This story was to be part of Randi's water themed invitational, but due to a death in the family I had to put it on hold. By the time I came up for air, it was too late to finish it in time for the invitational. I've struggled with this story, and it's only been with the help of two special friends that helped me get this started again. My thanks to Girlinthemoon for her honest opinion and, as always, the editors who take the time to make my tangled words into such a wonderful story. Please enjoy your read.
*****
"Ladies and Gentleman, please fasten your seat belts. We have started our descent and will be landing at London Heathrow Airport in ten minutes."
I'd become a veteran of this particular trip and had already anticipated the announcement. I usually took the later flight, but Cheryl would be getting married today and that threw my usual plans. The woman sitting next to me was sticking her camera against the window taking aerial shots; I smiled and left her to it.
Closing my eyes for a few minutes helped the time go faster for some reason. It also brought back the reason I was doing this.
*******
Cheryl was smart, very smart. After all, she had to be since she had Professor at the beginning of her name; she even had a couple of Bachelor of something or others tucked in there as well. Yep, she was smart. She even gave me a list of advanced degrees in her chosen field. It was something I always found funny, to be honest; after all her field was Mathematics and yet it was always left to me to balance her checkbook every month.
As for me, the only word at the beginning of my name was Mister.
I found out later in life that wasn't enough, but I'm getting ahead of myself here. So, Cheryl got tenure, the youngest to ever do that and in record time, as well, and me? Well, I still held on tenaciously to the title of Mister. I heaped night classes onto my resume and became a graphic designer. The other important fact in my life was that because Cheryl wanted the security of tenure so much, she was willing to sacrifice as much as she dared to get it.
The time she was dedicating to this left me with time on my hands. Even my wife understood the term 'idle hands', so she suggested I find a hobby, just to keep me occupied, hence the night courses. When she finally got tenure we went out and celebrated, and we both figured out that was the night Libby was conceived. Cheryl was furious but she was also Catholic-minded about pregnancies, and I believe to this day that Cheryl's mindset was the only reason Libby came into this world and lodged herself firmly in my heart.
As soon as maternity leave was up, Cheryl was out of the house and back at work. I once again changed jobs so I could work from home and converted one of the spare rooms into my office and, yes, was a stay-at-home dad. I watched out for Libby as she crawled all over the house, peed on most things and tried to stick her nose and fingers into everything.
Just how the hell can children the age of dribble and gurgle manage to get themselves out of diapers that are almost nailed to their bodies? They do, and she did, all over the house. For some reason, she sure seemed to be marking her territory.
Over the years Cheryl's ambition grew, and at such a subtle pace I didn't even notice it until she had all her ducks in a row. Oh, she was patient and it took a while, but when she was ready, it was swift and very, very surgical.
*******
Libby was at her grandparents for the night and I was wondering if I was actually going to get lucky that night. That, in itself, would have been really lucky since it had been almost three months since Cheryl and I had been that intimate. She sat me down and word by word pulled our marriage down around my ankles.
Cheryl's ambition was now being held back; family wasn't in her plans even at the beginning, and judging by the amount of time she actually spent with her own daughter I would have agreed with her on that point. It was then she pulled out a brown envelope and asked me to read her proposal and get a lawyer. I was still reading it when I heard a movement by the door. When I looked over, my soon-to-be ex-wife was carrying a case out the front door.
She wanted nothing other than what she had already pulled out of the bank, which was everything, and that included Libby's small but steadily growing college fund. When I followed her to the door a man was standing outside, almost anticipating me following Cheryl. The man approached me asking if I was Martin Henderson. When I said yes, he then proceeded to hand me an envelope uttering the words out of boredom and yet still stripping me of everything.
I had been served.
That gave Cheryl the time she needed to get into her car and leave. Feeling I had to have some of my own vengeance that evening, I went to Cheryl's folks house and removed Libby from their care. I didn't need to ask if they knew, just the look in her father's eyes was enough for me. We still don't speak.
The lawyer she hired did his job well, and once again Cheryl got what she alone wanted, although I did spot her irritation when she was told that since I was getting custody of Libby, it was going to cost her in child support payment. In the end, even my lawyer told me it would be cheaper to settle. I couldn't think how it was cheaper when she walked away with every cent we placed in the bank.
I wasn't intent on knowing why, even though she went to great length to tell me: I was stifling her career and being married to nothing more than a graphic designer was like throwing an anchor overboard and waiting for it to catch on the sea bed.
She put down irreconcilable differences and I went with it thinking that protected Libby from all this. My folks stepped up to the plate and helped. When they mentioned Cheryl's folks, the look I gave them reminded them not to push their luck. Now, not tethered by a family, of course Cheryl put more hours into her job and that, in itself, got her noticed more by the dean.
My folks sat me down and asked for a clear-the-air talk. My reply centered on one thing: if they mentioned Cheryl's folks the air wouldn't remain clear for long. Once the rules were established we talked freely, and I once again knew why I loved my folks so much. Cheryl signed over her rights to the house, although I made sure the ink was dry on that agreement before I sold up, and Libby and I moved back in with my folks. I simply understood their reasoning: sometimes you have to take a step back, so you can move forward.
Cheryl had visitation rights, something she used sparingly, at best, and I suspected only when her own folks pressured her to since Libby told me that she was at grandma's house most of the time.
We moved back into my folks' house, and every day I watched the love they had for each other. I looked back at my life with Cheryl and wondered what the fuck happened. It took my dad sitting me down and giving me that, "What are you going to do now?" speech that made me realize that I had hit bottom. Cheryl had taken everything SHE wanted. It was clear to all of us that day that Libby really wasn't one of those things. I wondered how much all this was affecting an eight-year-old.
In effect, all I could do was hit life's reset button, and that's what I did. Well, my Dad and I got totally shit-faced first. Since I had no life other than with my own family, I also found that, since I could do the hours, time zones meant nothing to me and I was establishing a reputation from the East to the West coast. In the end my mom (bless her), practically ordered me out of the basement office and told me to get a real one and with staff to take the crap she had to put up with.
I found a space; Bennett's Funeral Directors was leasing a room. It was cheap because no one wanted it; I did. Since all my work was done over the phone or web, I didn't care where my office was. I even hired Mr. Bennett's daughter, Toni, to work an hour a day and all Saturday morning putting files away and making and answering calls, if needed. My only question during her interview was, "Could you make Navy coffee?" She sure passed that test.
Toni was also damn smart, and I encouraged that. We talked freely with each other and that's when she told me that, as her parents' only child, she would take over from her father. Toni didn't want that and, although I didn't encourage her, she did have a knack, not to mention a damn good eye, for design, so much so that I pulled her dad aside one afternoon while Toni was at school and showed him some of her work. He did no more than get up and leave. That's when my thoughts turned to regret rather than hope and wondered if I was going to be moving offices real soon.
A half hour later, Mr. Bennett came back and had his wife with him. He asked me to show his wife their daughter's work again; I was happy to. Both were waiting for their daughter when she returned from school. In effect they ambushed her, scolded her for not allowing them to see her work and then group-hugged her to death. By the end of that meeting, Toni's college major was changed to graphic design.
Feeling that my life had finally turned a corner, I actually sat back in my chair and smiled.
Then my cell rang.
*******
The dust had all settled on my office move when Cheryl told me she was taking up a new position and that it would look good on her resume at a later date. She was taking up a position at Oxford University, in England. Her goodbye to her daughter was a weekend with her at a spa. Libby told me when she got back that her mother spent more time on the phone than talking to her own daughter.
