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**Disclaimer: This is just a fantasy type story. It’s fictional, and nothing about it is real. Please, no comments about any of the characters going to therapy, or anything of the sort. These are characters working through emotional trauma and feeling things out before they make a move. Nothing more. That being said, hope you enjoy!**

-Rosie

*****

I was sitting in my basement, with my guitar in my lap strumming the tune to my new song. Another song about yet another relationship gone wrong. It’s all I seemed to write. Songs about lost relationships, misery, or loneliness. I had a few songs about a man that I was in love with. No, he didn’t know I felt that way, and I didn’t know if he ever would, but he knew the songs really well. Since I’m black, most people would expect my songs to be R&B. I’m not a torch singer, though. I’m a rock chick, and always will be.

I was waiting for my drummer, Evan Chavez, to show up. He was hardly ever on time. I, of course, understood his tardiness, what with him being a husband and father of two young children. I sometimes wondered if I would ever have a husband and father for my children. I’d been divorced for quite some time, and the ends of the relationships I’d had since were because of my seeing remnants of my ex-husband in the men I was dating. Sometimes, they were only interested in sex. Other times, they only saw my body or my money.

In all of them, the number one reason I’d dump them was that they did not accept my children, Tara and Ashley. They’d either treat them coldly or ignore them completely. A lot like my ex-… their father. I wasn’t having that. If they couldn’t accept my children, there was no way they were gonna have me stick around. My kids and I are a package deal; can’t have one without the other. Throwing those losers away was no skin off my back. I was better off without them, and so were my babies.

Evan finally ran down the steps, drumsticks in hand. His little son wasn’t far behind, and his little daughter was in a Baby Bjorn attached to his chest. I couldn’t help but laugh as he got the children settled in the playpen we’d set up for them. My basement was renovated into a home studio, and he sometimes had to bring the babies with him when his wife worked late, or simply didn’t feel like having the kids around. That seemed to happen a lot. She wasn’t the nicest wife in the world and was even less competent as a mother. She didn’t care to have either responsibility, and I wondered why Evan put up with it.

Evan was the first person I met when I migrated to Vegas from Birmingham. I went to a show he was playing, and after the show, we struck up a conversation in the lobby. When I was about to leave to let him get cleaned up and maybe go home himself, he walked me out to my car. We sat in my car and talked for an hour before we remembered we had families to go home to. Neither of us wanted to go home, but we met up for lunch the next day during my lunch hour from work. Soon, he found out that I was a guitarist and singer, and we put together a band that did mostly covers. Entertainment in Vegas goes over pretty well, and we got popular, so we started doing some originals.

Evan and his kids became my family away from home for my kids and me. His wife hated my guts, but I was okay with that. The feeling was pretty damn mutual. She learned to keep her mouth shut around me, and ultimately just stayed away from me. It happened when she tried yelling at my kids one night. While Evan and I were going over some notes for a song, my babies were quietly playing and giggling in the corner of the room. She told them to “BE QUIET OR GO UPSTAIRS!” When I heard that, I wordlessly got up and walked over to her. When she looked at my face and saw murder in my eyes, she started to shake and stutter.

I grabbed her up by her collar, punched her in the face and as blood dribbled from her nose, I told her that if she EVER yelled at my kids again, I’d hurt her next time. She looked over to Evan for help, but he just smirked then looked down as if nothing ever happened. The next day, he told me they got into a pretty bad argument at home. She asked him why he didn’t say or do anything to help. He told her that she shouldn’t have yelled at my kids in MY house. At that point, she accused him of fucking me.

He just smiled and said “That would make you feel better, wouldn’t it? Considering you’re fucking your lawyer behind my back!” She gawked at him in shock, and he said “What? You think I didn’t know?”

He really didn’t, but her reaction confirmed what I told him I suspected. I still don’t know why she didn’t press charges. Maybe because Evan threatened that if she went to the police, he’d tell them that she attacked my kids, and I went after her for it? I guess because they had been together for so many years is why he let her get away with so much. Deep down, I think he maybe even loved her a little. That was a huge maybe, considering he really was getting fed up with her and her constant shit show. He was stuck, though, because she got her lawyer Betturkey to draw up a clause that if he left the marriage without provocation, he’d have to pay more money than he had. The clause was illegal, but he didn’t know what he should do just yet.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “I had to chase Hunter around the house after his bath. He decided it was ‘naked time,’ and I had to feed Allison before we got here. She hadn’t eaten since lunch,” he shook his head with a look of pissed off disgust. “I had to come right home after rehearsals and get the kids because she ‘just couldn’t take it anymore.'”

“She,” of course, was his wife. He referred to her in that manner whenever he was pissed off at or disgusted with her.

I just shook my head with a small laugh. He almost sounded like a single father the way he took care of them. He worked most nights but was still the primary caregiver to his kids during the day. I could tell by the way he looked and acted that his marriage was something he regretted. He didn’t regret his children, just who he had them with. He and I had way too much in common in that area of our lives. That was another reason he and I bonded stronger than we did with anyone else in our band.

“It’s okay,” I told him. “I’ve been through it.”

“I heard you grooving on that new song,” he said. “I’ve been working on my timing and all; I think you’ll like the beats I lay into it.”

“I can’t wait to hear it,” I told him. I was getting a kick out of watching him rock Allison as she fussed up at him.

“She’s teething, and crying is her new hobby.” He rocked and bounced her while pacing and she calmed against her daddy’s warm chest.

I tilted my head as I watched him, and thought ‘No wonder that bitch is so happy with you.’ He was a great father and was even a father figure to my own children. The other guys in the band were “uncles”, but Evan was way different to them. At that time, I had no idea that she wasn’t really “happy”. She just stayed with him because he was non-confrontational when it came to their marriage or the kids. He just took it because it was much easier than arguing about it. They did argue at times, but he didn’t like to raise his voice or scare the kids. Staying with her, was also cheaper than the illegal multi-million dollar divorce clause she’d added to their prenup.

Of course, I found all these little tidbits of information out about her after they finally did divorce. More on that later, though. It amazed me how quickly and easily my kids took to him. Their dad left when they were little more than toddlers – they were two and five – but I didn’t think they longed for a father as much as they did. Sure, I knew they wanted one, it was no secret. They cried at night for a dad. I just didn’t expect that they would take to Evan as the father they really wanted. They told me that they wished he was their daddy because he’d be the nice daddy that wouldn’t leave. That was pretty much when it hit me that the way their dad left stuck in their minds and haunted them endlessly.

My kids drew pictures for Evan at school. They clung to him when he came over, and they even bothered him to help them with homework or tuck them into bed. It was as if they thought he was their dad. I never put that idea into their minds, but it was so natural for them. I sometimes caught myself wondering what kind of dad he’d be to my kids. I also secretly wondered if he wanted to be their dad. I cursed myself when I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt it was what I wanted. I wanted to be his kids’ mom too.

He finally got Allison to go to sleep and lay her in the playpen on the blankets inside. She squirmed a little but didn’t wake up. “Finally,” he sighed.

“No wonder your wife seems to love you so much,” I said.

He twirled his drumsticks as he turned to look at me, “What do you mean?” He asked.

“You’re willing to take the kids at any time, and you’re so good with them,” I told him as I picked up my electric guitar.

He nodded thoughtfully, twirling the left, then the right drumsticks, alternating between the two. After a couple of moments, he said, “I love my kids, and would give them the world. As for the wife…” He licked his lips and shook his head, “…things aren’t always what they seem. No one knows what goes on behind closed doors.”

I gave a curious frown, “Why do you say that?” I asked.

He shook his head again, “I don’t tell everybody what goes on in my house. We mostly show people what we think they wanna see. Tell them what we think they wanna hear. It’ll all come out in the wash though.” He settled behind his kit. “Let’s rock, baby!”

What Evan said rang like the loudest bells in my head that night. Mostly because it sounded a lot like he was having problems in his marriage that he wasn’t telling anyone about. I thought that maybe he was happy with the way things were. He never complained, and never once mentioned divorce. Well, not to me anyway, even as close as we were. I saw the looks of frustration on his face Betturkey Giriş when she acted up again. I just figured that he was so used to it, that he just shrugged his shoulders and took it as just another inconvenience of marriage. I would often think: ‘Well if you like it, I love it!”

He once told me that he wanted his life to be a lot like his parents’: a loving home for his kids with a long-lasting marriage. I thought that every family deserved that, which is why my marriage and other relationships ended. I thought I owed it to my kids to not see their mother miserable and crying all the time. Sure, it sounds a little backward, but it’s the truth. I would love to be in a loving relationship with the man of my dreams. Who wouldn’t want that? But it’s also important for your kids not to see their parents miserable with each other, because it would wear on them in ways nobody could imagine.

As babies, they witnessed the loud and sometimes physical confrontations that their father and I had. They also saw the last physical fight we had the night their dad left me for someone else, it was less like a “fight”, and more like he attacked me. After throwing me around like a ragdoll, choking me, and scrubbing my face into a dirty carpet, he told me to tell the police to “…try and find my ass!” before leaving. It’s heartbreaking when five and two-year-olds have to hold their crying mother in their arms, and in the sweetest tiny voices say “Mommy, don’t cry. Don’t cry, Mommy.” This is especially true when they aren’t even old enough to fully understand what’s going on.

” ‘Why did daddy do that?’ ‘Why did he leave?’ ‘Is he coming back?’ ‘Well, if daddy doesn’t love us, I don’t love daddy!'” Those are the types of things I’ve heard over the years from my children. What do you say when you don’t have all the answers? How can I tell my children to love their dad anyway, even when he’s shown no love or care for them himself? He would sometimes tell me to tell them that he loved them, but he never made any attempts to prove it. “If he loves us, why won’t he come to see us?” What answer do you give when there are no excuses? I was unwilling to make excuses for him.

I didn’t want Evan’s babies to grow up like that. He is not a confrontational person, so there aren’t many arguments in his house if there are any at all. As I said, they had it out pretty bad the night I went after her for yelling at my kids. For the most part, though, there seemed to be little to no fighting in his house. That’s a good thing, but the bad thing is that Evan is never happy. He doesn’t wear his wedding band, not even in family photos anymore. Sometimes, he’ll use it when he wants to ward off the occasional floozy. His ring had stopped being a symbol of love and had become a useful little prop.

Evan didn’t want to admit it but suspected that his wife was seeing someone else. As I said earlier, I brought it to his attention that it may be her lawyer. How else could you get an officer of the court to do something as illegal as adding a multi-million dollar clause to a prenuptial agreement, that was designed to protect, not hurt him? He worked at night as a performer in one of the many productions here in Las Vegas when he wasn’t performing with our band, so it wouldn’t be an impossible thing for his wife to have a lover. The fact that she’s hardly ever home, or tells him to get the kids out of her hair made it even more likely.

Even with something so blatantly obvious, that she might as well have been doing it in front of him, he refused to be the one to file for a divorce. He was very unhappy and released his anguish and hostility on the skins or when he went running. Because of that clause, though, he still couldn’t file. He told me that if she was unhappy, she would have to draw up the papers. He was also the sweetest guy anyone could ever meet, so he also wouldn’t cheat on her. He was no angel and had his flings in the past. He told me about how he used to be before he got married. He’d grown up since then, though, and wouldn’t step out on their marriage, even if she did. He even wondered if maybe Karma was paying him a visit.

I didn’t know if she would ever walk out on their marriage, but I found myself secretly hoping she would. I wanted her to let him go so he could be free to live his life and raise his children without wondering in the back of his mind what his wife might be doing. He deserved better, and so did those babies. I hated what she was doing to him, and even wondered if there was a way to prove that the clause in the prenup was added illegally by her lawyer. There had to be a way out for him, didn’t there? He couldn’t keep suffering like he was, even if I did wonder if he had somehow made some kind of peace within himself with the situation.

I stayed up nights praying that she would leave him and the babies and go to parts unknown. I guess you could say I hated her. I made it no secret that I would kill her if I could get away with it. I didn’t like her at all. Not even a little bit. Some Betturkey Güncel Giriş nights, I would just fantasize about beating her nearly to death. I don’t know what it was about my protective nature over Evan and my kids that made me so violent towards her. I hated violence, but I would attack her viciously if I weren’t afraid of, you know, the law.

That night as I lay in bed finally about to go into my “zone” of rest and sleep, the phone rang. I picked up so the sound wouldn’t jar my kids awake.

“Speak,” I said in my half-asleep, zombie-fied voice.

“She’s gone,” Evan said in a voice that was half-relieved, and half-hurt. “She left a note telling me to fuck off. She’s off to Rio with some lover.” He let out a sad laugh. “That bitch!”

“Come over,” I said as I sat up. “Get the babies up and get over here. We’ll figure things out. In the morning.”

Evan is very special to me. I think the world of him, and it breaks my heart when he’s miserable. My prayers were answered, and I was glad she left, but I still hated that it broke his heart. I knew that he’d be happy once the initial shock of it wore off. That was how I was. When the shock and hurt wore off, I felt happier and freer. It was as if the heaviest load was lifted from me, and I realized I was much better off without my ex-husband. My children were also better off, and they knew it.

My babies want and deserve a father, but he wasn’t it. That’s how it would be for Evan, Hunter, and Allison. They would be much better off without “The Surrogate from Hell” running around. He seemed in good spirits when I let him in. We took the kids to a guest room and tucked them in, then we went down to the den. I fixed us both glasses of soda, and we sat on the leather sofa. He took a deep sip of the cold drink and set it on a coaster. Then he turned to face me, let out a heavy sigh, and collapsed in my arms in tears.

His body heaved and shivered as I held him, and I couldn’t help but cry myself. All the shit she had put him through had finally come crashing down on him. Everything he’d held in for all that time came out all at once. It was all I could do to not go out and strangle the heifer for doing this to him. Yes, I prayed for it. I didn’t want her passing off any diseases to him or treating him or my babies like crap anymore, but they-…

Suddenly, the realization hit me. Did I say… my babies? Oh my God, I did! Well, even now, I wouldn’t take it back! They were mine! Hunter, Allison, and yes, even Evan! They were MINE now, and she would never hurt them again! When she walked out on them, she gave them to me, and I refused to give them back!

I held him for what felt like hours. I combed my fingers through his long, soft hair as he let out his hurt and anger in his tears. I kissed his forehead, I caressed his moist cheeks with my thumb, and I held him so close when he nuzzled my neck. I knew he was crying because all she did was for nothing. She’d added that clause to the prenup and walked out on him anyway. He was relieved because she left, and he wouldn’t have to suffer through her shit anymore. But he was hurt because he’d had to suffer so long, being unhappy with a heartless, cheating bitch of a wife, when they could have just ended things a long time ago.

She could get out of it for free, but he would’ve had to pay millions if he couldn’t prove that the clause was illegal. Why did she do that to him? Did she really hate him that much? His tears streamed down my neck, and his sobs reverberated throughout my body. I felt horrible for him. I almost felt like it was my fault. Then again, he deserved better than a cheating wife, right? All I wanted was for her to get some kind of comeuppance for all she had done.

I’d rather he hurt from this now than to have caught her in the act. Either way, the pain was gonna come. When he finally calmed he laid me back on the couch, took the warm afghan and covered us both with it. We curled up together, turned on my television, and he lay on my chest. I know that a few more tears fell because I felt the moisture in my shirt. I didn’t mind, because I loved him so much, and didn’t mind at all being the catcher of his tears. I sighed softly and we finally fell asleep.

~~His kisses were soft and sweet, and I melted under his soft touch. He paid attention to my every whimper, sigh, and purr, and responded accordingly. As he kissed his way down my chest, I felt as if he left burning trails with every pelt of his full lips. My body writhed beneath his lean, but strong body and I brushed my fingers through his hair as he looked up at me with the most loving brown eyes. When he spoke, I felt rather than heard the sweet words: “I love you.”~~

Then the alarm clock woke me up.

I looked around to gain my bearings and realized that I was in my own bed. I got up, brushed my teeth, combed my hair, and changed into shorts and a tank. I walked around the house to check on everybody. The babies were still asleep in the guest room, and the girls were sleeping in. It was Saturday, and I never woke them up on Saturdays. I just let them wake up naturally on their own. Sometimes, it was early, but most times, it was sometime in the afternoon. They were the only ones I knew, besides their dad, that could sleep for twelve hours or more, no problem. Was that even healthy?

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