ache. He liked this girl. Something about her was different than any girl he had ever met. What would Ted think if he knew he was drinking beer with his daughter? F**k! What would Bob think if he came out of the den to take a piss? He would probably tell Ryan to get the hell away from his niece, because she was too young, and he was too damn old. Hell, Ryan had a daughter her age himself.

“What the f**k am I thinkin'?,” he asked himself, fishing beers out of the cooler.

Her words of months ago came flooding back, “We ain't thinkin', we're drinkin'!”

As he made his way back to the living room, Ryan saw that Bob was sitting on the sofa with Kayleigh Jo, nursing his beer. Bob glanced up at Ryan, studying his face intently. He had known what the screaming was about already. He knew his niece's boyfriend was a worthless son of a b***h. The girl always seemed to pick losers. He also knew Ryan. He knew him better than anyone did. He knew that what he was seeing in his friends eyes was trouble.

You bring three beers, a*****e?,” Bob forced a smile, lowering his gaze back to his now empty can.

“Hell no, but here's a fresh one for ya,” Ryan replied, passing a beer to Bob and Kayleigh Jo.

“I was just tellin' Kayleigh Jo that you and me's best friends,” Ryan added.

“Best friends my a*s! So, how come Kayleigh says your name is Rob?”

“My parents called me Rob,” Ryan answered over his shoulder, going to fetch another beer for himself.

“Sounds like the bullshit a guy feeds a woman to get in her pants, if you ask me!,” Bob spouted, then broke out laughing.

“S**t uncle Bob, Rob's okay. He's awesome!” Kayleigh Jo let go her laugh, smiling at her uncle.

“F**k you Bob! You know me better than that,” Ryan answered a bit defensively. “You obviously don't tell me everything either, like you havin' a niece!”

“Yeah … I do. Didn't think it important to mention she's my niece ...Is it?”

Bob got quiet for a moment, studying his beer before popping the top. Ryan's face had reddened. He looked like Bob had hit him with a ton of bricks.

Truth was, Bob had no qualms about trusting Ryan with his niece. He knew age was just a number. But Ted, Ted did not know Ryan the way he did. He worried that if Ted ever found out that Ryan had a thing for his daughter, he would assume that Ryan was out to get what he could get; another loser just like the prick who had just left. Yep, his friend had a thing for Kayleigh, alright, niece or not -- that was as plain as the nose on your face. He wondered if Ryan knew. No matter, Bob also knew he had never seen his niece's eyes sparkling the way they were right now. Ryan had a way of making folks feel special; feel good about themselves.

They sat on the sofa together talking and drinking beer, while the rest of the guys argued over poker pots, until near midnight.

“Well Kayleigh dearest, I'm callin' it a night. You need a ride home?,” Uncle Bob queried in a kind of polite, it's time for you to go home girl, way.

“You sober enough unc'?,” she asked seriously.

“Oh yeah, I'm okay. How 'bout you Ryan? You sackin' out in your car tonight?”

“Had myself one DWI. Can't afford a second,” Ryan answered jokingly.

“Okay, well I'm gonna take my niece home, and then I'm goin' home before I wake up in the morning to regret that one more beer I just had to have myself tonight.”

“Alright, it's been fun guys. Be careful Bob. It was really nice talking with you Kayleigh Jo,” Ryan added, feeling his heart drop like a rock at the thought of her leaving.

“Nice talkin' to you too, Rob. You really are an awesome dude.”

Kayleigh Jo's smile made everything around her appear dim, as she gave Ryan a goodbye hug.

Bob opened the front door to politely allow his niece to exit the home first. Just before stepping out himself, he looked back at his friend, pointing his index finger directly at him.

“You're my friend Ryan, so don't say nothin'. I know you're a good man. But, I ain't Ted. This is Smalltown. Tongues will wag. Ted will get wind of it. I just don't know how he would react, or what he would think. I love that girl. She's been hurt enough. Maybe she just needs a really good friend. I don't know, but I saw somethin' … Be her friend. I don't see no harm in that myself, but that don't mean my brother won't … Don't let me down, buddy.”

With that, Bob walked out the front door, leaving Ryan to his thoughts about the night; about what Bob had just said; about Kayleigh Jo Dwyer. The poker game went on all night. Ryan sat there and sipped beer until daylight, wondering what in the world he was going to do. He had found something he just couldn't let go of. Yet, he heard Bob's warning clearly, so he vowed to behave himself properly as a friend to Kayleigh Jo, and a friend to both Bob and Ted.

“F**k, I'm old enough to be her dad,” Ryan told himself. “Probably never see her again anyway.”

____________

That probability never came to pass, with Ryan and Kaleigh Jo seeing each other almost every day for the next three years. They talked together, drank together, and occasionally went out to eat together. Some folks thought they were sleeping together, but Ryan never kissed her or even held her hand, resolving himself to love her as a friend, and a father figure. The last thing he wanted to do was anything that would hurt her, or disrespect her dad or uncle. Bob watched from a distance, never saying another word to Ryan about his niece. If Ted knew, he never mentioned it.

Kayliegh Jo's poor judgment in men, sadly, never improved. It broke Ryan's heart to see her meet yet another guy, and the result would always be the same: None of them worked, though she did, and they all seemed to have eyes for women other than their own -- other than Kayleigh Jo -- though each son of a b***h claimed he loved her. All she wanted was to be happy and loved, and all she ever got was used.

Ryan was always around to help out when the breakup, that was so clearly coming, took place. He would hold her and listen to her cry, telling her that it would be alright, when he knew it never would be; not until she learned to pick better men, and most certainly never for him. He told himself he wanted to see her meet the right guy, get married, settle down, and have children. He honestly did want that for her and, somehow, he would have found a way to be happy if that ever came to pass. But, in his heart of hearts, he knew he wanted her for himself, had wanted her since the first day he laid eyes on her.

They call a love like this platonic. Ryan did not give a s**t what it was called; sometimes it was more than he could bear. Kayleigh Jo's boyfriends were worthless, but not stupid. Each one came to realize that he had feelings for her. They could see it plain as day. He knew they saw, and so he felt responsible every time an argument or a fight started between her and her latest boyfriend. Ryan felt he was making things hard on her; ruining her life and any chance she had to meet that right guy.

He decided that it would be best for her if he did not come around to see her anymore. He told her so in a text message … She never replied …

“Kayleigh Jo, I honestly think the best thing that I can do for you is to stay away from you, and out of your life. I am your friend, always will be, but you are more than just a good friend to me. That's the problem. I have been battling with this in my heart the past several years. You're a twenty five year old girl, I'm past fifty, and I am helplessly in love with you. It will never work, and I must stop myself from wishing for something that will never be; was never meant to be. Thank you for being so kind to me. Rob.”

The real problem was, he just couldn't make himself stay away, regardless of what he told himself or what he had said to her by text. He managed for a couple of weeks, and then found himself there again, melting in her presence. Kayleigh Jo was overjoyed to see her friend was back to visit and drink beer with her.

The new boyfriend was not at all happy to see Ryan coming around again. Fortunately, it was not his house to rule. The old house she lived in belonged to her dad. He rented it to his daughter for a whopping 150 bucks a month, and helped her with the bills when she needed it. Ted acted like a hard a*s, but he loved his baby girl.

It wasn't but a few days until a big fight broke out between the two, with the usual screaming, cussing, and yelling that went on with fights like that. Somewhere in the midst of the fussing, the sound of breaking glass was suddenly heard.

Kayleigh Jo had broken a window in lashing out at her boyfriend's accusations that she was sleeping with Ryan. Her hand was badly cut and bleeding, and from all appearances she was going to need some stitches. While the boyfriend continued his ranting, Ryan calmly wrapped up her hand, and drove her over to the Emergency Room at Smalltown's local hospital. The fuming boyfriend stayed behind, guzzling cold beer.

When Kayleigh Jo and Ryan returned from their visit to the ER, she was sporting twelve stitches in the palm of her right hand. Pulling up outside the house, her boyfriend had already ventured out onto the front porch. With fire in her eyes, Kayleigh Jo made a bee line for the porch. The fight was on again, except this time it was she who commenced to set him straight about things, letting him know that she knew he was messing around with another girl -- which he honestly never denied.

Ryan stood at the curb, attempting to distance himself from the spat.

“But baby, I love you,” the a*****e pleaded, in an attempt to take control of her the way he always did.

“No! … You don't love me!,” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “Rob, he loves me! I know he does!,” she shouted, pointing out to the street directly at Ryan.

Ryan's heart leapt for joy at the sound of her words, yet he felt out of place in the midst of their quarrel. He forced himself to stay a while longer, until things cooled down, and then excused himself and went home.

The following weekend, after spending time at Kayleigh Jo's house and crashing out on her couch, Ryan attempted to talk to her early one morning about her boyfriend. He had never said anything negative to her about any of her boyfriends before. He really wasn't sure how she would receive what he had to say, but the a*****e had lured her back once again.

“I think you need to get away from this guy, Kayleigh Jo, he's no good for you. There's something in his eyes that bothers me; makes me believe he could be dangerous; might hurt you one day … I sure hope I'm not making you mad or hurting your feelings, but I gotta tell you the honest truth of what I think about that a*****e,” Ryan offered sincerely.

“Rob, there's only been one time that you hurt me … When you told me you couldn't see me anymore.”

Kayleigh Jo's eyes became dark and smokey for just a moment, before returning to their normal beautiful deep blue. Her eyes now sparkling, she gave him a reassuring smile that seemed to say, “Don't worry about me, I'll be fine.” He truly hoped she would.

For the second time in a week, Ryan got the notion that perhaps -- just maybe -- she might have more than friendship feelings for him as well … But, he knew in his heart that it was only wishful thinking in hoping that one day she could love him the way he loved her. He apologized to her, feeling awful for having hurt her. After that surprise, the conversation about the boyfriend was forgotten.

____________

A few weeks later, Ryan got off work early and dropped by to visit Kayleigh Jo. They had a few beers, and he spent the rest of the afternoon with her. They talked and cut up, having a good ole time. Having run out of local gossip and jokes to swap, Kayleigh Jo changed the subject to one which Ryan really did not wish to talk about, much less think about.

Lately she seemed to be on a mission to hook him up with a woman. She said it was not fair that she had someone, and he didn't. His heart sank a little deeper each time she brought it up.

Besides, the one time he had carried on a conversation with a lady Kayleigh Jo had invited over to meet him, he had looked up to see her watching him intently. The look upon her face was not a happy one. Was she testing him to see if he was like all the other lowlife guys she'd had in her life? He just didn't know, but here they were again having the same conversation, a damn good sign that she had given his number to yet another woman … Again ...

He was not at all surprised when his phone rang and it was one of her lady friends wanting to meet him. Ryan's mind was reeling with confusion. Anger fought to well up inside of him, but he told himself that would not do. Instead, he began carrying on a conversation with a woman he had absolutely no interest in, trying to be polite. A few lines of conversation was all it took. The woman had a boyfriend, and was looking to two time him. Ryan angrily told the lady that he had no desire to play the part of any woman's Sancho and curtly snapped his flip phone shut. If this was a test, he intended to pass it … Besides, he hated cheaters.

That evening when her boyfriend came home, the look on his face left no doubt that Kayleigh Jo was in trouble, and made clear he hated Ryan with a passion. Ryan felt he should leave before things got worse, but she insisted that he stay. A couple of other friends showed up, so he hung around and they all drank some beers together. Kayleigh Jo seemed to be in a happy mood, even though she knew her boyfriend was mad at her.

Later that evening, Ryan found he could not take his mind off of the phone conversation he'd had earlier that afternoon. The very thought of it pissed him off. Inspired by his simmering anger, he sent her a text message. He wanted that lady to know he would never have anything to do with a woman who two timed her man. She could at least have the decency to break up with the guy before shopping for someone new. Kayleigh Jo needed to know the same thing. She also needed to understand that he didn't want anyone but her, if she should ever give up on users and losers for boyfriends. Pressing the send button on his flip phone, he forwarded the text message, he'd sent, to Kayleigh Jo.

In the meantime, Ryan was trying to be sociable and visit with the folks there. He was getting pretty buzzed from the beer. Reaching down to take a sip from his freshly opened can, he looked up to see Kayleigh Jo sitting across from him. She had grown suddenly quiet, no longer talking, laughing, and cutting up the way she always did. Her eyes had grown dark and smoky. She had the saddest look in her eyes, and Ryan could not imagine as to why, or what could be wrong. About that time, someone said something or other to him, and his thoughts slipped away from what he had just glimpsed in Kayleigh Jo. A few beers later, Ryan decided it was time to go, driving a few blocks away to sack out in his car in front of a friend's house for the night.

Early the next morning, Ryan awoke in one of those moods where he truly felt he was ruining Kayleigh Jo's life; interfering with her and her boyfriend. He wanted to believe that there was something more than friendship between them, but knew the likelihood of that was all too slim.

Taking out his phone, Ryan began to erase all the many text messages she sent him each day. He had erased her number, determining to leave her alone and let her live her life, when his friend came out the front door of his house to tell him some really bad news …

____________

After Ryan had left, Kayleigh Jo and her boyfriend had gotten into it again; really bad this time. True to his pattern of selfish, childlike, behavior, the boyfriend stormed off like some crazed lunatic, after threatening to punch her lights out. Smalltown gossip had it that he had been punching her, but she hid the marks. She sat alone drinking and thinking, then not thinking but drinking. Somewhere within the next few hours she came to a decision. Kayleigh Jo was done with living a fucked up life.

Later that night, her boy friend came home s**t faced, probably to argue some more as an excuse to beat on her. When he walked into the doorway of her room, she was not there. He searched the house screaming her name at the top of his lungs, smashing a Bud Ice forty he had finished swilling down against the wall.

“Kayleigh Jo, you f****n' b***h! Where the hell are you? Get out here or I'm gonna beat your a*s.”

… There was no reply ...

Ryan had not been wrong in assessing that this boyfriend could easily be dangerous, with the man now going berserk, destroying Kayleigh Jo's coffee table and television. The rush of power he felt made him feel good, inspiring him to head off into the kitchen to snag another beer.

Standing in the kitchen, sipping his beer, his eyes fell upon the stove Keyleigh Jo was so proud of; the stove her dad had given her only a few weeks past. In his anger, he desired to hurt her in any and every way he could. If he couldn't get his hands on her, then this f*****g stove would have to do until he found her … And he would find her.

His face now turned a darker shade of rage as he smashed the oven door's glass window and ripped the electric heating elements out of the stove top to send them flying across the room and against the kitchen walls.

“Kayleigh Jo! Where the f**k you at!”

Wandering back to her room he stood there a moment, contemplating what he would destroy next. He was breaking her dresser mirror when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.

“Kayleigh Jo! What the hell you doin' in that f****n' closet, you f****n' b***h!”

… His ranting and verbal abuse continued to fall upon silence, and nothing more ...

“Answer me when I'm f****n' talkin' to you b***h!,” he shouted viciously.

His voice had become an animal-like growl. Turning to stomp off towards the closet, he spoke what his heart had determined to do.

“I'll kill you, you f****n' c**t!”

All color drained from his face when he reached the closet doorway. His mouth hung agape with his Bud Forty slipping from his fingers to hit the hardwood floor … She hung there, hanging limply from the clothes rod … He would cuss her no more … He would never cheat on her again …

____________

When Ryan heard the horrible news he was crushed , realizing he had erased her from his life … Forever ...

Tears raining down his face, the truth hit him like a ton of bricks. The expression she'd had on her face, and the sadness in her eyes, was all because of the text message he had forwarded to her without thinking of how she might interpret it. He had vowed to himself to never hurt her again, and now he knew he never would ...

FW: “Please do not contact me, ever again.”

“God, oh God, not Kayleigh Jo, not her! It's not her fault, it's mine, Ryan sobbed, breaking down to cry for the first time since he was a child.

When hope turns into bitter tears, all that is left of living is the daily redundancy of breathing air in to breathe it out again in exhaling sighs of despair that have now become the highpoint of the day … Life would never be the same without her. His broken and aching heart assured him that life with Kayleigh Jo, no matter where she was, was better than life here without her.

“Life goes on. You have to let her go and get on with your life,” were the words spoken to him by those caring friends who could see the emptiness in his eyes that so accurately portrayed the emptiness now in his life …

Her family was devastated; her dad most of all. She was his baby girl. No one had a clue something like this might happen. Ryan hung around and supported the family, but could hardly look them in the eye for fear they might sense the stupid thing he had done. He felt so guilty and ashamed. He had hurt the sweetest girl he'd ever met … And now she was gone …

____________

Ryan hated funerals … And the tears … The damn tears … They just would not stop. They streamed down his face in a seemingly unending flood. He needed to be strong, but he could not. The man who had prided himself for so many years in the fact that he refused to cry, no matter what, now wondered if he would ever see another day without tears. He had lost both his mom and dad -- a loss which had hurt deeply -- but this, this, was just too much to bear standing at graveside trying to control the trembling that would surely give away the fact he was falling apart inside. There was nothing left of Ryan but a hollow shell; a shell that could still see her eyes before him the way they were that night …

____________

After the funeral, Ryan tried to spend as much time as he could with Ted. They seemed to be good at getting drunk together now. They proceeded to get drunk and stayed drunk for several weeks, before managing to sober up.

Ryan could not bring himself to talk to Ted about his daughter. He wanted him to know how he felt about her, but how could he tell Kayleigh Jo's dad about the text message he was pretty certain had helped to send her over the edge; along with her a*****e boyfriend's help; that she'd never felt like she belonged in this world after learning as a young child that she had been born blue with her mom's cord wrapped tightly around her neck? How do you tell a man something like that? … Or worse? ...

Children should never know such things. Teenage girls should never be raped at fifteen, but she was. Sweet young ladies should never be drugged and raped again at twenty three, but she was. Ryan knew, only because she trusted him to never tell a soul. He wanted to tell Ted, but he couldn't do it, at least not now; maybe not ever. The two men wept together, but Ted never mentioned his daughter's name, and neither did Ryan. Her dad had rapidly become a broken old man. Ryan was simply broken …

____________

Months later, Ryan went to see her one last time. He took along a thirty pack of beer and sat down beside her tombstone sipping beer, and reading to her the poems he had written to her since she had gone away. After a while, he simply sat there drinking; crying for her with sweat rolling down his face in the afternoon's summer heat. Not long after darkness arrived, there was a flash of light as a gunshot shattered the cemetery’s dead stillness, reverberating into the night air.

When they found him the next morning, lying peacefully beside her grave, he was clutching several poems in his hand. An overnight breeze had thoughtfully seen fit to decorate the small cemetery with the many other pages of poetic tears he had penned in missing her so; sharing his heart with the other broken hearts resting there.

Easing them free of his fingers, a local deputy sheriff read the bloodstained lines Ryan had set to pen as suicide notes, and his last poems for the love of his life … Kayleigh Jo …

____________

When Hope Turns Into Bitter Tears

Written By Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn de Graham

Copyright © 2013 Marvin Thomas Cox

DBA: Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn de Graham

All Rights Reserved

What more in life is there to fear,

when hope turns into bitter tears,

as the salty drops fill your mouth,

to leave behind a life full of doubt,

in any hope of brighter tomorrows,

only darker days of saddest sorrow,

of pleading with the heavens above,

“Why is it you've taken my true love?”

A rare one and only second chance,

to find true love and sweet romance,

a girl with whom to spend each day,

in hopes of stealing her heart away¹,

hopes to have her as my sweet wife,

to give her children and a good life,

a happy home with blue skies above,

pledging my faithfulness in true love,

to never cease in losing my breath,

every time she smiled until my death,

knowing full well she was too young,

a love song destined to never be sung,

clueless that she could ever feel as I,

clueless as to the many reasons why,

she took her life after I saw her last,

leaving me to live in a sorrowful past,

standing by her grave fighting tears,

death holding forth not a single fear,

only wishing to have her by my side,

the girl who was never to be a bride,

committing suicide to leave me alone,

without her to ever hold as my own,

when hope turns into bitter tears …

____________

Love's Finest Oath

Written By Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn de Graham

Copyright © 2014 Marvin Thomas Cox

DBA: Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn de Graham

All Rights Reserved

Darkness is now my warm blanket,

shrouding my lack of any tomorrows,

silence has become my sweet music,

drowning all sounds of my sorrows,

My tears are now turned to stone,

fallen pebbles upon harsh ground,

my heart struggles in its pumping,

blood once red now turned to brown,

All my hopes are but wisps of jokes,

subtle hints of a future gone wrong,

my laughter is but a faint whimper,

with your sweet smile forever gone,

Death has taken you within its lair,

to hold you wickedly in its cold arms,

but the grave can never appreciate,

your beauty nor your sweet charms,

It will never ever know you as did I,

nor love you as I love you still now,

I will find you my love, O I swear,

some day, some where, some how...

____________

Wiping tears from his eyes, the deputy walked over to his car to radio his findings in to dispatch. He had stopped this morning upon seeing the car in the cemetery at such an early hour, having suspicions that some of the local youth were there on an all night drunk, doing drugs, or both. He never expected what he had found …

After calling in he grabbed a camera and began taking pictures of the suicide scene, and the pages of poetry scattered about the cemetery, in an attempt to preserve the evidence as undisturbed as possible.

It took only a short while to conclude that the wind had no qualms about disturbing evidence, with the light breeze beginning to increase in intensity. This prompted the deputy to gather up the scattered pages of poetry, lest they be blown away to where God would only know their resting place.

Placing the gathered stack of pages upon the young girl's grave, using his camera as a paper weight, he could not help but notice the peaceful look upon the dead man's face ...

Squatting down to wait for the radioed assistance, he studied the man intently, while reading the name upon the tombstone … The sadness of it all caused him to sigh deeply ...

“I sure hope you found her buddy … She must've been a really swell girl ...”

(Written July 15^th, 2013)

1 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9BSvXXiIPcY