9~Reality Sets in
- Jennifer Byars
- Oct 16, 2022
- 9 min read
Updated: Nov 27, 2023
Forgive and you shall be forgiven. ~Luke 6:37
Chapter 9
The smoke could be seen a couple blocks away as the limo drove closer to Duncan’s home. Once he was into the gates and pulled onto the driveway, the damage was more than he could ever imagine. The limo barely slowed when Duncan jumped out, watching the firemen cleaning up their gear and rolling their hoses while the police wrote things down on paper pads. Little streams of smoke were still streaming up from the charred and soaked rubble as Duncan looked on in disbelief. Everything was gone; even the flowers and trees that lined the front of the home were nothing more than blackened, withered greenery.
Duncan’s hands went through his hair as he walked onto the lawn, taking in all the damage. A faint smell of alcohol came from the ashes, wondering if Lydia had started the fire with some of his expensive liquor or if she had started drinking. It only took a couple steps more to find out he was right on both counts. In the crimson-stained puddle on the lawn laid a bottle of his thirteen-thousand-dollar bottle of brandy. All the air escaped from Duncan’s lungs, his vision blurred, and his world started to spin. A hand came to his shoulder, and as he glanced around, he saw a fireman. “Hey buddy, you doing okay?”
Was he okay? What was this feeling deep inside of him that was taking over his senses? But before he could go any farther in that thought, he cleared his throat and nodded. “Yes, I’m fine.”
“Okay, I just wanted to be sure. You looked pretty pale,” The man stated and then stopped.
“In fact, you still seem pretty pale now.” He said and then motioned for a woman with an EMT sweatshirt over. “I think he might be going into shock.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Duncan growled. “Why in the hell would I be going into shock?”
The EMT and the fireman exchanged glances, and the young woman placed a grin on her face. “I’m sure you’re fine. But let’s have you take a seat on the ambulance and take your vitals just to be sure, okay?” She offered, leading Duncan.
“I think you are being pushy, and that could get you into trouble,” Duncan warned. But as he walked, his legs shook, his thoughts were lost and jumbled as he passed things that were once burned and tattered on the ground, making his body lock up.
“Whoa, there!” The EMT said, putting an arm around his waist. Duncan hadn’t realized that his knees were giving out until she spoke. “Okay, here we go,” She said, getting Duncan on the gurney and laying him back.
As Duncan stared at the ambulance ceiling while people fussed around him, he couldn’t help but wonder how this could have happened. It had only been a couple of days since his whole world was perfect! He had everything he had ever wanted. He finally got rid of the one thing in his life he believed was holding him down from living the life he wanted, and that was his wife. So why did people think he was going into shock? Why did he feel like the world was spinning out of control? It wasn’t his fault Lydia couldn’t hold it together because he had left her. And furthermore, why did he even care? As far as he was concerned, let the house burn to the ground; he had always hated it! It was the house that Lydia loved, not him. He hated the country charm, the birds singing, the fresh air. Duncan wanted horns honking, crowds of people, exhaust fumes, and a mini-mart on every corner. Hated that she loved the rounded Victorian windows. So why now, when all his problems were solved, he was thinking about the times when they were first married? Why?
The EMT came over, putting a blanket over his legs. “Sir, we’re going to take you to the hospital. You’re going into shock,” The woman stated.
Duncan looked up and took control. He was Duncan Baker, he could have anything he wanted, anything, and the loss of a woman who was clearly unbalanced was not going to slow him down, ever. His hand tore off the blanket and ripped off the cuff on his arm as he sat up. “Don’t bother. I’m fine,”
“But sir, you really should go and be checked out,”
“I said I’m fine, and I mean it.” He said, getting up from the bed and climbing out the door.
A couple people tried to talk him into getting back into the ambulance, but Duncan waved them off and got back into his limousine instead. When he shut the door and what was going on outside was silenced, he poured himself a scotch, took a deep breath, and lowered the window that separated him from the driver. “Take me back to the office,”
“Yes, sir,”
The office was quiet even though it was only mid-afternoon. Duncan had given his team the rest of the day off. He needed time to process what was going on with him, while the last words he spoke to Lydia haunted him as they played over and over in his head.
Duncan leaned over his desk, his elbows digging into the glass as his hands ran through his hair. “Why is this bothering me? I didn’t tell Lydia to take her life. This isn’t my fault; it has nothing to do with me. Damn it!” That was what he said under his breath, but his mind was telling him differently.
How can a world that is so fast-paced slow down to where it is almost standing still? Duncan wasn’t sure, but that’s how he felt as he sat alone in his office with a bottle of brandy. As soon as he heard all the condolences, he sent everyone home but decided to stay.
All the things that had happened in the last few days made him uneasy. That chuckle he had heard in the room that night still haunts his thoughts. And now, thoughts of Lydia when she was young and sweet and how much she loved him filled his thoughts. “Damn it, stop it! The world is your oyster, and nothing is standing in your way. So, take the bull by the horns and then take everything you want. You’ve got the money, the skills, and the looks. Don’t let anything hold you back... take it all!” He growled, standing up from his seat.
Duncan swallowed the last drink, went over, put on his jacket, and fixed his tie before texting Angelica. “Heading over to your place for a nightcap.” That was all he said. But as he stared at himself in the mirror, he looked sad, which meant in his book, he looked weak. His hands slicked back his golden hair, and gave himself a grin when he thought about what he would do to the woman waiting for him.
The lights were low, and the sun had set as Duncan walked out into the office area, slipping on his woolen coat and making his way over to the elevators. His phone buzzed, and he saw Angelica’s text when the elevator dinged and the doors opened. When his father-in-law stepped out, Duncan glanced up, wondering who would be coming to this office at such a late hour. “Bill?”
As soon as their eyes met, Bill rushed him. “You son of a bitch!”
Before Duncan knew what was happening, Bill had him on the floor, fists hitting everywhere.
The fight lasted for what seemed like forever. Finally, Duncan reached up, socking Bill in the jaw, having him fall backward. Duncan turned over and felt the pain in his side, chest, and face, but knew he had to get off the floor before Bill came at him again... but it was too late. Duncan saw a shoe coming at him from the side of his eye. He got sick when it connected with his gut and collapsed on the ground, only to get kicked repeatedly until he heard his father-in-law panting for breath.
“You killed my baby, you no good son of a bitch! You might not have done it with a knife or a gun, but you killed her. You broke her and laughed while you did it. So now, I’m going to make sure you are stripped of everything you ever worked for, anything you ever loved! And I don’t care if it takes every red cent I’ve ever made, or if it is the rest of my life, I will destroy you!” Bill seethed, giving Duncan one last kick before storming off.
The floor was hard but cold, helping Duncan’s soar face. His arms wrapped around his middle, thinking that the last kick of Bill’s broke something. The heat from his lip and left eye told him more than he wanted to admit, and he knew they were starting to swell. Slowly he pulled himself up and went back into his office to get himself back together. But, when he looked into the mirror, the damage that had been done was worse than he thought.
Without a word, Duncan walked into the bathroom, cleaned himself, brushed his hair, put on a shirt that wasn’t covered in blood, and made his way back downstairs. When he opened the lobby doors, the bitter wind slapped him. It bit into the fresh wounds like it was the hand of God trying to wake him up from a nightmare. The limo was where it was supposed to be for once, yet he wasn’t ready to get inside. So instead, he turned and started to walk down the busy street feeling, for the first time in his life, like he wasn’t in control and utterly alone.
The snow started to stick to the ground, as Duncan wondered. He had no idea where he was going, nor did he care. All he knew was that he wanted to find the peace that was escaping him. He wanted peace from the damn nightmare that haunted him, peace about how he had treated his wife, and, more importantly, peace about her death.
People walked around bundled up in their hats and scarves while Duncan walked lost in his thoughts. The chill helped the throbbing of his cuts and bruises but not the ache in his chest. Duncan had always considered himself a man of wealth and prestige, even before he was one. Now, he could have anything he wanted and regularly did. He was a man of influence and wealth, but most importantly, he was a man of power. And any fool knows that power is what it takes to rule your destiny. Yet, for a man like himself to be walking around with the masses feeling alone and lost was unimaginable... but here he was.
Duncan wasn’t sure how much time had passed or how far he had walked when a lone voice broke out from the stillness of the night. At first, the words were mumbled and low, but it piqued his interest, so he picked up the pace. The voice became clearer and louder the closer he got, but he wasn’t sure of the direction. He stood at the corner as people rushed around him, unsure which way to go. Then the voice broke through the noise of the city, and a single phrase called out, “God can help you only if you come,”
His feet slipped out from under him at the corner of the streetlight, knocking the wind out of him. As he laid there on the slick, cold street, people walked over and around him, never offering him a hand or seeing if he was alright. Finally, he pushed himself from the ground, his back feeling the same as his face when someone bumped into his shoulder. “Hey buddy, get the hell out of the way!” A man said, pushing Duncan to the side, causing him to stumble and catch himself on the lamppost.
“Why was the world turning on him? Why was everything so upside down?” Duncan thought, looking down at his bleeding palm. Then the voice started again, pulling him from his thoughts, and he started to walk.
A block away was a street preacher standing in the square with a crowd around him. When Duncan stood outside the circle, he recognized the man as the same preacher from a couple of nights ago. That made him step closer, curious about what this preacher was saying, when someone whispered in his ear, stopping him cold. “You don’t want to go over to see what that do-gooder has to say, do you? Think! You are a man of importance, style, and of class. Why would you need to listen to a man in rags talking to the peasants of the world looking for the answers when you already have them. That idiot before you probably gave his last dollar to some homeless person. But tell me, what good will that do him when he’ll be the one freezing on the corner?” The voice accused.
“Nothing, he would gain nothing,” Duncan agreed.
“That’s right, nothing. Nothing that would benefit him at all! Now, go back to your office, clean up and call the police on your father-in-law. Have that ass arrested for battery and then destroy him! Show everyone; anyone who defies you will get your wrath,” it whispered.
Duncan agreed, but something about that raggedy preacher still pulled him to take another step forward. “Think, damn it! The world is yours, don’t be the fool who gives everything up because you feel bad.” The voice hissed, sending a shiver down Duncan’s neck.
Duncan swung around, wanting to see this person who thought they knew him so well... but nobody was there. He glanced all around, knowing someone had been behind him, there had to be, yet there was nothing at his back but the biting wind. The shiver he had just a moment ago was now a chill that went straight to his core. His head whipped back around as the feeling of darkness engulfed him. His mind returned to the dark pit, the cries for help, and that terrible laugh. Duncan wanted to breathe, but he couldn’t. He wanted to escape, but it was as if his shoes were frozen in the snow. He was about to scream out, tell the hissing voice, “Fine, I’ll do whatever you want, just let me breathe!” but then his eyes met the eyes of the street preacher, and he took a deep breath.
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