Normally Paul Jenkins was just like every other guy. Quick to get ready. No primping necessary. But not this time. Not this day. He had taken a very long shower. A long, hot and steamy shower. As the hot water fell on him his muscles started to relax and all the tension that had been building up since he got out of that cab a few hours ago to see if what the old man had told him was true began to fall away. He tried to mentally prepare himself for tonight. He was going to see old friends that he hadn't seen in years. Most of them he hadn't seen since this night. So he must stay calm. He couldn't show surprise. Since the fire and the tragedy he had forgotten about all the little things about his home that he loved. The Italian tiled shower with the massaging shower head. The heated towel rack that warmed your towel as you showered. His old boar bristle hairbrush that he loved running through his hair. All his old clothes that were hanging in the walk in closet. He had picked out a pair of well worn khakis and a navy polo. He slipped on his old Sperry boat shoes and Bam! He looked just like the Paul of old. He had only been downstairs for a few minutes before the doorbell rang and he ran to open the door. He knew it was early and he knew it would be Ronnie and Carol. They were always early. Always the first to arrive. "Hey bud! Whats going on?" asked Ronnie as he faked a punch to Paul's mid section, then grabbed him and pulled him against his chest while giving him a couple manly slaps on his back. "Not much you big goofball" while he delivered a few slaps back. Ronnie and Carol Anderson's story was much like Sarah's and his. Met in college, started dating, fell in love and soon married after graduation. Carol sighed before she said "Hey Paul, how you"? "I"m good Carol, please come on in"."Try not to bruise each other up to bad. I'm going in the kitchen to see if I can help Sarah out. Ronnie, take Paul out with you and bring the food inside will ya"? "Yes dear," Ronnie answered with some pretend sarcasm in his voice. "Come on Paul, give me a hand". "You got it my friend! And Ronnie, it's really good to see you and Carol again". "Ha! We will see if you have that same attitude tonight around 10 when you have to kick us out of the door to get us to leave! You know how those women love to talk". Then it was Paul's turn to give Ronnie a big slap on the back as he grinned sheepishly at his old college friend.
Just as they were finishing up unloading Ronnie and Carols car, Jack and Sandy Thompson from next door walked over. They of course had to walk all the way down their driveway and then back up Paul and Sarah's because of the illegal fence they had installed but today Paul couldn't have cared less about such trivial things. Jack was carrying a couple big bottles of fine Tennessee whiskey and Sandy had a huge serving platter with something very big and apparently heavy as well on it under the foil judging by her crinkled up nose and faint sounding strains. "Jack, Sandy come on in. Sandy, please let me have that." "You wont have to ask me twice Paul. How are you doing?" she asked before planting a obligatory kiss on his cheek. "I'm good Sandy thanks, it's always a pleasure." Sandy looked over at Ronnie. "Hey Ronnie, how are ya"? "I'm good Sandy. I hope you two are as well". "We are. Carols inside?" Sandy asked. "Yeah, shes in the kitchen helping Sarah. She'll be glad to see you two. It's been a while now". "Yeah, if you only knew how long," Paul thought to himself. This was another memory he hadn't thought of much since the fire. Once a month they would have these big get togethers and they all always took turns hosting them. Mostly it was people from the neighborhood but whoever was hosting that month always asked a few friends that were special to them and most of those friends became monthly guests and even took their turns playing host. Hence the Anderson's. They were good people and everyone liked them. "By gosh, what do you have on this plate Sandy?" "Its a ham and a very big one at that. I don't want to run out like last month so I made sure I got one this time that was big enough." "I think you succeeded," and they all four got a good laugh out of that. "Sandy, open that door and lets get this hog inside," and they all laughed even harder at that.
Soon it was a endless parade of people coming in the door. Rick and Diane Bernstein. Rick was right, Diane had brought a nice surprise. A case of French shiraz wine. Very expensive and very good. David and Ellen Harkins. David had supposedly gave him the coat he was wearing when he came back to this world. Paul secretly hoped to himself that Rick wouldn't ask him about it. Karen and Tom Chambers. The Adkins. Steve and Jan Cummings, also friends from their old college days. And finally the two who made everyone cringe slightly when they arrived. Carl and Ellen Deming's from down the street. Carl was the the owner of the trashcan where Paul had trashed his coat. Hopefully Carl or Ellen hadn't seen him do it. Carl had to always be the loudest in the group. Anything anyone had done he had done it bigger and better. He was cocky and demanding. And he had a nasty cigar habit, which was good because of the fact that it kept him outside for a good part of the evening when ever they all gathered together. Occasionally they couldn't make the monthly get togethers and everyone was happy when they couldn't. Alas, this wasn't one of those times.
Two hours later and the party was in full swing. Plates of food devoured. Drink glasses filled. The women were working on the wine pretty good. When their glasses emptied if wasn't long before they were full again. The men stuck with iced down beers and a few mixed drinks here and there. Rick, who had actually worked as a bartender to help pay his way through college, was the one always appointed to be the mix master. While he mixed and the guys imbibed, Carl Demings talked. And talked. And talked. He moaned about the homeowners association and it's lack of enforcement of the neighborhood rules. He complained about his property value being drove into the ground by the un kept yards of his neighbors. He bitched about the government and his plummeting 401K. While he ranted the smokers in the group decided it would be a good time to slip outside and have a smoke. If to many of his audience decided to do this at one time Carl would follow and light up his stogie while continuing on his rant of the moment. Paul would even join them when they would step outside for their light up rituals. Almost every guy in this group was a smoker or a ex smoker. When the smokers lit up the non smokers would ask to bum one and for that night at least, they were smokers as well. "That's what alcohol tends to do to people I guess," Paul thought to himself. He knew he had to attempt to make that commitment to quit soon also but for now, he was good. As he finished his cigarette and Carl started a new topic to talk about Paul excused himself from the group of men. The air was getting chilly and a breeze had kicked up. He knew his son had gone to bed a little while ago and Paul was determined that he was going to slip up and kiss him goodnight and tuck him in before he went to sleep. This was, after all, the last night he had seen his son alive.
Paul turned the doorknob and entered Timmy's room. "Hey dad." "Hey son, I wanted to come up and tuck you in and say goodnight. Did you get enough to eat?" "Yeah, I did. I would have stayed down longer but Mr. Demings talks to loud and makes my head hurt." Paul laughed at that. "Well sonny boy, don't feel bad. He makes my head hurt to! And if you were to ask the other guys down there they would all say the same thing!" "Really dad?" "Yes, really son. What are you reading?" "It's a book about dinosaurs and what they looked like back when they were alive. Did you ever see a dinosaur daddy?" "Uhhh, no I never did Timmy. "Come on, I'm not THAT old," Paul said with a big grin forming on his face. "Almost, but not quite," he said as he rubbed his hand through his sons blondish hair. The boy smiled back to him. "Okay Dad, I believe you." "Listen son, it's getting late and you need to get to sleep." Suddenly out of no where a memory came to him. Tomorrow was Sunday. And one of Timmy's friends from school was having a birthday party and Timmy was invited. Was the kids name Billy? Or maybe Joey? He couldn't remember. How in the world did he ever remember that about the party? "Hey son, remember that you have that birthday party tomorrow afternoon?" "Oh yeah dad! I had forgot about that!" "Who's the party for son, I forgot," Paul asked." "It's for my best friend Devin from school. All my friends from school are supposed to be there. I can't wait! I'm still going right?" Paul paused for a second before he could answer. Four years ago, he was suppose to go but unfortunately, he didn't make it. Didn't make anything actually after this night. And that made Paul more determined then ever. Determined that his son and wife WOULD wake up tomorrow and would attend that birthday party. There would be a tomorrow and a next day and a day after that. That old man had given him another chance and that old rusty bus had brought him here. This time things would end differently. "Yes son, you are still going. Matter of fact, I will do everything in my power to make sure your at that party. Okay?" "Thanks dad, I love you." "I love you son, turn that light off and get to sleep. I'll see you in the morning." "Okay, goodnight dad." "Goodnight Timmy," and Paul got up and left his son to enter the world of sleep and happy dreams.
Paul slipped down the stairs and entered the kitchen. Sarah and her friends were still going strong.
Empty wine bottles littered the counter top and the women were showing no signs of letting up. "Hey babe," Paul said to Sarah as he slipped his arm around her slender waist. "Hey babe, we were just talking about you. Get in here you big handsome thing you!" and the women all cheered as Paul blushed. "It was all good talk I hope," he answered back. "Nothing but the best baby," as she reached her face back and kissed her husband. "You woman are to much for me. I'm going back outside to join my fellow comrades. Girls, don't talk about us to bad. Remember, we love you." This brought new laughter from the women as Paul flashed a big smile and made his exit.
The big living room was empty. "Hum, guess they are all still outside," Paul thought to himself. And why not. The boys were getting pretty juiced up. The ritual was pretty much drink, bathroom and smoke. Why not just hang out outside and save one of the steps. Outside one can smoke AND drink at the same time. Paul crossed the room and opened the big front door to join his buddies. "Hey guys, I'm back," he said to absolutely no one. The front lawn was empty. Nothing out here except darkness and a few dried, dead leaves riding the breeze that was swirling around the yard. A feeling of unease started building slowly inside the bottom of his stomach. Why, he didn't know. Nothing out of order here. If his friends weren't here then that only meant they were somewhere else. Laughing, drinking, carrying on. But something didn't feel right. It was almost like some kind of internal alarm sounding. Like being on the verge of discovering some thing dreadful. "But what is it," he wondered to himself. "This is stupid. They all probably went out through the garage and are around back. I'm out here giving myself the creeps for nothing." He laughed it off (or tried to) and started towards the driveway and the garage. As he crossed the driveway and turned the corner he was surprised to see the garage door still down. "That's odd. That means they went out the back door that led out to the patio and backyard," he mulled over to himself. And then he heard Carl. Loud, obnoxious, overbearing Carl. Ranting on again over yet another stupid topic that no one really cared about except him. Same old Carl. Always talking, always blabbing on about something. But Carl sounded funny. It was clearly him. But his voice sounded muffled. If it had been anyone else talking Paul would have had to really strain his ears to hear them. Only because it was Carl doing the talking did he know that he was close by but where? He walked slowly along the edge of the closed garage, slinking along in the shadows. As he got close to the end he paused. He could hear Carl a little clearer now and he also heard Rick and some of the others joining in on the conversation as well. That feeling of dread that had been building inside of him since he had walked out the front door was about to explode now. He knew he was about to find the answer to what had happened. How, he didn't know but the fact was cold and grasping him and wouldn't let go of him. With his skin cold and clammy he stuck his head out from the shadows and looked around the house. Just as he knew it would be, the backyard was empty. The only thing that was back there was more darkness and that same breeze. Only now the breeze had taken a threatening tone and instead of sounding calm and gentle it was rushing around and not blowing but hissing! Teasing and taunting him. Daring him to come and see. But there was nothing to see except darkness and shadows. The only light back here was the light coming out from the sliding glass doors that led from the kitchen out to the deck area. In that light he could see the shadows of the women moving back and forth as the enjoyed themselves inside. And there was light coming from the utility room window. The room to the left as soon as you came in from the garage. Paul came around the corner to get a better look at that window. It was up! And he could hear the voices much clearer back here. He could place Ronnie's voice. Then Jack saying something. Carl of course. Him above all the others. There was Rick asking someone if they were ready for a refill. And was that Carl's cigar he could smell? Paul quietly walked along the wall until he was beside the open window. Being cautious so he wouldn't be seen he peered inside the room. Sure enough, all the guys had taken up residency here, in this room. Glasses of booze in one hand, a cigarette in the other. "I guess it was to much effort to walk outside to light up," he thought to himself. Then the next thing he saw knocked the wind out of him like a pop warner football player getting hit by the older, bigger kid who shouldn't have been allowed to be on the team. Laying on top of the washing machine was a smoke detector. A quick glance up and he saw where the detector had been. Where it was suppose to be. And now nothing was in the spot except bare ended wires hanging down out of the ceiling. Suddenly, it all made sense. This is where the fire had started. Hadn't the police report stated that the fire had started back in this area of the house? Yes it had! And now it all made sense. The disconnected smoke detector. Shouldn't the others ones have worked even though this one was disabled? Paul thought he had read that they will but he wasn't sure. Apparently they don't or at least his didn't. For some reason his system didn't respond at all. Hence him waking up from his sound slumber after it was to late. He was jarred from his thoughts when Steve started speaking. "Come on, we better get out of here before Paul catches us in here. He'll be downstairs soon and he'll be upset if he finds us in here." "Agreed!" was the reaction from the group. Except for Carl. "He'll be okay. Heck, he doesn't have a problem smoking in my house." Tom was the next one to speak up. "Come on Carl. You know him and Sarah don't want us smoking in their house. Probably because of the boy. Lets get out of here." "Okay, your right. Let's go. Lets get these glasses and bottles and move to a more suitable area," agreed the man who normally argued with everyone about everything. Ronnie grabbed the glass that they had been using as a ashtray and then asked them "We need to put that smoke detector back up there don't we?" "Leave it for now. Lets make sure the smoke clears out first and we'll get it later. That and the window. We'll just close the door behind us to let it air out until then," answered Carl. And the next thing Paul saw sickened him to his core. Carl laid his cigar on the edge of the dryer so he could grab his empty glass and one of the bottles of booze and followed the guys out of the room. Jack, it looked like, pulled the door shut behind him and the breeze of the closing door blew over the still lit stogie that was balanced over the edge of the dryer and the space between it and the wall. The cigar rocked back and forth on that edge for a second and then took the fateful fall down into the narrow gap and was gone. Carl, in his drunkenness, had forgotten all about it. Rage begin to replace the dread and anxiety he had been experiencing only moments ago. Anger as the realization of what happened that night played out in front of his eyes. Of course they had never gone back in to replace that smoke detector or to close the window. It was forgotten soon after they had left the room. And he had never gone in that room before falling asleep of the sofa after the party. The cigar had lay on the floor and smoldered until a flame was born and that flame grew and keep growing as it consumed that room and then moved up upwards to the ceiling. The ceiling which was directly below his sleeping son's bedroom. That's when the rage and the anger took over. Not caring about being seen anymore, not caring about anything anymore, he flipped up the cover of the garage door keypad and jammed the numbers that made up the code to raise the door. (Amazing, he remembered it was 6 4 3 8 2 1). As soon as the door was high enough that he could duck under he dashed in and made his way to the entrance door to the house. He turned the door handle and flew into the foyer area and barely broke his stride. The utility room door was shut, just as they had left it. Paul ran over and flung open the door and ran inside. He quickly ran over to where the dryer was (and the cigar had been) and dropped down to his hands and knees. He peered underneath the machine and there it was. Lit end down on the floor. The body held up by the wall and the side of the dryer. Small lisps of smoke already gently floating up from the lint on the floor and the linoleum starting to darken. He tried to reach back and discovered his hand was to big to get through the small gap. He jumped up and ran over and retrieved a metal coat hanger from the clothes rack by the wall and quickly untwisted the wire hanger. Pulling it out straight he ran it down the gap and knocked the smoldering cigar over on it's side and then out from beside the dryer. Paul stared down at the thing with horror and shock, like he was looking at pictures of a victim of a grisly murder. Then something inside of him took over and he began to stomp the thing that had taken the life of his wife and son and his you might as well say. His leg moved up and down with a fierce velocity until the only thing left of the murderous object was a sad pile of spent tobacco and the paper that had once held the thing together. As his leg slowed and came to a stop he slowly raised his head and looked at the open door that led to the foyer. Still seething with anger and still trying to piece together what had just happened he headed towards and out that door and into the foyer. He pulled open the door that led out into the living room and stormed in. The ladies had left the kitchen area and had joined the men in the living room. All conversation ceased as they saw the man they once knew as Paul Jenkins come striding across the room staring with a cold and calculated look that scared them all. His eyes burned as if they were on fire. His full attention was solely on Carl who was leaning against the far wall with a fresh gin and tonic and telling yet another story. The story ended abruptly as he saw Paul bounding towards him. It was Sarah who spoke first. "Honey, whats wrong? Are you oka....." and that's all she got out before he screamed and pounced on his neighbor whom he had never liked and actually down right despised. "You killed my wife and son you S.O.B!" he screamed at the suddenly terrified man as he grabbed him and then started to plummet him with fists that held four years of pain and remorse. The drink went flying and shattered when it hit the wall. Blood spurted from Carl Demings nose as it took it's turn shattering. Obscenities spewed out of Paul as he continued to reign down blow after blow. None of the others could move. They were to stunned and couldn't take in what they were seeing. Ronnie was the first one who snapped out of it and grabbed his old buddy. "Paul, stop it! What are you doing?" Paul seemed to not hear as the rage continued to flow from him. Good old Carl for once in his miserable life wasn't talking. His face was getting a pretty good makeover. He was not going to be a pretty sight in the morning. Soon the women started screaming. Sarah was the first one to move and ran to his side. "Paul! Quit it! Please!" Ellen was the next one beside him. "Get off my husband you animal! I'm going to call the police!" Soon after, the men regained their senses and wrestled Paul off the bloody, beaten man. It took all seven of them to pull him off and they had their hands full doing it. Paul was like a wild man. Ellen was kneeling down next to her husband, crying and cursing at Paul for what he had done. Steve Cummings, his old pal from college, slapped Paul across the face to try to calm him it down. It worked. Paul's breathing started to slow and made a attempt to return to normal. The anger and the rage was dying down. The men eased their grip on their friend. The women ran over to comfort Ellen who was still on the floor beside her husband crying. Diane ran to the downstairs bathroom to get a towel to try to soak up the blood from Carl's broken and shapeless nose. Now it was Sarah's turn to scream at Paul. "What's wrong with you? What did he do?" Hearing Sarah's voice seemed to jar him back to reality. His friends were looking at him like he was a alien or something worse. Sarah was crying. The women looked scared to death. His neighbor lay on the floor broken and bleeding. "I'm, I'm sorry. You all don't understand. He, he caused a terrible thing to happen and I can't explain it or you all will think I'm crazy." But by the looks on every ones faces they already thought that. And why not think that? He had just beat his neighbor half to death in front of all of them, pretty insane thing to do huh? It was Tom that spoke up next. "What did you mean when you said he killed your wife and son? That doesn't make any sense Paul." His mind raced for the right words. He didn't think telling the truth would be a good thing to do at this moment. Would they believe that this night was a rerun of a night four years ago? That their careless actions had caused a fire that claimed the life of his wife and son? That their deaths had almost killed him as well and for all accounts they pretty much did. And he bet they would just love the part about the old man who he ran into and had told him about the old bus stop where people could go back to fix things that needed fixing. They would love hearing about that bus that arrived to pick him up and bring him back here. The ghostly figure that drove that bus and how he was suppose to be meeting that bus in a few more hours to ride back to where he came from? No, he didn't think it would be a good time to tell the truth. It would be better to try to smooth this mishap over in a way that didn't result in him being carried away in a straitjacket by professionals in white uniforms. "Look, I'm sorry everyone. I went outside looking for you guys and I saw you all in the utility room through the window. I saw Carl's cigar fall down by the dryer and when I went in to check it out it was on the floor still smoldering and I freaked out. What I meant to say was he COULD have killed my wife and son. That's all. I overreacted. I'm sorry. Carl, Ellen, please forgive me." He started towards his neighbors but they reacted as could be expected. "Get away from us! Your crazy! You will be hearing from our lawyer about this and you'll be darn lucky if not also the police! Don't ever come near us again you lunatic!" Ellen shouted at him. She and some of the women had helped Carl to his feet and he was holding the once white towel against his face. The towel was mostly red now, bloody red. His left eye sported quite a shiner. It would be at least a week before that would start to fade. "Paul Jenkins I'll get you for this. I'm going to sue you for every dime you have." Carl managed to say through his swollen and cut lips. Paul suppressed the anger that was starting to build again. This man was responsible for the death of his wife and son but he had to control himself. He had been able to stop the fire from happening and that was the important part. His wife and son were safe. "Go to your doctor and let me have the bill. I'll take care of it. And another thing, when you speak to your attorney make sure you tell them the part about you almost burning down my house because of your reckless negligence. I think that's the term they like to use." "Come on Ellen, lets go." The two started towards the door. Sarah walked with them. "I'm so sorry you two. I'll get your platter back to you soon Ellen." "Keep it and please, just leave us alone," she answered back. "And try to get that man some help," she added as they made their way out the door. After she closed the door she turned back to the remaining party goers. Suddenly no one looked like they were in the partying mood. The night had soured. Jack and Sandy were the next ones to speak up. "Well, it's getting late. We better be going also." Tom and Karen agreed with the Thompson's. They had to be getting home also. "Hey look everybody, again, I'm sorry. I was completely out of control." A few of them muttered some that's okays but they did it half heartily. Rick put his hand on his friends shoulder and leaned towards him. "You sure your okay buddy?""Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks," he answered back. "Hey," Rick said to him in a low voice so no one else could hear. "Good for you! I never liked that bastard anyway." Paul got a laugh out of that. "Leave it to you Rick. Thank you." "Your welcome my friend and if you need anything you know I'm right here. By the look on Diane's face I'm sure we are going to be the next ones to leave. Good luck with the little lady tonight," and with that he gave Paul a big grin. "Thanks again Rick." "You got it my friend. Diane, you ready? Lets go babe." They joined the rest of the people gathering up their belongs and making their way out of the house. The women all gave Sarah a hug and a kiss on their way out. The men gave Paul a nod and a thank you to Sarah. Steve and Jan were the last ones out of the door. "Are you sure you don't want any help cleaning up," Jan asked her friend. "No, we got it. Thanks for coming and I'm sorry tonight ended like this." "Don't worry about it Sarah. Everything will be good." "Yeah, it will all be good," Paul thought to himself. "Now it will be." Sarah closed the door behind the Cummings. Immediately she turned around to face her husband. "We need to talk." And Paul was so happy to be here to be able to talk.
Next up is the conclusion of Bus Stop 6691
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