Time To Back and Back and Visit The Day My World Fell Apart…

Back in time to two years ago....there I sat, in the passenger seat, shaking, still holding my phone.  I sent a text back to Sissy saying “I will fix it.  I love you and am so proud of you for being brave enough to tell me.  I will see you soon.”  Though I had no idea what-so-ever how I was going to fix this.  THIS had to be the worst event that had ever happened in our lives.  The only thing worse than someone hurting your child is losing that child.  I kept telling myself “you have both children, hold onto that.”

By this time Bill, having turned the car around to head back home, is freaking out.  “What is wrong?  Why are you crying?  Is Sissy OK?”  He is starting to tear up and pound on the steering wheel.  Funny, I actually felt bad for him for a minute…just a minute.  Then that brief moment disappeared and I told him we would talk when we got home. 

We drove up our tree lined driveway finally.  The dogs happily greeting us as we parked.  Oh, how I loved my labs.  I couldn’t start thinking what would happen to them now.  I was in such shock.  I calmly walked into our cheery house.  I set my purse down in the dining room I had just finished painting a gorgeous mint color that week.  I told Bill to go sit down and I would tell him what was ruining my world.

Bill went into our bedroom.  He sat on the bed he had bought me for my 30^th birthday (as an expression of his love).  It was a green wrought iron canopy style. Doves intertwined on the head board and lace curtains hung from all four sides.  I couldn’t bring myself to even think about our “love” much less look at that bed now.

“Sissy just told me you touched her inappropriately.”  I calmly stated.

“NO!” he yelled.  “She is my princess and I would never do that?”

“Bill, Sissy wins the benefit of the doubt in this one….I will always pick her and believe her, you have to know that.”

Bill begins to cry at this point. There he sat in the khaki shorts and sporty Nike dress shirt I had picked out for him to wear to the wedding.  He buried his face in his hands.

“Maybe she dreamt it?  Maybe she misunderstood my actions at some point?”

I just stood there staring at him. Here was the man I had spent 23 years with.  I knew every line on his face, the way his silver hair flipped in the front when I gelled it for him.  I knew every mole and scar on his body.  I thought I knew his darkest fears and biggest dreams…..how could I have not known he was capable of this? 

We had had our share of marital difficulties that is for sure.  He had been unfaithful in the beginning of our marriage.  We went to counseling and overcame that.  He started online chatting with other women when we got our Internet, again back to counseling.  Eventually, I had to buy a spy program to see exactly where he went on the Internet. Getting Bill to fess up to any wrongdoing was almost impossible.  Buying the program at least gave me the opportunity to confront him with the truth.   I should have questioned my need to still stay with him then….I mean what kind of marriage is that when you have to spy on your husband?  Some of the places he visited online were so sexual in nature that back to counseling we went AGAIN.  I knew he had issues with sex…but THIS?  I didn’t see this coming and I had no spy program to confront him with the truth now.  So much was at stake in his life at the moment that I knew if I didn’t think of some other angle to get to the truth, then he would grasp onto his denial forever.

“Bill,” I began, “I am scared that something might have happened to you when you were little…something that may have damaged you and caused you to do something similar to Sissy.” 

I put my hand reassuringly on his shoulder.  I dug deep down inside to try and find any acting skills I may have and I worked them.  I gave him the most ‘I love you and will help you find your demons’ look that I could muster.

It worked.  I hit a vein.  I found his wound, opened it up and convinced him I was willing to help him heal it.  He grabbed my hands, buried his face into my stomach as I stood in front of him.  Sobs racked his body. 

“Yes,  Tarie, Oh, God, yes, my brother John touched me when I was little, that is why I touched Sissy.” 

Stupid, stupid, sick man.  He actually thought I cared about what had happened to him.  He had no idea I was pretending to give a shit just to get him to tell me the truth. 

Caring, sympathetic Tarie disappeared, instead Linda Blair from ‘The Exorcist’ Tarie appeared.  I pushed Bill back away from me and in the lowest most demonic voice that came from my toes I said, 

“GET OUT.”

  I must have stood there watching him, not moving, I am not sure if I was even breathing, for over a half and hour.  My hands hung loosely down my sides.  My heart felt as if it had turned to stone.  Amazingly, my pulse stayed slow and my blood pressure seemed stable.  I felt the strangest “click” just then on my left hand.  A tiny little snap on my ring finger.  I brought may hand up to my face, my wedding ring twinkling at me, and turned my hand around to look at the band. 

It had snapped. 

Completely through.

On it’s own. 

When Exactly Does the Straw Break That Camel’s Back?

OK readers, (though at this moment there are none…just my heart talking to the universe) I haven’t let you in on all of my pain yet.  I figured – Gee, isn’t it enough to go through your husband molesting your daughter, find love again, only to have it walk away?  That is pretty depressing in itself.  Well, I guess my Karma or whatever doesn’t think that is enough. 

My brother died a couple months ago.  I thought there was enough pain in this blog to write about so I accepted God’s will and told him “good bye” privately.  It’s hard I tell you….so hard, I thought at times my heart would break.  This is the second sibling I have lost.  My oldest sister died after complications from Gastric Bypass surgery.  That was five years ago.  THAT broke my heart.  I started smoking then (sue me) and have spent those last years grieving, but hoping that she was watching over me throughout mine and Sissy’s ordeal.  Then brother died.  OK, God….fine…he was unhealthy…..you chose to take him - it is Your will.  I am still grieving the loss of him.  He adored Sissy and I.  He wished death upon Bill…..what a good big brother.  I pray he and my sister are now both watching over us.  Now, for the kicker…I am number 7 of 7 children.  I lost number 1 and number 4.  Number 6 was just flown out on life-support to the big city hospital yesterday.  Her heart “blew up” was the explanation I was given.  The life-flight EMT’s told her husband “Be prepared, it doesn’t look good.” 

She made it through the night last night.  Number 2 sister is with her.  I got the call from work and tried very hard to have a nervous breakdown.  My co-workers gave me full permission to go ahead and go “bye bye” in my brain if I needed to.  God dammed if I didn’t.  Nope, my blood pressure just soared and I had to come home.  NO escaping this reality yet.  My brain is too strong.  Lucky me.

So today, I sit by the phone.  I smoke on and off.  I wonder what kind of camel am I that my back isn’t broken yet? 

Do Friends Make You Let Go of Your Dreams and Goals?

After Sissy and I had our “Fun” evening at the Juvenile Department, Dale’s question nagged at me.  Sissy, unbeknown to Dale, had a very healthy grasp on who her true friends were.  I realized that perhaps, I did not. 

I have missed Wilson horribly.  I can’t seem to move an inch in our tiny cottage without seeing a treat or gift that he brought Sissy and I during one of his visits.  I look at my phone in the evenings wishing it to play “1,2,3,4 I love you” by the Plain White Tees – Wilson’s ring tone.  I miss talking to him everyday hearing his low, wonderful voice, or seeing his “FyreFyter” email pop up in mine.

I missed every moment we spent together in the last two years.  I wanted to bring him to staff parties again watch him work the room with his charm only to come back and wrap his arm around me.  I want him to surprise me again after showers with a warm towel from the dryer…wrap the towel then his arms around me.  I want to watch as he gives Sissy more driving lessons.  I want to see him take her by the hand again and introduce him to his family members.  I want to bring him coffee in bed in the mornings.

He breathed life back into me when I was still trying to wake up from the Bill nightmare.  He showed Sissy what a normal, loving man was and what it could mean to her and I.  He talked me into bungee jumping off of a bridge tied to him!  We felt it was a literal and spiritual leap for both of us.  (I don’t need to literally do it again though…thank you very much)  But it was an experience I will never regret…nor any of the time spent with him. 

I have been wrestling with my heart and soul whether I should have ever brought up commitment with him.  Did I make a huge mistake and lose the love of my life? 

We tried to talk one last time.  I wanted so deeply to convey to him how I felt.  He felt that what I was telling him was that all he had done for Sissy and I just wasn’t enough.

 “Why can’t you accept that simply opening my house to you and Sissy is the biggest commitment I can make?  I will never get married again or merge financially with another person again Tarie…I just can’t take the risk of losing half of what I have again.”

(His ex took half of his retirement and left him with huge debts financed into his house)  I tried to convince him to look at my past behavior – to see how I had been entirely different from his ex in my own divorce.  Though I should have taken Bill for everything he owned, PLUS his retirement, I never did.  I asked for my part of the house and walked away.  I promised Wilson that if it ever came time to talk about marriage or a financial merger, I would be willing to go to 5 different lawyers and sign 5 different contracts just so he would feel protected.

He said, “Those never hold up in court.”

Hmmmmm…..I think they would have.  I think perhaps, it is more so his heart that he is protecting other than his bank account.   I don’t want Wilson’s money, I wanted his heart. 

I tried to approach the subject of why I had even brought up commitment in the first place.  I was so over protective of Sissy.  He would be the only man I was willing to let in her life…but not if he couldn’t give us all of his heart.  He was not going to merge into Sissy’s life, be a father figure, and refuse to merge completely into mine.

He told me not to use Sissy as a pawn in the breakdown of our relationship.

I couldn’t speak for a while after I hear those awful words.  I choked back sobs.

The excruciating pain in his divorce came from losing money.  My pain (other than the obvious that Bill had hurt my daughter) was from losing my Faerieland….my garden….my rocks….my moss.  When I could finally speak again I explained through tears to Wilson that my one big dream was to own land to put my heart into again.

He quietly replied,  “I can’t ever give you that.”     

I

Hung

Up.

I haven’t spoken to him since.  He sent Sissy and I cards expressing his sorrows for the relationship ending.  It didn’t make us feel much better. 

So….today I put this thought on my heart and will let it sit there for a while….see what becomes of it~~~~~

If Wilson really loved me and was my true friend, he would want me to reach my dreams.  He would want to do it with me.  If he loved Sissy and wanted to be a family with her and I….he would.  

A Week of Discoveries...

I woke the other morning to the sound of pounding coming from Sissy’s room.  I found her with her “mega squirt gun” in hand beating on the ceiling.  “Listen Mom, there is a squirrel in my ceiling!  He’s been scurrying back and forth and woke me up last night!”  Sure enough, I could hear scratching and pitter pattering back and forth too.  I told her I would get on the ladder outside and see what I could find in the attic.  One of the first things I noticed about our century old cottage was the attic entry OUTSIDE above the back door.  Battered shutters with a small chunk of wood used for a “lock” were the only barrier between the attic and the outdoors and any critters that lived near us. 

I climbed up to the opening, Sissy behind me handing me various sized flash lights.  The attic was approximately four feet tall and 20 feet wide with no clear vision above Sissy’s room.  As I was peering in, Sissy said “Um Mom, I think our “Squirrel is watching you.”  I looked up only to see our blue-eyed Siamese Zackary, the emotional needy cat, peering down from the roof curiously at me.  He must have been the pitter patter that we heard above Sissy’s room.  Upon seeing us, he began to whine and wheeze.  He is the only cat I know that constantly sounds like he has “kitty asthma” and feels like he must be held at all times.  He started to cry and I handed him down the ladder to Sissy’s waiting arms. (in a future posting I will fill you all in on Zackary’s very sad history and how we acquired him…it is too sad to goin into now)

My curious girl then wanted her turn to check out the attic.  The next thing I know she is up the ladder and crawling back through 100 year old insulation while exclaiming “OHHHHHH….Cooooool.”  She started handing dusty items down to me almost immediately.  “Mom, I found treasures!” She yelled.  Out came a decrepit looking suitcase,  a gunny sack with pieces of scrolled wood tied inside, and a three part hinged screen complete with the original vintage fabric intact!

We brought each very dirty item into the house, dropping insulation along the floor.  I was told later it was probably FULL of asbestos.  The suitcase was locked, but we eventually picked the lock only to find….air in it.  It did have a tag, a date – 11/08/02 and the name Mrs. Alan Dreffield on it though.  The scrolled pieces of wood looked to be a sewing cabinet that had been dismantled and saved.  We will be handing it over to my brother in law to restore.  The screen is beautiful!  The wood is old and, chippy, painted a shabby cream color.  The antique fabric is a burgundy and cream damask with roses and paisley swirls.

I have been a “rummager” all my life.  There are countless items I brought with me to our cottage that I rescued from the barn, chicken coop, and attics at Hank and Maud’s homestead.  During the years married to Bill I have rescued, a stone topped wash-stand, an iron Victrola stand and pieces of Roseville Pottery just to name a few discoveries. 

Sissy and I had the best time together cleaning up our new found items and displaying them in our cottage.  We know that Mrs. Alan Dreffield is happy that we rescued her belongings.  They are now very precious to us.

The next night was another night for discovery….just not treasures in the attic.  Sissy and I had to sit before the Juvenile Diversion Board as a consequence to her newly acquired MIP Halloween weekend. 

We arrived at the County Juvenile waiting room to find it quite full with only two places left to sit.  The group that waited with us I would have to say had probably never been the type of gathering that that particular waiting room had seen.  I would have to assume that the usual category of “perps’ that waited here ranged from “at risk youth”, “gangster want-to-be’s”, and poor teenagers with no family support.  Our group was compromised of the ASB president and his parents, two star girl’s basketball players and their parents, two varsity cheerleaders (one being Sissy) with mommies, and the National Honor Society president with his mother.  If you averaged the GPA of the students in the room it was easily 3.9.  Each student was a member of one or more volunteer clubs at school – Key Club, NHS, and Student Counsel just to name a few.  You would think this group should have been waiting together to apply for scholarships and not Minor In Possession repercussions.

One by one the students were called into the inner rooms with their parents.  The clock slowly ticked on as one by one….each child emerged with their parents….bawling.  Sissy and I were last.  The probation officer came out finally to tell us we had been put into the last spot as there was a conflict with both of us and a member of one of the panels.  (We later found out he was Bill’s best friend and asked to be removed from our panel)  When finally it was our turn, we were led back to sit before three people.  A Juvenile supervisor Teresa, and older man Dale, and an elderly woman Nicki.    Before Sissy had even sat down Nicki barraged her with questions.  “If you are such an upstanding student why were you at a party with alcohol?  What in the hell were you thinking?  Did you know there was POT at this party which is also illegal?  I don’t care how much you drank or what you blew – ANY amount of alcohol in you, young lady, is ILLEGAL.  So you want to be a nurse?  What nursing school is going to let you in with THIS in your past?”  Sissy lip began quivering almost instantly.  Huge tears slid down her face.  Dale asked her what kinds of friends she really had.  “Do friends make you let go of your dreams and goals?  I think not.” He roared.  

I knew what their objective was.  I knew that the kids that sat before them needed this “Scared Straight” tactic.  I didn’t feel for one minute that Sissy shouldn’t face consequences for her actions.  I didn’t want to make excuses for her….at all…..but then when Nicki barked “What did YOU think MOM when you got the call that your GOOD daughter just received an MIP?”

 

I did it….I pulled the “Bill Card”.  Didn’t want to, didn’t think it was prudent…but I looked over at my reason for living…sobbing in the chair next to me and answered:

“I thought that this little girl before you has made it through a trauma that none of us should ever have to face.  Do you happen to know our story, this being such a small town?”  They each nodded and said Yes, they were aware of what we had gone through with her father.  “My girl,” I continued “has pulled herself up by her boot-straps from a situation that would have emotionally ruined most children her age.”  I swallowed the lump growing in my throat.  “We have been through a nightmare because of the actions of her father.  I watch her continue to smile each day, when she shouldn’t.  Watch her do her homework and get good grades when she should be “cutting and puking”.   I saw her shine on when she should have been dulled by this horrendous incident.”   I thought back to the moment I did get the call about her MIP and said “I was frightened that her scars may have caught up with her and was sending her down that slippery slope of drinking to dull her pain.  I was terrified of our nightmare finally taking her from me.”

They all sat there.  Said nothing.  Blinked a few times.  Then promptly gave Sissy:

16 hours of community service

6 hours of Alcohol classes

2 hours at a victim’s panel

Suspended her driver’s permit

Put her on probation until February 18^th (Her father’s birthday)

So much for playing the “Bill Card”.  Yep, it could have been worse, BUT, it could have been like two of the other children who sat before the panel with Bill’s best friend.  They were given ESSAYS TO WRITE. 

 

That’s it. 

ESSAYS. 

We walked the block home to our cottage (how nice and convenient that we live so close to the Juvenile).  Sissy sobbed and hiccuped all the way home to her bed.  I lay with her until she stopped.  Then, I spent the next two hours convincing her that she WAS a wonderful, strong, smart, brave young lady.  She WOULD become a nurse someday.  She would triumph over the Bill nightmare.  She would accept that for some reason God felt THIS great group of kids needed to be caught and stopped before they strayed from their individual path of greatness.  And that maybe….Nicki’s wrinkly, snarly, old self was put on this earth to help little Gangsters….but she wasn’t needed to scare my little princess straight.  Sissy has already shown the path she’s headed down….and it is looking pretty good…and straight.  

Life on the Little Hill....

I lost count of how many different gardens I created.  I was outside everyday, hauling rocks, digging the big pond, creating pathways, moving moss (I am weird - I love moss), planting fairy tale Ivy to trail over my newly built stone walls.  I loved my Faerieland.  I built a small home business building trellises, arbors etc. and named it "Faerieland Creations".  When I wasn't beautifying my own landscape, I was busy building something lovely for someone else's garden.  


Sissy tagged along with me, sweetly keeping me company.  Her brother, 7 years older, was attending school daily while Sissy was content to stay home and play in the dirt with her mama. 


Together (with help from two happy Labs and our many felines) we dug the 5 ft. deep pond and added a waterfall.  We planted  and sank pots of lily pads and added many koi fish.  Sissy loved feeding the fish cat food and the dogs loved to wade in the pond after the cat food.  We built stone steps and pathways up to the upper garden.  The land was in 3 different "layers" and we did our best t connect them all together.  We planted an herb garden with a winding path through each raised and different shaped herb bed.  More steps and a pathway appeared and led visitors to a lower garden beneath the giant bird boulder.  One weekend Bill, the kids and I all worked together and constructed a brick patio perched on the edge of the hill.  A hop covered Arbor kept us out of the sun and rain. A bubbling "bird pond" nestled next to it gave us "garden music" while we sat watching sunsets on our new sitting area.  


Many evenings Bill and I sat on the patio, sipping micro-brews (our favorite beverage) and gazed down the valley.  We held hands as the sun would set and frequently commented that THIS was the bliss we wanted our whole lives. Bill liked to pick rose buds and tuck them behind my ear.  We'd sit out there until the light faded and sometimes stayed longer with lighted,twinkling candles in jars around us.  We'd leave our special place only to plan to come back in the morning and have coffee together.  Booboo had built us a bird house that hung above the patio. The wren couple that moved in greeted us every sunrise.  Bill and I named them Peter and Lois(from Family Guy of course) and spent many a coffee hour enjoying watching them flit in and out of their own little blissful home.  


On weekends we would hike with the children (and dogs and sometimes cats) to the top of the hill that continued behind the house.  We loved to pick the wildflowers in the spring and crawl along the moss covered out cropping of huge boulders.  We all could feel the magic of our mossy hill and never wanted to come down off of it.  We loved to look down on our house, pond, gardens and see how it was ever changing with each year.  


The children grew, the dogs got old and then there were new dogs, and always a new litter of kittens.  The place continued to change and grow as did the love among us.  Maud and Hank, living a short walk away, spent many an hour with us.  They had finally accepted me into the family, adored the children, and treated me like a daughter...how I always hoped they would.  


Booboo grew into an intelligent, lovely young man.  He graduated from High School and left us for college.  Maud still worked at the High School during Boo's years there.  Periodically, I would sub in the office for her on her sick days.  I loved working in the school.  I adored the kids, staff, parents and principal.  Because Maud was so negative in her position, everyone seemed to breathe sighs of release on my work days.  Before I knew it, Maud was asked to "use her book keeping talents" and become a full time ASB Book Keeper...in her own private office....away from the students and public.  The district asked that I please take over the High School Secretary position.  I jumped at the chance.  THIS was the job I was meant to have.  I had a lot of love to give and wanted to spread it at Oakville High School.  Even Maud, in her well practiced martyrdom voice said "I never thought anyone could take my place, but you have and very well...*sigh*" I loved the school's schedule and spent my summers back out in the garden with Bill and Sissy and Boo when he came home to visit.  


Each day Sissy grew more beautiful inside and out.  She realized her love for dance and joined the Middle School Drill Team.  We were amazed at how quickly she excelled with this talent.  We weren't surprised when she tried out her freshman year for varsity cheerleader - and made it.  She was popular with her friends, kind to all, bubbly, energetic, witty, happy and pretty much a dream to any parent.  In the spring she joined Bill's softball team and loved being coached by her father.  The local sports photographer snapped a shot of Bill and Sissy, matching uniforms, with their arms around each other that was so adorable he printed it in our local small town paper.  


Little did we know, in less than a year....Bill's face and the horrifying charges against him would make the front page of our small town paper.  

There Once Was a Happy Little Family on a Happy Little Hill...

Much to Maud’s disappointment, we stayed married.  We had a beautiful premature baby boy who was whisked away in a helicopter moments after birth.  His lungs were not developed so he was flown to a neonatal intensive unit in a larger city.  When this incident is recapped by Maud, she tells all listening how very hard it was on her.  I laid in a hospital bed with my gut cut open and holding an invisible baby in my arms…but pooooor Maud.  After a few weeks, Booboo and I were both healed and our life as a happy little family began.

As the years went by our son Booboo became the light of Maud and Hank’s eyes.  You would never have know there was a day they wanted me to give him up.  Bill eventually earned two different degrees from college.  One in Recreation – which he decided he didn’t like after all.  His career in that field was a short lived position as a “Rec Director” at a higher end resort in a neighboring town. He hated pretending to like guests; he refused to cater to their needs, and only received one tip the length of his employment there.  (Read between the lines – he was an ass)   So with Booboo and I in tow, back to college he went and acquired his degree in education.  We had made the decision as a family that I would stay home w/ Boo while Bill worked and got his degree.  This latest certification brought us back to our home town where Bill was hired as a Middle School Teacher.  He volunteered on various Middle School athletic teams, and eventually was hired as a High School Football Coach and Fast Pitch Coach.

We lived in a cute little rental when I found out I was pregnant with Sissy.  This was the baby we had wanted for a long while.  Boo had anxiously waited for a baby sibling for a few years now.  When hearing of the new baby, Hark and Maud promptly deeded us over 5 acres of land to put a house on.  The Apple industry had taken a dive.  All the apple trees were taken out and the orchard business had recently ended. 

Hark took the dying apple industry occasion to retire. Maud was forced to work as the High School Secretary at our Alma mater.   She hated it and everyone who stepped through the office door knew it too.  She was happy about her knew grandchild though, and Hark and her were present the night Sissy finally arrived that spring.  I had been in labor for 37 hours when finally Bill came out to the waiting room pushing a hospital bassinet with a pink bundle inside.  Bill cried as he presented his daughter to his family.  He said it was one of the two happiest days of his lives.  The birth of Boo and the birth of his precious baby girl, Sissy.

Though the valley had only a few fruit trees here and there, our newly received  land perched on top of a hill, held the most amazing view.   You could see up and down the valley with Oakville river winding through.  The hill above our house was covered in wild flowers during the spring.  Families of Deer wandered the trails year round.  Coyotes sang at night.  Raccoons, eagles, you name it – all sorts of different wild life lived on our hill.  I loved that hill.  I used to climb it by myself and sit for hours on a mossy rock watching the river crawl by below.   Someplace up on that hill today….is a part of my heart. 

After looking at stick houses and talking to many construction companies, we finally decided to purchase a triple-wide manufactured home to place on our land.  I couldn’t believe what an adorable house we found!!!  Soaring ceilings, tile fireplace, huge windows, not one bit of this “Trailer” looked like a manufactured home.   We hired a company to do the land prep and “install” the house.  There were many extra boulders on our land so the head worker built me a huge rock wall along our drive way.  He also found an enormous boulder on the edge of the front hill that had a deep divot in it.  He placed it back into the hill with his enormous machinery giving me a “Bird Bath Boulder”.  I was in love with my house on the hill, even though it sat amongst the dirt and my beautiful rocks. 

Landscaping was my life.  Digging in the dirt made me happier than anything.  When I wasn’t planting, digging, or hauling rocks.  I was building trellises, bird feeders, benches and more out of white birch and selling them up and down the valley.   Bill and I worked side by side in our garden as often as we could.  I spent most days dirty, dusty, and digging while he helped after work and on the weekends.  Before we knew it, a park-like landscape had emerged on our hill from all of the hard work.  

We lived in a happy little house, on a happy little hill.  We were THE happy little family. 

This past week...

was pretty damn horrible.  Wilson and I discussed the future more in depth only to find out we are on completely separate pages.  Not only does he NEVER want to get married again, if I lived with him we would never even buy a house together.  No financial merger what-so-ever.  The longer I think about it, it doesn't seem like a heart merger either.  The last time we talked we decided that since we both had such different views of the future, we should go our separate ways.  His last words to me were "I do love you, take care of Sissy for me."

I am broken hearted.  He is a firefighter in the big city and was a hero to Sissy and I too.  We went through hell after her father molested her.  Out of the blue a beautiful, kind, loving man waltzed into our lives.  He showed me what normal, respectful, love felt like.  He gave Sissy a role model of a true man.  She told my bff the other day that Wilson had done more for her in two years than her father had in a life time.  I texted him this week and told him I was miserable without him and if he was happy with the way things were he didn't have to respond.  He didn't.

Sissy and I each had Halloween parties to attend Saturday night.  I dropped her off at hers and cringed at the short, fluffy skirt she wore.  She was a "Ring Master" and her little girl friend with her was a "Clown" also in short, frilly skirt.  UGH...they needed to be dressed as nuns.  I would have felt much better.  She assured me she wore her cheer "spankies" underneath so as to decrease the "skank value" of her costume.  Oh my girl.  I left them at the town hall with parents supervising the party and felt pretty good about it, just hoping her skirt stayed flat.

My friends and I headed off to the town bar.  There is only one bar in our town and it was packed.  Soon after we arrived they filled to capacity and long lines formed outside.  It felt like being in a club in the city not a derelict old saloon...which it was in reality.

I was wearing the costume I had wanted to wear for years.  Tippy Hendren from "The Birds".  I had on a vintage suit, pill box hat, and covered myself with artificial birds.  One on my hat too, with a wee bit of blood dripping down to assure the "attack" effect.

I was not happy though, sad about Wilson, feeling like a silly 43 year old in my costume and wondering what the hell I was even doing out.  Then I got asked to dance....again.....and again.....
A group of 20 something guys had all come together dressed up as random ball players - original.  (sarcasm people)  After the seventh dance with one of the football players I finally asked "What is the deal- is it fantasy night with the High School Secretary?"  "No" he said "You are just extremely sexy."  I looked around at all of the 21 year old girls in attendance.  There must have been 15 or so "Fat Fairies" on the dance floor.  I consider myself a curvy girl and would never consider most of the costumes these girls squeezed into.  But I couldn't get over the amount of pudge bouncing around.  I simply told myself "I just happen to be here on Fat night so that is why I am getting all of the attention."

I was dancing again with another football player, 27, cap on backwards, pressed up against me while I continually peeled his hands off of my butt when I got a tap on my shoulder.  I turned around and there was the mother to Sissy's little clown.  Janie and I work together in the High School office.  We are both HS secretaries.  Our daughters, like us at one time, are cheerleaders together, and too damn cute for their own good.  "I have the girls in the car Tarie.  They left the nice party and went to a naughty one with booze.  They both got MIP's."  Minor in Posession of alcohol.  I was flabbergasted.  Sissy did not drink.  Well, she didn't USED to!  She was left with the worst sensitive stomach after the ordeal with her father.  We discussed many times how alcohol could easily send her to the Emergency Room.  A place we have visited many times in her young life due to her stomach and uncontrollable vomiting.

I told Janie to take her home and put her to bed.  That I was so pissed off at her I would be home after I cooled down.

I could only be tough mom for about 20 more minutes.  As I walked out of the club two football players followed me.  Each with an invitation to two different after parties.  I left them in the lobby of the old saloon arguing about which one of them I had danced with more.  I left two 27 year old hotties fighting over me, headed home to my drunk little girl, and missed my sober 48 year old fire fighter.

The Quarterback and The Cheerleader

Knowing all of this about his reputation still did not deter me when I bumped into him at a summer “Keggar” here in our valley.   Two similar ex high school studs lived far back in an orchard in a derelict house previously occupied by ex-ex high school studs.  The house was renowned for his Keg parties.  It’s proximity to the main road made it perfect for loud music and under age drinking.  Many a party had been held at the orchard house.  Legend was that one summer the live band that was hired for a party actually fell through the floor because of the rotted, beer soaked beams.  My girlfriends and I were psyched to go.  It was the summer before my senior year.  I was 17 years old, 110 pounds, hair down to my butt, just made varsity cheerleader and must have finally grown out of my awkwardness as boys seemed to be coming out of the wood work to ask me out.  Here I stood in the middle of this party in the orchard, “The Cars” blaring, me in my very best “Flash dance” outfit…you know - ripped neck sweatshirt and legwarmers.  I paired them with sparkly jeans, high heal suede boots, aqua net tall hair, I was smokin. 

“Can you hold my beer while I go pee?”  First words he ever said to me.  I actually would dreamily repeat them to myself over the years.  WTF?  Who in their right mind would find that romantic??? But they were spoken from a face better looking than Tom Cruise….I said “Sure….” Practicing my low, sexy voice which I am sure was neither low nor sexy. 

Thus began our romance.  Cheerleader and Ex High School Football Star.   We dated for a year then eloped right after I graduated….secretly.  Hark and Maud specifically warned him “Don’t you dare marry that girl or we stop paying for your college.”  So, brilliant love birds we were, we thought "let’s just keep this our own little romantic secret."  That was until I found myself pregnant with Booboo our son. 

Needless to say, Bill’s parents were livid when the truth about our secret marriage and subsequent pregnancy came out.  Maud accused me of trying to trap Bill and ruin his life…only we were already married.  A point that angered her so she suggested that I give the baby up for adoption and perhaps we could have the marriage annulled.  Oh…what a wonderful mother-in-law I was looking forward to having.

Bill's beginning...

Bill was born in a small town of 3000 in 1964.  The town was surrounded by apple and cherry orchards and most incomes came from those crops. The seasons of an apple orchard are like different costumes pulled from a trunk.  The trees begin in spring wearing white blossoms buzzing with millions of bees.  When gazing at an orchard from above, it resembles a field of clouds.  Summer brings waves of green and those little green apples that God didn’t make.  I have been told that thinning apples in the summer heat is one of the nastiest jobs ever.  You must leave only a few apples per bunch to ripen or you have a tree full of tiny apples.  The orchards, though beautiful, are filled with pesticide, snakes and heat so dry and high, you must quit by noon or cook. In autumn the orchards come alive with workers, mostly poor souls from Mexico willing to break their backs for meager wages.  I loved sitting on my hill above the orchard during harvest listening to the workers sing in Spanish as they filled their picking bags.  I enjoyed watching the big freight trucks being filled with apple bins lifted by forklifts by more singing workers.  Winter was the season that the orchards seemed naked.  A few year-round workers came through pruning branches, but mostly the trees stood quiet and bare with a deer or two pawing at the ground below in search of old fallen fruit.   

Bill grew up on his family’s apple orchard and had what seemed to all a happy child hood.  He was close with his parents, sister, and his mother’s mother, Nan, who lived with them after his grandfather passed.  His grandparents had begun the family orchard in the 20’s and Bill’s father Hark took it over when “Pa” was too old to manage. 

Hark grew up in the south heading north only to end up in our teeny town selling shoes.  Here he met and married Addy, the first wife that I was oblivious about her existence for years into my marriage with Bill.  They had four children together, though I am not sure of the length of the marriage.  Maud, Bill’s mother told of her and Hark’s budding romance when she was only 19 and he was 31.  With the vague clues I was given and my simple knowledge of math, I came to the conclusion that Maud and Hark's “budding romance” began before the end of his first marriage.  Maud despised Hark’s first wife and the children that were created from the marriage.  She would drone on about what awful people they were yet never giving any of us lucky listeners grounds for her opinions.  Her years of outspoken non-tolerance of extra marital affairs began to make me suspicious. I had never met a more judgmental woman in my life.   It was only recently that I came to realize the depth of her hypocrisy and the sins she hid. 

Maud grew up on this family orchard as the only girl spoiled in a family of boys.  I was not told much about her upbringing from my family, who grew up in the same town, only that she was doted on by her parents and not well liked in high school.  After Maud and Hark met and were married, his ex moved away with the children.  Bill had seen the youngest boy once during a summer but he and I never saw the older siblings again until they were well into their 40’s.  Hark’s new marriage and subsequent family replaced his previous one and he had a minuscule relationship with those children if any. 

Bill was born in their first year of marriage and a few years later came Josie his younger sister.  Happy little family, two happy children, growing happy apples. 

Bill was graced with handsomeness at an early age.  Neither of his parents were striking individuals, homely even, but Bill seemed to be given their strongest traits, and when blended together, created a striking face.  He had his mother’s thick dark hair and deep-set brown eyes, his fathers prominent nose, and after 3 years of braces on little Bill, a drop dead smile. 

When Bill was a pre-teen he discovered that he was also athletically gifted. By the time he reached High School (ours had 250 students) he was a starter for both baseball and basketball and of course quarterbacks for the football team. This newfound talent thrilled his parents.  Hark had a brief baseball career in a minor-minor league and Bill’s adeptness to the game was a dream come true for him.  Maud bought every Oakville High School coat, sweatshirt, pin that was sold.  They hauled lawn chairs, filled the tank with gas and with Nan in tow too, never missed one of Bill’s games.  During this time-frame is when the true colors of Bill’s parents were said to have been seen by many an Oakville fan.  Hark screamed at any umpire idiot enough to blow a whistle at his son.  He berated coaches from the stands, even dared scream at other players…on the same team.  This almost led him to blows with another player’s father at one event and they were both ejected from the game.  Maud, on the other hand, was more subtle about her opinions.  She was Queen of the side-handed compliment.

 “Joy, your Bart out there made a great play even if he isn’t as fast as my Bill.” 

 publicly dig it up while bundled in her Oakville blanket sitting amongst the other mothers.

 “I believe our coach is hitting the sauce again, he is making terrible decisions.” 

“I don’t know what the other mother’s are thinking, that little cheerleader doesn’t look a day pregnant.”

 Maud herself told me of the day she cornered Bill’s baseball coach after a game and angrily asked why another boy was playing catcher and not Bill.  (Bill was playing 3^rd base by the way, but it must not have been as an important position according to his mother)  When the coach explained that the new catcher could get the ball to 2^nd base a hair faster than Bill and that Bill’s talents would help the team more at 3rde base, she began screaming so hard that she actually spit on him a couple of times.  The coach suggested the family see a counselor and Maud, to this day, hates that man’s guts. 

Bill’s athletic talents easily provided him with the status of “Stud of Oakville”.  He was the boy most sought after by the Oakville girls.  Many a high school girl had written “foxy” under his face in annuals. Girls called his house and hung up giggling if he answered.  Groups of tipsy girls used to drive to his house and dare each other to tap on his window.   I was only a freshman by the time he was a senior, and I couldn’t count how many girls had huge crushes on him.  I never would attempt even a glance at him back then, fearing that I was so far out of his “league”.   I watched him from afar as he would date one lucky girl after another, yet always it was known he had other girlfriends in neighboring towns at the same time.  I figured he was just so good looking that he couldn’t help himself.  GAWD I was naive. No, I was completely stupid. 

He graduated from our tiny school and went to college on a baseball scholarship.  He partied and slept through fall and winters quarters so much so that by the time spring and baseball rolled around, he was uninvited from the team.  So back home he came with his tail between his legs, to attend our small local college and be where everyone still idolized him.  He made it to enough classes locally to keep his grades up yet still partied like a rock star and dated only the prettiest of girls. I never thought I would be one of them.