The Perverted Poet Society

"Her ex violated probation, Jill had the bruises on her wrists and arms documented, and off he went. Even Daddy's money couldn't save him, even if he was inclined to help him. I hope someone made him their bitch and beats the hell out of him on a regular basis."

She stopped for breath and a sip of her drink. "So, there it is. Jill's going to be really pissed at me but you needed to know, because she will not speak of it to anyone, except her counselor. I'd really like to see you guys make it; she deserves to be happy."

What could I say? I thanked her, kissed her on the cheek and left. Jill was late getting home that night. Almost two hours. I thought about giving her hell, but her face stopped me. "I know Cindy told you! Even though she had no right, I'm glad she did. Now it's out in the open and maybe it'll make you understand why I get withdrawn and moody. I just got out of an emergency session with my counselor. She wants me to bring you along next session. Will you go? I..."

She was babbling, from fear and nervous energy. I pulled her into my arms and gave her a kiss. It seemed to be just the ticket to calming her down, but she still bounced around until we went to bed. I knew instinctively she didn't need love making. She needed love reaffirmation, so I cuddled her, stroking her body and hair. She lay rigid for about twenty minutes before she relaxed, crawled on top of me, and went to sleep. It was a good thing she wasn't a heavy woman.

I went with her to two sessions before she told me I didn't need to come back. Her therapist called me, telling me what a positive effect I was having on her, and whatever I was doing, keep doing it.

"I'm not doing anything but loving her."

"And that is exactly what she's been needing. Keep it up. When you get around to getting married, I expect an invitation."

I promised with a solemn voice that I would try my best. She was laughing when she hung up.

We were regulars at the Farmer's Market now, and whenever Mr. Waxman was there with her daughter, Jill made sure we bought a birdhouse. We didn't need any more, but when she found out about the charity he was supporting, she had to help. She usually gave them away to her friends and posted a note at the club. Soon, he couldn't build them fast enough.

I was in a builder's association, mostly guys at my level, although there were one or two big contractors. It started it out as a way of networking, but then one of the builders dragged most of us into helping with Habitat for Humanity. Usually, once a month we'd spend a Saturday helping someone who needed it, and it was amazing how much you could get done if a lot of it was prefabbed before we got there. Jill insisted in coming along, so I got her a tool belt and a hardhat. The hardhat was pink, and she giggled when she saw it. She started out just making sure the materials were handy for the workers, but by the third time, she was hammering nails with the rough carpenters. We had to watch her with the nail guns, because if it needed three nails, she'd shoot six.

Then she came to me with an idea. She and I were going to build an art deco playhouse and donate it to Hillary House. It would be raffled off and they would keep the proceeds. I thought it was a great idea and talked to Dave, Mr. Waxman, and he was very happy with the idea, and almost begged to help. The builder's association got in on it and by Halloween it was done. We may have gotten carried away. Two hundred square feet, cedar shingles, small porch, gingerbread on the eaves, and the windows had a stained-glass accent, fake because it was appliques, but very nice looking. It was wired and had hardwood floors. So yeah, carried away.

We tried to calculate how much it would cost if someone asked for one. Not counting labor, the material along ran over five grand, and since labor was roughly half the price of most projects, it was a ten thousand dollar playhouse. Some kid was going to be very, very lucky.

When we finished it, we got Dave's little girl to stress test it and she was almost overcome the first time she saw it. She rambled around inside before coming out and sitting in the child sized rocker on the front porch. She had tears in her eyes as she looked at her father and I knew his project time was about to be limited. I told him we'd help when the time came.

Ari was nine, and Dave told me he and his wife had gotten her when she was four, so they were all she could ever remember. We met his other daughter, surprised she was so much older. She was 23, had just graduated from college, and worked for his wife, a CEO of a good-sized branch of her company. Looking at her, I realized what a stunner Ari would be. I think Jill got a little jealous, because she stuck to me like glue every time she was around.

*****

Jill almost never had nightmares by then. We were so synched now we couldn't stay in the bed if one of us got up. No matter what time, and I had to get up really early on occasion depending on travel time, she was always up before I left.

We always kissed each other before going off for work and I never knew how much it meant to her until she thought I missed it. I was up at four, she was sleeping so well I didn't want to wake her, so I brushed her lips and left.

She was one seriously pissed off female when she called me at six. "You left without kissing me! Why didn't you wake me?"

"Because there was no need for you to get up three hours early on a work day. And I did kiss you, you were still asleep."

That mollified her a bit. "All right. In the future, it doesn't count if I don't know about it. I could care less what time it is, you don't wake me for a kiss, you'll be very, very sorry."

"Noted. I'll just kiss you twice as much when I get home as an apology. Gotta go. Be home late tonight."

"Call me when you're on the way home, that way dinner will still be fresh when you get here. Love you."

Hearing those words meant a lot to me. They were hard for her to say, after her last experience. Of course, I was saying it to her for a while before she said it back. "Love you, too, Babe."

I looked at the jewelry box I had hidden in the toolbox of my truck. She never went into it and it was the safest place. "Soon," I thought, as I pulled out my power tools.

I was replacing some gingerbread on an old Federal style house, gingerbread I had to fabricate because the pattern wasn't commercially available any longer. I got the paint company I used to match the composition and color and it blended in well with the original. The homeowners were very happy with the project, then asked me if I could replaster the dining room ceiling. The pattern was pretty intricate and had deteriorated in several places, mostly above the sideboard, the result of too many hot dishes steaming it over the years. I told them I could, gave them the estimate, and said it would be about two months because I was so far behind. They agreed instantly, which pleased me, because I liked inside jobs in cold weather.

There was a very nice meal waiting for me when I got home. We caught each other up on our day, and she told me Dave had called. We'd printed a thousand tickets at five dollars apiece and they were all sold and people were asking if there were still some available. The charity decided to print up another thousand. If they sold them all it would be enough to keep the house going for almost a year, maybe even branch out and lease another. He said it was heartbreaking to turn desperate women and children away because they were full. The charity would try to place them with others, but they usually operated at maximum capacity, as well. I hoped they all sold. The association was already talking about the style we would build next year. There was even talk about building an adult "tiny house," which had gotten very popular in recent years. It seemed an interesting project and I was sure it would be debated at the next several meetings, but my instinct told me we'd be doing it. The proceeds off that would probably keep two houses going for a year.

Jill talked about how much Ari's parents loved her and it was the opening I was looking for.

"Do you think you'll ever want kids?"

She got really quiet for a minute, and I figured I'd done something wrong. Then she snuggled tighter. "I want children. Two, sex is not important. If it's two girls we... er I will love them just as much as if they were boys. How about you?"

"I want children and how many doesn't matter, one or five, it wouldn't make any difference. Let me get just a little more specific here. I want you to have our children. I don't think it's possible to love you any more, but kids change things, and I think before we get ahead of ourselves we need to get married. So, Jill Parker, love of my life, mother to our future children, will you marry me?"

She let out a little sigh and passed out. Not what I was expecting. I took advantage of the situation and slipped the ring on her finger. She woke with a start and sat up. "I must have dozed off, honey. I had the strangest dream..."

Then she looked down and saw the ring. If we would have had close neighbors, they would probably have called the cops because the scream was so loud. When she finally calmed down and quit snuffling, I reminded her she had never really answered me.

She grinned. "I'll think about it."

"Well then, give me back the ring, and when you say yes, I'll give it back."

She covered her ring finger with her other hand. "Try to take it off. It will be really hard for you to make a living with broken fingers. I've thought about it long enough. Yes, Honey, I 'll marry you. Just so you know, the only way you'll ever get out of this marriage is when the 'death do us part' option happens, so you're stuck with me for the next forty or fifty years."

"I guess I can put up with you that long, if I have to."

Her head jerked up and she saw my smile. She smiled back. "Just to clarify, you do. Get ready for the road ahead, my love. We'll probably need a couple more bedrooms in the not so distance future. I do not want to leave this house. It's the first place I've felt at home in quite a few years, and our yard is big enough for the sandboxes, swing sets, and playhouses that will be coming."

She didn't wave the ring around, but at lunch the next day, the kids in the cafeteria were surprised by a scream. Jill's friend noticed the ring and let out a shriek. Word spread through the school like wildfire and she had lots of stories to tell when she got home. We hadn't been to the club for a while, but she insisted we go the next Thursday. There were a lot of hugs, partly from seeing her again, partly from our news.

She surprised everyone by getting on stage and reciting an epic poem about love that put moisture in a lot of eyes. The club had a habit of recording the better poets, and I got a copy of that night. I posted it on YouTube and was surprised at the reception. It went from a few hundred hits in three days to over ten thousand in a month. Jill didn't know about it until one of her friends congratulated her on the new channel.

She was a little pissed at me for doing it without her permission, but got over it, especially when people begged for more in the comment section. I built her a shed and set it up as a recording studio. Sometimes she would sit on the sofa we'd put there, and sometimes she would stand at a little podium. I insisted she recite the very first one I ever heard her do, her epic saga on love. It was her fourth episode, and when Amanda Gorman commented on it, it exploded. I had no idea poetry was so popular. She was getting on average 75,000 hits an episode, and it was climbing.

Then again, there weren't a lot of platforms out there for poets. There were groups on the internet, but not a lot of what Jill was doing.

Amanda showed up unexpectedly, and instead of poetry they sat on the sofa and talked about the craft, and any other subject they could think of, for almost an hour. With her permission, I got an expert to come in and chop it into three segments. They averaged over a quarter of a million hits each.

She brought in guests, friends from the club mostly, to do a reading or two. Then she got comments wondering why she didn't let her husband do his Naughty Nursery Rhymes. It got to the point that every other broadcast had me doing a couple at the very end. Her popularity swelled. Our friends gave me a hard time about being a star and I would just grin. "Jill's the star. I'm just comic relief from time to time."

The guy I called in asked how much we were making off YouTube. I told him we had no idea what he was talking about.

That got to him, and after a quick tutorial on the value of a successful channel, he set it up to where they could do two short advertisements an episode. Jill's eyes almost bugged out when she got the first payment. It was more than she was making as a teacher.

She spent the whole next segment thanking her subscribers, then announced a new feature, Once every six weeks, she would feature a new poem, sent in and read by a viewer. That got so popular we had to launch a whole new channel.

Then people started sending in really rough satires of poems, limericks, and nursery rhymes. Some were disgusting, some were hilarious, and most were somewhere in the middle. That led to yet another channel that we named the Perverted Poets Society, that I hosted. It was a once-a-month post because it usually took us that long to wade through the offerings and pick out the ones fit to air.

We didn't let it consume us. I still had my business, and she still taught, and we had no interest in giving up our careers. The friend I'd called in to help me set things up became a partner, filming and editing so we didn't have to tie up any more of our time.

He talked me into letting him film me working, and the response was so great that Josh set up another channel, where I talked about restoration and carpentry in general once a month.

We managed to get married while all this was going on. Dad really liked her, and Mom, who only had boys, embraced her like the daughter she never had. Her parents approved of me, and when I had her father over, we went into my shop and I talked him through building a birdhouse. He had no experience at all in working with his hands. His parents were professionals, accountants, and he was a high-level manager in a manufacturing company. He was so proud when he was done, you'd have thought he built the Taj Mahal.

Her mother was a dentist, and as she walked through our house, I could almost see her making notes. They were thinking about buying some vacation property and building a cabin or simple house. They told me part of marrying their daughter included being the contractor when it came time to build. I grinned and told them I'd give them the family discount, which meant free. They retaliated by telling me I'd never have a dental bill for the rest of my life.

I got to noticing Jill spending time in the shop with my father and asked her about it.

"He's teaching me how to use the wood lathe. I've been fascinated with it ever since I watched you turn spindles for a staircase. You're not mad, are you?"

"No. Dad's a good teacher. Just be careful."

Ours was what writers call a straight-line romance. We went from strangers to friends to lovers to spouses without any drama at all.

Except...

For some reason, Jackson, the P.E. teacher, got it in his head I'd stolen Jill from him. We noticed how surly he'd become and it got so bad we wouldn't sit with him anymore. That only added fuel to the fire. When the other teachers in their clique moved away from him, something snapped. He got so erratic at school the principal called him in and warned him to tone it down. Jill never told me and held it in for as long as she could. She realized later how much of a mistake that was when he flipped out one night and grabbed her as she went to our car. She immediately flashed back to her ex and started screaming. I was late coming out when I got distracted by a friend asking for a recommendation for a plumber. I was giving him names when Sarah came in screaming for me to get to the parking lot.

I was out like a shot, just in time to see him try to drag her to his car. Two women were beating him with purses and another friend was on the ground, knocked out.

I didn't think. I acted like an alpha silverback when someone was trying to steal his mate. I tried to kill him. When you work construction, especially when you work mostly alone, you develop some pretty good muscles. I tried to use every one of them. He was drunk and I was in a rage, so he didn't come off too well. I broke his nose. I knocked out three teeth.

Still, he had kept himself in shape and he managed a couple of pretty good blows. I had a black eye and a sore rib the next day.

I woke up in my bed the next day. He woke up handcuffed to a hospital bed. They had to tase me to get me to stop beating him.

He got charged with assault, attempted kidnapping, drunk and disorderly and resisting arrest. His blood alcohol was .12, and they found a substance in his blood they hadn't identified right away. It turned out to be fentanyl, one of the most dangerous drugs in existence. One dose could have killed him. That explained his erratic behavior.

I was charged with simple assault, but it was dropped as part of his plea bargain. He was convicted on three cases of assault and resisting arrest and possessing illegal substances. They dropped the kidnapping charge in exchange for my charges being dismissed.

The school board found out and he was quietly let go. He lost his certificate when the drug charges came to light and could never teach again. He got into a program and landed a job as a personal trainer, and when his probation was up, he moved out of state.

Jill had to go back into therapy for six months. Then one day I noticed a change. She smiled more and seemed a lot happier. We hadn't been to Thursday night poetry in a while, and she suddenly wanted to go.

She flinched a little in the parking lot when we passed the spot where he grabbed her. I asked her if she'd like to leave, and she smiled. "No. It's just asphalt. It has no responsibility for the assholes who have walked on it."

Our, mostly her, old friends spent a lot of time hugging her. At the very end of the night, she got on stage. "I have a short poem, dedicated to my husband."

She stood for a minute as everyone waited. Then she shocked us all by doing a variation on a nursery rhyme.

Jack and Jill went up the hill to the place where they found love

They didn't tarry, they chose to marry, and thanked their God above.

What once was two will soon be three, with our daughter on the way.

The first of three, a must for me, if he lets me have my say.

There was a silence after she stopped, and you could see her tears in the spotlight. "That's right, Honey. I'm ten weeks along. Congratulations, Daddy."

The place erupted. I suddenly understood why she wasn't drinking. I was on the stage before I thought, picking her up and showering her with kisses. She put the whole thing in her next broadcast. It got three hundred thousand views in the first two weeks.

*****

Epilogue:

I was working for my old friend again, repairing some wainscotting in his kitchen. He and his wife were having a conversation that had my ears perked up.

"She's the hottest thing on YouTube. We're not the only publishing company after her, but she's very private. No one knows where she broadcasts from and there's no way past her comment section to get a message to her. It's driving the publishing trade crazy. On top of that, she knows Amanda Gorman, but Amanda refuses to talk about her."

I finished the repair, looking at it with a critical eye. Making new parts wasn't that hard for me. Matching the stain exactly is where it got tricky. I could detect no variation and was pleased. So were the customers when I showed it to them.