Thoughts

Thoughts

“She will pay for this,” I say to myself.

It started months ago. I had no idea that I would reach this point or even that this side of me existed. But I was pushed to the edge and then nudged over. It felt like getting kicked in the heart. And now I feel a darkness inside of me that I fear, will never go away.

Let me start from a few months ago. My relationship was falling apart. I was too proud to ever think it was my fault. But I kept pushing and pushing, trying to mold another person into the being that I wanted to co-exist with. Someone that was like me. That way she would see where I am coming from and I wouldn’t need to explain my actions or my reasoning.

She was strong willed, but I knew, through logic and persuasion, that she would see that I was right... I was wrong. We would always end in a fight and in separate rooms. I will never understand why she doesn’t understand that I could make things better if she would just listen. Why does she have to be so different from me? I am too ignorant and immature to know my thoughts are not based in reality.

I know I was in trouble when she said she wanted to stay a little longer at her parents’ house with our son, after our Thanksgiving visit. When I said, “Okay I’ll stay too.” She encouraged me to leave and she would get a ride home. I had a feeling in my stomach that this was not a good idea. My stomach was twisting in half trying to tell me the truth that I was so desperately trying to ignore.

I said, “No, that’s okay we will leave together.”

I saw the glances her family shared, but I chose to ignore them. They have never liked me. They even tried to scare me away before we were married. Telling me she is crazy and will hurt me. They didn’t know her like I did. I knew she was the one from the beginning. I was wrong.

“I want to stay longer than a few minutes,” she insisted.

“Fine, I’ll take Adam home and put him to bed. He has had a long day,” I replied.

“We will just go then,” She sounds tired. I ruined her plans and this will cause a problem in the future.

Three days later her step-father came over. I am holding Adam trying to get him sleepy enough to put down for a nap. I open the door and ask him in. He has a strange look on his face, like he is going to do something that he shouldn’t.

“You need to drop out of school and get a job!” He yelled after he shoved me against the wall.

“Hold on a second.” I walked away and placed Adam in his playpen, as I walked back I mentally prepared myself for a fight of some kind. “Why should I quit school? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“If you don’t, I will make sure that Tina leaves you, and you will never see your son again.”

My fear and anger took over. “You need to get out of my house, right now,” I yelled. “You are no longer welcome here.”

“Take your best shot,” he tried to look intimidating. It didn’t work. “I used to be in a gang in L.A. I’ve taken down bigger guys than you. Just try it... I dare you.”

The temptation to take him up on his offer was very strong. I have never felt such a strong desire to test my fighting abilities before. But I don’t that’s what he wants; he just needs an excuse to call the cops.

“You need to leave now,’ I said in the calmest voice I have ever heard come out of my mouth. “I will tell Tina what you said.”

He left, but it wasn’t over. Two days later their plan went into effect. Tina woke up extra early. I could hear her rustling around in the closet. It sounded like she was looking for something. Then I heard her in Adam’s room opening and closing drawers. She seemed to be searching for something. I had to know.

“What’s going on?” I mumbled half asleep.

“Nothing, I have a doctor’s appointment. Go back to sleep.”

"Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, just go back to sleep. I’ll take Adam with me so that he won’t wake you up.”

“Okay.”

I didn’t even notice that she was packing up all of Adam’s clothes. I walked right passed a garbage bag in the hallway. I was too tired to think straight. I heard her leave right before I went back to sleep. Not a care in the world. I was naïve.

When I got out of the shower I noticed they were still gone. I looked around and realized she had packed enough things to get them through a week away from me. The fear grabbed ahold of me and panic set in. She took the car and she turned off her phone. She’s hiding. I tried calling all of her friends and family to see if they have heard anything. No one would answer. I called her work; she had a shift scheduled that day. She called in sick, she lied. I called her parents one last time after hours of trying to track my family down. Her brother answered.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” he stated.

“Why? What did I do wrong?” I asked.

“Just leave her alone. She will call you when she wants to talk.” He hung up on me.

This feeling of despair hit me hard and fast. I didn’t know what to do. I walked through our place looking carefully, methodically. What did she take? What did she leave behind? Are there any signs of hope? She left items she will need, items Adam will need. There is still hope. I am ignorant.

It was clear, she might not come back. I called my parents and let them know what was going on. My mom cried, which set me off. I cried so long and hard that I had a headache. I am no longer strong and secure behind my wall. I am broken. Tears streaming down my cheeks tell me that this pain will leave a scar.

I find myself at my parents’ house for Sunday dinner, after church. We always ate dinner at 1 o’clock on Sunday. It was the typical fair, pot roast, mashed potatoes and gravy and a salad. After we sat down to eat I was over-whelmed again. Another crack in my wall. My thoughts ran to my wife and son. Will we ever sit down and eat together again? I couldn’t eat the pain was so great. I found myself crying into my food. Probably not the kind of seasoning my mom’s pot roast needs.

She called. I am so excited to hear from her. I talked sweetly to her. I ask questions and try to get answers that will quell my fears. She just needs time to think without me talking to her. If I talk to her she feels that her love for me will cloud her judgement. Time? I can give her some time. She said she loves me. I respect her wishes. I know it will work out.

A knock on my door wakes me from the zombie I feel I have become. It’s the police. I fear the worst.

“I am sorry,” she said.

I closed the door holding a large manila envelope. It’s heavy. It is worse than I feared. She filed a restraining order on me. The statements she made make me sick to my stomach. How could she think these things? Why is she trying to prevent me from seeing my son? This has to be some joke, the courts won’t fall for this. It is an obvious lie, no one could ever be like this in real life.

Court was a disaster. My lawyer tells me that it is okay. I just need to go to anger management and a parenting class. He calls them hoops that every father has to jump through. It is supposed to prove to the courts that I am willing to improve myself and be worthy of seeing my son.

“You will be able to see your son after you complete the class,” he states.

His words do not comfort me. It has been a month since I’ve seen my son. He missed my birthday and I missed his second Christmas. December was always my favorite time of year. She did this to hurt me as deeply as possible. She can’t hate me that much, can she?

I don’t know what is worse, learning how to change a diaper in a class full of drug addicts and teen parents, or listening to the violence that has happened from out of control men. I see a skeleton trying to figure out how to hold a baby safely. She tells me that she is being targeted by the cops, that she is a good mom. I nod politely and continue my task. I hear a story about a guy beating his boyfriend for cheating on him. I didn’t even think gay guys would do that. I guess everyone can be aggressive when they are angry. I nod and listen to his story like I can relate. I tell myself that I am doing this to see Adam.

I find out she is pregnant. I feel excitement at first, then fear. Will I ever know my second kid? Will we be a family again? If I try to be the man she wants, will she come back? I have so many questions swirling around in my mind.

I have completed my classes. I can see Adam again! It has been two months and the joy I feel is over-whelming. When I see him I hold him like he is a part of me. I breathe him in I am in love with him. Unfortunately it only lasts two hours. He has to go back to his mother; she has a better lawyer than I do.

It has been months, I have become used to my life. I feel a hollowness inside that only fills when I am with him. His laughter brings joy and tears to me. I have to be strong for him. He deserves to have as much of a normal life as I can give him. There is still hope, I have to hold on to my beliefs that it will work out.

An attack to my soul has happened. She filed for divorce. I find out that our second son was born three days before she filed. I don’t even know his name.

“Will I ever know him?”

I have started to talk aloud to God. I feel normal doing it but I am sure I look crazy to anyone watching. I don’t care it brings me comfort and I need that in my life.

His name is Ian, I met him for the first time today. He is three months old and beautiful. It’s instant love. I know I can be the dad that he needs. He sleeps in my arms, I think he knows me. I can’t get enough of him but I have to give him back, my heart breaks a little.

I still only get to see my boys for a couple hours at a time, but it’s better than nothing and Ian needs to eat so I don’t mind. I spend most of my time holding the boys and reading them books. I want them to know my voice, to know my heartbeat and to feel safe with me. Ian falls asleep in my arms regularly and it’s bittersweet. Part of me wants to play with him but I love holding him and watching him sleep.

I feel that I spend most of my time trying to bond with my boys, when I have them. It’s hard though when you are so depressed. It makes you think that you are a fake. Can they sense how sad I am? Does it prevent me from playing with them in the guise of wanting to bond? I need to create happy memories with them, but what is happy?

I know I have an uphill battle.

“Here’s bad daddy.” She tells the boys when I pick them up. They clap their hands and chant “Bad daddy. Bad daddy.” It breaks my heart. I feel my hate for her grow, but I try to ignore it. When I see her, she is no longer the summer beauty I once loved. Now she looks older and pale. Her hate for me and her twisted truths have changed her. She will never be the same. Will I match her in the future?

She argues over Tupperware, all I want is my boys. She claims I will kill her. She’s creative, I supposedly told her that I will cut her up and throw her body in a garbage bag. That’s too messy, but it is all I needed to start dreaming about what I would do. My thoughts are creative too. I’ve watched too many murder mysteries. I need to distract myself from these thoughts. I start running and I find myself talking to God on my runs. I feel better, like things will work out.

Her aunt claims I lied to her about a treadmill. My boss says that I cannot work the sales floor anymore. Now I have a pay cut and a sore back from lifting exercise equipment. I can’t let this get to me I have to keep moving forward. I find it increasingly difficult to juggle school, kids and work. I wish my family wasn’t broken.

Her brother keys my car. Now it says rapist on the hood. I can’t afford to fix it, so I sand the scratches enough to obscure the word. I feel myself slipping away, I want this to be over.

The day has come and the judge asks me a question.

“Do you want a divorce?”

“No, I don’t want a divorce,” I reply. My mind is swimming. Will he deny the divorce? Maybe he will order us to work it out for the kids. We can make this work.

“Then you will have to keep working with your lawyers to find out how to agree on a divorce decree,” he says.

I am crestfallen. “Okay, I will sign the papers.”

At least I will see my boys more often. It isn’t the best situation, but it’ll get better as they get older. Time can heal all wounds. Isn’t that what they say? But I have a giant gash where my heart used to be, it will leave a lot of scar tissue. I am still broken.

It has been six months since the divorce was finalized. I am dating again and the boys love her. I think I’ll be okay. I am on my way to earning my degree and I have a new job. Things can be normal, lots of families have step-moms. They make it work, why not me?

I still feel like she is trying to keep the kids from me. Everyone says I am being paranoid, I just can’t shake this sense of dread. I try to stay strong and focus on my boys, I will never let them see me shut down.

One knock on my parents door and my life has changed forever. She accused me of grooming my youngest child for molestation. She has claimed that I throw rocks at my oldest child while he plays outside. The disgust and hate for her rises into my throat like bile. My soul is turning black. When I see her my mind flows in and out of sick fantasies. I find myself lying in bed planning her death. Will it be an “accident?” Will it be “random?” Will it be up close? Will it be from a distance? So many things to plan for, it needs to be perfect.

I have it narrowed down to three scenarios. But, which one?

“She will pay for this.”

I finally fall asleep.