Fiction Short Story

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Fiction Short Story

by Bruce K. Derksen

When Parker Meets April

Parker met April in a Chicago pub after the local band played their last set for the evening and were packing up their instruments. Earlier his friends had called it a night and left him sitting alone at the long polished mahogany bar to enjoy his last vodka. That was when she sat down on the stool next to him. He watched her for a time in the full-length mirror behind the bar, trying not to be obvious. A trick as old as mirrors themselves but perfectly accepted by both sexes.

She was tall and thin with long shiny black hair that gleamed magically in the varied lighting of the bar. It spilled softly over the perfectly filled bright red evening dress with spaghetti straps over the tanned shoulders. Beneath the short line of the dress he admired her shapely crossed legs, muscled to a degree of perceived perception. These he inspected with casual glances about the bar and peeks out of the corner of his eye.

She smiled coyly at him as he slid a napkin toward her to wipe the sweat from the bar top where her chilled drink had met the warmth of the wood. After a few minutes he was certain she was alone and casually struck up a conversation. First they chatted about the weather, local politics, choices in entertainment, all of which she had a solid grasp.

Three hours and several vodkas later the talk turned to what she would do to him when they got to his apartment.

"I love a man that I can train," she whispered as she stuck her tongue in his ear while tugging open his jeans in his bedroom that night.

April made an exquisite bride. Hair, black as night massed high, creamy white gown contrasted against her coppered skin. The dress had been imported from somewhere in Europe, he thought. Parker hadn't paid attention after his pleas for a small wedding had fallen on deaf or indifferent ears. Daddy was bankrolling the big event and the word small was just not in his vocabulary. He made his fortune early in life and was now a big shot in the rapidly emerging memory swipe business. He spent most of his days informing everyone just how he had climbed the ladder of success.

The first sign of trouble came at the reception. Bridesmaid number five dropped a flower from her hairpiece and Parker picked it from the floor and helped her pin it back in place. Personally, he wanted only one attendant but had been willing to deal up to two if necessary. As a last resort he would agree to three. They settled on six. He had to dip deep into his pool of friends to find six guys to stand up for him. Numbers five and six had to be reminded of just who he was when he phoned to ask them.

Anyway, the new bride had watched the flower fastening and snapped. A mixture of too much alcohol and not enough food brought on a fit of jealousy and a torn bridesmaid dress and scattered hairpiece flowers sent number five packing and groom heeling.

Two weeks into the marriage, April began a spending spree. First she spent every last cent he had saved on a new wardrobe. Then she started to complain about how little he actually made at his job and that they were living in poverty. Then she applied for and received new credit cards in Parker's name, listing Daddy as a reference. She promptly worked at filling these to capacity.

He began to have brief panic attacks. Instead of rushing home to his beautiful bride after a long day of work, he made up excuses and started to stay later. Bridesmaid number three mysteriously appeared at his work-sites and flirted with him. Three weeks later he accepted her offers and began a secret affair. His wife had earlier started her own affair with his best man, although not as secretively as his. In a way he was quietly happy about this, since she would now pay less attention to him.

One night when he arrived home earlier than usual, he walked in on the two of them in his own bed. His friend dressed and left while Parker packed his suitcases. April alternately cried and begged his forgiveness and screamed profanities at him about how he would never amount to anything. Not like her father.

As he pushed past her in the hallway with his bags, she pleaded with him not to leave, promising him anything, trying in vain to open his pants as he walked out the door. Finally realizing her seductions were not having the desired effect, she shrieked at him to go and never come back, hurling a shoe at him.

It was more than he could take. He filed for divorce the next day, a broken and depressed man. When bridesmaid number three heard he left his wife, she quickly dropped him as well. He was once again very alone.

The divorce legal proceedings did not go well. Snappy dressed lawyer man hired by daddy was cream of the crop and squashed Parker's sorry ass with motion after motion. April brought charges of physical and mental abuse against him and the combination of her flashing eyelashes, significant cleavage, and Harvard body soon had the crotchety judge ready to cream his robes and marry the obviously mistreated beauty himself. Garnishing Parker's wages for the rest of his miserable life would not be enough to satisfy the court and he was shamefully forced to accept a second job working in her father's employ to supplement his payments to her. At the time, the ruling had been crushing to his already stomped-on ego, but later it turned out to be a saving grace. Ex-father-in-law was the money behind the fad that had been sweeping the America's for the last three years. Scientists and neurosurgeons had combined their expertise into an operation that wiped selective parts of the brain controlling a person's memory. It became possible to clear away most recent recollections and work back in time erasing as you went. A fresh start in life without the abuses or boredom was apparently now available to anyone wealthy enough to afford it. It became a fashion statement to wipe small amounts of personal memory away as many times as was feasible. April had tried it on several occasions herself before she met Parker. He, being of middle class upbringing, had not the opportunities to make use of it, and unfortunately for him now, he was even more broke and destitute.

His loving ex-father-in-law saved a special job just for him. Cleaning the technician's washrooms at the clinic. For a time he did his best to do the work with a reasonably good attitude, but he found that just being there he could think of nothing else but his former wife. He'd be plunging out a finicky toilet and he'd see April's face in the bowl, or he'd be mopping out the showers and he'd see her reflection on the shiny floor. Soon he knew he must take drastic action if he was ever to be rid of her presence.

The technician in training was a plain young woman who, like most people of lower self-esteem, yearned for someone to show her affection. Being an affable man, Parker summoned up his last shreds of motivation and fawned a multitude of affections on her. He worried he was so over the top with his attentions that she would find him out but so starved was she that in time he managed to bring her into his confidences. One day after work hours when the staff had all left for the day, she strapped him into the machine and scrubbed his mind. He left that night with a new and positive attitude. His old constraints remained in place but he began to go about his daily living with a renewed vigor.

Six months later he sat in his favorite Chicago bar nursing a vodka, congratulating himself on the route his new life had taken. New friends from work had earlier called it a night and left him to finish his drink. He listened to the band play and decided to order one last nightcap.

Parker met April after they played their last set of the evening and were packing up their instruments. He watched her for a time in the full-length mirror behind the bar so as not to be obvious. She was tall and thin with long shiny black hair that gleamed in the smoky lighting of the bar. A tight yellow evening dress hugged her curvaceous body and amplified the dark tan of her skin.

"I love a man I can train," she whispered as she stuck her tongue in his ear while he put the key in his apartment door later that night.

Yeah, his life was definitely on the upswing.

Copyright © 2004 Bruce K. Derksen

About the Author
Bruce K. Derksen makes his living working full-time in the livestock health industry. After his normal day ends, he becomes a novice carpenter making barnwood furniture to sell. Four active sons and a wonderful supportive wife round out a lively and diverse family life. If on the odd chance at the end of the day he has an ounce of available energy left, he might collapse into the computer chair and bang out a few more words on his latest story.