A Short Story – Chapter One

Patty was a girl from the wrong side of the tracks.  For as long as she could remember, she only had two dreams.  One was to get a college degree.  The other was to find true love.

Her dreams of college never materialized but at the tender age of twenty, she thought she had found her knight in shining armor when she met Ted.  He was brilliant, erudite and sophisticated.  They literally bumped into each other on the street one day, which led to apologies, a cup of coffee and the exchange of phone numbers.  After a two month courtship, they were married.

Patty had stood by Teds’ side throughout an illustrious career that took them all over the country.  It hadn’t taken long for Ted to reach the epitome of success.  He had literally gone from paper-boy to publisher and she had been with him almost every step of the way.

Patty had longed for children but Ted had repeatedly said that he didn’t want to be tied down with kids.  She capitulated and tried to fill her life with other interests but that emptiness had never left her.

Ted had introduced her to a world she had never imagined possible and in return she had quickly become acclimated to the “rules” that applied to her position as his wife.  Her beauty, intelligence and quick wit were assets that were obviously appreciated by Ted as well as his colleagues.  She was welcomed into his tight little circle of friends, which included Lisa, Paul, Charlotte, Sean, Julie and Rick.

Lisa and Paul owned convenience stores in several states up and down the Eastern coast.  Charlotte’s husband Sean, was the CEO of an off-shore drilling company and was considering a transfer to China.  Julies’ husband Rick was a successful defense attorney who had just been named a senior partner at a huge law firm.  Ted was the publisher of the largest newspaper in the state.

For the most part they were regular upper class people, who did regular upper class things.  They lived in one of the most exclusive neighborhoods, drove the most expensive cars and ate the finest food.  They hosted parties for the upper echelon and made sure they were seen at all the charitable fund-raising events.

Lisa and Paul were happy with their lives and each other and it showed.  They met in college and had been inseparable ever since.  Neither one of them wanted children, which suited their lifestyle.

Charlotte and Sean had been dating for three years when Charlotte discovered she was pregnant.  Since she came from old money, a marriage had been hastily arranged to avoid having the black mark of an illegitimate child in the family.  Charlotte miscarried shortly after but the marriage stayed intact.  Only Patty knew about the pregnancy.

Julie met Rick when she wandered into a convenience store while it was being robbed.  She was a key witness and while giving her deposition, she met Rick, who at the time, was a public defender.  Julie always laughed when she said “who says crime doesn’t pay?”

They were all tied together by friendship and social status.  Although all the men were confident and successful, it was clearly understood that Ted was the alpha male.  He always exuded an air of superiority which didn’t go unnoticed but was also never challenged.

Every week-end, Paul, Sean, Rick and Ted would go to the Country Club to play golf and drink beer.  The girls would get together to play Bridge.  They would laugh, tell dirty jokes, make plans for the next function and gossip about who was getting their kitchen remodeled.  Patty was the comedian in the group and the other girls would complain that their sides were aching after every game.

Seans’ transfer came through and quick preparations were being made for a send-off party that would never be forgotten.  Each girl had a specific responsibility from catering to decorations.  Patty came up with the idea of giving them a special memento to remember the friends they were leaving behind.

Charlotte was Pattys’ best friend and she was leaving.  All of the girls were special to her but there was something different about her relationship with Charlotte.  They had shared many secrets but Patty had never told her the deepest darkest secrets of her life.  She decided that it was time.

Patty called Charlotte and asked her if just the two of them could have lunch.

Charlotte agreed and they met at the Clubhouse.  Charlotte sat in stunned silence as she listened to Patty.  All she could say was “I had no idea.  We thought you were the perfect couple.”  Patty said “I know.  I worked hard to keep up appearances.”
They left the Clubhouse, both in tears and Charlotte wondering how she couldn’t have seen the suffering of her dear friend.

They never spoke of it again but for the next two weeks, Charlotte was noticeably watching the interaction between Patty and Ted.  At times it was difficult for her to hide her disdain but Ted being Ted, never even noticed.

Their farewell party was a combination of sadness and joy.  The circle of friends had been broken but well wishes were abundant when they left.  Charlotte and Sean were on their way to China.

The company had taken care of the move and the sale of the house.  Nobody in the neighborhood was concerned that their house would sit empty very long and it didn’t.

Two weeks later..he moved in.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Have A Solution! A Spell Caster.

This morning, I got a rather lengthy comment from a lady who wanted to tell me her story.  Her husband “sent her packing after 13 years.”
Bless your heart.

She said she was lost and helpless after trying so many ways “to my husband back to me.”
Your English is sort of fractured but maybe you’re from another country.  Forgiven.

She said she was so distracted at work that one day her boss called her.  She told him what happened and he smiled and told her it was no problem.  He said that he had used a “spell” to get his wife back after she left him for another man.  She said her boss gave her the name “the Prophet Abuvia.”
Now, I’ve heard about the great prophet Mick Jagger…(“you can’t always get what you want”) but I have never heard of this Abuvia person…but carry on.

Her boss gave her the prophets’ email address.  She said she never believed it would work but had “no choice but to come into contact with the sayings and give him my personal information.”
Now we’re talking!  Show me the dotted line and sign me up! 

She says two days later her mama called and said “that my husband was begging on bended knee for my forgiveness.”
Okay…but that’s when you kick them in the face, dear…and don’t you think he should have been kneeling in front of you instead of your mama?

She says now her husband is doing “funny things he had never done before.”  She said this Abuvia person says my husband “will never leave me for another woman and will be with me until the end of time.”
You go girl!  I know I would pay any price to have a peach like that back in MY life!  By the way…exactly how much DID it cost for you to reacquire that sleazeball…and it’ll be until the end of time?  You better hope the world ends tomorrow.

Okay, seriously.  I think I should email that prophet.  I have some “things” I’d like for him to help me out with.
Let’s see….should I ask for a spell to have the Loser puppets’ dick fall off?
Nah.  I doubt that WTC puppet-master has a thimble to catch it in.

Should I ask for a spell to make what’s left of the Loser puppets’ hair fall out?
Nah.  He always wears a hat, so it would be a waste of a perfectly good spell.

Maybe I should ask for a spell that would suddenly make him go stupid.
Oh, wait.  He’s already proven that he’s stupid.

How about if I ask for him to have a never-ending attack of Herpes?
Perfect!  As the Loser puppet would say “that’s the ticket!”  Between the two different strains he and the WTC puppet-master have, I think that might be a possibility.  (Move to top of list.)

I could ask for a spell that would insure that the Loser puppet has a miserable life.
Hmm.  Let’s see.  He retired from a 50 year career as a washed-up, has-been failure.  He’s an old man who wandered into a bar and picked up the first “thing” he could find who was willing to tell him anything he wanted to hear in exchange for him paying her bills.  I’d say no need for a spell.

If the “spells” were free (which I feel sure they aren’t) I would waste the money and post a series of results, which I’m sure would always end with “well, nothing yet.”

So…if anybody wants the email address for this prophet…let me know and I’ll forward it to you!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Interesting Day

Today, despite the monstrous heat, I decided that I needed to mow my lawn.  I had put it off for days and the longer I put it off, the higher the grass got.

I always mow my neighbors’ lawn after I mow mine and I was trying to finish because I was burning up.  I noticed a car driving around the neighborhood a few times.  Strange cars are always noticeable because I live on a big horseshoe and the only people who drive down the street either live here, are lost or…something else.

A silver Nissan SUV stopped and two men were inside.  One of them rolled the window down and motioned for me to come there.  I reluctantly got off of my mower and went over to them but I didn’t get too close.  Since I left my mower running, I had to strain to hear what they were asking.

The driver asked me if I knew “pastor Bill.”  I told him I didn’t but I knew a pastor lived down the street.  I asked him if he knew the pastors’ wifes’ name.  He said he didn’t know.  I asked him what the pastors’ last name was.  He said he didn’t know.  I asked if the pastor had a daughter.  He said he didn’t know.

I immediately went into lock-down mode and thought “if he’s looking for a pastor, wouldn’t you think he would know his last name?”
I started backing up, the whole time for some reason, clutching my gold St. Jude necklace but he kept asking me more questions so I had to get closer.  He asked me if I owned some property in ******* County.  I asked him why he wanted to know.  He said he was interested in getting permission to fish on the property.  He said he had “searched the county records and it led him here.”

I quickly started “covering” myself by saying that I was just mowing my neighbors’ lawn.  Then the driver said “oh…so you don’t live here?”  I said “nope.  I just mow her lawn for her.”

The driver asked me if that was HER car.  I said “I believe it is.”  Then the passenger said “oh…so that’s not your car?”  I just looked at him while simultaneously trying to see what the emblems on their shirts said.  Then he said “where abouts do YOU live?”  I momentarily froze and the driver asked “do you mind if I ask your name?”  Fortunately, one of my neighbors came driving down the street and since she had to slow down to make the curb, she waved to me.

I stopped the conversation by saying “the pastor lives three houses down” and started walking back to my mower.  They yelled out the window…”thank you.”

I watched them drive down the street, turn into the pastors’ driveway, back up and drive away.

As soon as I parked my mower into my garage, I called my neighbor and told her about the two men.  All she said was “somebody’s trying to get information about somebody.”

Here’s the question.  Were they trying to get information about my neighbor…or were they trying to get information about me?

A Happy Fathers’ Day Post For The Puppet

If I was going to send a card to the puppet for Fathers’ Day, I wouldn’t scrawl the lying, bullshit rhetoric that he wrote on the last Mothers’ Day card he sent to me.

I would say this:

Never once did I walk into a room and see one of my children sitting on your lap.  Never once did I walk into a room and see one of my daughter’s feet on top of yours, feeling like a “big girl…dancing with daddy.”
Never once did I see you and my son, sitting together, talking about what it means to be a real man.  I do remember you telling me that the only advice your daddy ever gave you was “try to do the right thing.”  (You obviously didn’t pay attention.)

Never once did we sit around and talk about the day our daughters got married and had children.  I guess that’s why they were so surprised when they asked me if there was “a bridal fund.”  They paid for their own weddings.  (Maybe you were using that money to pay somebody elses’ taxes and tuition.)

Never once did you come home, greet me with a hello kiss and ask “where are the children?”  (They could have been dead in their beds and you would have never noticed until they started to smell.)  As long as they weren’t fighting, you could have cared less where they were.

The only time I saw you concerned about one of your daughters was when #2 was asked to go to the prom.  Her date was Hispanic.  The more you drank and talked to our friend, the more worried you got.
When our friend asked what was wrong with him, you said “we’re talking about a machismo, big-dick spic.”  He shook his head…and I left the room.
Later, when I confronted you, I got the usual disgusted look and the “walk away.”
Even though she was the one you called your “precious” it didn’t stop you from slapping her, or screaming that you weren’t “the fucking weatherman” or calling her a “selfish little bitch” did it?

You taught them that when “daddy’s drunk” he can do and say anything he wants to and get away with it.  You taught them that almost everything could be dealt with by drinking.  (I guess you learned that from your mama.)

You taught me that fatherhood to you, meant that I took care of them.  Fatherhood to you, meant that you earned the money.  Fatherhood to you, meant that I was a brood mare and they were my brood.  How many times did you tell me, when I whined about being left alone all the time…”that’s what the money’s for?”

For us, there was no such thing as “family vacations.”  There were only “daddy vacations.”  You never took us anywhere but you sure took your “other women” places…fun places…and you (I’m sure) had FUN!

You taught my son that his daddy didn’t have time to “talk to him.”  You only had time to yell and scream at him and call him a “worthless pieces of shit.”

 

So…Happy Fathers’ Day to you!

The man who always put himself first.

The man who is a liar and a cheater.

The man who is a bully and a coward.

The man who wrote:  “I am SO proud that you are the mother of MY children.”
Aw…let me reciprocate.  I ABSOLUTE DESPISE THAT YOU ARE THE FATHER OF MINE.

I think I would have rather had my children by an “average Joe.”  A man who would come home and play with his children.  A man who loved his wife and wanted to spend time with her.  A man who wasn’t selfish.  A man who thought there were more important things in life than money and power and position.  A REAL MAN.  We might not have had much money but would we have been rich with love…something that you only had for your fucking mama and daddy….and your “other women.”

A real man…you are not…and never will be…but happy fathers’ day anyway, you absolute horror of a human being.


 

 

 

Stealing The Bullets

The visit with Shoe (my grandson) didn’t last but four days.  I was supposed to have him until the last week of June but his daddy (D) came to get him yesterday.

#3 and D seem to be at odds again.  It’s almost a daily thing.  I never know when she’s going to tell me that they “broke up.”  They sometimes have a volatile relationship but they absolutely cannot stay away from each other.

#3 describes herself as being like the puppet in that she is completely selfish and lacks empathy.  She is but not to the degree that the puppet is and always was.

Since Shoe is back in Florida now, it means that when the puppet takes the puppet-master down there….he will probably insist that #3 meet the puppet-master…OR…she won’t get to see him.

I asked D straight out if he came to get him because he had been bashed by the puppet.  He didn’t know that #3 had been verbally bashed last time or that the puppet had turned it around on me by saying “I’ll bet that makes your MAMA real happy” when he didn’t get to see him.  D didn’t know how he had responded to her when she told him that Shoe wasn’t going to be there this time.

He assured me that wasn’t the reason but he did tell me that my oldest daughter and her husband want to take Shoe to South Carolina to see the puppet, his puppet-master and that goddamn Drunken Hines (my former monster-in-law.)

D told me that the puppet had texted him and asked how he was doing after the wreck but that he had never responded.  He said the puppet is “lower than a douche.”  He knows what the puppet called Shoe.

When Shoe was born, the puppet (drunk of course) asked me how I liked having a half-breed for a grandson.  D is Venezuelan.  D is a beautiful man and Shoe is a beautiful little boy.
I was surprised that the puppet said that but again, since he spews out venom like Drunken Hines when he’s drunk, I’m really not surprised.  After all, the puppet did tell my friend that he liked his “Southern blood lines” to be pure.  When I told #3 what he said, she laughed.  I’m not sure why unless it was a defense mechanism.  D didn’t laugh.

I called #3 to tell her that D had come to get Shoe.  I had been thinking about how hard it must be for her….suffering such vitriolic hostility from the puppet simply because she was doing exactly what he had asked her to do.  He told her to “always be loyal to your mama” (I guess to try to assuage his own guilt.)  She has been but look at what it has cost her.

I wonder if that loyalty has had an impact on her relationship with D.  The puppet calls him an asshole behind his back but is trying to act like a good guy by pretending to be the caring “quasi-father-in-law.”  He pretends to be the doting grandpa to the child he called a “half-breed.”  He pretends to care about the daughter he called “just a fucking firefighter.”  He pretends to care about all of his daughters who he called “selfish little bitches.”  He pretends to care about his only son who he called “a worthless piece of shit.” 
He wants his youngest daughter to “take care of the mama” he cheated on, gave an incurable STD and calls a“fucking bitch.”

Yet, this man is still loved more than I am.  He is still revered more than I ever was.  They still want him in their life more than they want me in it.  They accept that puppet-master who said horrible things about me and made sure that I knew she was “the queen” now.

I told #3 that maybe she should just embrace that puppet-master and maybe she wouldn’t suffer any more indignation from anybody.  Since she is so private about so many things, I really have no idea what she has had to endure.  Her life would be so much easier if she didn’t have to “remain loyal to her mama.”

She yelled at me and hung up.  I haven’t talked to her since.  She shouldn’t have to forfeit her entire family for me.  The good of the many always outweighs the good of the one.

I had also been thinking about how to or even if I should respond to my middle daughters’ happy birthday email.  I decided I would.
I told her that I wasn’t sure if I wanted a few more words or if I was dreading them.  Sometimes, relationships are just too fractured to be repaired.

I was honest when I told her that I just absolutely can not be in anybodys’ life who welcomes and embraces the very people who had been such destructive forces in mine.  That’s how I feel.  They can have the people who matter the most to them.  Being loyal to me is costly and only one of them has made the sacrifice but it is time for those sacrifices to stop.

I would die trying to save any one of them but it is killing me trying to hold on to them.
I’VE ALREADY PAID TOO MUCH.

These children, who were such a huge part of my life for so long, are slowly becoming distant memories.  They are embracing a new family dynamic and it doesn’t include me.  They’ve chosen those people…an abusive drunk and two immoral narcissists with less than stellar reputations.

Everybody always says “some day your children will know the truth.”  I always say “my children don’t WANT to know the truth.”  Denial is so much more comfortable.  There’s no turmoil.  There’s no drama.  There’s only blind acceptance.  That’s easy.

I wasn’t trying to be mean when I told her that I had spent almost my entire life wishing that I had a mama I could talk to…and that I hoped none of them woke up one day and wished they could talk to theirs.

That was it.  I was closing the door.  I was finally accepting what has already happened.  They are gone.

Does this reinforce the belief that I am “insane?”  I’m sure to the puppet, his puppet-master and my children, it does.  To me, it is the most sane thing I have done in a long time.
I have stolen their bullets.  They will no longer be able to shoot me in the heart.

With that being said, I do wonder, though…what do I say when somebody asks “do you have any children?”

A Secrete Revealed

I have been keeping a secret for a while and so has my youngest daughter.  We have always been in touch, but to save her from the certain bullying she would receive from Loser and most likely, her sisters, I asked her to keep things quiet.  She agreed, although she is not one for outright lying.  I think she understood my reasoning was for her protection.

I have also come up with delightfully new and accurate descriptive monikers for Loser and that WTC.  They are now called the puppet and the puppet-master.  Those names occurred to me when I was talking to my RBS.

I was remembering how, after almost forty-one years together, the puppet suddenly became afraid of me.  Now, this man always outweighed me by more than a hundred pounds and was just shy of a foot taller than I am.  The puppet-master manipulated him into being afraid of me by suggesting that I might “shoot him” if he came to see me.  I have never seen anybody back-peddle so fast when I told him that I KNEW it was HER who had put that idea into his mind.  Explanations and apologies were abundant in his future emails.

I think the worst was when the puppet-master manipulated the puppet into questioning my morality.  She tried to make me a whore by suggesting to him that I “could have gotten Herpes from anybody.”  She was trying to paint me as somebody who was no better than she or the puppet.  If she and the puppet were out fucking other people, then I had to be, too.  According to him, she even told him that I was “probably accusing him to try to get money out of him.”
WOW!  She’s one to talk.  Deflections from her to me.  “I’m not the tramp…your wife is…and by the way, honey.  My taxes are due…can you help me out?”

Never in a million years would I have ever thought that big, tall, strapping man would turn into nothing but a puppet who let somebody else control and manipulate his life and thoughts.  If she says “jump”…he asks “how high.”  If he fails to honor her wishes, she punishes him.
If she plants an idea in is head, it takes root and becomes truth.
I’ll admit…it kind of makes me happy.  Now…HE is the victim of a narcissist.

Several months ago, it was decided that Shoe would come up and stay with me for several weeks this summer.  The other day, #3 called me and said “did you hear about dad?”  (How was I going to hear about that prick?)  She said he texted her and asked her if she was ready to meet the puppet-master.

True to her word, she said no.  I didn’t know this but after the puppet started shacking up with the puppet-master, he told #3 to “take care of your mama.”  Wasn’t that HIS fucking job?  Oh, right.  He was taking care of his new dependent…the one who can’t afford to pay her own taxes or tuition.

He is taking the puppet-master to Florida to celebrate all the June birthdays (not mine, of course.)  After #3 told him she wasn’t meeting the puppet-master, he asked if they could see Shoe.  #3 said “he’s not going to be here.”  The puppet asked if he was going to be at camp or something.  #3 said “no.”  The puppet said “where’s he going to be?”  #3 didn’t answer.

We talked about it and I said “you know what?  Just tell that mother fucker that Shoe is going to be with me.”  She said “okay.”  She texted him and simply said “at Ma’s.”  It took him a while to respond and he did with “well, that’s just great.”  I don’t know if it was prefaced or with the same venom he spewed out last time…“that’s brilliant #3!  Total selfish bullshit, but brilliant!”

Without even having to call Sam and ask him to translate….I know EXACTLY what it meant.  It meant “YOUR MOM’S A FUCKING BITCH” and unfortunately, I suspect he was saying the same thing about #3.  How dare she deprive him of the chance to pretend to be the loving grandpa?

My dear friend, Deb had an interesting take on this.  She said since none of this was pre-planned, maybe the universe was shining on me.  It worked out in that the puppet isn’t going to be able to pretend to care about the grandson he couldn’t even take time to talk to…and the puppet-master isn’t going to be able to “win” Shoe over with her pretentiousness…(or mournfully say…like she did about #3…”I just don’t want him to hate me.”  Sniff, sniff.)
I can just hear the puppet saying to the puppet-master, “oh, darlin’.  They don’t hate you.  Their loyalty is just a little misplaced right now.  When they finally realize how wonderful you are and how completely insane she is, they’ll come around.”
I know this puppet and that’s exactly the kind of thing he would say.

For her loyalty, #3 has suffered abuse and will most likely continue to suffer abuse.  I reminded her what the puppet said:  “If my children don’t want to see HER, then THEY’RE NOT GOING TO SEE THEIR DADDY.”   He used that tactic with my son….and it worked.

She said “he’s not going to say that to me.”

She said “you’re my ma.  YOU were the one who sat up and talked to me for hours at four o’clock in the morning, telling me I was going to be okay, when I was having a panic attack.  YOU were the one who didn’t make me feel like the only thing I was good for was to be the homecoming queen.  YOU were the one who told me that I was beautiful…AND smart…AND gifted.”

I know though, that the acquisition of #3 would be the ultimate “get” for the puppet-master.  My son was difficult, but the puppet used blackmail tactics and my sons’ life-long hunger for attention, to help her “get” him.

My two oldest and their husbands welcome the puppet and his master with open arms.  I have to say…I cannot be in anybodys’ life who openly embraces the very people who were so destructive in mine.

The puppet verbally bashes my child because she is loyal to me….even after he instructed her to be just that.  The puppet-master questions my right to encroach upon “her territory” and suggests that her moral turpitude is shared by me…and the puppet allows it.  The drunken former MIL said “I know for a fact that (the puppet) loves you dearly”…while the WTC was fucking my husband in her home.

So…the secret’s out.  I only hope that #3 isn’t punished beyond what she can tolerate.

 

 

 

Another Birthday

Yesterday was my birthday.  Just another ordinary day.

I kind of thought maybe my cyber-husband would remember but he didn’t.  I guess now I’m going to have to file for divorce…for something like “failure to remember.”  Do you think those are legitimate grounds?  (I forgive him.)

I had to go to the pharmacy to get a scrip filled for an antibiotic.  My dentist insisted after the implant he put in to replace the tooth he shattered….fell out.  Now, I have a gaping hole in my gum but it’s a back molar so again, I don’t look like Bubbas’ sister/wife.

I considered getting a tiny birthday cake but they didn’t have any tiny birthday cakes.  I wandered up and down the isles, looking at food and thinking about how much nothing appealed to me.

Suddenly, I heard the song “I feel good.”  I looked up and this rather large man was trying to get his phone out of his pocket to turn down the volume.  He started talking to me and the conversation morphed into me getting out my phone so he could look at it.  I told him I had music on it but I couldn’t figure out how to play it.  He showed me all of his songs…love songs….songs that I care nothing about anymore but I tried to act interested.

He was an ex-police officer and wanted me to hear his ring tone.  It was a siren.  We chatted a few more minutes and it was pleasant but I found myself wanting to get away from him.  As I was walking away, he said “take care baby girl.”
Take care baby girl?  What the fuck is that?

Later that night, I got an email alert.  It was from my middle daughter.  I didn’t really want to read it but after about an hour, I opened it and read it.  It said “Happy Birthday, Mom!”…like I still lived in the same town….like we were still talking….like we were friends.  I had emailed her on the 26th of May and I had heard nothing from her.  I don’t imagine I ever would have…had it not been my birthday.

“Happy Birthday Mom.”  Succinct…non-committal…safe…obligatory.  I guess she’s reserving a lengthy conversation for Loser and that WTC, who are going to Florida next week to celebrate all the June birthdays with my children.

I haven’t had a happy birthday in many, many years…especially the last four.  Last year, I met with Loser after my birthday (and his) and he looked at me with those lying, mournful eyes and said “I really wanted to get you a birthday card but I figured you’d tear it up and give it back to me.”
Goddamn right.
I wonder if he would have taken that WTC with him to pick it out or if he would have hidden it from her?  My money’s on his usual antics…lying and hiding.

So…happy birthday to me…one year older and one year closer to death!  Yikes!