Can Two Broken people make something whole, again?

In 2 parts, Based on the post from Tx Tall Tales. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Neighborhood Party

Cathy & John were holding a Christmas Eve open-house
next door; and expecting half of the neighborhood over that evening. They were
a high standard in generosity, for the rest of us neighbors to try to emulate.

I made my appearance, around 8:30 ">8:30
, and stoically accepted the offered condolences which were definitely putting
me in the wrong state of mind. After only half-an-hour I knew I had to get out
of there, even if it did piss off Cathy.

John seemed to catch my mood, and dragged me outdoors to
enjoy a cigar in semi-peace. With a heavily spiked eggnog in hand, and a more
than decent Rocky Patel Decade burning nicely, I was willing to stick it out a
little longer when he headed back indoors.

“I should skin you alive for that little stunt, you know.”

I heard a voice coming from poolside, and headed that way to
face the music. Sandy was sitting there alone, a large, mostly empty glass of
wine at her side.

“I know. I was bad. But I’m done now.”

“What the hell were you thinking?” she snapped.

“I just wanted Erica to have a decent Christmas, and wanted
to help you out a little in your effort to sell your house.”

She cackled, and it wasn’t a pretty sound. “You too? You
just barely met me and you’re so damn eager to get me out of the neighborhood.”

Her words surprised me. “Not at all. I’m just trying to
fight back a bit against the unfairness of the world. What are you doing out
here alone, anyway?”

“I can’t stand the way they look at me. Like suicide is
contagious or something. They don’t know what to say; they all avoid me, or
look at me like I was a leper or something.”

“People can be assholes.”

She smiled. “I’ll drink to that.”

I sat beside her and drank my 80 proof eggnog in silence. We
watched a small group come out and start talking while they lit up their cancer
sticks.

“I know you mean well, Alex. But you can stop now, Ok?” she
said softly.

“One last thing.”

“Please. Enough already.”

“Steve called. Everything’s cleared up with the insurance.
You’ll get your check next week.”

She looked at me like I’d grown a third eye, completely
stunned. “Really?”

“Really.”

She finished her wine, gulping it down, then sat back.
“Shit. Six fucking months they drag it out and then suddenly, like that,” she
snapped her fingers, “they’re willing to pay up?”

“Steve’s good.”

She leaned forward and held her head in her hands. After a
few seconds I could see her body was shaking. She was crying, silently.

“I’m sorry it took so long. If I’d been a better neighbor,
we might have taken care of this months ago.”

She sat up abruptly, and I could see the streak of the tears
on her face. “Don’t. Don’t apologize. Just don’t, Ok?”

“Ok.”

I sat awkwardly, while she wiped her eyes and turned away
from me, staring out at the backyard. I leaned over and took her empty glass.
“Can I get you a refill?”

“Yeah. I mean, yes, please. Thanks.”

“Be right back.”

It took a few minutes to navigate the crowd around the bar,
and to endure the late arrivals expressing their sorrow over my “loss”. Like
they know anything about loss. Shit. I was happy to get back outside, away from
the doe-eyed suburban mommy’s pity and their awkward mumbling husbands.

I plopped down next to Sandy. “Jesus. Next time you can make
the booze run.” I told her passing the wine glass over.

She gave me a twisted smile. “You volunteered, remember?”

“Don’t remind me.”

“That’s what you get for being a Good Samaritan.”

“That’s it for me. Believe me, I’ve learned my lesson.”

She chuckled. “Somehow I doubt that.”

My cigar had gone out, and it would have been a shame to
waste it. I ventured into the smoker arena long enough for a light, and
immediately regretted it, catching the sidelong glances they gave each other,
knowing what they were thinking. I didn’t spend a moment there longer then I
had to, hustling back to my solitude and Sandy. The only kindred soul at this
soirée who might feel a tenth of the loss I that was consuming me.

There was one last thing I wanted to do, but I didn’t know
how she’d take it. I thought that maybe, just maybe, with one more glass of
wine under her belt, she might acquiesce.

“Sandy?”

“Hmm. I don’t know if I like the sound of that. Are you up
to something again?”

“No. Maybe. Not really. I mean, well, can I show you
something next door?”

She gave me an odd look, which lasted quite a long time.
“Can I bring my wine?”

“Of course. It’ll only take a minute.”

She stood, and followed me out the gate. We walked around
the fence to my driveway and into my backyard. As we crossed my patio she piped
up.

“Just because I’ve had a few drinks, and just because you
did something nice doesn’t mean you’re going to get anywhere with me, I hope
you know.”

Her words slammed into me like a bucket of cold water. I
hadn’t even thought about anything like that. I turned and looked at her. She
didn’t look bad. Not at all. She cleaned up nicely, and even if she was
ridiculously skinny, I could see she was an attractive woman. Funny that I’d
never even noticed. I stood there trying to think of how to reply.

“Jesus, Alex. I’m just teasing you.”

It took me a few seconds to reply. “That was the furthest
thing from my mind.”

“Of course. Believe me. I understand.” Her sardonic reply
was more surprising than the original tease.

Caught without a response, I entered the house and led her
to the living room.

“What did you want to show me?”

I turned on the light in the living room, and moved out of
the way.

“Holy crap!”

I gestured toward the piles of gifts. “They were for my
girls. I don’t know what to do with them.”

“That’s all for your girls?” she asked, looking on in
wonder.

“Yeah. I kind of over do it.”

“I’ll say.”

“I’d like Erica to have them. She doesn’t have to know
they’re from me. They can all be from Santa if you’d like. If you don’t take
them, I… I don’t know what I’ll do with them.”

“It’s too much, Alex. It’s a nice gesture, really. But it’s
too much.”

“Please. No strings. Do it for Erica.”

She stood silent for a while, before she turned to me. “Why?
Why now?”

“I don’t know. Look, they’re just sitting there. I’ll end up
donating them to some charity or something. I’ve got a ton of gifts, and nobody
left to give them too. You’ve got a sweet little girl who has one present under
the tree and could use a bit of joy in her life.”

She wandered around the room, nudging the gifts with her
foot, not answering, taking the occasional sip from her glass. She eventually
wandered back and stood beside me.

She stood quietly for several seconds, apparently pondering
a reply. “It’s not fair,” she finally muttered.

That wasn’t what I’d expected. “No shit. Life’s about as
unfair as I could ever imagine,” I answered honestly. “Good people get hurt for
no apparent reason. Jack-offs seem to glide along ea