Story Battle Thanks To Glitter

To heck with it, I'm writing anyway. It's not my usual style or genre, but I started to like these characters. I hope you do, too.The Time Machine"What the hell are you doing, Jack?"Jack McClanahan stared at his reflection in the kitchen window. The pre-dawn light was not enough to overpower only one of those corkscrew fluorescent bulbs that supposedly saved money. The bulb shone from the top of the garage-sale lamp stand, without the shade of course, hopelessly inadequate to cover both the cozy sitting room and the kitchen that it straddled. The pain behind his eyes, pounding at his temples, discouraged him from flipping on the overhead kitchen lights.The coffee maker gurgled and popped briefly before hissing impatiently at the now empty water tank. He looked at the protesting appliance and watched the red LED clock blink 12:00 for a few seconds. His eyes lost focus and his mind returned to the fuzzy memory of man-made fog and lasers mixed with pounding techno base from the club the night before.How he got there was still a bit of a mystery. Jack remembered calling up a few old college buddies for darts and shots at a townie karaoke bar. They had been more than happy to help Jack forget Melissa, and all of the nastiness from his ongoing divorce. However, at some point, they left the dark confines of the smoky ale-house and ended up in something like a Tron movie with black lights, fluorescents, lasers, and high-priced drinks that glowed enough to make rainbows jealous. The bitch got the dogs. The bitch got the house. Jack got the old cottage, although it hadn't been used in the last four years when Melissa's "great opportunity" took over their lives, effectively cancelling every vacation since. He almost never thought about the place, except for the times he checked the bank statement and saw $450 pulled out each month on the foolish investment. Jack was grateful he was able to salvage enough for apartment rent, a car payment, and most of the retirement package, minus whatever Emma was going to cost him over the next four years at Northwestern. Probably all of it. So basically, he found himself at ground zero after twenty two years of building the American dream and then watching it evaporate because he and the ladder-climbing bitch "drifted apart". Her words.Shots of tequila and whisky had seemed like a damn good idea. He wasn't even sure how he got back to the cottage, other than remembering long blonde hair, some kind of sorority car like a Cavalier or a Prius with a crucifix and Mardi Gras beads intertwined on the mirror, and extremely painful hickies at the club. Even the memory of sex was just a blurry dream seen through the opalescent glare of a pounding hangover.Jack opened the kitchen cabinet above the decade-old coffee maker and pulled out two of the four mugs, long abandoned. A quick burst of breath sent a cloud of dust into the air that made his nose itch and eyes water. He fought back a cough as he wiped his eyes on his college sweatshirt sleeve."Jack, you there?" an uncertain soprano voice called out from the bedroom."Yea," Jack croaked, his voice betrayed him with fatigue and a bit of self-conscious embarrassment. Then, more forcefully, "You want coffee?"A tall blonde emerged from the bedroom wrapped in an old, multi-colored Mexican blanket, that Melissa purchased on a DINK, dual-income-no-kid, cruise almost two decades ago. Jack knew her name was Ashley something-or-other, but honestly couldn't remember if she had told him all of it, or even the correct name.The thought crossed his mind again, and not for the last time that morning... What the hell are you doing, Jack?Ashley didn't seem to be the least bit self-conscious about wearing nothing but a blanket belonging to a man probably twice her age. Her eyes shone in the low light with a bit of devilish mischief and amusement. The blanket draped like an oversized cross between a serape and a toga. Brightly colored stripes of white, blue, black, red, and yellow wrapped around her chest and hips. Instead of slinging over her shoulders, the top of the blanket was wrapped like a towel over the breasts and below the armpits. The loose wrapping hung down to her knees and revealed shapely calves decreasing to slender feet, capped with nails painted an unobtrusive shade of pastel lilac."I'm surprised you have any food at all," she said eyeing the barren kitchen and sparse furniture. "How long since you've been here?"Thinking hurt. Thinking of fond memories also hurt. Jack shook the cobwebs out and answered objectively, "Four, maybe five years. Freezer still worked, surprisingly. That's where we usually kept the coffee and other stuff during the winter.""It's a nice place," Ashley offered as she grabbed the empty mug on the counter. "If it had a bit more of a woman's touch." She eyed the mug cautiously before sliding over to the sink and rinsing off the remaining grit. "It was nice. Long time ago."Jack tried not to think about how long it had been, and that Ashley was probably Emma's current age at the time. Purchasing the cottage had seemed like a dream come true. Ever since Melissa and he had started dating, they talked about getting a little place, out in the woods, where they could get away. They loved hiking and camping and boating on the lake. They enjoyed glasses of red wine, starlight walks, and waking up tightly packed into a double-zippered sleeping bag covered in morning mist. He was pretty sure that Emma resulted from one of those romantic mornings.But now, there wasn't much left. For whatever reason, Melissa had gotten the bright idea to remodel the place, with money from her big promotion. She had a grand vision to update all of the appliances, put in all new art glass lightings, and double the size of the modest fireplace. She even wanted a sauna. Jack didn’t care because it was her new money. Sure, why not, he had said. Do what you want. Melissa hired a moving company to take out all but the bare essentials, and packed them away in a storage building, somewhere. The lawyer had the address and Jack had signed off on ownership without even reading it. But those plans never materialized. They could never get away."Listen," Jack began. "Last night... I'm sorry... I feel weird..."Ashley shot Jack an admonishing glance. "Don't. Just. Don’t even." "It's just, I'm going through a divorce. I drank way...""I know. You told me. Probably thirty times. It was kind of funny. I liked that you were genuine and very clearly over her. I didn't feel like I was... intruding."Jack sighed and took the clean mug from Ashley. He filled the first cup and stared glumly into the blackness. The last thing on his mind last night was hooking up with some college-aged, or maybe somewhat older, kid. Last night, he became wrapped up in the moment, flattered by the attention, and dropped his sobriety-based inhibitions. For a few brief moments, the stress from the divorce had completely left him. The care-free happiness and attention from this nubile goddess before him had replaced the mountain of worry and accelerating depression. The loneliness from countless nights in a half-empty king bed was replaced with an electricity and passion he had resigned himself to never experiencing again. But where did that leave him today? What kind of father casts all concerns to the wind and hooks up at the first sign of attention? Is this a mid-life crisis? Will his friends mock him when he next encounters them? Facebook? Dating? What will his wife say? Feck her. But Emma? What would she think? Love? Kids?? Oh god, no. So, kick her out? Benefits? Netflix? So many doubts."I don't know what I'm doing," Jack said with a chuckle. Ashley grabbed the second mug and rinsed it at the sink and called playfully over her shoulder, "You seemed to remember what to do, just fine."Jack felt the warmth of his face grow and he imagined a bright red flush coming over his pale Irish features. Changing the subject, he said, "I need my car, is it at the bar?""Yes, I didn't let you drive it. We took mine, you know, in case I felt like I had to, well... you know, leave." She paused for a moment, "No offense.""None taken," Jack admitted. "That's smart. Good thinking. But, I have to be at the court by ten, I need to get back, clean up... Hey. We have a couple hours. You want to get breakfast?"Ashley considered for a second before shaking her head. "No, thank you.”“Hey I understand,” Jack replied, a bit too quickly. He didn’t expect anything, but the bluntness surprised him a little. Well what did you expect? Jack wondered to himself.He watched Ashley’s eyes go wide as she realized the impact of a too-flippant response.“I'm not blowing you off. I'll just take you back. I think you're a nice guy. No, a good guy and there's a big difference. Believe me. Nice guys are everywhere. Good ones...not so much. I'll send you a text and we can get together, some other time. If you want... if that's ok. What's your number?"Remembering the courtroom brought Jack back to his senses. "If you don't mind, write it down. You know courts can ask for phone records and ...""Say no more," Ashley interjected, hand snapped up in a gesture like a traffic cop. She found a pen on the kitchen counter and scribbled ten digits down on the post-it, which she peeled off and plastered to the refrigerator door. "There. Exchanging numbers with space-age technology."Jack watched as Ashley let the Mexican rug slip from her shoulders and drag on the hallway floor behind her. Her slim but athletic silhouette passed down the hallway and back into the bedroom. "Shall we get cleaned up and get out of here?" she called in a teasing voice from the doorway to the master bath.Automatically, Jack McClanahan set down his coffee cup. He began walking towards the bedroom and once again murmured, "What the hell are you doing, Jack?"At least, he mused, I'll remember what I did this time.