Jim no longer felt like being at home. He considered staying at a hotel for a while or even getting an apartment, he could certainly afford it. He took another sip of his whiskey and absentmindedly stared at golf playing on one of the TVs in the sports bar. It wasn't even 2 in the afternoon and here he was—drunk and alone in a shitty bar. He wondered again how he had ended up there, and more importantly, what he was going to do about it.
In a lot of ways things had gone well. Becoming swingers had opened him and his wife up to a host of new experiences and they had both really enjoyed it. Sharon had completely surprised him by being into it after the first time and the regret and guilt had not really been a factor. But then something had happened, something had been awoken in Sharon that he could never have anticipated.
Jim knew that Sharon had been a lifelong prude and was a straightlaced kid who didn't rebel or experiment even when it was expected of her during her teenage years. That being the case, he could have anticipated a bit of a mid-life crisis when she finally did let her hair down a little bit—but what had happened was beyond anything that he could have imagined. It had been weeks since he'd recognized the woman he'd been married to for decades.
The warmth, the kindness, the decency that she'd once shown so effortlessly was now a distant memory. In its place was a ravenous hunger for anything and everything that would give her carnal pleasure and feed her ego. Worse of all, however, was the fact that his daughter was now a part of it. This past weekend was the culmination of a train that had long been off the tracks, and although things were bad before—they were forever changed now.
Jim was now mostly incapable of even speaking to his daughter—even being in the same room with her was torturous. He felt like a fraud, a hypocrite, and a failure of a father. Worse yet, he didn't feel like he had the moral standing to even broach the topic with her. Afterall, he had been a willing participant in an incestuous affair with her that was eating at his very soul. Although he would never allow himself to do anything like that again, the damage was done. To their relationship and more importantly for Jim—his perception of himself as her father, her guardian, and her protector.
He had watched helplessly as she tumbled into cocaine addiction with his wife and become such a torrid drinker that he feared she'd likely succumb to alcohol poisoning just as likely as overdosing on coke. Even then he did nothing but watch, sadly, from the sidelines as her wife's influence on her grew until he was looking on from the outside in every conceivable manner. He was now an irrelevant fixture in their lives and in the context of the family. An utterly impotent and meaningless figure who was neither a father nor husband.
He punctuated that thought with a final gulp of his whiskey and considered another, wary about whether the barkeep would even continue to serve him. He figured he was drunk enough to go home and sleep without having to endure the realities of his situation for another day. He slapped a couple of $100's on the bar and stumbled toward the door. He hoped no one would notice how drunk he was and call the cops, he had chosen that bar specifically because it was so close to his home.
He climbed into his BMW, and with a deep breath steeled himself for the short trek home.
It was a blur that he barely remembered. One second, he was on the road and the next he was crashing into the ditch 3 blocks from his home. The horn was blaring, and his head was laying on the deflated airbag on the steering wheel. His shoulder was killing him, and he could taste the coppery essence of blood in his mouth. Jim blinked and tried to get his vision to stop spinning but it was no use—he vomited on himself.
After catching his breath Jim unclasped his seatbelt and opened the door. He could hear somebody speaking to him, but he wasn't sure who it was or where it was coming from. He made it a few steps before everything went black.
The next thing he experienced were the harsh lights of his hospital room and the soft beep of his heart monitor. As Jim struggled to see and his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the room, he looked at himself to appraise the physical damage he had incurred. His left arm was in a sling and encased in a cast, he could feel the tingling sensation of his damaged appendage that signified something was definitely broken.
"Dad! How are you feeling?" came a familiar voice from his right.
Jim turned his head in the direction of the voice and saw his daughter, looking at him from a chair next to his bed. Her makeup was smeared, and it was obvious to Jim that she had been crying. Sharon was nowhere to be seen, however.
"I'm okay, where's your mother?" Jim asked.
"She's at home, she's... not in driving shape. I was sober enough to come see you and report back," Amanda answered.
Jim fought back the urge to roll his eyes that even something like this wouldn't be enough to slow Sharon down.
"How long have I been here?" Jim asked.
"Um, I'm not sure. Not too long I don't think. They called us about an hour ago and I came right away," Amanda explained.
Jim looked up at the clock and it read 5:12pm. He hadn't been there more than a couple of hours.
"So, what happened?" Amanda asked.
Jim was pretty embarrassed to admit he was simply so drunk that he wandered off the road, but that was the truth. Even still, he didn't know how much the hospital staff knew or if he was being monitored by the police for a DUI, so he settled on caution.
"Nothing just took my eyes off the road for a minute. Dumb," he answered curtly.
Amanda searched his eyes for more but was content that if there was more, he was not going to spill it right now.
"Mr. Weaver how are we doing?" came the voice of a 40-something overweight woman in scrubs who'd entered the room.
"I've been better," Jim replied candidly.
"I'm sure that's true, but it could've been worse," she reasoned.
Jim nodded and smiled in agreeance.
"Well, I'm Dawn, I'll be your nurse for a few more hours until the night shift starts. Has the doctor talked to you yet?" Dawn asked.
Jim shook his head.
"Okay, well I'll let him tell you everything, but you broke a couple of bones and got a nasty concussion, but we don't see any need for serious concern, I at least wanted you to know that much," Dawn explained, nodding toward Jim and then Amanda.
"Thank you, I appreciate that," Amanda replied earnestly.
"Yeah, thanks," Jim added.
"How is your pain on a scale of 1-10?" Dawn asked.
"Like 3-4," Jim replied.
"And is that mostly here?" Dawn asked, touching her collarbone and shoulder area.
"Yeah, my head hurts some too," Jim explained.
"Okay, well we got you on some pain meds but if you need something else let me know and we can see what else we can do, okay?" Dawn explained kindly.
"Sounds good," Jim replied.
"Okay, hit the call button if you need anything, the doctor should be in to see you shortly," Dawn instructed before stepping back out into the hallway.
A few moments later a doctor came in and explained what had happened. Jim had broken his left collarbone and fractured a rib and suffered a severe concussion. Luckily, however, someone had called 911 and the first on the scene was the ambulance. The police had not had a chance to do a blood draw to see if he had been drinking. Since he hadn't been involved in an accident with anyone and there was no property damage, he wasn't sure that the police were going to try to arrest him.
