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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Refugees - 1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

 

David took the next two days off. He rearranged things in the living room and bought new items to cover the bare spots left behind by Andrew’s stuff. It was torture for him; going to the same stores, walking the same aisles. He changed the furniture from traditional to his new favorite, Asian.

 

That Wednesday, he went to speak with his boss, Cal.

 

“David! Good to see you! Come in, sit down.”

 

Cal was fifty-five, and a big, burly man of about two hundred thirty pounds. He had a full beard and gleaming blue eyes. His hair still had hints of the dark brown it once was, but the grey had taken over. The two hugged briefly. David always felt better with Cal there; he was like a second father to him.

 

“I got your message. Holy shit, you can’t catch a break with men, can you? How are you holding up? Are you eating? Sleeping?”

 

David nodded. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll, survive. It was quite a shock. I’m still upset….”

 

Cal nodded. “I can understand that. You’ve been through a terrible episode in your life; that was the last thing you needed.”

 

“Hey, can we change the subject? Did you get my request for a leave of absence? I can’t really handle things right now, especially traumatic situations in the ER.”

 

Cal let out a long sigh. ”David, I agree with you. The ER isn’t where you need to be right now. They need someone focused and alert at all times. I know you can’t do that. Trust me.” His eyes wandered to a photo on his desk. It was an old picture, taken about ten years before. The couple in the photo looked very happy, wrapped in each other’s arms, in front of a mountain stream. It was of him and his long-dead lover.

 

David glanced at the photo. “I forgot, how long has it been since Tad died?”

 

Cal sighed deeply. “Nine years, three months, four days. He died three months after that was taken. I understand what you’re going through, my friend.”

 

David smiled. “I think it would’ve been easier if Andrew had just died than what he did. To just up and leave, with that ridiculous note!”

 

Cal leaned forward and caught his friend’s eye. “You’re better off. He was never yours. I knew it at the engagement party. Rather what was supposed to be an engagement party. He never did answer you officially. I guess that was his way of saying no.”

 

David frowned. “I guess that was it. Damn, even if you’d told me point blank that this was going to happen, I wouldn’t have believed you. I was so damn blinded by love! Well, the blinders are off now. I’m sorry, I’m getting off course, what do you want me to do now?”

 

“There’s an opening for a physical therapist on the late evening shift at a clinic just across town. I think it would do you good to be there. You’d have an office of your own and some solitude.”

 

David smiled. “That would be ideal. Thanks, Cal.”

 

“Anytime. You get better now.”

 

“I’ll try.”

 

 

Robert, in the meantime, felt like he needed a metamorphosis. He didn’t want to be recognized by any member of Phillip or Andrew’s families. In a fit of anger, Robert grabbed the clippers and sheared his chin-length locks into a short, cropped cut. He decided to grow out his goatee to a full beard. Only his sapphire blue eyes identified him as himself.

Serena saw how Robert’s anger was consuming him. She showed him how to hit a punching bag at her gym. Robert liked it very much at first; it was a good stress relief.

 

The boxing training was helpful, however, as his pain surfaced from the inside, coming to bear on the outside. Serena walked in one evening to find Robert on the floor, the broken punching bag swinging limply over his head, sand everywhere. He was cradling his left hand gently.

 

“Rob! Oh my god! We need to get you some help.” She took his good hand and helped him up off the floor and they walked out to her car where she drove him to the urgent care center.

Copyright © 2015 stephanie l danielson; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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On 09/29/2014 10:41 AM, LadyDe said:
Promising start. Looking forward to what comes next. But I do see what's coming. Hummmm??? :*)
Thank you! You might be surprised, but stay tuned.
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