A Bitter Sweet Life

The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any characters real, or previously existing is purely coincidence and is not meant to reflect in anyway, their feelings, actions or otherwise. This story contains vivid descriptions of unprotected and protected sexual acts between consenting individuals and minors, but does not in any way intend to condone such behaviour; paedophilia is a crime for those of you who are unaware. If such material is illegal in your area, discontinue reading immediately. I will not be held liable for any problems or criminal convictions you may encounter. If you do engage in sexual intercourse with strangers, always use a condom, AIDS is a reality. Other than that, this story is protected by copyright laws, and any redistribution, copying or citing with the intent of passing it off as your own work, with the exception of nifty.org, without the express written permission of the author is strictly prohibited.

Geez, I apologise for such a brutal disclaimer guys, but it is necessary to protect myself and my work. Anyway enjoy the story and if you have any comments (not about the disclaimer!!!) please send them to:

...I put it on the fridge, grabbed my keys of the kitchen counter and headed out to my car. Little did I know everything was about to change...

I drove at a mild 80km/hr, the last thing I needed was to get a ticket, or worse. As I approached the café, I saw Helen pulling up as well. "Perfect timing." I thought out loud. I parked a few metres away from the café, grabbed my umbrella (it had started to drizzle a little), and stepped out onto the wet tar. I walked up to the café. I waited at the entrance for Helen to arrive. She walked up the stairs; she was dressed in a simple flowing red dress and stilettos. She looked grief stricken, even though she tried her best to carry herself as nonchalantly as possible. I remembered something Mike had said when we got to my house: "They think my mother did this." I looked at her, and she clearly did not look like the kind of person to kill her own son. I looked at my watch, it was almost five pm.

"He was sleeping when I left; it's going to be a tough time for him." I said matter-of-factly.

"I am supposing you are wondering what is going on?" she asked. "Let's go in and grab some coffee, I need something to pick me up." She led the way into the café, Michael Bublé's Quando, quando, quando playing in the background. She sat down at a small table that was dimly bathed in maroon light while I ordered.

"That will be ten rand sir." The cashier replied while I handed him a twenty. He handed me my change and I proceeded to tell him to bring the coffee to the table Helen was sitting at. I sat opposite Helen, and placed my umbrella on the floor next to me.

"You know, my Danny was a good boy, he did not deserve what happened to him." she turned away to wipe a tear from her eye, her voice was full of anguish.

"It was my fault. How could I kill my own son?" she looked at me, her eyes pleading for an answer. I felt the lump in my throat again, and I picked up the coffee and sipped. I did not have an answer to her question, but I had a few of my own, and I needed answers.

"Helen, what exactly happened?" I asked. She sat there staring at the floor while her coffee got cold, as if contemplating how to put into words what she had experienced. What she proceeded to tell me hurt me very much, in ways words could not begin to describe...

On her way home from work, Helen had just been thinking it was high time she had the house walled. It was around a quarter to six in the evening, and the hot Johannesburg sun was disappearing behind the horizon of high rise buildings. She was stuck in the usual evening traffic between the Malboro and Alexandria off ramps. She had been putting off walling the house for some time now, not because she couldn't afford it, but because she just did not have the time to hassle the city council for planning permission to put up a wall. At least she did not have to go to work tomorrow. The radio was on jacaranda fm, and they were playing "Jealous" by Shania Twain. It reminded her of her happier times with John, and how it had all ended so badly. She still loved him dearly, and could not bring herself to date anyone just yet. Just like many other women out there she held onto that little bit of hope, however little there was.

"I'm leaving Helen. I cannot love you anymore." He was standing in the door with her best friend, Henry Bulé.

"Please John, don't do this. We have been together for twenty years, how can you just throw me out of your life? How can you!?" by this point she was on her knees, crying uncontrollably. But he turned around and walked out without even looking back, without even a goodbye...

A tear fell out of her eye and she took a tissue from the glove compartment, and wiped the tear away. How could her husband have left her for another man? She pushed those thoughts out of her mind; she was going home to her sons now. Even though Michael was younger than Daniel, they looked very much alike; most people thought they were twins: The spitting images of their father.

She off ramped on the Edenvale exit, and accelerated a little as she got out of the traffic. As she approached her house on Fifth Avenue, she felt calmer, she was home now. Her sons would no doubt both be home, they did not have very many friends. Although this sometimes worried Helen, she knew there was nothing she could do to change that. Their father leaving was very tough on them. She accelerated a little to get up the steep driveway, and switched off the engine, she would have to think of building a car port soon, the neighbourhoods were getting more dangerous. She got out of the car and walked up to the front door her stilettos clicking on the cement driveway. She put her key in the door and turned. "I'm home!" she called.

She walked into the kitchen to check the mail. Mostly bills and a letter from the attorney, reminding her of the court date for the divorce hearing.

She proceeded to prepare supper, nothing too fancy, just some rice and stew. When supper was ready, around half past eight she called the boys, they bounded down the stairs on each other's heels. Supper was quieter than usual.

"So, what do you boys do upstairs all day?" she asked, trying to make conversation. The boys looked at each other, and they blushed a little. Helen did not read too much into this, she had stopped trying to understand the boys' unspoken language long ago. "I've been thinking about getting the wall up, and maybe a carport and a swimming pool." She said

"Yeah, we wouldn't have to use the community pool anymore. I don't like having to swim in the same water with so many strangers." Michael piped up.

"Yeah well don't get your hopes up too high just yet. I still have to go to the planning office to have this approved. It will probably only be built by next year." Helen replied.

"Aww mom, did you really have to kill my fire?" Michael asked visibly deflating. She just laughed lightly.

"Come now boys, get these dishes in the washer. I am going up to bed now." Helen ordered.

Michael pulled himself off the sofa and dragged his feet all the way to the kitchen, pretending to be annoyed with his mom. She feigned and stern look, but could not help smiling at him. She slipped her heels off and proceeded up the stairs. She was quite tired, it was the end of the month and her job as a chartered accountant always took a lot out of her, but at least it paid the bills.

She slept quite calmly knowing she did not have to get up early tomorrow. She dreamt of John and Henry, and how she had been left alone. She woke up in a cold sweat, it was light outside. She slid out of bed, and went out of the bedroom to wake up the boys. She wanted to take them out for a movie. Michael's door was slightly ajar. She was about to knock when she thought she heard movement in the room. She pushed the door open slightly to find Daniel on top of his brother, inflagrante delicto. She was just stunned, she stood there in the doorway, until Michael turned just enough to see her. "Oh shit!" he said, the colour draining from his face. Daniel turned to look at the door, but could not stop himself, he was hit by a powerful orgasm, and his entire body shuddered, as he emptied himself into his brother. Helen looked at them, and then turned around and walked out. When she got outside, she sat on the swing chair in a daze. How could she not have picked this up earlier? The more she thought about it, the angrier she got.

"Mom?" she was quickly snapped out of her daze. It was Daniel. He was dressed now.

He turned around and walked back inside the house. She sat there for what seemed hours, trying to understand what she had seen. But after a while she realised that no matter what happened, they were still her sons, and she loved them very much. She walked upstairs, wanting to talk to both her sons. She heard a gunshot when she was about to enter Danny's room. Her heart started racing, she bounded into the room. There was blood on one wall, and Danny was on the floor, eyes to the ceiling, coughing blood. The gun was in his hand, she grabbed it not thinking, and tossed it to one side. "Oh my God!" it was Michael in the doorway, he had tears in his eyes, but he did not move. "Call an ambulance!" Helen shouted. He complied, but moved slowly as if in a daze. They both knew it was too late, Danny had shot himself in the heart. The last thing he heard was his mother crying over and over "I love you...I love you...", and he was gone.

Helen wondered to herself how her son had known the code to the gun cabinet, how could he have killed himself before she had the chance to tell him how much she loved him? she kept remembering the last thing she had said to him, and she could never forgive herself. The rest of the day had been a blur to her. The police had questioned her about her handling of the gun, but she could not answer, she just looked at the investigator stunned with his accusation. That was when she had seen me with Mike in my arms...

I sat there stunned by her revelation, not only had Helen lost a son, but now that arrogant investigator was going to try and pin this on her. I felt anger boiling inside me.

"How am I going to tell his father?" she asked. "He is going to blame me for this, I know it." I reached for her hand across the table and squeezed it. "I will always be here for both of you." I said.

Well guys there's chapter 3. I hope you like it. I have been thinking about doing two spin off stories from this one. The first will be about Danny, and the second about his father. But that will be at a much later stage, depending on how people respond to this one, for now I am concentrating on this story in particular. As always please let me know what you think guys pragmaticstories@yahoo.co.uk. Thank you for the feedback guys, it really helps me to develop the story. See you in chapter 4!