The Day God Wore a Hard Hat: The Loves of My Life

By Jonathan James

Paul Reynolds is a nineteen-year-old college student when he meets what he believes is the perfect woman. But as one night of passion transforms into just friendship, her sister, Lisa, eventually becomes his first love.

After Paul and Lisa marry and begin building a life together, all their grand plans are destroyed when she unexpectedly dies. Left grieving and fearing he will lose everything, Paul is saved from financial ruin when he agrees to provide shelter to Rommel, a Latino gang member set to testify in a future murder trial. Paul, who initially thinks Rommel is a useless hoodlum, soon discovers that opposites attract. But as quickly as Paul and Rommel fall in love, their relationship ultimately disintegrates, leaving Paul to seek normalcy within a passionless marriage. As Paul pursues lust elsewhere, his wife becomes pregnant, causing Paul to realize she has given him what he has always wanted: a family. But as tragedy strikes once again, Paul is left with an agonizing decision with the potential to alter the course of his life forever.

In this contemporary romance, a man desperately searching for love is led on a unique journey where life comes full circle and leads him to discover the importance of always following his heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Feb 17, 2016
• ISBN: 9781491783214

Jonathan James

Jonathan James is an average young man who has experienced more than his share of both love and tragedy. His debut novel is loosely based on his own life, loves, and losses. Jonathan lives in Janesville, Wisconsin.

Book preview

Copyright © 2016 Jonathan James.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

iUniverse

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.iuniverse.com

1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4917-8322-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-8321-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016900883

iUniverse rev. date: 02/16/2016

Contents

My First True Love

My Second Love

My Third Love

Love Number Four

The First Time My Life Had Real Meaning

To the one true love of my life, who has motivated me daily with these four words:

Write your damn book.

25194.png

I feel weak and so very tired, the kind of tired that borders on total exhaustion. I’m not sure if I’m asleep or awake. The sound of the motor in the background seems to be getting quieter, and the burning in my throat seems to have subsided. I was always told that falling asleep in a car is the best way to go. You have no discomfort or pain. Well, I guess anyone who knows the answer for sure is not around to tell.

I don’t know exactly how I got to this point in my life—the end of it. I think it is because it was so wonderful—full of love and happiness—and then it was all taken away from me. I know that people will say, He was a coward, and maybe I am. All I know for sure is I am just tired of trying and don’t want to go on. It’s true how your life flashes before your eyes before you go. I think God does this so our last moments are happy, or maybe it is just a great big cosmic joke.

25109.png

My life growing up was somewhat uneventful, but not a bad life, just average. I was an only child of working-class parents who tried very hard to be happy and to make me happy. But as I think back, my life truly began when I was nineteen years old and off at college. Unlike most freshmen, it was not my first time away from home. You see, my parents were both killed in a car hit by a drunk driver when I was sixteen. I lived the next three years with my grandmother, Mom Leathers. She was my mother’s mom and the only living relative I had. Growing up she and I were never very close. I don’t think it was her fault; she was just one of those women who didn’t have any maternal instincts, but she took me in when I had nowhere else to go. She and I tolerated each other for the next three years. I have to be honest: I was a handful, and she was just too old. The only real thing we had in common was that we both liked to drink, and I was good at it. I don’t know how I made it through alive. Again, I guess God was watching, or maybe he had a plan for my life that would lead me to where I am today.

I never tried very hard in high school. I guess I was one of those students who just didn’t live up to their potential, or maybe I was just kind of dumb or lazy. When I graduated—just barely—I saw college as an opportunity to get away from Mom Leathers and continue to party, just in a whole new environment. I had enough money in a trust from the insurance from my parents’ death to allow me to go to college. Because of my academic scores, most colleges I applied to would not let me in. I finally found a small college in southern Illinois—Southern Illinois University—that would let me enroll on probation only. Because of this, I was required to live on campus the first year. That was okay; I wasn’t going to let that slow me down.

When it was time for school to start, I loaded up my 1968 blue Cutlass Supreme with all my worldly possessions and hit the road, never to look back. I arrived on campus late the night before registration. I lucked out and found my dorm room easily. When I burst into the room, I was greeted by a thin young man, at least in contrast to my frame. He had on a pair of those thick glasses and a plaid sweater vest. Seeing me seemed to make him grin from ear to ear. My first thought was, Oh my God, I am rooming with not only a geek but probably the geek president.

He stuck out his hand and said in an almost shrill voice, You must be Paul Reynolds; I’m your roomie, Erin Cunningham. His voice broke when he spoke—you know, that time in a guy’s life when he has a high, almost-girl voice.

I took his small hand, again in contrast to mine, and shook it. When I did, I purposely squeezed so hard I made him almost yelp at a high squeaky pitch. I let go, and he shook his hand as if that would stop it from stinging.

He then smiled and said, Wow, you’re strong, and this made me feel kind of good. You see, I had never thought of myself as anything but average.

I scanned the small dorm room, which consisted of two twin beds—one on each side—with a small table in between. There was a desk with a chair and desk light at the foot of each bed, along with a small four-drawer chest. The walls were blank and gleamed with a fresh coat of white paint. The floors were two-tone brown tiles that had most certainly seen better days. The room had only one small window over the table between the beds. Erin had moved his things in two days earlier. He had chosen the bed to the right of the room and wanted to stay there if I had no objections. It didn’t matter to me one way or the other; both sides were just like reflections in the mirror. By now it was getting pretty late, and we had to get up early the next morning for registration. I decided not to unpack or go out and explore the bar scene tonight; I would save that for tomorrow night.

Erin had brought along a small refrigerator he had slid in under the table. He told me we could share it. He flung the door open to show me what it held. My opinion of him changed at that moment. The frig was filled to the top with beer, all kinds of beer. He grabbed two and tossed me one, popped the can top, and said, Let’s toast to a great year.

I popped the top of my can and toasted. We both sat on our beds and talked for hours that first night. What I discovered about Erin that night was that he was not a nerd. It was his first time away from home and the first time he could make his own decisions—hopefully about his wardrobe, I thought. That night was the beginning of a fast friendship that would last over the next six years.

25112.png

I woke the next morning when Erin came bounding in the room. He had gotten up earlier and was already showered and dressed to leave. Believe it or not, he was wearing a different plaid sweater vest. I said, How many of those things do you have?

He smiled and said with a grin, Enough for you to borrow one.

I growled some profanity as I drug my ass out of bed and headed down the hall to the john. It took almost ten minutes in the shower to wake up enough to brush my teeth and dress. You understand, I am not a morning person. As I stated earlier, I am kind of lazy. From my suitcase I pulled out a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt and put them on. Erin was fully unpacked, of course. I decided that I was not going to shave even though I was a bit scruffy. I thought this would make me look tough and a little worldly—a little bad boy, if you will.

Erin and I headed out together because he had already explored the campus the day before. He took it upon himself to be my guide, show me around, and make sure I didn’t get lost. At first I was a little embarrassed to be seen with him, me being as cool as I thought I was. As it turned out, I would have gotten so screwed up if it were not for Erin’s help that day.

At registration they assigned me a counselor to help me select my studies. My counselor’s name was Ms. Buddy; I kid you not. She was a round little woman who, I truly believe, if she fell while going down a hill, would simply roll like a ball.

Ms. Buddy had been with the university most of her adult life. She turned out to be funny and very helpful. She did not chastise me, because I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to be. She simply said, That’s okay; we have plenty of time to figure that out.

So I signed up for mostly general classes. I could use this opportunity to get my grade point average up and get off probation, which was the plan.

25115.png

Over the next few weeks, I started to feel more comfortable on campus and began enjoying the nightlife. I could not convince Erin to come out at night with me, but we still found time to meet up for lunch or dinner at least a couple of times a week. Because Erin and I had some of the same classes, he was ready and able to pitch in and help me out with my studies at a moment’s notice. This help, by the way, came in very handy.

Around the end of the first month, we were both feeling pretty comfortable with the school as a whole, and since it was a Friday night, Erin decided he would go out on the town with me. After we had a quick bite to eat, we headed over to a small campus bar I had found the first week I was in town. It was a typical student dive, filled with a real mix of people. We found a table and quickly threw back a couple of beers.

That was when I first met Lena; she and Erin were chem partners and had become friends. She was there with her friend Karen; they were both from the same small town and had been friends their entire lives. Erin asked them to join us for a beer. To my pleasure, they agreed. You see, Lena was my idea of a perfect woman. She had dark short hair, but not as dark as her brown, almost black, eyes. She was very shapely, with large round breasts; I suppose you would call them voluptuous. Yes, that’s right. I’m a tit man—big tits, that is. Oh yeah, she also had a great smile, which was just not the first thing I noticed about her, if you get my drift. She dressed to flatter her body, with a tight short dress that left little to the imagination. As I said, she was my idea of a perfect woman.

The four of us spent the next four hours drinking and getting to know one another. By the time it was one o’clock, we all agreed to call it a night. I, of course, being the gentleman I am—horny gentleman, that is—volunteered to walk Lena and Karen back to their dorm. I told Erin, who, by the way, could not hold his liquor, to go ahead back to our room. I don’t know if it was all the beers, but Lena was into me.

When the three of us got back to the girls’ dorm, Karen and I, after a quick peck on the cheek, said good night. Lena, on the other hand, didn’t go in right away. She and I continued to walk around campus and talk more. That night I found out her parents were divorced and she and her younger sister both lived with their mother. They were from a small town in southern Indiana called Harrisburg. That was about an hour from where I had grown up in Carmi, Illinois. As I got to know more about her, I felt us becoming friends. It was a friendship that would last over the next ten years, but I am getting ahead of myself.

By the time we found our way back to Lena’s dorm, the sun was starting to come up. We both decided we would crash till noon and then meet up at the greasy spoon diner just off campus, called Rick and Dianna’s. I told Lena I would bring Erin with me if he were able by then.

She laughed and said, The same goes for Karen.

As it turned out, Erin and Karen both were not in any shape to join us for lunch. I’m not sure what that says about Lena and me. As I said, I was good at drinking, so I guess Lena was too. Lena and I saw a lot of each other the next couple of weeks.

25118.png

It was a Friday, and Erin was going home for the weekend and wouldn’t be back till late Sunday. It was the first time since I had been in college that I had the room and all the time to myself. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to sound like Erin was in the way; it’s just everyone needs some alone time now and then. As it turned out, Karen’s boyfriend from back home was going to be visiting her this same weekend. Everything was too perfect. Even though neither Lena nor I said anything, we both knew what was going to happen this weekend.

Saturday evening Lena and I went out to dinner on a double date with Karen and Ron—what a jerk! He was so into himself; we spent the better part of the evening listening to him talk about himself. He was the typical high school jock football player. He was at Illinois University on an athletic scholarship. The dinner seemed to go on forever and ever. Finally the waiter asked us if we wished to order dessert. Ron, of course, did. Lena and I both said that we were stuffed and decided to leave on the pretense that we wanted to give Karen and Ron some time alone.

As we were walking back to my dorm, we were laughing at how fast the both of us got out of there. The evening