Pride

Yesterday, I had a mostly great day.  It was long and punishing but I felt good. Everyone telling me my new hair is fabulous and I was wearing the Girl Child’s jeans and sweater and they both fit famously. I have been seeing a sweetheart of a man for 23 days now and got to steal kisses with him in the parking lot between jobs.  I worked a long hard day, headed home and pulled in to check my mail. I looked at my brand new car as I got out of it to walk to the mail box and I was actually….proud… proud of myself.

I have quashed that emotion my entire life. It was taught in Sunday school that pride goeth before the fall and so I took it to heart lest I burn in hell for basking in my own glory.  I also had the hubris squeezed from my little body by an unyielding mother and was forever behind her arm so my brother could pass first. We went to every football game he played but my regional track meets were just something that happened and scholarships and accomplishments were expected from me but lauded when my brother gained them. So I learned.  Do what you’re supposed to do and you won’t draw attention, good or bad.  I learned my whole life to not be proud of a fucking thing I did because that was presumptuous and just who the hell did I think I was?? I still fight the inclination today to not be proud; so last night, standing next to my mailbox, looking at my shiny car, wearing my teenager’s jeans and sweater with my fabulous hair…I felt pride and contentment. I was happy.

When I opened the mailbox I saw handwriting and without even reading it, I knew. Then I pulled out 5 envelopes, all from him, all thick and heavy. The pride. The happy. They slowly evaporated, lifting into the ice-cold night air as I stood there staring.  I said out loud, “Awww shit.” I looked up to see if any neighbors were out and about at close to 11PM. Not a soul but me and a stray cat. I carried my burden back to the car got to the house and threw all of it on the table and took a hot shower.

I came out and stared at the pile of mail and thought, Do I open it? Do I care? What the fuck can he possibly say in all that?  Maybe it’s drawings or something.

I separated all the mail and then proceeded to open it all. What I found were 71 front and back handwritten pages. Seventy…..One.  I poured a glass of wine, put on some fuzzy socks and jammies and pulled out a kitchen chair and started to read.  The first line was a double-barrel fully loaded guilt trip.

I’m not doing good, baby.

What followed was a listing of supplications for my attention, support, love and time. He apparently had corresponded with his parents who told him they saw me at his daughter’s wedding and that I looked great and he started in on that.

Why did you lose weight baby? You didn't need to lose a pound for me to think you were gorgeous. I love you, I've always loved you. Please don’t tell me you’re with someone else. I can’t bear to think of that.

He followed with worries about all the kids and more about how he loved me and at page 10, I put it down. I pictured the moment that he realized it really was going to be over.  Would he be mad or resigned? Would he quit trying? I know that in his mind all he has to do is get one tiny toe back in the door and he’s got it licked. There was a time after he was gone, that was probably true. I knew right that second that it was no longer.  I had spent the day thinking about my future and what I could do to make mine and my kids’ lives better, whether I’d find or had found that someone to get old with or whether it really would be me by myself forever and either way, I had a sense of hope and optimism about it.  Looking down at the letter on the table made me feel anxious and dirty and sad.

I didn’t finish it. When I got to work this morning I called the Department of Corrections and asked that he not be allowed to send me any more mail.  The woman cheerfully told me she’d take care of it and that was that. When I hung up the phone, I felt good and awful at the same time.  Relieved that I was never again going to open up my mailbox and find the sucker punch waiting to steal my happy but sad that I’d more than likely done the worst thing I could possibly do to another human being…erased his hope.

I know he doesn’t deserve me.  I know he DOES deserve to be where he is but I just don’t have the desire to be the cause of anyone’s pain. My best friend asked me how I felt when I told her I’d made the call and I said, “I feel a bit like I've just pissed on a burning kitten.” I got to feeling just actually like I was going to cry because I knew how badly it was going to kill him when he found out. It makes me feel like a shitty human being on a fundamental level to hurt someone and guess what? You better fucking believe he knows it.  So fuck him and his happy stealing. Fuck him and all his manipulative machinations.

I’m now shopping for seat covers for my new car…leopard or zebra???

I had a LOT of Sangria.

I’m so drunk I’m not sure I should still be conscious.  We went to a dinner party and by we, I mean me, the Gurl Child and TBone. I drank a lot of sangria…that I made and brought and then drank most of...whatever.  He’s still here and I’ll tell you why later.  Suffice it to say, he’s a stupid man and he said those exact words to me and it moved me to not move him out of my life.

In any case, we went.  I drank.  A lot.  But… I can always say what I mean when I drink and I feel good about it.  We stumbled home from the fiesta and I got into the shower, my phone wailing music on the counter….me, flawlessly crooning alongside it. 

“WELL I’M ON THE DOWNEASTER ALEXA!!!!!!!”

Yes that shit’s on my playlist…fuck you.  Billy Joel is a legend.

Anyway…I open my eyes from my stellar warbling to find TBone’s smiling mug poked around the edge of the shower curtain.  He’s smiling with undisguised amusement and affection and I love him some more.  Still with the niggling thought in the deepest subconscious recesses of my mind. There she is holding a clipboard and marking off my inadequacies on a list she has clipped there with no amusement whatsoever. I hate that fucking bitch.  She’s always there, telling me all I’ve forgotten, slipped on, given in on, let slide and haven’t done.  She keeps me in line.

I digress.

I had been wailing with abandon and I’m sure the only thing between me and a million dollars is that I’m fucking a hot 6’4” ex-Navy bail bondsman and not Simon Cowell so he could be the clueless schmuck bringing me sangria in the shower.  Again,  anyway…I got out of the shower and found a text from my son.

Boi Child: Hello

Me: Hey my first born

BC:  What you mean?

Me: Sup?

BC: I love and miss you.

Me: I love and miss you too little man.

BC: Yeah so can I have my birthday present early???

Me: Maybe

BC: Ok well I found brand new tires and he said $150.

Me: Well we will see.

BC: Ok well I need the rim first and then the tires, hunh?

Me: Yessir.  We can work all this shit out.  Always.  It’s always a brand new day when you wake up my fierce young man.  Seize the fucking day.  Every day.

BC: Well this world is a fucked up place

Me:  Let’s make it better.

BC: What you do with my mom?

Here’s a kid that has been through hell with me and has no anchor. Here’s also a kid that upon meeting TBone’s gay son, poked him in the head and made him part of his group with no reservations.  Here’s a kid that still loves me even though he knows how imperfect I am. I may have fucked up a lot of shit but my son knows he can count on me.  It’s all okay.  It’s never too late to make it okay. We can always make it okay. 

I don’t know much…but this shit….I know.  I totally got this. 

Rock Solid

I woke up early that Saturday morning afterwards. People always talk about those blissful moments after waking up before realization of something terrible dawns.  It didn’t take me a few seconds to realize anything.  I remembered upon waking. I was alone. He was gone and I was alone.  Not that it was bad I guess but I was lost after 7 years of being at his beck and call.  I had been a strong independent woman when I met him and now I was a hollowed out husk.

I dragged myself out of bed and looked around at everything in that massive 3 bedroom house and wondered how the hell I was going to get it all packed.  I found some old jeans and a tshirt and put my hair up and went next door to get Harlow.  I hugged her so hard and she just kept asking me what was wrong. 

I thanked the neighbors and took her home and told her.  We have to start packing. Now.  Tucker is in jail and I’m not getting him out and we’re going to go and live with Uncle Wayne for a while.  I was stunned when she threw her arms around me and said, “Good!”

I looked at her in amazement as she said, “What school will I have to go to?”

“Well that’s kind of the good part.  You’ll have to go to Shay’s school. Uncle Wayne lives on the edge of the school district so you can ride the bus into Fredricks to go to school.”

Shay was Harlow’s best friend and had recently been taken to her dad’s after a horrible custody fight including a court battle where I’d been subpoenaed to testify against Shay’s mother. Harlow hadn’t been able to see her for months because we lived so far away.

Her 14 year old face lit up and she yelled, “WHERE’S MY PHONE?!?!”  I laughed then. I laughed a lot.  Guilt rushed in on me though as I thought about Tucker in a jail cell. I quashed it and told myself he deserved it and I wasn’t responsible for him or his feelings any longer.

“Well the bad news is that we have to start packing and get moved in three days.”

She didn’t care.  She was ecstatic and the thought of going to the same school with her best friend made her giddy. 

We drove to the store and got as many boxes as we could.  Helena showed up with more and we began to furiously pack and sort and burn trash.  I had to sort Tucker’s things out from mine.  I had horses to get homed and sold and when I momentarily stopped to think about it, I felt overwhelmed.  So I just didn’t stop.  Phone calls to people saying this happened and that happened, not sugar coating any of it as I knew that Tucker would want me to do.  I called and called…I have this horse and that horse, do you want this pony?  All in between mad dashes through piles of shit packing and tossing things. 

I called the crazy ass landlord and simply said, “I have to move.  Tucker’s been arrested. I can’t afford this place on my own.  Please add up what we owe and call me.  I’ll be living with my brother in Horne and I’ll be able to make payments.”

I was expected to be met with yelling and screaming and protestations of his being fucked over and surprisingly he just said, “Okay.”  I hung up the phone glad to have gotten that phone call over with.

 

After a few hours, Helena and I stopped packing long enough to sit across from one another in the kitchen at the island.  We sat smoking cigarettes and talking of what was still left to do.  Suddenly, Helena looked at me and then began to almost cry.  Tears in her eyes as she told me how she and my brother were having problems.  I felt a little overcome as she told me that he’d hacked her Facebook account and saw that she’d been chatting with an old friend that she’d been deployed with in Iraq.  I asked if she had cheated on him and she said that she hadn’t but her friend constantly told her that he loved her and she hadn’t put a stop to it.  She said that he’d told her he wanted her to move out before he got home from Iraq himself and she didn’t know what to do.

I sat there in my empty kitchen with my head about to explode.  Okay, so I needed to be selfless and give her some sage advice in the middle of this current chaos.  Fuck all, I could think of not one solid thing to say.  I let her spew and then said, “Girl, I got nothing.  If you love him, do whatever he needs you to do to make this better as long as you can live with yourself to do it.  If not, then tell him you’ll be gone before he gets home.”

She sighed and said, “I guess I need to see if he can get over it or not and I guess I can’t do anything about it now.”

We called Harlow from the back of the house and began packing and loading trucks again. There we were, a 14 year old, a tired ass 41 year old and a teeny tiny little 30 something, packing trucks and moving furniture and driving back and forth the 60 mile trips one way.  We did a fair job of clearing the house out the first day even so and by the time that day was over we’d made enough headway to sleep at Wayne and Helena’s the first night.  They had a huge room in the back of the house with its own bathroom that had two full beds and a set of bunk beds and we still had room for dressers and clothes.  Harlow and I showered and fell into our respective beds.  The exhaustion was abject and almost tangible.  I rolled over toward the wall and began to cry.

I couldn’t stop it.  I pushed my face into the pillow to try and muffle the sobs.  I was really really done and it hurt.  My entire being felt utterly smashed.  Ripped apart and fuh-rap-aaayed.  A million thoughts raced through my mind.   You’re free.  Truly free.  There’s no one now.  Just you.  You have to do this without anyone telling you what to do or what to think.  Hollow affection is still affection.  You’ll have none.  You need none.  You need some.  You’ll be okay without it.  No you won’t.  Fuck him, fuck every person seeking to pull things from you that you can’t afford to give.  Why are you crying? What have you lost? A man who sucked the life from you? Your whole being? No. You can do it.  You can do it all.  Alone. Aimless. Wandering. Lost. Weren’t you always alone anyway?

The bed sagged behind me and Harlow curled up to my back.  She began to rub my arm and hugged me to her.  “It’ll be fine, Mommy.  It’s okay.”

I stopped crying a bit and hiccupped, “I know, baby.  It’s just hard and he’s gone and I’m not sure how I can do any of this alone.”

She hugged me tighter, “You’re not alone, Mommy.  You have me and Uncle Wayne and Aunt Helena and Grandma and Grandpa and Granny and Freddy and if you ever go back to him….” she paused and I felt like something huge was there waiting for her to spit it out.

“What, baby?"

She sucked in her breath “...I’ll run away.”

My sweet candy girl said what I knew she meant I rolled over and hugged her back and said, “It’s okay.  I’m just getting it all out. I’ll be okay and he won’t come back.  I promise.”  I knew she was more important than him.  I knew that I was more important than him…we were.

Teeming thoughts crushed my consciousness but under all of it I caught the thread of sanity and hope and clung to it. It felt rock solid under all the other bullshit for the first time in a very long time. I knew that I could do it.     

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.

Do not pass GO. Do not collect $200.

The Rangers were waiting outside and one took my purse and the other took me by the arm.  I looked up and said, “Please, don’t cuff me here.  If I have a chance at keeping my job, please give it to me.”

He looked sympathetic and let go of my arm and told me to follow them to the car.  “Sit in the front seat but we’ll have to stop and cuff you when we get out the gate.”

I nodded and off we went. When we reached the gate, he stopped the car and came around and got me out and cuffed me with my hands in the front. He sat me back in the front seat with the obligatory hand on my head. 

He then systematically began to try and “work” me.  He tried to convince me that talking to him would be better than trying to talk the Ranger that had been at our house.  Let’s call him Ranger Rick. He told me he’d be sympathetic and understanding etc. etc.  I laughed at him.  He asked what I thought was so funny. 

I said, “This,” motioning at the air with my cuffed hands. “All this is ridiculous. I’m not a criminal and I didn’t do anything wrong. I got to work, I come home and take care of my kids.”

He looked at me and asked, “You are the only one in this entire case that does then.”

I laughed again. I looked over at him, “I’m probably the only one that doesn’t belong in this spot, I’ll tell you that.”

“Including your husband?” he immediately shot back.

I lifted my cuffed hands and shook my index finger at him, “Nice try Ranger man.”

He remained silent and then used his radio to convey to Ranger Rick that we were approaching the county line.  He pulled over AT the county line and we waited.  Ranger Rick pulled up and they got me out of the car.  They patted me down right there on the side of the road and then transferred me to Rick’s custody.  He greeted me convivially as if we were pals and going out for a movie and dinner.  I glared at him with disgust and he was the one laughing then.

He seated me in his truck and came around to take me to the county jail.  He got in and set down his cowboy hat in the back seat and took off down the highway. 

“How you doing, today?” he looked expectantly at me as if I were going to actually tell him anything other than I was having one of the shittier days in my existence. 

I chose to ignore the question and told him that I needed to see that my children were looked after and that my daughter was out of pocket and my son was at home alone.  He said, “I know, I talked to him earlier when I was looking for your husband. You have a very polite young man there.”

I looked over and thought, Fuck YOU, but instead said, “Thank you. Can I please call him?” He dialed my home number and handed me his phone. 

“Hello.” Freddy came through loud and clear and I said, “Honey, it’s Mom and I need you to listen and pay attention.”

“Okay mom.” I could hear the fear in his voice and perhaps he had picked up on the fear in mine.

“You need to call your Uncle Wayne and have him come get you. I’m not coming home for a while and it’s going to be late.”

Ranger Rick interrupted and said, “You won’t be home until at LEAST tomorrow.”

I glared yet again for all the good it was doing me. “Just call him honey and then you all go and make sure Harlow can stay with Brandy and her mom. Can you do all that for me?”

“Yes ma’am.  Are you okay Mom? What’s going on?”

“I can’t explain right now; just do what I ask and make sure the animals are all fed before you leave.”

“Yes ma’am….love you.” The last part broke me a little.  I had maintained my righteous indignation at the entire situation until that moment. I teared up and told him I loved him too.

I gave Ranger Rick his phone back and thanked him.  He started questioning as to Tucker’s whereabouts. 

“Your guess is as good as mine.  My bet is you won’t find him til he’s ready for you to find him.”

He sounded irritated and asked why I would say something like that.  “Well half the time, I don’t even know where he is and I sleep with him.”

The irritation died then and was replaced with what could only be smugness.  “Oh we’ll find him. He’ll come to get you out and then we’ll get him.”

I started to say, How stupid do you think he is? But the truth was I didn’t care if they ever found him.  I knew that he’d be the only person that would be able to pull the money out of his ass to get me out.  I thought frantically about how to contact him, if I’d actually get that one phone call, how long I’d be locked up, etc.

We pulled up to the county jail in front of a large overhead door that slowly began to roll up.  He pulled inside and the door shut behind us effectively shutting out the sunlight.  I almost began to sob then but I contained myself not willing to let this smug jackass watch me turn into a blubbering mess.  He got me out and marched me inside where he uncuffed me and sat me on a bench in front of a window. 

I sat there miserably wondering what was going to happen next.  I was told to step up to the window. I asked the woman behind the desk there if I could make any calls.  She said there was a payphone in the holding cell and if I needed numbers I should get them out of my phone then.  She handed me a piece of paper and a pen and I dug my Blackberry out of my purse.  I quickly texted Tucker and told him I had been arrested, that my bond was $25,000 and that they were determined to keep me overnight.  He texted back while I was writing phone numbers down and the woman glanced a couple times but didn’t stop me.  He asked if I could see the judge that day and I texted back no and that they wouldn’t release me. 

The woman snapped, “Times up!” and grabbed my phone and purse.  She instructed me to put all my jewelry and anything I had in my pockets into a plastic property bag.  She listed everything and had me sign. She walked me into a small room at the end of the hall and threw my purse and bag into a plastic tub, gave me a striped jumpsuit and told me to take everything except my panties off and put it all in the tub.  I had to strip in a tiny room with this strange woman watching me from less than two feet between us.  I shrugged into the jumpsuit and was given sandals.  She walked me out to the end of the hall and fingerprinted me, took my mug shot and ushered me into a cell with a ponderous mat. I had to wrestle it into the cell and then found myself staring at two other women when I entered the cell and I felt utterly defeated.

I dragged the mat into the corner of the room and sat down hard on the floor.  I began to think about who I could call collect from a jail phone and then I just started to cry.  All the bravado was gone and I didn’t care that these two other women were staring at me.  I wasn’t worried about whether they’d think I was tough or not. I just cried until I had the hiccups.  I started trying to call every number I could think of and finally I heard my dad’s voice on the other end of the line. 

He said, “Hello!” sounding worried and anxious.

I broke down again… “Daddy, I’m in jail.”

Keep Calm and Follow Directions

I went to the dollar store as instructed then proceeded to drive around.  After what seemed like hours but was really only about one, I called him.  He answered, “Just come home.”

“Is everything alright? Is he still there? Are the kids ok?” I rapid fired the questions at him as if he would actually answer me. 

“Just come home.” He repeated.

I turned off the back road I was on and headed for the house.  When I pulled up the long driveway from the road, I saw an unfamiliar pickup in front of the house and I tasted pennies.  The adrenaline surge told me all I needed to know but I pulled up and got out of the car.  I walked in and there, in my house, stood a Texas Ranger.

He called be my name and greeted me and I felt ill.  I ignored him and asked Tucker, “Where are the kids?”

“Freddy is out feeding the horses and Harlow is in her room.” I turned from them standing in the kitchen and went down to check on Harlow.  She jumped up from her bed and ran to me and wrapped her arms around me.  “Momma! Is everything alright?”

“Of course it is baby.  It’ll be fine. Just stay in here awhile and then I’ll start supper.”

I unwrapped her arms from around me and she smiled up at me like I had come to rescue her.  You could see the relief in her face as if the cavalry had arrived.  I wished I felt like the cavalry. I felt like a pawn in a fucked up game of chess.

I left Harlow watching the Disney Channel and went back to see what was going on in my home.  Tucker was sitting at his desk with the laptop fired up and the Ranger said, “Show me how you make a bogus check.”

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.