Tina
Once upon a time, the world was a beautiful place. My life was filled with hopes and dreams and promises, but the problem with fairytales is that at some point, something goes terribly wrong. Maybe the prince and princess fall out of love. Maybe the knight fails in slaying the dragon. Maybe the sleeping darling doesn’t actually wake up.
It could be anything.
But at some point, there’s a problem, and it’s one that can’t be solved with big dreams and high hopes. At some point, something happens that changes everything.
For me, that was when I came home and found Chester in bed with Wendy Brown. Everything about her is plain: even her name. I couldn’t understand why he chose her over me. I couldn’t understand why he picked her instead of our family. I couldn’t understand any of it, and then I didn’t have to because he was gone.
He was gone, but that wasn’t the end of it.
Oh, no. Although Chester didn’t give a rat’s ass about our child while I was pregnant, now that the baby is born, he wants custody. He wants full custody and he wants me to pay him child support.
The letter arrives on a rainy day when nothing else is going my way. I still have my job and my friends and my parents, but the one thing I don’t have is a father for my child. The one thing I don’t have is a husband. The one thing I don’t have is a mate.
The one thing I don’t have is someone to take care of me.
I’m a strong, independent woman. My parents raised me that way. My Papa taught me that no matter what happens, I’ll be okay. He showed me that even when the world seems cruel, even when the world is harsh, I can fight through it. I can get through anything.
I’m a Miller, and Millers are tough.
I’m sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by bills, and I stare at the letter in front of me. Somehow, it doesn’t seem real. Nothing about the divorce seems real. Not if I’m honest. No, if I’m honest, it seems like I’m living in some sort of nightmare, like I’m stuck in a land where nothing goes my way.
If I pinch myself, maybe I’ll wake up.
If I poke myself, perhaps the nightmare will end.
Only it doesn’t.
A cry from the living room lets me know that Blake is awake. I set the letter down, take a deep breath, and hurry to the living room to get my son.
“Hey, sweetie, it’s okay,” I murmur as I pick Blake up from his bassinet. I’ve taken to sleeping on the couch lately, so I moved his bassinet next to it. Somehow, I just can’t bring myself to sleep in the bed where Chester and Wendy were fucking. That’s what they were doing: fucking.
They weren’t making love, they weren’t being sweet. They were having a dirty, raw, hard fuck while I was at the clinic having a prenatal checkup.
And I sort of hate Chester for it.
I change Blake’s diaper and swaddle him in a blanket. Then I settle down on the couch to nurse my little guy. He coos as he eats and his eyes close: a sure sign he’s going to fall back asleep before he finishes eating.
These moments are precious to me.
My entire life, I’ve wanted to be a mother. I just thought that I would be a wife and mother. I thought I’d be baking pies while my husband was at work. I thought I’d be cleaning the house and doing laundry and making sure our home was perfect before he got back. I thought we’d spend our nights together playing board games or reading books around the fireplace.
I didn’t think my world would end because my spouse wanted to leave me for someone else.
And I didn’t think he’d come back after our child was born and try to get custody.
In my heart, I don’t think Chester has a chance. Our divorce was final before Blake was actually born, and during the divorce, Chester made it clear he wasn’t interested in parenting.
So why the sudden change of heart?
Why wait until the baby is two months old and then try to sue me for custody?
None of it makes any sense.
I don’t believe for a second that Chester actually wants to be a dad or that he’ll be good to our son. He’s never even come to see Blake. Not once. Not once has he asked if he could stop by and hold his baby. Not once has he asked for pictures or updates on how he’s doing. Not once has he asked if I needed anything.
Not once.
Blake finishes nursing and I reluctantly wake him up so I can burp him. If I don’t, there’s a chance he might start feeling gassy or uncomfortable in his sleep. Besides, I want him to feel happy and healthy. I don’t want my little guy to get a tummy ache. There’s so much about mothering that’s hard, so much people don’t tell you when you decide to have a child, but I’m doing my best.
I’m doing my damn best.
Finally, I get Blake back to sleep in his bassinet and I head to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of wine before I pass out on the couch. I glance at the clock on the wall, but it’s only 8:00pm. It’s not even late. It’s not even dinnertime for my single friends.
I sip at the wine and look at the letter, wondering what the hell I should do, but then I remember something.
I remember my friend Joyce works for a legal firm and I think one of them deals with divorces and family law. Maybe they’ll be able to help me. Oh, I can’t afford a damn lawyer if my life depended on it, but this is my child we’re talking about.
I’ll sell my right kidney if it means I get to keep my baby.
I scroll through my contacts and find Joyce’s number. I should probably text her first to make sure she isn’t busy or doing something, but I don’t. This is urgent. I need her advice. I need to know what I should do.
She answers on the first ring.
“Tina?” Joyce’s sweet voice sounds through the phone. “What’s up, sweetie?”
“Hey, Joyce, sorry to just call you without asking first.” Talk about the texting generation. When I was a kid, I used to call my friends on the phone all the time. Now, calling people seems weird and socially awkward. It’s much easier, much more normal to text.
“Not a problem. I’m just hanging out. I haven’t talked to you in a little awhile. What’s it been? A couple of weeks? What’s up?”
“Oh, you know, nothing much. The usual.”
“I have a feeling that if nothing was up, we wouldn’t be talking right now.”
“You’re very observant.”
“It helps me in my line of work. Spill your guts, Tina.” Joyce is firm, but not mean. She doesn’t scare me when she tells me to start talking, and to be honest, she’s right. I need to woman up and explain the situation. I need to let her know what’s going on so she can help me.
She’ll never be able to help me if I don’t tell her what the problem is.
“You remember when you visited me in the hospital?”
“Oh yes!” Joyce screeches. “And I got to play with that sweet little baby. He’s so damn cute. Those Facebook pictures you posted were so adorable. The ones with the balloons? I loved them.”
“Thanks. Those were his newborn photos.” A friend took the pictures for free. I really lucked out because they’re incredible.
“What about the hospital?”
“Well, remember how much of an asshole my ex-husband turned out to be?” Chester was a major contributor to the fact that I needed to be hospitalized at the end of my pregnancy. I couldn’t handle the stress of the divorce and my blood pressure was through the roof.
Joyce visited me a few times while I was on bed rest and listened to me cry. She brought me my favorite foods and spent time binge-watching trash TV with me. She was an anchor during a time when I felt like my whole life was a storm. She visited again after Blake was born and we spent an entire morning dressing him up in all of his new outfits.
“I remember…Tina, is everything all right with the baby? Did you ex come by or something?”
“Well…well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. See, um, it’s been a few months since the divorce was finalized.”
I don’t talk much about my failed marriage. I know most people don’t refer to their relationships like that. I know I’m not supposed to say the marriage “failed.” I’m supposed to say it “ended.” I think I’ll always feel like it failed, though. I think I’ll always feel like I screwed things up somehow.
It’s not fair or right, but it’s how I feel.
“I know. I’m sorry, Tina. That totally sucks. He was a total dick.”
“He was,” I admit, still sorely embarrassed that the whole world knows I’m a divorcee. “But that’s not the problem. The problem is that my ex suddenly wants custody of my son.”
“What? But he should have specified that during the divorce.”
“I thought so, too. I was pregnant when we got divorced. It wasn’t a secret or a surprise. Chester made it very clear he was uninterested in parenting, and I was fine with that. Now, it seems he’s changed his mind. Joyce, I don’t know what to do.”
“You want to maintain full custody of your son, I’m guessing.”
“Absolutely.”
I look at Blake sleeping in the bassinet. He’s so quiet, so peaceful, so calm. He has no idea about the war raging in my heart. He has no idea what I’m about to go through in order to keep him.
“I would do anything for my son, Joyce. Anything. The problem is that I don’t have a lawyer and I’m not sure what to do. I received the papers today. There’s a court date on them. Should I just go? Do I bring Blake? How do I know what to do?”
Joyce hesitates before she responds. For a second, I think she’s going to tell me she’s sorry, but she can’t help. For a second, I think she’s going to tell me I shouldn’t have bothered her, and I feel embarrassed. Reaching out is never easy. Feeling helpless isn’t easy. It’s the most wretched feeling in the world.
You know, after betrayal.
“I know a guy,” Joyce says finally. “Can you come by tomorrow morning? Say eight o’clock? I should be able to squeeze you in before his first appointment.”
I breathe a huge sigh of relief. “Joyce, you’re a lifesaver. I’ll be there.”