Webster's definition of divorce is as follows: A judicial declaration dissolving a marriage in whole or in part, from all matrimonial obligations.
Quite a mouthful, isn't it? But just looking at the printed words on that page they mean little or nothing to me right now. They are just words, and they don't have a clue as to how I'm feeling. I'm not saying the definition is wrong, more so just stating the fact that my marriage represented more to me than what is written on that damn page. It was my life for Christ's sakes, well it use to be.
I don't care if you've been married ten days or ten years, divorce takes a lot out of you no matter if you're the divorcer or the divorcee. I was born and raised Catholic and the first time I ever even heard the word divorce was in a country song by Tammy Wynette. She started out spelling the word and went on from there.
"Our D-I-V-O-R-C-E becomes final today," Tammy sang in the first line of her song, but it said it all for me. Mine isn't there yet, but it is headed in that direction. Just so you can understand where I'm coming from, I didn't start it and only found out about it when I got served at work. A quick call to my wife's cell and all I was told was to read the paperwork. I didn't want to read the damn paperwork, I wanted to hear from her lips why she was doing this, but she disconnected before I got my answer.
All right, so maybe we didn't have the fairy tale marriage but I didn't think it was all that bad, it just took a little extra work at times, but doesn't every marriage? Money was always an issue with us especially after our son Danny was born. Becky went from a carefree college life style to that of a new mother working a couple of hours a day, and that only happened when Danny got old enough to be left with a baby sitter.
You see, Becky didn't want to have kids, at least not until we were married and settled in our jobs for at least a couple of years. Right now she loved to go to parties, concerts, and most of all clothes shop. All in all, living at home, going to school, and having a boyfriend who she loved to death, she thought she had it all, and maybe she did. We, or should I say she, had it all planned out. We were supposed to finish school, get married, and travel the globe on our vacations the first couple of years. Only then were we going to think about buying a house and settling down with one-maybe two kids but I kind of screwed up those plans.
We were out on a date and things were progressing nicely, in my book anyway. I wanted to have sex but she didn't that night. I guess I pushed the issue and talked her into it. I grabbed a blanket out of the trunk of my car and under the stars we started to make love and yes it was love making. God, I loved her. My one big mistake that evening was leaving my condoms in the glove compartment of my car. I knew I should have run back and gotten one but instead of stopping and going back to the car, I decided to pull out at the last minute. I guess I wasn't quick enough. Two months later a pissed off Becky was lambasting me for not being more careful. She couldn't take birth control pills, because they made her physically ill, so birth control had been my responsibility.
"Jesus Christ, now what the hell are we going to do? My parents are going to shit and even though my dad likes you, he's going to be royally pissed at you for getting his daughter pregnant," she said in tears.
"Hon, we'll just get married a little sooner than we'd planned, that's all."
"That's all? And what about the baby?" she screamed back at me. The "A" word was on both our minds but being Catholics, neither one of us wanted to say it out loud even though we were both thinking about it.
"After this semester we'll take a little break and I'll get a job so we can start to get settled before the baby gets here. After the baby comes we can go back and finish school. We will be right back to where we are now.
Can you say shit for brains? Because that was what we both were secretly thinking when I made that grandiose speech. We knew it probably wasn't going to happen like I'd laid it out, but if we didn't say it out loud, maybe my little fantasy would actually happen. Well, it didn't and it was much worse than either one of us could have ever imagined.
First, with only having two years of college under my belt I didn't get the great job I'd always planned on getting. The money wasn't bad, but the hours were long due to my working a ton of overtime. My benefits didn't kick in for ninety days and only partially covered Becky's pregnancy because of something called a pre-existing medical condition. To top it all off, Becky had a difficult pregnancy and was bed ridden for the last two months. Monetarily we were making it outside of the medical bills that were putting us deeper into debt each month.
Becky went from a shapely five foot six slender beauty with shoulder length light brown hair to an overweight blimp, as she referred to herself. Her long locks were replaced with a short-cropped hairdo that she said was easier to take care of, and I learned very quickly not to say anything about her weight. More than once I caught her staring into her full-length body mirror looking sad as she rubbed her belly. She was not a happy camper.
Like she said, her dad blamed me and so did mine. My dad asked why I couldn't have left it in my pants or at least covered it up. Everything was black and white with him and accidents only happened when you did something stupid, like this. Luckily both our mothers took a slightly different approach. They weren't happy about it either but were a lot more forgiving for one and only one reason; there was going to be a baby involved, their first grandchild.
I tried, God knows I tried. A small wedding with just family and a few friends was what we had instead of the splash Becky had always dreamed about. There was no honeymoon because money was still tight and Becky made it perfectly clear that she wasn't going to go parading around some damn resort looking like a whale in some frumpy outfit, so we stayed home and tried to make the best of it.
We found a cute little two-story house that had been up for sale for over two years. Right now it wasn't anything special but had possibilities. In this down economy the owner wanted to dump it but we made a deal with him to do a rent with the option to buy after two years. He didn't like it much because he wanted his money out of it but our moms convinced him somehow. Who was going to argue with two determined women?
Becky liked the house and for the first time, in a long while, she was starting to smile again. The women would dream about paint and curtains on the windows while I thought about all the hard work it was going to take to make it a real home for the three of us, and it was going to be the three of us very soon.
After one of the hottest summers on record, Becky gave birth to our son. He weighed nine pounds, ten ounces and although she didn't have an easy birth, I was there every step of the way. Danny was born after sixteen hours of intense labor. She was drained and beyond exhaustion looking like a limp dishrag as she held our son for the first time. She smiled but I think it was more about it finally being over than the bundle of joy she was holding.
Everyone was happy for us and said we were now a family, whatever that meant, but the hard work of adding another mouth only pulled us further apart.
Becky's mom talked her into breast-feeding Danny. It was suppose to be healthier for the baby, but she had nothing but problems with it from day one and this was one issue I couldn't help her with. Becky didn't have tiny breasts but they weren't big either. The nurses said that there wouldn't be a problem and showed her how to pump out her milk when he wasn't feeding. I guess they never anticipated the ravenous appetite Danny would have. From the start all he wanted to do was EAT, sleep, poop, and EAT more. My wife was getting more stressed everyday.
"Hon, why don't we put him on formula and give you a break? You haven't had a good night's sleep since we left the hospital and that way I could take over the night feedings.
"Mother's milk has special things in it and it's better for our son, don't you know anything?" she snapped at me. To tell you the truth, no I didn't, but I was learning the hard way and fast. When he got something called colic it only made life worse. He now skipped the sleeping and went straight from EATING, to crying, to pooping, to wanting to EAT again. Becky finally relented and we put him on baby formula, that didn't totally solve all our problems either.
After four long hard months our parents gave us the best gift ever—two weekends alone. Her parents picked up Danny on Friday afternoon and were keeping him until late Sunday afternoon. Our sex life had been almost nonexistent so I thought that we'd spend the weekend in bed reconnecting. I only got it half right.
I came home Friday night with Chinese, Becky's favorite, and found her dead asleep. I figured I'd just let her sleep until she woke up and then we'd have dinner along with a little lovemaking. I ate dinner alone and crawled in bed next to my wife just after eleven. I woke up at seven thirty the next morning, made coffee and waited. Ten thirty-two the next morning she walked downstairs wearing that old blue terry cloth robe she'd had forever along with her bunny slippers.
"I think I died and went to heaven last night," she said smiling and stretching. I laid down just after two o'clock, after mom picked up Danny, and fell asleep. The next thing I knew it was nine thirty this morning. Why didn't you wake me?"
"Babes, you needed a good nights sleep more than Chinese last night," I said sipping on my second cup of coffee. "I've got coffee and plan on making you the breakfast of your dreams. So sit your butt down and have a cup of coffee while I do this."
Sausages links and French toast with fresh fruit and whipped cream were the things dreams were made of that morning. I cooked until she couldn't get down another bite and then I cleaned up the kitchen while she took a shower. When she came out I kissed her wet body and started to get frisky. She told me to hit the shower and shave or there wouldn't be anymore kissing.
All right, I was pumped. I was going to get laid or should I say make love to my wife. It had been a while and I knew I wasn't going to last long the first time, but I figured I'd be able to knock off at least two sessions before lunch. To save time I shaved in the shower and made sure my chin was as smooth as a baby's bottom. I jumped out of the shower, dried off, and with a huge smile on my face I went looking for my bride. Maybe she's got some frilly thing on and waiting for me in bed my hormones screamed at me. I rushed back into our bedroom. Fuck, she was totally dressed.
"Hurry up and get dressed. I've got a big shopping list for today. We'll start off at Wal-Mart and then I want to stop off at Lowes and look at shutters for our bedroom. I don't like shades and the sun is waking me up too early every morning." My dick went limp.
"I thought we'd fool around a bit this morning. You know, reconnect."
"Steve, we've got the whole evening for that. Right now we've got things to do. We can fool around later, if there's time."
"If there's time?" my little brain screamed out. I got dressed.
At Lowes we got paint for Danny's room and two sets of wooden shutters for our bedroom. At Wal-Mart we got new sheets for our bed and an extra set of bath towels that were on sale but it took forever to get Becky out of the store because she had to walk the entire store to see what else was on sale. We didn't get back home until after two thirty. Then, instead of making time for the two of us, she wanted the shutters put up and the first coat of paint on Danny's walls.
The shutters took me about two hours and while I was putting them up Becky rearranged the furniture in Danny's room so we, or should I say I, could paint the walls. I put the first coat on the walls and then the trim. She said something about breaking for dinner, but I was on a mission. So, she ate the leftover Chinese and I worked until almost ten o'clock. God, I hate trim work I told myself sitting on the floor with my back up against the crib after finishing, the dirty paintbrush still in hand.
When Becky said she hoped the walls would look better with a second coat I about shit.
