1. Sarah #2
I tried hard not to be bitter; I really did, but calling to let him know I was in labor with Lucy and on my way to the hospital, and his phone getting answered by a child who, when I asked where he was, as that was his phone, replied that his daddy was in the bathroom.
His daddy. Harold had started a whole second family with a mistress right after Caleb was born, and I’d been oblivious.
Even worse, the mistress knew about us as she was his secretary.
How cliché was that? I’d divorced him, of course, and he’d married her the day after it was final.
Everything was fine the first year. He showed up for his visits and the child support payments arrived.
Then instead of renting like we’d always done, they decided to buy a house and a boat.
She’d become a housewife and was expecting another baby, and four bedroom houses were hard to find in a good neighborhood unless you bought one, he’d insisted.
Perish the thought of any of his other children having to share a room like ours had to after the divorce.
I’d pointed out that we’d rented a lovely four bedroom in an excellent neighborhood before our divorce.
He’d replied he couldn’t possibly live there again, as Miranda would associate it with me and neighbors might gossip.
Miranda had never been to our condo, as far as I knew, and with four high rises, and us not having socialized much with neighbors, I knew that to be a lie.
She’d asked for a house, and he wanted a boat, and that was that.
After that, his visits became erratic; then so did the payments.
“Come on, let’s brush our teeth and brush your hair,” Emma told her younger siblings, standing up and taking the bowls which she carried over to the sink.
I stood up and grabbed the empty glasses, waiting a moment while Lucy gulped down the last of her milk.
Emma shooed them ahead of her, then turned to regard me steadily.
“You should Google the number to his new company and call his boss,” she said, keeping her voice low.
“I bet his boss would be mad to know he’s not sending us the money to keep the lights and water on and we have to use food stamps, eat free lunch, and wear stuff that was on clearance or bought as a bundle from eBay. ”
She turned away, and I blinked in shock.
I’d never mentioned his lack of payment in front of them or said anything negative about him at all, but then again, Emma was thirteen and not stupid.
I wanted to feel bad about that, but couldn’t find it in me.
Not even all the stories about things he did when we’d dated and pictures and stories about stuff he’d done with them when they were small was going to erase the reality of a man who’d stopped showing up for visits before he’d ever moved away and the progressive moves from decent but small apartments to places where I wouldn’t let them play outside or catch the school bus alone when he stopped paying altogether.
I quickly washed the dishes, thinking about what she’d just said. Would it truly be that easy? Could I do that and explain to his company’s HR about the court order and have them garnish his wages? I sighed, drying my hands and making myself a cup to take on the bus to work.
Better not risk it. He’d just get mad and change jobs again or something. Besides, it’s an Illinois court order, so they’ll probably tell me I need to get one from there, as a US state court can’t tell them what to do.
The lights came back on, and I heard Lucy and Caleb cheer as they came out from the hall.
“Okay, put on your coats and grab your backpacks,” I told them, setting down my travel mug next to my house keys before fleeing to my bedroom.
I hurriedly slid into my uniform and put on a pair of socks before sliding into my shoes.
A quick finger comb of my short hair, and I was ready to go as soon as I put on my coat and grabbed my coffee and keys.
I did so while Emma ushered her younger siblings out the door.
I glanced at Sweetie’s water and food bowls.
They were gravity dispensed and both had been filled so she would be fine.
She raised her head from the sofa, her tail thumping as she jumped down to say goodbye to us at the door.
“I filled those while you got dressed,” Emma said.
“I did the food,” Caleb corrected her.
“Yes, you did,” she agreed. "You scooped the food in for me.”
I dropped a kiss onto his head before giving her one on her cheek, following it up with a kiss on Lucy’s forehead.
“I don’t know what I would do without you guys. You are such good helpers.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Emma mumbled, glancing away.
“You have too much work,” Lucy informed me.
“Every kid has chores,” Caleb informed me. “It’s normal. Jeremy Briggs even helps wash the dishes.”
My babies were growing up, and while I knew in my head that feeding the family pet and washing dishes were normal childhood chores, my heart hated that they felt the need to do them, in order to lessen the burden caused by my work schedule and everything else I now understood they knew about despite my best efforts.
I felt like a failure for not being able to protect them from that knowledge for longer, and angry at Harold because a lot of the mess we were in was his fault.
And extra angry at his new wife for her part in it, because damn it, she’d known he was married with kids.
She’d even met us before they started their fling.
Most of all though? I was angry with myself.
I should have gone to college and gotten a job before marrying him.
I should have kept working at least part time at said job after we started having kids.
I’d be in a much better position now if I had.
Or even better, I wish I’d seen him for who he really was, the guy willing to cheat on me in bed, cheat me during the divorce, and cheat me and our kids afterwards. I’d never have married him then.
But then I’d have never had the kids, and they are worth every ounce of pain and misery I’ve had to endure along the way. I just wish they had a different father.