One Bite at a Time

I’ve often thought of the months that followed our exodus to my brother’s house in terms of a year.  It was really a little over 3 months but I had so much inner turmoil and mental thrashing about going on that it seemed longer before I ended up getting my shit together.  My brother was mad at his girlfriend and they were locked in a constant struggle and I invariably ended up in the middle of it. He came home much sooner than anticipated so we were all there in his house and I know he didn’t particularly enjoy the intrusion so I did my best to feed them well since Helena didn’t really cook and do my part to clean house, etc.

I spent my birthday there with them and despite all that was going on they tried to be there for me, to make me feel better. I continued to get phone calls and letters from Tucker. He begged. I cried. I tried to figure out what I was going to do and how I was going to do it. I was still getting phone calls from randoms telling me that I’d better watch out because Rangers or Feds had been asking around about this and that.  I tried to push it all to the back of my brain and just figure out a way to exist.

I started feeling like myself a little bit more every day but constant contact with him in the form of visits and phone calls left me feeling as if nothing had really changed.  I was biding my time and trying to figure out how to get divorced and what they would do with him, where he’d go once they’d charged and released him. Luckily for me all his bonds were revoked everywhere. Once he cleared his mess up in that county he began a county to county trek from jail to jail to answer for his transgressions. This meant I didn’t have to deal with him face to face any time soon and that was good news for me. I wasn’t strong enough to tell him no to his face.  His con was too good and I knew I’d give in still.

I alternately ignored his phone calls and took them.  After they transferred him to another county, I quit going to see him and I took my wedding rings off though occasionally I would look down and find myself wearing them and not know how they got back on my finger. 

Helena one day pointed to my finger and said, “I thought you weren’t wearing those anymore.”

I lifted my hand and gave a half smile, “I’m not. I have no clue why they’re there.”

I slipped them off and into my pocket and shook my head at myself. By the end of the day when I was getting undressed, I noticed had them back on again. I took them and put them in a ring box and put them in the bottom of my jewelry box so that they weren’t readily available to slip back on. I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the jewelry box willing the sneaky little suckers to stay put.

I finally found a place to live close to my work and dished out the cash to get moved. Staying with my brother had helped but I knew it was going to be tough trying to cover every bill on the $11.86 an hour I was making.  I was still getting through to finish school and without a degree, it just wasn’t getting any better. Harlow and I had a place of our own nevertheless and with my mom’s help we got moved into a tiny 2 bedroom 1 bath cabin looking little house with a backyard for the dogs and a view of the trailers in the trailer park.

I felt accomplished and sane if only for a short while.  Bills piled up immediately and I thought about what I’d have to do to get through them to get by and started feeling that overcome, chokey, drowny feeling again.  Just like the day of the move though, I told myself one thing at a time, one day at a time. I don’t remember who told me first but I’ve always remembered when I start feeling like my head is going to explode...How do you eat an elephant?

One bite at a time. 

The Last Time

We left Dairy Queen. I had worn heels to work of course and was trudging alongside Helena on top of 4 inch shooties back toward the garage where she’d left her car for the oil change.  I had cried all my makeup off and dug through my purse as we walked looking for a hair clip. I scraped up my hair and untucked my shirt.  It was 1:30 in the afternoon and I still had mountains to climb.  I peered over at Helena’s slight frame. She was short and tiny, built like a 12 year old boy really, but she exuded power and strength and I was so glad she was there in that moment.

I was still sniffling from my good long embarrassing cry and she reached over and patted me on the arm, “We’ll figure it out, you know we will.”

I looked down at the ground and said, “There’s just so much to figure out.  I can’t stay there. I won’t stay there and Harlow’s in school and I have no car. I mean it’s just overwhelming at the moment.”

We reached the garage and Helena went inside and came back out to tell me it would still be a little longer.  We sat on the hitching post bar in front of the tiny garage and I slumped. She gave me a cigarette out of her pack and we lit up and puffed. We sat there side by side in silence smoking and contemplating.

After what seemed a long while, she suddenly said, “Look, I’m not here to tell you what to do but I say we go figure out what’s up with your car, then we get Harlow picked up from school and get some supper. On the way back to your house, we’ll get some boxes and start packing and you can come and stay with me and your brother for as long as it takes to get you straight.”

Millions of thoughts scattered through my brain as I tried to put it all to rights in my head. I looked at her and asked, “Don’t you think you should ask Wayne first?”

She shrugged, “Nah. What’s he gonna say? No?  He’s not even home anyway and not due back for 3 or 4 months.  Chances are you’ll be all good and ready to go by then.  You got income tax coming, yes?”

I nodded and she continued, “Well there you go.  You can just pay whatever’s extra on the utilities and help with groceries and save the rest to get yourself straight and with your income tax, you ought to be right as rain in 4 months tops.”

I almost started crying again and she could sense it.  She changed the subject and began telling me we would be on the edge of the school district and Harlow could go to the “good” school.  I thought about my candy girl then and wondered how she’d take all this.  I thought about telling Freddy and how happy he’d be that there was no more Tucker. Then I thought of Tucker.  Locked up and safely gone from my life…maybe I could do this.

We got her car and went to the impound lot.  It was an auto parts store with a lot in the back and I could see the loaner car the dealership had given me when I pulled up, locked safely behind the chain link and barbed wire.  Getting my car out of law enforcement initiated impound ought to be easy and cheap… said no one ever.

I went in and up to the counter and said what sounded unbelievable to my own ears and made me feel like trash, “My husband was arrested and you impounded my car.”

The man asked for my name and then rudely told me that there were no cars registered to me on the property.

“I know that but it’s a loaner from the dealership while they work on my car.”

He cocked an eyebrow and said, “Well then the dealership is going to have to authorize you to get it in writing or send someone after it.”

My heart sank but I quickly asked, “How much is the charge?”  He went through an itemized spiel about each and every charge and I’m thinking, just bottom line it dickhole.

“Grand total is $293.38.” He sounded so pleased with himself.  I told him I needed to make some phone calls and he looked very unimpressed.

I called first, my stepmother. “Hey.” I began tentatively.

She heard the apprehension and panic in the one word I’d uttered and her answer was as tentative as mine, “Hey.”

“Um, Tucker’s been arrested.  He was writing payroll checks to himself on my old ranch account and he’s locked up until at least Tuesday.  They took the car and impounded it and I have no money to get it out.  Helena’s going to help me move out but first we have to get the car situation taken care of.  Can I borrow the money until my next check or until the next one or income tax or something so I can do this?”

I don’t remember exactly everything but I do know that the fact that I was willing to leave Tucker loosened the purse strings on the other end.  She gave them her credit card number over the phone to pay the impound fee and then I had to call the car lot.

They were wonderful to me.  They had dealings with Tucker previously on his repossessed truck and none of them liked him.  They sent a worker over with a car and a statement.  He picked up the loaner, gave me the keys to the car he was driving and he, Helena and I all caravanned back to town to the dealership.

The owner of the local lot and about 5 more in the surrounding areas happened to be there that day.  He was slightly shorter than me in my heels, muscle bound and completely bald.  He looked a little scary but came right up as we arrived and shook my hand.  He said, “The next time this happens, I don’t want it to be my problem. I want it to be yours, so we’re going to get you into something today.”

I smiled and told him he could rest assured that this particular problem would not be happening again. He smiled and loaded up in his truck and left. What followed was 4 ½ hours of paperwork and waiting and test driving and just general tortures.  I was standing outside and calling Harlow to tell her to go to the neighbors’ until I could get home when the phone signaled an incoming call.  When I looked at the number, I knew.  I knew it was him.

I told Harlow I’d check in with her later and I clicked over. “Hello.”

“Oh baby!! Are you okay? I was so scared but it’s gonna be alright, I need you to call…”

I cut him off. “You NEED me to call? You NEED me to do what?! No I’m not okay and what the fuck is wrong with you?  You can’t possibly think that only months after getting me out of the last mess you got me into that I’d be fine with you potentially getting me into an even bigger one?”

“Baby, I’m so sorry, I told them you had nothing to do with it. They know it was all me.  This can be all fixed and I can get out of here if you...”

I stopped him again. “Do you have any idea what I’m doing right now?”

“No.”

“I’m standing outside the car dealership trying to figure out what they’re going to do about getting me something to drive that they don’t have to worry with the next time it’s impounded.  I’m trying to figure out how to pay bills and rent and food for my daughter with the negative 2 bucks you’ve left in my account and the whopping 2 dollars in my purse.  I’m trying to figure out how clear out of this cluster fuck of a situation. I’m not real worried about what YOU need me to do right now.  You can rot where you are for all I care.”

And I hung up.

I was shaking. I hadn’t really committed to leaving him high and dry before, not ever and here I was doing it.

He called back several times over the course of that visit to the car lot.  By the time I drove out with my “new” truck, I had just silenced my phone.  Helena went home and promised to be over the next day with my brother’s truck to help me pack.

I called Harlow and check on her and drove home and dragged myself into the shower and crawled into bed, our empty bed.  He wasn’t going to be sleeping beside me any longer.  I was alone again, really alone.  No more sex I didn’t want.  No more sex I DID want. No more bad. No more good from him.  No more of any of it.  I knew it, I felt it.  I started crying again but this time it was not the silent humiliation in the Dairy Queen. I was glad Harlow wasn’t home because it was out and out wracking sobs.  You never know when the last time will turn out to be the last time until it just is.

State of Disgrace

The rest of the year continued like this.  Me going to court every month, occasionally the constable dropping by to serve eviction papers until Tucker bullshitted the landlord into taking yet another partial payment, me feeling sick all day every day wondering how to get the fuck out. 

November reared its ugly head and something miraculous happened.  Tucker somehow managed to come up with $10,000 and pay the court and all my charges were dismissed.  I couldn’t fucking believe he’d done it.  Where did he get $10,000? I don’t know and what’s more I didn’t give a shit.  He did it.  I was free.  Now I just had to make my escape and I was figuring that I’d be able to do it by the first of the year if I was lucky.  If I was strong.  I had since given up on god but they say there are no atheists in foxholes and I was fighting a war within that left me ragged and shadowy.

Christmas time came and Tucker gave me a Kindle.  Of course, I’d given him money from another stipend payment. That’s what he bought my gift with but whatever, he bought me something I wanted with my own money so I didn’t have to feel guilty about spending it on myself I suppose.  I was a little irritated by the act but I showed only gratitude and smiles when it came. 

Christmas came and went.  The New Year came and things were the same.  He was solicitous, kind and constantly giving me attention and almost doting on me.  I couldn’t understand it really. I have a recollection of lying in my bed playing on the Kindle and him lying across the bed fists balled under his chin staring at me asking me if I loved him and if I was happy.  With a bit of dismissiveness, I told him that yes, of course I loved him.  The revulsion inside me was barely contained though and I think he sensed it.  Hell I know he sensed it.  He suddenly had money to give me for my account.  We didn’t have to worry about the landlord either; he said he’d taken care of it.  Things were still tight but not so bad and he said he’d have to buy cattle to cover the order advance money he’d taken. That sort of explained things but then I began to worry how he was going to pay for cattle if he was giving up the money he had taken in advance but then I thought fuck it.  I’m not worrying about his shenanigans as long as I wasn’t involved. Things were smoothing out somewhat and I thought I could start to hide money soon.

I was continuing to go to work every day and so it was that I went to work on January 13, 2012. I had been dropped off by Tucker at the HQ building so I could attend a professional development class.  My car had blown up the week before and I had a loaner from the dealership and Tucker was happily tooling about in it all day every day.  I just knew that work was my escape and I relished it.  I was about an hour into training when my phone began to display missed call after missed call from Tucker.  When we got a break I went into the hallway to call him back and it was ringing again.

Tucker’s desperate voice came over the speaker, “Come get me! Come get me! I’m in the next town and they’re arresting me!”

I was dumbfounded and asked what he was talking about.  “They’re taking me to county, just come get me!!!”  The line went dead and I stood in the hallway still stupefied. I know I looked an idiot standing there staring at my phone. What was I going to do? He had my car and I was stuck more than an hour away from where he said he was. Tucker, Jr. happened to be at the house and his call was the next one I got. 

“Dad’s been arrested in the next town and I got no way to get to him. He’s supposed to taking me to the airport in a few hours.”

I sighed, heavy and deep.  “Call someone and make arrangements because it doesn’t look like either of us is going to get you.  He’s got my car and I have to figure out what’s going on.”

Tucker, Jr. said he’d work on it and for me to just get his dad out and he’d find a way to get where he needed.  I sat there and really all I was worried about was the fact that I had no money on me and I needed that car.  I called the only person I knew that could come and get me and that was my boss.  He was my friend as well as my boss, he knew almost everything that had gone on and he would come and get me.  He did and I told him everything I knew then I wracked my brain further for what to do.

I called my brother’s girlfriend.  My brother is a sheriff’s deputy in the county where they’d taken him and though he was out of the country in Iraq, I knew she’d be able to help me.  I hesitated as I dialed.  What was I going to say? Hey Helena, it’s me and um I need you to help me with my fucking criminal husband…? I didn’t know but I knew I needed a plan when I did get there.

“Hello????” She answered cheerfully but cautiously.

“Helena, it’s me.  Tucker apparently has been arrested in town there and I have no clue what’s going on.  My boss is bringing me because Tucker had my car and I’m not even sure if it’s been impounded or parked somewhere.”

“Wow…okay.  Let me call the jail and see what I can find out and I’ll call you right back.  Meet me at the jail, okay?  We’ll get this all figured out.” She was calm and self-assured and put my mind at ease.

“Thank you so very much.” I answered in what was my smallest voice I’m sure but I was trying so hard not to crumble.

“No problem, girl.  Just meet me at the jail.”  She rang off and I again sat staring at my phone. I looked over to my boss who was staring at me with concern, “I need you to take me to the jail in the next town and Helena will help me then.”

He was solicitous and kind and I’m sure full of pity.  Here we go again with jail and a criminal asshole husband.  I sat rocking slightly and freaking out a lot.  We pulled up to the jail and Helena was outside talking to an officer.  I thanked my boss and assured him I’d be back on Tuesday after our long weekend and I’d call if I needed him.  Helena walked over and hugged me and said, “Well, it was checks.  He was writing hot checks and they set him up waiting for him to come and do it again.”

I just took out a cigarette and lit it and sat down on the curb.  The officer came over and said, “Ma’am?” I stared up at him.  I exhaled and blew the smoke out of my lungs long and hard and willed myself not to cry.  I stood up and threw the butt down and stepped on it.  I smiled brightly instead of bawling and said, “You’re not going to give me a ticket for that are you?”

He snickered, “No ma’am.”

“Good, what’s going on in there with him?”

“Well he was writing checks on an account for an F&H Ranch account to himself apparently but he signed your name to the account.  Did your last name used to be Waltham?”

I nodded as he continued.  The blood was draining from my head or swirling towards it, I’m not sure. I was getting dizzy and had to sit back down on the curb. The officer came back around in front of me as he talked.  “Well he was saying they were payroll checks and he’s cashed about 10 of them in the last month.”

I sort of felt as if I were going to vomit at that point as I asked, “Um, you know I didn’t sign those checks don’t you? I mean, that’s my old DBA those checks were in a banker’s box in the back of my closet with tax records.  That bank doesn’t even exist anymore. I mean…”

He interrupted my worried ramblings and said, “Look, he said you had nothing to do with it.  If there were any doubt in my mind, you’d be sitting right there next to him.”

I slumped forward and held my head in my hands.  I gathered myself and got back up.  “What’s next?”

“Well it’s about $5,000 and he’s here until Tuesday at least to see the judge and be arraigned. He’s asked that you pick up his belongings.”

“I only want my debit card or anything he has with my name on it.”

The officer walked me inside and went to the back.  He came back with Tucker’s wallet.  The wallet my children had picked out for him the year before for his birthday. I opened it and got out my debit card and an old ID he had of mine.  I handed him back the wallet and told him that I didn’t need it.  I asked about the car and was told that it had been impounded and where it was.  I walked out to meet Helena in the sun and told her where the car was. 

“Oh shit, I thought I’d be able to talk them into letting you have it if another lot had picked it up but he won’t turn it loose without the full fee.”

I got in the car with her and checked my bank account on my phone.  It was $3 overdrawn.  I looked through my wallet and found $2.  Helena told me not to worry that we’d figure it all out one way or the other.  She took her car to get it serviced and we walked from the garage towards Dairy Queen.  She bought me a hamburger and we sat down with our drinks.

It all began to sink in and let loose right then. The tears were silent but profuse and I could not stop them.  Helena reached across the table and handed me napkins. I cried for my wasted life, for my son, for my daughter. I cried because he couldn't have loved me...not really if he'd gone right back out and put me in jeopardy again. I cried for all I'd given for no goddamned good reason.  There I was, sitting in a Dairy Queen, crying noiselessly and unable to control myself. The waitress brought our food and I turned to look out the window but she began to try and console me.

I was humiliated and the nicer she tried to be, the less I was able to stop crying. I had nothing.  Less than nothing and I would have to beg and borrow to make it better and I gave up my life in exchange for disgrace. It was horrible and Helena finally convinced her I was fine and to go away.  I eventually stopped but I wasn’t hungry.  I was desolate. I kept thinking that I didn’t know when the next time I would eat would be and I’d probably better load the hump anyway. Then I thought of Harlow and how when and where I’d fix any of this shit. I knew this was it. I could get gone right now. Somehow, some way I would erase him from our lives. I would fix the ragged edges and fill in the shadows and try to forget how much of myself I’d given up for someone who never really even valued who I was. 

Unfathomable

Obviously, I woke up. I remember driving myself home because there were two vehicles at the hospital and we had to stop for diesel in the truck I was driving.  An acquaintance named Bubba was at the gas station and stopped Tucker to talk to him and came to say hello to me and asked why I was moving so slowly to which Tucker answered, “We’re just getting home from the hospital, she had surgery.”

Bubba looked bewildered and turned to Tucker and said, “What the fuck are you doing letting her drive and why are you standing here bullshitting with me.  Get her home!”  Bubba came over and opened the truck door and helped me into the truck and reached across me and buckled me in and quietly said, “You let me know when you get tired of his shit and call me.” I felt sort of vindicated and I smiled and kissed him on the cheek. 

I got home and got into bed only to have Tucker disappear for about 12 hours.  I was relieved.  He said he had some stuff to take care of and I didn’t care to question him over it. My Harlow took care of me and even Freddy pitched in to make sure I didn’t have to get up and do too much. Tucker went and came back and pretended as if nothing untoward had even happened. 

My convalescence was too much for Tucker’s delicate constitution however since roughly three days or so after I was home, Tucker had a hard on and that meant I needed to exorcise the demons.  It may have been some tiny holes in my belly and they may have taken said organ out through my navel but I still had a fucking organ ripped out of my fucking body and I didn’t want to have sex. We got into a wicked, knock-down, drag out fight.  He railed at me in the bedroom, I followed him into the living room telling him what a selfish prick he was, he followed me back to the bedroom to tell me I didn’t really love him anymore and things had changed. I bought into his bullshit briefly and tried to explain to him that I’d. Just. Had. Surgery. He didn’t hear me and just kept on.  Finally, I ran out of steam and was in a bit of pain and I just sat down on the bed and stared at him.  Whereby Tucker decided he was sleeping on the couch.  I was so relieved but at the same time I was absolutely furious.  He didn’t get to decide his feelings were hurt.  He didn’t get to say he was sleeping on the couch. *I* was going to make him sleep there because I told him he had to.  Yes, we all know I should have gone back to bed and let it lie but I’m a stupid bitch who was well and truly enraged and possibly also high on pain killers. 

I marched back into the living room.  The back of the couch faced my approach…I stared down at him with the cover pulled up to his neck and promptly reached down grabbed the bottom of the back of the couch, lifted it up and dumped him out on the floor and then pushed the couch over on top of him.

“You….” I pointed my finger in his general direction under the couch, “Can go fuck YOURSELF from now on.”

My retreat was met with his cries of, “Oh you can’t FUCK me but you can throw a goddamned couch on me!?!”

I sort of chuckled to myself while I listened to him right the couch and plop back down on it.  I had hurt myself somewhat but I felt better…I was sure the kids heard all of it and then I felt ashamed suddenly. I thought and thought about how to get away from him.  How was I going to do any of this? The same thoughts I’d had time and again and never a tangible, solid, real answer came to me.

I had to save money back; it’s as simple as that.  Tucker was freaky strange good with numbers, like savant good and if he had any access to my checking account, he’d know exactly how much was there and what I should have.  It made it next to impossible to rat hole money in any significant way. 

Soon it became time for Freddy to go to Job Corps.  I had still come no closer to formulating a plan but thought maybe with only Harlow to worry about it could be easier to get out.  Nothing changed. I had to go to court every month to have them reset my court date for the following month. Tucker continued to promise me he’d take the blame for it all if I stayed with him.  He worked some deal over between his lawyer and the ADA in that county to pay restitution of some form and have him let off with a conviction, time served which frankly was all of about 2 hours and have my charges dropped.

I took Freddy to the bus station. We all went. He was scared and nervous.  I made sure he had money and told him to just do his level best to get through it and get through with it.  He promised he would and you could see the emotions passing over his face when he looked to Tucker to leave.  Freddy is a hugger and Tucker repeatedly told us that I was busy turning him into a pussy momma’s boy. He gave Tucker a solid hug anyway and I was heartened to see that he returned it.

I watched my boy get on a bus and pull out and away from me.  I felt a sense of relief that he was away from us and all our bullshit.  I hate the word dysfunctional. It has become stained with overuse and most often misunderstanding.  Bullshit works.  I was glad he was away from it. I wanted him to learn to take care of himself and since I was doing a piss poor job of it, he needed something.  I still worried about him so though.  I felt sick about him not being able to call and just be picked up.  There was no off site visitation for two weeks and I knew I wouldn’t be able to afford the gas to go see him during that time.

I waited until I was back in the car to start crying.  Tucker just sat indulgently and acted as if he were being magnanimous by letting me sob over my 16 year old going off to live somewhere else.  I cleared my head and put the car in drive.  I took us back home 40 miles outside of town and my mind raced.  It was all I could do to contain my excitement over thinking that now … now I could do it. 

I only had Harlow to contend with and we could begin going through closets and throwing things away.  Packing boxes and telling him it was off season clothing.  Separating everything I’d painstakingly merged wouldn’t be something I could do with him there at home and he was always…fucking…there.  Always sitting at the

computer, smoking cigarette after cigarette, scratching his balls and sitting around in his saggy ass underwear writing in that goddamned ledger of his all his brilliant machinations.  God, how I hated him and yet I kept him. He still held those charges over my head but now, now I would be ready.

I got income tax money back finally and told him we were only getting ½ of what we were really supposed to get.  I had some stipend money coming from school that he didn’t know about and I thought I could get it all past him.  Income tax came and the bank wouldn’t deposit without signatures and ID’s and then it turned out that he owed the bank money from one of his many schemes and they would likely confiscate it to cover his debt.  I had to tell him I messed up the return and we got more back because he had to be with me to cash the motherfucker.  He took it.  All of it.  I had some money come on the stipend and he asked what the red card in my wallet was for and then he took it too. I had to start over and figure something else out. At that moment what that something else would be, I couldn’t fathom but I also could not know that within months, he would present me with my chance for escape. 

Just Like a Boomerang, Baby.

Shortly after my release, Tucker got the money together to go check himself in and be bonded directly back out of jail.  The thrill of the chase evidently had died down for Ranger Rick and he didn’t endeavor to keep him locked up.  I began to be sick all the time.  My stomach hurt, nothing stayed down or agreed with me and within a month I began to get sharp stabbing stomach pains that were incessant.  I dealt with them thinking that it was just stress and I’d get over it soon enough.  Tucker knew how pissed I was but he also alluded more than once that we’d only get these charges dismissed against me if we “worked together”. 

I took this to mean if I left him, he’d screw me over.  I had a court appointed lawyer and had to show up for court once a month for them to set my court date off since Tucker was apparently working on something with the DA.  My lawyer didn’t know who I was, didn’t care really and had been forced into working my case in the first place.  Month to month, I worried whether he’d even recognize me when he walked into the court room. 

I was dealing with that, still trying to pay bills, wondering how to survive on the salary I was making and how to just get up and leave. Tucker still had a hold on me.  He was still able to work me over and most of all I was worried about him taking the blame for the fiasco and getting my charges dropped.  I didn’t need a trial and a record. I formulated and discarded hundreds of plans. One night I approached Tucker and showed him a listing for a place in town that we could afford with just my paycheck.

“Why do we need that?” he looked at me warily.

“Well, I just thought that if we could cover all the household bills with just my check, then you could take care of the rest of your business with what you bring in and things might be a little easier.”

He looked perplexed somewhat and then angry and then just simply said, “There’s no place for the horses there and no place for cattle.”

I very carefully suggested then that we didn’t need the horses and cattle when we could barely feed ourselves. He got pretty pissed then.  He got up from his desk and started to pace. “Are you trying to say that I can’t support my family?! Are you saying that you just want to take everything over and run it now? Is that what you want?”

What I wanted was to be able to throw him out and still be able to live and I had a feeling that he knew it or at least suspected it. 

“Of course not, I’m trying to relieve some of the stress around here.  I’m always sick and it’s probably an ulcer or something.  My stomach hurts all the time and you have all this … this legal mess going on. I just thought if we reduced our budget some that it would make things easier.”

He flatly refused.  He said no place we could afford on my salary would be worth a shit. He wasn’t living in a shack in a bad neighborhood. He was better than that.

I felt so defeated and hopeless and just left him standing in the living room.  I distinctly recall his “making love” to me that night.  It was the way I could tell him that I’d accepted him and his decree and that we were fine.  It’s how he gauged our whole relationship. I acquiesced even though I felt sick and tired because I knew it was easier than arguing.

Soon after I decided I’d better go to the doctor. The pains in my stomach were becoming very regular and everything I ate made me sick.  The doctor said he thought it was my gall bladder but I needed some tests which he scheduled for 3 days later.  I went home and went to bed and curled into a ball but the pain would not stop.  I soon started vomiting so violently that I just cried and struggled to breathe.  Only Freddy was home with me and I told him I thought I’d better go to the hospital.  I told him to drive me; I knew I couldn’t do it. I called Tucker on the way and Freddy had to pull over several times so that I could throw up.  There was nothing left in me but it still kept coming up.  I called my doctor’s office and told him what was happening and he told me to go straight to check in instead of emergency.

Tucker showed up and seemed very agitated.  Whether it was concern for me or from something else, I couldn’t tell.  I got checked in and hooked up and was scheduled for some tests.  I made Tucker leave and tend to the kids.  Freddy refused to leave the hospital and Tucker went off to take care of Harlow.  He took my debit card and I lamented the state of my bank account on top of everything else.  Once I knew my girl was taken care of, I asked for the pain medicine they had tried to give me earlier and simply passed out.

Tucker returned a few hours later with a phone charger and some pajamas for me.  He had sent Harlow to the neighbors’ so that she could get on the bus the next morning and had pulled money out of the bank with my debit card.  Money I had earmarked for bill paying but by that time I was like what the fuck ever…I felt like I was dying and didn’t care if I did perish at that point.

I woke up to be wheeled off for testing.  Tucker was insistent on staying and so was Freddy.  He seemed so attentive that I wondered what was up.  I thought that maybe he really did love me and was worried about me.  He certainly was staying by my side.  He was hardly even going outside to smoke his beloved cigarettes.  Freddy even noticed and asked what was up with him and all his ministrations.  I told Freddy that he was wrong about Tucker and that though he was gruff most of the time, he really loved and cared for all of us. I thought in that moment that the crisis and the unknown and the worry and love for me had made him show some true colors.

Freddy wasn’t buying it and so I just shrugged and slept some more.  I was subjected to a ton of tests to find out that indeed my gall bladder was operating at about 15% and it would need to come out.  I am phobic about surgery.  In the extreme.  I don’t think anyone likes it but it terrifies me.  Usually that is.  I was hurting so much and by this time had been without food for 4 days. I didn’t care anymore I just wanted to not hurt.

I went in, they yanked it out through my navel apparently and I came out none the worse for wear.  I was out of recovery and back in my room so groggy and out of it and there were Tucker and Freddy.  I slipped in and out of consciousness and heard Tucker on the phone.

“No she’s fine.  Yeah, I guess no one knows. This really turned out pretty good considering.” He paused while whoever was on the other end said something before he continued. “I’m not sure but I’ll wait til we’re home and then I’ll just go book in and out.” 

My brain was muddled and I struggled to understand what it was he was saying. Trying to piece together whether I was hearing this or was just dreaming about him talking over going in and out of jail in the next county over where I’d been forced to spend the night.

“No, no she doesn’t know.  I’ll tell her when I get her home.  It’s the same as in the other county and I’ll be in and out in a few hours but this has been the perfect place to lay low til I got the money all together.”

I knew then.  I pieced it all up in my drug fogged brain.  He was wanted in this county as well and had been hiding out in my hospital room the entire time.  All of his attentiveness and staying by my side had only been a side effect of him hiding from a warrant for his arrest. I gave myself up to the fact that he’d been genuinely concerned enough to stay by my side nonstop.  I clung to the nice things like an alcoholic to his bottle. I wanted to not be stupid. I wanted it all to not be the colossal disaster it was. It all came back to me like a boomerang in that moment. My heart broke a little more right then and I slipped back into unconsciousness and hoped I just wouldn’t come to.

The Wisdom of Stabby Marie

The first tearful phone call was followed by a barrage of others in which I found out that my brother had attempted to secure my release only to be told I was to stay put at least until the next morning because they were attempting to flush Tucker out.  I knew that wouldn’t happen and wished they would understand that it was fruitless. I resigned myself to spending the night.  One of the other ladies in the cell said she’d overheard my phone call and said she was being held for the same thing, organized crime. After we talked, we discovered that both our husbands knew each other and she knew even less than I did about what was going on.  The difference between us however was that they came and got her and she got to see the judge because they’d managed to nab her husband.

The other “lady” in the tank with me was scratching her weave with the 2 fingernails left on her hand.  She stared at me and said, “Honey don’t worry bout nothin.  You’ll be out in the mornin, your folks’ll getcha.”

I stared at her and said, “Thank you but no one I know has enough money to get me out except the man that put me here. Who knows when I’ll get out.”

"Honey if you have to depend on a man, you're fucked.  You better figure out how to do it yourself or you'll be fucked for the rest of your life.  In more ways than one!!" she chuckled and scratched her head again and stared under her fingernails.  I wondered what exactly she was looking for under those 2 long red fingernails. 

The door opened and we were bid to come and get our supper.  I don’t even remember what it was except there was an orange on the tray.  I know I didn’t eat anything and the cell mate asked for my orange and I gave it freely. I started thinking, You gonna eat yo cornbreaaaadddd? I almost laughed but didn't want her to think I was making fun or had lost my shit. I pulled out my mat after that and laid down determined not to cry anymore.  My cell mate followed my lead and proceeded to tell me about how she’d gone out for cigarettes and had been pulled over and arrested on an old warrant.  She showed me her scars from stab wounds she’d gotten from her ex old man and regaled me with tales of domestic abuse.  We both eventually fell asleep. 

More phone calls from me the next morning found that one call to another back to one yielded that Tucker had come up with the money to bail me out, had sent it via carrier pigeon to the bail bondsman and that someone from that office would come and get me eventually.  We were taken out of the cell long enough to see the judge where I told them I definitely wanted a lawyer and signed my arraignment papers.  We were taken back and fed breakfast and Stabby Marie was let out shortly after that and I had the luxurious suite all to myself.  I finally felt free enough to use the facilities in the corner blocked by the half wall and willed myself not to call my parents and run up their phone bill any further.  I tried to wash my face and hands and then laid back down. 

There was no clock. I had no clue as to the time.  I thought if I get lunch then I’ll know that it’s midday and I’ll call after that. I had nothing but time to think, my mind was a game of ping pong back and forth from one thought to the next.  I had time to plan and scheme and time for my anger to grow.  I was charged with organized crime.  I had no part in it but I’ll get a lawyer and I’ll figure it out.  Of course it’ll have to be a public defender because I obviously have nothing.  I was so relieved that Tucker had done what I knew he’d do and sent the money to get me out and simultaneously furious because he had to get me out in the first place.  The time crawled.  Watching a clock may make time drag but not having an indicator of what time it is at all is maddening.  I laid on the bench, I laid on the mat, I tried to put my hair up with no implements.  I washed my hands and face again, I tried to make the mat stay on the bench, I napped but soon figured that I knew even less about the time when I slept because I had no way of measuring it and so I played with the phone and again willed myself not to call the parentals.  I knew it had to be after lunch when suddenly the door opened and the jailer called out my name as if the room were full to capacity with femme fatales and I got up and just looked at her.

“Get your mat and come on.” She walked away as I scrambled to grab the huge mat and drag it out.  The jailer droned, “Place the mat here, here are your things,” she handed me the box full of my stuff, “Go in the bathroom and get changed and hurry.”

I threw the box into the bathroom, shut the door behind me and shrugged out of the accursed striped jumpsuit. I got my bra back on and pulled my makeup bag out of my purse.  I was trying desperately to look like I hadn't just been sprung from county.  I scraped my hair into a twist and clipped it. I got the rest of my clothes back on in time to hear the jailer rapping on the door and calling, “Hurry up!! I have to feed and if you don’t come on, you’ll be here for 3 more hours.”

I opened the door at that moment and smiled brightly.  “All ready!” I said.  She stared at me expressionless, extremely unimpressed with my transformation.  I signed paperwork and walked out into the lobby.  I powered up my phone and saw a young man that looked like he was waiting for someone.  I asked him if he was from the bond office and then got in his car with him. He asked where to and I indicated my office so that I could get my car.  As we drove, I called.  I called my parents.  I called the rest of the people in that I knew had had a hand in the phone relay that ultimately got me released.  I called to check on my kids and told them I’d be to get them shortly.  Harlow said she wanted to stay put one more night, oblivious to the goings on.  I assented and we arrived at my car.  I thanked the young man and then got in my car and searched for my cigarettes.  I lit one and inhaled so deeply I got a head rush.  I kept the tears at bay and put it in gear and headed toward my son.  I picked up my son and my brother didn’t have much to say and I just didn’t have any words except thank you for him.  Freddy hugged me so tight and asked me what had happened. I told him not to worry about it and that I’d handle it.

“It was all those checks, wasn’t it?” He looked at me with murder in his face. 

“You don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of all of this.”

“No, Mom you won’t do anything about it.  You won’t do anything, you’ll just stay with him and let him do whatever he wants.  You always do.”

I started crying.  “Freddy you don’t know what all is involved this time.  Just stay out of it and I’ll do what I need to do.”

Freddy just sat there fuming and finally said, “I’ll kill him.” My heart was filled with terror and sadness and frustration.

“You can’t do anything.  I promise you, I’ll handle this.  Two more months or so and you’ll be off to school and you won’t have to deal with him at all anymore.” He said nothing and stared out the window.

It never failed that he’d add fuel to the fire of my turmoil.  It was just his way.  I loved him and reviled him all at the same time but knew he was right. Everything he was feeling was right and I was the ultimate let down.  He had no one to trust and respect and it was my fault.

We pulled into the driveway at home and I told him to feed the animals so that I could shower.  I still had not called Tucker.  I knew he wouldn’t be at home since he was wanted. I showered and crawled into bed.  My phone rang and it was him.  I debated not answering but gave in before it went to voice mail.

“Hey, baby.” His voice was tentative and filled with suck ass. 

“Hi.” I said nothing else and left it to him to fill the silence.

“Are you okay?”

“How do you think I am Tucker? I spent 26 hours in county jail because of you and your bullshit.  My parents know, the kids’ other grandmother knows, my brother knows, Freddy knows.  No amount of your tap dancing is going to let you coming out of this looking like a shiny penny.”

“Just stay with me baby and I’ll make this all go away, I promise you.  You had nothing to with it and that Ranger is just trying to ruin everything between us so you’ll turn on me.”

“Well maybe he’s not a total dumbass then.” I shot it out before I even thought about it.

His voice took on an edge then, “Maybe you should just let me handle everything baby and then you’ll be fine. I can’t clear you if you’re not with me.”

I knew then what was happening. It dawned on me as if the sun were rising on my blind stupidity.  I was stuck and had to trust him to do what he’d said he’d do or I was fucked. OR I  could get a lawyer and pack all this shit up and try to start over with nothing.  Whatever I was going to do I felt like I had only that moment to make the decision.  I was tired and broken and I had Freddy’s voice ringing in my head and I didn’t know if I’d still have a job on Monday. I finally acquiesced and said, “Okay.”

I could hear the breath whoosh out of him over the phone. He told me he was “away” for a little longer until he had the money for his own bail together so he could walk in and out of the jail.  He wanted me to meet him somewhere and bring him some clothes and I suddenly felt like a gun moll.  I just thought to myself, Do what he needs and get to work Monday and figure it out.  I agreed once again to do what he wanted and told him it’d be the next day and that I was exhausted. He told me that was fine and that he loved me. He apologized again and told me I was “the most perfect thing in my life and that I can do anything if you’re by my side.”  

All I could think was fuck you. I told him I loved him too and hung up.  I rolled over in my bed and turned on the TV. I looked at the cable TV, the house, the big bathroom, the huge bedroom. I wondered if I'd still have any of this in a month, a week or a year.  I thought about Stabby Marie and what she'd said about depending on a man. I wondered how long I was stuck in this life and how I’d break free.  All I knew at that moment was that I would break free, I had to.

It's All Downhill from Here

Freddy was smart in ways I would never be, he was strong and able and I wanted to think that he had potential. I’m his mother, of course I did.  I decided then to prepare him to take his GED test instead and then figure out where we’d go from there. I printed out a practice GED test and gave it to him.  He made a 60.  I was heartened and thought he didn’t have far to go and we could do it.  The neurotic half of me however felt his opportunities might be limited by having a GED and I just didn’t know what we should do. 

Freddy and I talked it over ad nauseum and I did some research and talked to my stepmom and I’m not sure how we landed on it but we decided that Job Corps was the best course of action for him.  He could get his diploma or GED and obtain a technical certificate and I left that decision to him. He decided on welding and I felt that was just as good a choice as any.  He had to wait until his sixteenth birthday which would happen two months after summer and that left us both at loose ends for the next five months. The preceding events were weeks of agonizing and my crying over how I’d failed as a mother.  Freddy’s tears and beating himself up over not being smart enough or good enough to be “regular. It was tough and now it meant that he was home alone with Tucker for that time while I was at work and Harlow was at school. 

Einstein, FTW!!

Once the wedding was over, I almost shrunk into myself even more if that’s possible.  My relationship with my son was deteriorating and his problems at school were coming to the forefront.  Freddy had been held back in first grade because I was moving jobs and he had gone to three different schools that year.  When we landed where we landed the teachers and counselor recommended that he repeat the first grade for his own good. At the time, it didn’t seem like a huge deal but it came back to bite us in the ass when he failed 7^th grade and summer school was not an option because he couldn’t make up the necessary work.

He came to me with tears in his eyes and was so ashamed of himself for failing.  I tried to tell him that this was just as much my fault as it was his.  I had been so wrapped up in the disaster we were living that I’d let my motherhood duties slide.  Although we had fought through his ADHD with no medication and I had spent so many hours advocating for him at school, it just quit being as effective in middle school. 

I tried asking the principal for a 504 representative to help with a special education plan for my son but was told that wouldn’t make a difference, he’d have to repeat the 7^th grade.  The principal and my relationship had declined into an adversarial association. Freddy had gotten into trouble for fighting and for being restless and disruptive in class and the principal had little to no people or management skills and there was no gray area to him. Kids were either good ones or bad ones.  It should be noted he took a demotion the following year and was no longer the principal.  It didn’t help us however, Freddy was doomed to repeat the 7^th grade and what made it worse in a tiny town with the entire K-12 in one building, he’d be in the same classes all day with his little sister. 

I was cleaning the bedroom and hanging up clean clothes and I had pulled Tucker in to talk to him privately about Freddy. When I told him what had happened and how upset Freddy was and he could see my obvious upset, he told me that Freddy was playing me.  I looked up at him in complete disbelief, stopped in my tracks with hangers in my hand.  Of all the reactions I thought I’d get, this one did not occur to me.

“Playing me?!”

“Yeah, he’s playing you.  You’re his mommy and you always rush in to defend him even when he’s wrong.  You’ve turned him into a first class momma’s boy pussy that comes crying to momma when things don’t go his way.”

“You know even if that’s the case, even if I decide he’s being a little player and pulling the wool over my eyes, what do you suggest I do? Put him in the same grade with his sister?” I looked at him with what I know could have only been interpreted as disgust on my face. 

He studied me and was silent for a tick and then quietly said, “It would teach him a lesson.”

“Yeah,” I said. “What lesson is that...that I don’t give two shits about the fact that he’s been struggling and he’s been affected by our lives being drastically and systematically flushed down the toilet over the last four years?”

He came unglued then.  Seriously unwound.  I could see it coming and I knew as soon as the words were out that even though I meant them, it was the worst possible thing I could have said. 

He got up off the bed where he’d been sitting and came towards me, “You think I have ruined your lives? You think that everything is MY fault when all I’ve tried to do is support my family and take care of them?!”

I just looked at him, I couldn’t speak. I was paralyzed between wanting to say, “Yes you egotistical, maniacal sociopath.” And “Honey, that’s not what I meant.” 

I Should Have Known Better

The rent was beginning to be more and more overdue.  It was awful, ducking the landlord when he was out on the property, hiding in the house hoping he wouldn't come and ask me for money when I had no answer as to when it would be there.  I worked and worked and Tucker spent and spent and I felt like things were going right back down the toilet.  The wheels in my mind were spinning overtime. I thought that the few good horses we had that were worth money would go automatically to his older kids if I didn't try to make a claim on them somehow should something happen.

So…I figured that in a community property state, I would be due half of our community property, if we were married.  I would have some security if he had another heart attack or if all the shenanigans he was up to were proven to be anything that would take him out of the picture.  He was running about with some meth head that was buying and hauling cattle with him.  Horses and cattle came in and went out but we still seemed never to have any money. 

He had been pushing for the marriage and I had always said there wasn’t enough money, or it wasn’t the right time.  I had tried to gather myself to leave him so many times and now suddenly I was saying, “Yes, let’s get married.” It was as if I had given up the thought of leaving any longer.  I loved him, of course I did.  I told myself it was the thing. I think I knew better. I should have known better.

I had been married twice before, once to someone whom I barely knew and then to the father of my children.  The first wedding was a quicky done in front of a JP in upstate New York on a very snowy night and I don’t even remember saying “I do.” We signed divorce papers on the second anniversary.

The wedding to my children’s father was something more special though I was seven months pregnant with Freddy at the time. I had put off saying yes for almost the entire pregnancy until Lutheran guilt got the best of me and I decided that I didn’t want my son being born a bastard.

So this time, I settled that money or no, this wedding would at least be something I wanted and it would be the way I wanted.  I searched for a dress, a cake, a “venue”. I tanned and dieted.  I carefully thought that tax time would bring the money needed but it somehow was mostly sucked up by Tucker and what he needed anyway.  I was the picture of the perfect bride to be, excited and on a mission.  I ordered a dress online because I never had the time, opportunity or freedom to go dress shopping.  When it arrived, it was too small I had to take it for alterations because of my bust size and it arrived only two weeks before the wedding and I was already out of money.  I had sent the money for the cake to be made by a friend; I had put the money aside for catering for 50.  I handmade the invitations and mailed them.   I had to have my ex-mother –in-law pay for the alterations. My parents were surprisingly supportive. I think they just wanted me to have what I wanted and my protestations of love convinced my step-mother I think to come aboard.  It seems though most weddings are fraught with last minute details and things that don’t go exactly right but nothing went right with this wedding.

The night before I wanted him to go and spend the night at his parents so that I could arrive when I wanted to and we could have that whole experience but he lent my car to the meth head’s wife the night before and there was no extra transportation.  He had no suit and had to go off the morning of to go and borrow one.  We had two boys and two girls to get ready and the older kids hadn’t been heard from.  The wedding was supposed to be at 6:00 and by 4:00 I was still sitting at the house sans fiancée with two girls and I couldn’t get ready because I didn’t want him to see the dress. I was frantic and pissed off, in tears and wanting to not do any of it.  At all.  If I had had a way to run off right then, I would have.  I know I would have. That’s how badly I felt.

When we finally arrived at the beauty shop that his sister owned which was right across the street from the “venue”, a converted pool hall that his parents owned, I was ready for beers and Xanax.  Let’s top all of this off with the fact that I had had auburn red hair just a month before.  I decided to go back to blonde for the wedding.  After much professional intervention, I ended up with some lovely peach colored tresses. And…and…and…I got my fucking period and bled all over the slip of my dress.  My hair was a mess.  I hated it.  The dress never fit correctly but I had to say fuck it and take it like it was.  No one showed up except his family and mine and about 10 people we’d invited. Oh, and Tuckerette called about an hour prior and said she wouldn’t be there to walk with her brother so we had to get Tucker, Jr.’s girlfriend to stand in.  I’d spent hours listening to music for just the right pieces and no one was there to run it properly and it was all fucked up.  I was so pissed and disappointed and just so let down and I should have known better.

Tucker was so happy though.  He had practically bellowed his vows.  He was smiling and glad-handing and telling stories and drinking champagne.  He even danced with me once.  He never danced because he told me dancing was only done to get pussy but he’d make an exception just because he loved me so very much that day.  I should have known better. It felt like everything I obsessed over and everything that I wanted to go right and everything that I deemed important was just poo-pooed by him. I should have been used to that by then. I should have known better.

Every single thing about that day made me upset.  I smiled in the pictures and inside I felt like I was the biggest liar that ever walked the earth.  I felt the life being sucked out of me. I almost felt though, that I deserved every disappointment, like I should have just expected it all to be so shitty.  It was as if I couldn’t have been happy even if it had gone perfectly because I wasn’t doing it for love.  I was doing it for what? Horses? I still don’t know why I felt the need to push it and make it so.  Everything felt wrong because it was wrong.  Ultimately, all it did was made me guilty by association and force me to carry around a name that is notorious in certain circles.

I can’t say with any certainty how I felt once it was over except I was relieved.  I was the most solemn I can remember afterwards.  I was all at once relieved and doomed. I can tell you with certainty however that there is no reason I should ever marry again and I never will because now…now, I do know better. 

Aerial Cherry

I told no one what had happened.  No one.  Harlow knew because she was there but agreed not to tell Freddy so as not to turn him further against Tucker.  I decided that the epic ass kissing was good.  The feelings of watching him jump when I said anything were so good to me. You know when it’s really cold in the mornings? So cold that your fingers ache? Then you wrap a towel or warm blanket around yourself and feel the slow crawl of heat to your extremities as they start to thaw out; the delicious feeling as the warmth radiates and envelopes you? Like that, but waaaaayy better.  Plus, I was still in the same spot.  Still no vehicle, no money put back, not able to figure out which way to turn or which way to take us. Mostly paralyzed by fear and overwhelmed by decisions.

Thankfully during this time with us all crammed into this apartment, the sex life had devolved to a dull, extremely quiet, very dismal routine that served only to put him to sleep.  It meant the sexual shenanigans had come to a stop for the most part and I was glad of it.  Tucker kept on just trying to make me happy but things just seemed to be harder and harder on us.  I can remember waiting until midnight for the food stamps to be deposited on the card so that I could go and shop at midnight for food for us. It was worse and worse day by day.

One day in the midst of this, I’m not even sure what sparked the initial argument,  but I had many such days  breaking up Freddy and Tuckerette.  He, again, was an outspoken child and resented the fact that since she was supposed to be an adult and he was supposed to mind her but yet she didn’t work and she barely did housework or took care of the baby. We had given Tuckerette some money to take care of her checking account and she had double spent so that she ended up with bounced checks.  She ended up further not paying for them and laying the blame on her father.  Freddy had been privy to at least part of these conversations inadvertently and of course had run wild with the information.  He never ceased to give her a hard time and I was ever the peace maker.  On one particular day she was griping about not having something…clothes, money, I don’t really know what and Freddy told her if she would go out and get a job maybe she’d have something.

At that moment Harlow was busy rocking the baby because he’d been teething and fussy.  Freddy and Tuckerette were busy yelling at one another and I stood watching, not sure what to do to whom first. I had told Tuckerette constantly not to engage him, he was after all a 13 year old and she was 23. I had constantly told Freddy to shut his mouth to an adult and talk to me if he had problems with the situation.

Freddy had retreated to the top of the metal spiral staircase and turned and opened his mouth and said, “Well if you were enough of a grown up to have that baby, you ought to take care of it instead of letting my mom and sister do it all the time.”

Before I could stop her, Tuckerette crossed the room and put two hands firmly in the middle of Freddy’s chest and shoved him, hard.  He fell backwards with his arms windmilling and caught himself after he’d fallen down two steps. I had to lunge to catch him before he caught hold of her hair as he bounded back up the stairs. He was screaming and lunging and I had to stop him and calm him so I could see if he was alright.  He was cussing still and I told him that was enough.  I sent him down to his room and turned to Tuckerette.

“What in the hell is wrong with you?! You could have seriously injured or even killed him. Don’t you realize that?”

She spun around and jerked the baby from Harlow’s arms. He began to scream and she was yelling about how she didn't have to put up with this shit and he was a kid and couldn't talk to her that way and she was taking her baby and getting out. I stopped her and said, “You can go where you want but you know you’re in the wrong here and you owe that boy and me an apology.”

She proceeded to take her screaming baby and load up in the truck she wasn't paying for and drive away, presumably to the barn.  I called her father and told him to be expecting his daughter shortly and that she’d almost killed my son.  I told him things were changing right then and she needed to get a job or go back to her mother’s.

He sounded disgusted and worn out and I didn't care.  I knew he was juggling money and cattle and horses and had a tenuous grasp at best on financial matters.  Case in point, I had gone to the barn one day to get my mustang out and saddle him only to find that he’d been sold without so much as a, would you mind or we need the money. After I hung up with him, I took the computer and started looking for a place I could afford for me and my children without anyone else.  I knew that even though my parents had co-signed for the apartment we were in, they probably would be okay with me walking away from it if it meant I were walking away from Tucker.  Tucker came home to find me searching for someplace to live which spawned another argument and yet more emotional terrorism.  All of which I bought into yet again.  My son looked at me in utter disgust and defeat and my daughter said nothing. Since most of it couldn't be kept private in the tiny apartment, they had heard most of it.

The following months led to Tuckerette moving in with her boyfriend, Tucker, Jr. being arrested and held for a week on some vendetta that a former business associate of Tucker’s had telling Tucker that he’d drop charges against Tucker, Jr. if Tucker paid the $10,000 he owed.  So, Tucker came up with $10,000, the charges were dropped and meanwhile we continued to get eviction notices and scrape gas and food money together. 

I found a place that we could afford and sent Tucker to check it out.  It was 40 miles from town and I didn't know how we’d afford even more gas money but it was half the rent we were paying. It was a shithole that we worked on for two weeks cleaning and painting before we could move in and packed up and moved. Leaving our lease, leaving my parents holding the bag and still in just one truck. 

The move prompted a new beginning for us though as Tucker came up with money for a down payment on a car for me and I finally had my own vehicle and the kids were happy for a new house with lots of room and no Tuckerette. I thought that this would be the time for me to make it all happen. I thought I could finally make things right and better.  It was the never ending cycle of my pipe dreams and pie in the sky. 

Shoulda, Coulda, Woulda

It took me much longer to find a job than it ever had before.  It was 2009 and it was an employer’s market.  I had my lovely Associate’s Degree but now it seemed that was little better than a high school diploma and almost dismissed in most cases. I looked for three months.  It had never taken me that long to find a job but I realize how lucky I was to get the offer.  It was less money than I’d been making and it was really menial office work but I didn’t care.  I took it. I snatched it up quickly.

Tuckerette of course was not working.  She was helping to spend the money alright but even with her doing the feeding and taking care of the animals, what little I had begun to make was doing naught but disappearing almost as soon as I made it.  I got myself a checking account and flatly refused to get any checks for the account.  Tucker acted wounded and I told him he could go cry in a bucket...but then there was work. Sweet sanctuary.  I could leave my madhouse for 8 hours a day and feel smart and important and not worry with all the bullshit.  I was slowly starting to feel myself, just a little anyway. 

Tucker it seemed had decided to work some angle with bank accounts between Tuckerette, Tucker, Jr. and some DBA he had started. I was flatly told over and over not to worry about what the fuck was going on. I knew though that we didn’t have enough money even with my check to cover bills and for all of us to eat.  I cannot count how many times we ate dollar McDonald’s for supper because he had managed to scrape $30 together before I got off work.  He didn’t believe in my cooking and us having groceries in the house unless I was going to be home to cook them.  

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any crappier, summertime arrived and so did the two younger Tuckers.  I now had an apartment with an 11, 12, 13 and 14 year old in it along with a whiny, lazy 23 year old and an infant.  Plus there was the grandbaby…bazinga!!! I went and got food stamps.  I wasn’t going to watch all four of the younger kids starve to death and survive on McDonald’s for the summer and then I forced Tuckerette, Jr. to go and get WIC for her and the baby.  Tucker was furious about the “charity”. 

I told him, “It’s not charity, it is welfare and we won’t continue to receive it unless you participate in their work program.”

I think we can all surmise how the rest of that conversation went.  He wasn’t going…fuck them…and their goddamned charity…blah, blah blah.

Things smoothed out a bit during the summer and we went on a little vacation of sorts.  Tuckerette and Tuckerette, Jr. had taken the baby and gone to see their mom.  Freddy had gone to his Granny’s and Tucker, Tucker, Jr. Jr. and Harlow and I went to a swimming hole I’d read about online.  Hiking and swimming and picnicking.  We headed back to the house as it was getting dark and were driving through a construction zone.  I was driving because Tucker’s license was still expired and it so happens I was going 70 in a 65 and got us pulled over.

The officer took my license and my insurance and went back to sit like they do, where you’re sure they’re pulling up everything that’s ever happened to you along with your bank account information, internet history etc. etc.  

The police officer stepped up to the window and said, “Ma’am is there another licensed driver in the car?”

The taste in my mouth was copper pennies.  “No.” I said shakily.  

“Well we’ll figure that out in a minute, could you step back here behind the truck please?”

I slowly looked in the back seat at Harlow.  Her eyes were huge and questioning and fearful.  “It’s fine baby.  It’s fine.” I told her and didn’t believe it for one second.

As I stepped behind the truck the officer asked me to place my hands behind my back and he handcuffed me. “Ma’am, I’m placing you under arrest for theft by check on a warrant from That County.” He read my rights to me and I began to tremble and cry. Tears running down my face that I couldn’t wipe away and I was unbelieving and kept thinking, This. Is. Not. Fucking. Happening.

 

My daughter watched me get handcuffed, placed in a police car and taken away.  What followed was humiliating, horrifying and not the worst thing that anyone’s ever endured but at that moment, for me, it was the end of the world.

I remember standing there at the counter, in handcuffs, sobbing and the female jailer asking, “This your first time in jail, honey?” I looked at her and nodded but thought, No, I’m a hardened criminal, I do this every weekend.  

After having to strip, put on a fucking orange jumpsuit, be fingerprinted, have my goddamned mug shot taken and then ask the male jailer for sanitary napkins since of course the lady had disappeared, I dragged my mat into the cell and laid it down on the floor.  I curled up on it and stared at the urine stains on the floor and thanked my stars there was no one else in there with me.

I lay there for hours wondering what check I could have possibly not picked up.  What was it? When was it? Who had it? And why had I trusted him when he said he had it all taken care of? I was in that cell from 10PM until 2PM the next day.  I had a lot of time to think.  A lot.  I was furious. I was scared. I was defeated. I was tired. I was so hurt. I was alone. I was worried for Harlow. I was wondering how in the fuck I was going to get out. When I was finally arraigned the next day next to drunks and thugs, I ran the gamut of emotions again but mostly I was just still in that place where you don’t believe this shit is happening.

When I walked out into the sunshine, I was not free.  There he sat with my baby girl waiting.  She ran from the truck and hugged and hugged me but I refrained from crying.  The rage was too great.

He walked up to me and I held my hand up, “Somehow, someway, this is YOUR fault.” I told him, “I know it and you know it. Don’t fucking talk to me, don’t apologize to me.  Let’s just get home so that I can shower and eat and think about what the fuck just happened.”

“Baby, it’s fine.” He had a look on his face that was unreadable to me.  I looked down at Harlow and back to Tucker and decided not to lose my shit on him outside the county jail I had just walked out of lest they drag me back in.  I walked away from him and got behind the wheel.  I drove us home without a word.

When we got home he left immediately and I was happy to have the time without him in my vision.  I took a shower, wrapped up in a robe and curled into the recliner in front of the television.  Harlow stayed by my side but was exhausted because as she relayed to me they had stayed outside the jail all night waiting.  They had run all over town trying to find the judge to get him to come to the jail and arraign me.  Tucker had discovered that the charge was not for the check itself but for unpaid court costs on a check that I had not written but one that he had signed my name to at the feed store.  I was less than pleased that my 12 year old daughter had been through all this but she had refused to leave with Tucker, Jr. when Tucker had him come and get Tucker Jr. Jr. 

Tucker walked back into the apartment and brought me some food and went back downstairs without saying another word to me for the rest of the night.  Harlow told me he had worried himself sick all night saying things like, “She’s gonna leave me for sure now.”  

I could have.  I should have.