Often I'm approached with a concept for a story. Sadly most are scams, which I've grown accustomed to. This one was presented by someone whose use of the written word, while begrudgingly providing details, told me that this person's talents far exceed my abilities as a writer (I'm not one, I tell stories). My gut said to back away slowly. When the moderator rejected the story, my gut became all smug and righteous. Yet, here I am pushing this story away from the shore. Emailer provided the troubled background, which I wove into a story, adding a possible resolution. This one's for you youngster.
For my antagonists, you'll want to hurry home and rip your girlfriend's knickers off. It looks like they're cutting off your circulation.
Interspersed throughout the story are lyrics from a Roy August & Jimmy Hinson song.
Please read my profile for my stance on comments. Feel free to email suggestions or to start a conversation. Private messages work too.
Jack Tempchin; Robert Arnold Strandlund: "So often times it happens, that we live our lives in chains, and we never even know we have the key."
= = = =
Dawn came too early. My heart ached. From happy family to complete chaos in ten days. Looking out the front window, Peter's crap was gone. It had taken me a few hours to put all of his clothes, fishing rods, and tools on the front lawn. Serves the bastard right if someone else took them. His collection of scotch and whiskey were now simply empty bottles. It was tempting to get his belongings drunk, but I figured that might work against me in the divorce.
There was sod missing where the jerk had peeled away from the house. He didn't even have the decency to leave his truck on the street. No, he backed up into the middle of the lawn. Wonder how many broken sprinkler heads I'll have to replace?
Kenny, my ten year old son from my first marriage, and Jodi, my four year old daughter with jerk, were still sleeping. My step-son, Rory, was probably with his father. He is Peter's son from his first marriage. His ex is a flight attendant so it made more sense for Peter to have custody. She still has visitation rights, but Rory seems indifferent to her. He tolerates me. I think he is going to be a handful when he enters high school next year.
I should have cleaned up the kitchen last night, but I was too stressed out. The milk carton, still holding enough for a tumbler, lay on the floor. The egg shells were stuck to the wall, phone, refrigerator, and kitchen chairs.
After Peter came back from the bar, with the milk and eggs I'd asked him to pick up, he was obviously drunk and possibly stoned. The pizza I also asked him to pick up was a no-show.
"Peter, did you pick up the pizza? That's what's for dinner."
Thankfully Peter is no athlete. He flung the milk carton at me, missing without even having to dodge it. The wall wasn't so lucky. Neither was the Trimline phone. When the carton exploded, the milk dripped quietly off of everything nearby. I may have dodged the carton, but not the splash back.
Next came the eggs, one at a time. Even with his limited skills, two of the eggs shattered on me. The whole time Jodi was curled up into a tight ball on the living room couch. She looked terrified. Thankfully she isn't old enough to understand the combinations of degrading words Peter was spouting. Filing for divorce made me a heartless whore bitch slut. He cheated. What did he expect?
One of the eggs was a direct hit on the wall phone, so my left hand was colored yellow with yolk as I called nine one one. When dickhead started towards me, waves of panic washed over me. Peter had never hit me, but in his inebriated state I had my doubts. Karma smiled on me as he slipped on his milk and egg debris. After hitting his head on the edge of the table, he landed with a thud on the floor. He wasn't out, but was definitely dazed.
Grabbing Jodi, I dashed outside. The school bus, with Kenny, arrived just before the sheriff's car. Just my luck as Steve, Peter's brother, was the responding officer.
Steve was an ass. He initially accused me of assaulting Peter. I called nine one one again and requested another unit be dispatched. John, Steve's supervisor, arrived and sent Steve packing.
When John suggested that I spend the night in a motel, I chewed him a new asshole. This is my house and I won't be a victim. I may be bent, but I'm not going to let them break me.
I got the house as part of my first divorce. Kenny was the only good thing that came out of that short term disaster. My horses and Kenny voiced their displeasure when I started dating Peter. I should have listened. Guess I'm no horse whisperer. How is it that kids and animals know a person's worth?
John finally got around to asking me about the welt on my face. I explained how Peter had thrown eggs at me. John didn't have to twist my arm, when he asked if I wanted assault charges filed against Peter.
+ + + +
Kenny, Jodi, and I sat cuddled on the living room couch. Peter had been removed, but my kids needed reassurance that things were going to be alright.
The delivered pizza was a bit more expensive than picking it up, but I wasn't about to cook in my mental state.
My mind drifted back to my first marriage. It was a homecoming party for Shelly. Her former boyfriends were trying their best to woo her. I don't know if my drink was spiked, but uncharacteristically I become more than a little drunk. With my lowered resistance, Frank, hubby number one, and I fucked until dawn. Of course, I missed my next period.
I should have stayed an unwed mother. He was a pompous ass and took pride in letting anyone and everyone know that he had knocked me up. We did the 'right' thing and got married.
He continued his pursuit of conquests, even though we were married. Without a pre-nuptial agreement, I landed on my feet and bought out his half of the ranch I currently live on. It's in rural Minnesota. Is that redundant? Well, they did build a mall. If you build it, they will come, and they did.
It does help that Frank's family has promptly paid Kenny's child support payments. I once told Frank that he ruined me for other men, and he took it as a compliment. Nice guy, huh?
+ + + +
My divorce from Peter went smoothly, although sadly. He wanted nothing to do with me or Jodi, his own daughter. Forcing his mistress, Jean, to testify chaffed him. She is now his third wife. Our pre-nuptial agreement left Peter with the things he'd picked up off of the lawn that night.
Now I am getting somewhat regular child support payments for Jodi. I have avoided making friends with men. My horses and children are my life. The moral support from my pastor and the ladies auxiliary have given me hope.
It's been seven months since my second divorce was granted. I'm still very reserved around people. Until you've been through it, you just don't realize how much it hurts.
Terry and Jody attend the same church as I. Without the caring people of this church, I doubt that I would have made it. I haven't seen Jody for a few months and Terry seems to mope around.
Terry was sitting alone, so I thought I'd try to cheer him up.
"Mind if I join you?"
"No, not at all. You're Gayle, right?"
"You have a very good memory Terry. I haven't seen Jody recently."
Terry is a big big man. Six six and close to three hundred pounds. But my question made his eyes water.
"She left me. I haven't seen Peter around."
"We got divorced. If you don't mind me asking, why did Jody leave?"
"She's tired of loving me, she told me so. I guess she don't know, just how much she means to me. So along with all my dreams, I'm sitting fancy-free."
Now it was my turn for watering eyes.
