Lord knows Thomas had put up with plenty of misery himself. One thing's for sure, the year of 1990 was chock full of momentous events for him -- getting Janice pregnant, getting 2nd place at state, getting his dick briefly sucked by his best friend, graduating high school, getting married and preparing for fatherhood. It's a matter of opinion as to whether what happened on Labor Day of that year was good fortune for Thomas or bad. Most say bad, but I beg to differ.
Despite the fact this particular Labor Day coincided with the official demise of Commonwealth Steel, the traditional laborer's parade took place on Gravois Avenue same as always, followed by the bring-your-own-eats picnic in May Brook Park. My family went to the parade, but not the picnic. With such a dark cloud on everyone’s mind, Dad saw no reason to celebrate like we always had before. He knew, and I'm sure everybody knew, that the closing of the steel mill would signal a slow unraveling of our neighborhood and all for which it stood. I had my own reasons for not doing the picnic. For the first time ever the Colemans and the Hightowers would not be together. Thomas and his family would be pretending to enjoy the company of their new in-laws, the Conaghers, but none of our family members could stand being around any of the Conaghers, and since dad couldn't stomach the idea of pretending to be jolly with the unemployed in May Brook Park, we Hightowers had our own picnic of sorts -- in my neighborhood, on the patio of my rented house.
It should come as no surprise that plenty of beer always showed up at the May Brook Park shindig, and it was never unusual for fisticuffs to break out as the day progressed into night and drunken braggarts renewed old rivalries.
Just stupid shit, but the stupidest of all had to be the drunken Jack Conagher on his brand new motorcycle. Like I said, there were eight Conagher offspring at the time, Jack being the oldest at twenty-two years old, followed by Richard (Dickie), James (Jimmy), Janice, and two more of each gender who don't matter.
Jack, who apparently could barely stand, decided to demonstrate for each of his siblings one by one from oldest to youngest the power of his motorcycle. This involved flying down Gravois Avenue at double the speed limit without helmet or any other protective gear, using the corner at 46th Street for his turnaround before his return trip to the park. Yes, six-month-pregnant Janice took her ride, and yes, Jack chose that time to jump the curb at 46th and throw both Conaghers off the bike. So much for the first Conagher grandson/nephew, which is what it would have been had it survived. Fortunately or not, Janice got scratched and scraped but not broken.
And, so much for Thomas's only good and truthful reason for marrying her.
Being an honorable man, Thomas stayed married to her, but whatever tidbit of interest they had in one another died on that sidewalk. This became painfully clear to Janice when Thomas informed her he wanted no more children.
"One tragedy's enough for me," he tells her. "You should've shown more regard for yourself, for me and our child. From now on, whatever sex we have will be protected sex."
Since she and her ilk don't believe in protected sex, she and Thomas had no more sex. Think Janice was insulted? Just imagine how her family took it when she told them. From that day forward Thomas Coleman was Enemy Number One in the eyes of all Conaghers. She and her clan would suck him dry -- not his dick, but his money, his patience, and his mental well-being.
More about the ebook is at my site, Jardonn's Erotic Tales .