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. 

WTCF?

Totally off topic but it had to be done. I hate school functions.  I love my daughter and I love watching her compete or be recognized and I love the other kids... (for the most part) but I HATE the parents.  We live on the edge of a really nice school district with a brand new multi-million dollar high school. We are in a trailer park on the edge…did I mention that? In any case, after arriving at the sports banquet last night we were told the girls were all sitting up front.  I know not one single parent in the room.  I work two jobs and make about ¼ of the Gurl Child’s events and then I hang by myself because I know no one.

I can stand in front of room full of strangers and talk about the merits of having the perfect resume’ or teach a class full of people how to make a spreadsheet.  I was once handed a stapler in a job interview and had to give an impromptu presentation about the merits of its versatility and functionality and I killed it but please don’t ask me to socialize at school functions. It makes me sweaty and awkward.  I feel inadequate and shabby and I understand how much this is all my very own problem.  I understand that these people are wealthy and some of them have even worked for it.  I understand that it’s not their fault that I live in a goddamned trailer park in a cabin. I get that and I don’t blame them.  Doesn’t make it any easier for me to weather though.

Let’s add to my discomfort, the fact that I do my own hair.  I cut it, I color it.  Occasionally, I’ll spring for the salon but I can’t drop what equates to a tank of gas on my hair.  I just can’t do it.  I normally get the color from the beauty supply and mix and apply and no harm, no foul.

The GC and I went to Wal-Mart 2 nights prior to previously mentioned banquet and she says, “MOM!! Get this…it’ll be great!” It was called Super Blonde.  I am blonde.  I am naturally a dark blonde…all the hair on my body is blonde. I thought, What could it hurt?  When I pulled the towel off my wet head, I almost fainted.  Imagine the brassiest blonde on the whoriest porn star and that’s what was there. It was awful…it was cheap looking and it was awful. I had to live with it  for a couple of days until I could put a toner on it. I had to work that night and the next after work and wouldn’t have time to pick it up or even go home and do it at 10 at night.  So I went to the banquet with brassy porn star hair.

I had on black slacks and a cute white tee with black and white peep toe pumps.  Simple jewelry and oh yeah…porn hair.  I felt ok though. I didn’t feel like I’d be over or underdressed…it was my work attire and I was not going to be conspicuous.  Well, except for the GODDAMNED PORN HAIR. 

GC directs me to a table where Sarah’s mom is sitting and apparently Sarah’s mom is nice and it’ll be fine and go sit there.  Fine. I sit, I introduce, we exchange the obligatory, “Who’s your kid?” We talk about whether the food will be any good and she proceeds to tell me that she has four children and all their ages and that they are busy building their 3^rd house in a chi-chi-poo-poo- la-de-da part of town and she thinks she has it all down now because after all this is her 3^rd house and it’s just so HARD picking out all the tile at once but it’s going to be so great to quit renting because you know the renting is so HARD living in someone’s else’s house like that and oh by the way I stay home and my husband works and what do you do?"

Yeah…this bitch.

“Well, I work as an admin assistant full time and then I work part time as a cashier.”

You could see it. I didn’t imagine it and I didn’t make it up, it was the confusion and the calculation taking over her face as she tried to comprehend that she was talking to white trash.  I mean if she hadn’t figured it out from the hair already.

This is my nightmare porn star hair.

“Oooooohhh, that’s really great.” With the patronizing tone as if she were addressing a beloved cat that just presented her with a dead bird with feathers everywhere and guts hanging out.  To be honest it was also the tone I used when the sparsely toothed gentleman from two houses down talked about how "the 5 year old can whoop the 7 year old cuz he's a tough lil basterd." I was familiar.

We were in line for food by this time so I just faced front and tried to blow it all off.  We got our catered fajitas and sat down only to be joined by another mom who went through the whole , “Who’s your kid?” spiel and then promptly asked, “Where are your husbands?”

Sarah’s mom proudly said,  “He’s working. You know we just moved back and are renting in the subdivision til our house is finished. Did I tell you it’s my third? Anyway, he’s having to commute right now so he can’t be here but he was so so disappointed, it’s just so HARD.”

Mother #2 just nodded sympathetically and turned to me with eyebrows raised. I just stared back hoping she’d ignore me and tell us where her husband was since usually when someone asks a question like that they really want you to ask them the same question. She didn’t though. She said, “And yours?”

I wanted to say, well my WIFE couldn’t be here tonight, but I thought of GC and the trouble it could cause her and said, “I don’t have one of those.”

Her eyebrows shot up even further as if in disbelief and she simply said, “Oh.”

Sarah’s mother said very diplomatically, “Well, it’s good you could be here tonight.” As if my single motherhood would preclude me from attending any of my daughter’s functions since I was probably home having indiscriminate sex for crack money and then smoking said crack in front of my daughter.

We all had to quiet down the chit chat so we could watch the awards and blah blah blah blah then pictures then cake. I heard from both of these parents that they LOVED my GC and thought she was the best kid ever but it was funny how they said it like they just couldn't fucking believe it.

Then my GC knowing how I was dying inside came and stuck out her hand and said, “You ready to blow this pop stand, Baby?”

“Sure am, Momma.” I took her hand and bid the ladies good-bye and thanks for the conversation.  We walked hand in hand back to the truck laughing and joking.  The anxiety melted away and I felt like I could breathe once again.  When we got to the truck, I looked in the back and saw the bag of garbage we hadn’t dumped yet, the empty gas can and the old slipper still hanging out in there and then caught a glimpse of my glow in the dark hair in the truck window. Then it comes to me when I’m no longer in that situation faced with the perfect mothers with their perfectly absent husbands that my daughter is a 15 year old virgin who has a good heart and a strong mind and I might very well be white trash but I don’t really give a country fuck. 

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. 

Murder Tank

The date…meeting an online acquaintance for a date is a little rough to say the least. It’s awkward and could potentially turn into a nightmare.  When you haven’t dated in seven years and your last foray turned into the worst case scenario almost ruining you and your life with it, it all seems daunting and maybe a little stupid.

Here’s this dude who talked nonstop about himself for a total of 3 hours over 3 nights of phone calls and finally sent his picture.  When I never called him back after the third one, he messaged to say, “Did you think I was ugly?”  I found this to be delightfully insecure and for some reason it made me like him a bit more.  I sent back no and we made the date.  I arrived early and waited.  He called and I had never seen him enter the restaurant but he was inside waiting.  I had spent quite a bit of time readying myself but not trying too hard.  Work attire, cute shoes a little extra on the hair but not much…he looked surprised when he said my name after I walked in.  I’m not sure good, not sure bad.  

We went to the table where he promptly asked for the largest steak they had… that’s how he asked for it…”What’s the biggest steak you have?” I thought this slightly obnoxious but again, chalked it up to nerves.

Then … the conversation turned to another hour about him.  I’m not sure he could tell you anything about me if you asked him now except he knew I have two children.  He did ask me a couple of questions that made me sort of want to kick him in the dick like,

“How come if you work around all those men you don’t have a date every weekend?” The implication I supposed being that they had glimpsed a vestigial arm I was hiding from him or something.  He didn’t ask like Wow you’re so beautiful I can’t believe you’re not dating.  It had a suspicious undertone. 

He asked me what the hardest thing I’d ever done was and I hesitated wondering if I should actually share a real feeling with this person or not.  I wondered which date you were supposed to spill your guts about the sociopath that almost ruined your life and then thought better of it and tried to think of something other than childbirth.  Thankfully he interrupted my hesitation with more stories about himself.  During the course of our meal he had asked if I liked the movies and would I like to go to one sometime with to which I replied in the affirmative but my internal dialogue was more like... Can you shut the fuck up long enough to sit through a movie?

He insisted on sending me home with two extra meals for my kids and then paid in cash and over tipped the waitress with whom he had flirted during the entire meal. When we got up from the booth, he turned and made me “feel this bulge in my pocket” as we were leaving then said, “Yeah, that’s my gun.” Then, lest I think it was a euphemism for anything other than a firearm, pointed to his ankle and said, “There’s another on my ankle.”

In any case when I left carrying my huge bag of steak and fish for my kids, he walked me to my truck. I hugged him, and then he said, “Well please feel free to call me if you want.” Like some sort of salesman closing the deal.

I turned to get in my truck and I thought about the fact that he’d left it up to me to contact him and I really hated that.  No matter where you fall in the battle of the sexes and independence and yadda yadda, I need a little chauvinism in my life and the boy calls the girl, period. Then I thought…maybe he’s been working so much and so long that he was socially backward and just didn’t get it.  Then I thought…maybe he’s just shy. Then I just stopped myself because if this man were into me, he’d make every effort to contact me, end of story.  I left it at that.  I didn’t hear from him for two days and after pressure from more than one person, I texted, innocuous enough and not too risky.   He texted back that I should contact him anytime and if he were busy, he’d let me know but please feel free to talk to him anytime.

I read it.

I re-read it.

I agonized over what the hell it meant. Then it came to me in a flash of clarity…it shouldn’t be this hard.  There should at least be a tiny bit of a flirty kind of something.  I mean I didn’t expect him to whip it out in the parking lot of the restaurant… (Okay, I sort of did.) but I thought there should have been something.  I left off and didn’t bother to call him again and he hasn’t bothered to call me either. I can’t say that it’s tortured me overmuch.

He was attractive but not an Adonis. He was 12 years older than me but I like older men.  He was a bit eccentric but I like that.  The sum of the parts did not however leave either of us breathing heavy for the other apparently.  I spent many days intermittently wondering about the things he’d asked me and the way things had gone.

Then, on my regular visit to the same convenience store that I always go to for gas, smokes, Gatorade….whatever, it happened.

There is a younger man in there that is built, to coin a sullied phrase, like a murder tank and so adorable it should be illegal.  He’s flirted every time I’ve gone in and I’ve always, always blown him off for several reasons.  He’s too young, he’s working in a convenience store and he sees 1,000 people a day and he’s probably flirting with everyone, he thinks a lot of himself and he’s just a straight up horn dog. You know whatever I could say to discount the fact that he’s giving me free shit every other time I’m in there and undercharging me for stuff.

After all I’d gone in there dressed for work, I’d gone in after leaving my other job filthy, I’d gone in my pajamas, he’d seen me looking every way there was and he was still flirting with me.  The Gurl Child was gone for 3 days with friends and I decided that on a Friday evening with nothing to do I was going for a mani/pedi.  I grabbed the flip flops and went to the same said convenience store to get gas. 

I went in to pay and the Murder Tank said, “What are you doing tonight? Working some more?”

“No, I’m headed for some pampering at the mall. Where’s your truck?”

He leaned towards me, “Someone wrecked into me in town. Why? You wanna come back and get me when I get off?”

There was the same little voice in the back of my head with the running litany… Um, we don’t do this.  He’s bad news for sure, he’ll break your heart or your leg or something…you’re in no shape to be naked in front of this person. He must be at least 10 years your junior and he’s beautiful and why the hell is he hitting on you.

I slapped that bitch down and said, “Sure.”

He snapped his head up and looked me in the face and said, “Yeah??”

I said, “Yeah. I’ll be back by after my pedicure to make sure you’re still in.”

“Oh I’m in, it’s you I’m worried about backing out.”

“I’ll be here.” I grinned at him like a moron and walked out thinking, What the fuck did I just do?

I called all three of my girls and got the same answer from all of them.  Go back there, pick him up and make sure he knows he’s been there when you’re done with him.

I hit the liquor store and went back by the store and got his number and we began saucily texting while I dashed back home and vacuumed, showered, shaved my legs, found a casual outfit that looked like I wasn’t trying too hard and began to drink. 

And drink.

I trekked back the four blocks and picked him up and it wasn’t awkward. I expected it to be strange but we talked and talked and drank and drank and talked and then we just, well you get the idea.

I don’t remember the last time I was kissed like that among other things and I didn’t have a clue if there’d be a repeat performance and I didn’t really care.  It was fucking wonderful and I felt like a million dollars.

Turns out, there’s apparently nothing wrong with me. I have since second guessed my need for validation from a man in order to feel like I was worth something and I’m not sure if I’ll ever totally get over that but I also figured out though that I hadn’t put my entire being into making sure that Murder Tank was going to call me again. I mean, I still giggled like a dumbass girl when he did but I wouldn’t have cried if he hadn’t. I think I might be okay. 

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.