Divorced- a flashback to '97' part 10

*Disclaimer- woman featured is not the technical ex-wife, although an Ex.                            Spirits caught on film.

Celebration on the Grand was being advertised on WLAV FM, which was my favorite classic rock station. It was on in my truck when I drove and in my area of control, where ever I worked at most days. I heard it while working at Permalife as a mold and pattern maker for, Randy Bouma, cousin to Doug Bouma- the guy who had a hand in black-balling me from area employment and human services after my accident. 

Doug was the developer I had most recently worked for as a subcontractor, installing the Finish Carpentry in residential homes throughout the region. Maybe it was all a freak accident that I was struck by that Semi or maybe it was part of my destiny. If I had only waited for another day and time to give my friend and band mate, Ron Vokes, window replacement estimates on his house maybe this wouldn’t have happened to me but I did not. That would have changed the events that would end up robbing me of my health, home, family and livelihood. 

The head injury that was sustained had altered my perception and my life, and would directly affect my ability to run my business, contaminating my business relationships that I had been maintaining. All of my relationships changed but I saw nothing better on the horizon. Was I meant to rebuild for something better? My Destiny? What about my hopes of getting custody of my oldest daughter? What would happen to my children at home with me now?

Shortly after the accident on the highway I would be “phased out” and “black-balled,” destroying my opportunities almost completely. Coincidentally, Randy was one of the only people to respond to my resume. He was the only person to offer employment but without proper medical services being provided, there would be no recognition made of the extent of those injuries that lie under the surface, yet to reveal themselves to the layman or victim- those around me and myself. The whole ball of twine, that was my life, unraveled into a big knotted up mess that I would spend the next 20 years trying desperately to unravel and salvage. The pile that lay at my feet only grew as memories, bits and pieces- like major edits made to a reel of film. And almost all of the mess was lost in the panic to salvage my past, present, and what would become my future.

One of the many dreams about the damage sustained was of my performing a sort of brain surgery on myself. With a few mirrors and minimum tools, I cut the top of my skull off and attached hinges. There was not a brain but a pair of Reel-to-Reel tapes, like the guts of two VHS tapes standing side by side. The reels were off of their axis points and jostled from their placement, and the tape was in a big birds nested wad, like a messed up fishing reel or something. I tried and tried to unravel it but it was otiose. Eventually I admitted defeat and cut out the knots. My concerns were of all of the knowledge and memories I had lost- the extent of it is still being revealed as I remember bits of that which I cannot restore. The flip-top head image comes to mind a lot. That must have registered first after my repairs to the recording device that I attempted in my dream. It was, what I think was, Randy’s pity on me that gained me the opportunity in his corporation. Except for the seriously dry and dusty shop atmosphere, it was here, where I would gain a real friend, a gift that would be of great value later on when I was nearer to finished and ready to give up entirely.

Everyone was genuinely friendly to me at Permalife. I liked them a lot and had a pretty good understanding of them all, for the most part. We were a family. And as a family does, I would tell them all about the family I had of my own- the kids, wife and dog. Well, they were all sitting there with me, on break. We were talking and smiling, and happy. Just then, she comes walking or marching rather, Cody and Scarlett with her- Scarlett in her arms. “Where’s your check?” she demanded. Silence came down hard in the break room. My co-workers were quick to conceal their discomfort by trying to go about their business making it look as though they weren’t embarrassed for me- to have to observe this woman I was just now bragging about how fortunate I was to have in my life. I was so naive, failing to see what was so clear to everyone else but I bought the tickets, to dinner at the Celebration on the Grand over the phone anyway, without a second thought.  

We meandered around the downtown area, seeing the variety and taking in the atmosphere. The band played on at Rosa Parks Circle, where Mindy said that there was something she needed to tell me. I went into shock as the message was given, six years too late. She needed to tell me that she didn’t want to be married. She was given the choice immediately when she learned of the pregnancy but now she makes the announcement- at a celebration, of all places. 

Shock took over as it sunk in. Now she gets to change her mind? Well, it wasn’t clear what she meant, and I am not 100 percent sure that I wasn’t happy. She had to be joking, I thought. She couldn’t possibly think of leaving me now. The part that bothered me, apart from her complaining about the fine establishment that the reservations were made for, and the patrons that dined there, not to mention that I spent my last five dollars on a cocktail for her and not myself, was that later she clarified that the scenario was that she was simply removing me from the family entirely- not that she just wanted a divorce. My kids, my wife and all of my household and everything in it, except for the dog, which was all I got besides my clothing and personal items. It was all gone for what I would later find out was another man that she had met in an A.O.L. chat room. What a kick in the teeth! I don’t believe I ever got over the reality of that humiliation. 

Never has she apologized for what she has done- to me, to my family, to our children- to Cody. I needed her to oversee the situation with the attorney, involved in the lawsuit against the trucking company, who happened to be a friend of her family. I needed to coordinate my medical needs, which were my going to speech pathologists and physical therapists, as well as seeing the joke of a Family Practitioner that Blodgett referred me to- Dr. Mervyn Smith. Heartbreaking is only the introduction to the lengthy description for what it was and still is. And although I am in a much better place now, and finally happier, a recognition or admission would, at least, salve the wounds that re-open every time I am forced to see the damages in my only son or in all three of my children.

No wonder she made the announcement in a place so public. She obviously feared my reaction, and rightly so. There are some who insist I should have beaten her a bit, earlier on in the relationship. The problem with that is, when a person grows up with having to choke back on their anger for so long, it may become such a violent rage that it might not be controllable. It might not be something that you can stop. I never wanted to see what my rage could become, and therefore kept it locked down tight for the fear that someone could be severely hurt or even killed. How’s that for reality- knowing that you are in total control of something so volatile and potentially deadly. That’s the mark of a real man, in my opinion.

I bawled for months at the emasculating effect of her raping my heart- my home. It got so bad that she decided we couldn’t just stay together in the same house, pretending that everything was normal while she got up the nerve to throw herself at this man who wasn’t man enough to go out in public to win the affections of a woman, let’s say- at the grocery store. How could a person put stock into someone who hasn’t the morals enough to think twice about messing around and violating someone’s marriage? These people are cowards cloaking themselves in a digital age. When would he show his face? To this very day, he has not.

Before she moved out she spent “our” money, going on a trip to South Carolina, as well as throughout the Gulf coast. This included attending a Lollapalooza Festival in Muskegon. I wasn’t invited on the getaway even though it was my life that had been severely disrupted, and myself who truly needed the break. My offspring were taken from me to her parent’s house, to stay with them until she returned home. She had went all over town buying things at stores, where she used my name to open up lines of credit so she could stock up on “thneeds” for her new residence plans.

When she came home from her trip, boy, was I dumb, helping her with her luggage while noticing she had smacked up the Plymouth Voyager that she had forced me to buy in order for us to go to a Thanksgiving Day gathering with my family in Bay City, instead of pooling in with my mother or sisters. She just blew off the damage as no big deal. I was overwhelmed with the feeling to look inside the suitcase before I even got to the door of the house. Hoping to find a souvenir t-shirt saying something to the affect of, “My wife went to… and all I got was this stupid t-shirt,” but what I found was a red lace Teddy that I had purchased for her at Victoria Secret on some Hallmark Holiday. I commented about it, saying that I thought it was odd to need a piece of extremely sexy lingerie for a solo trip to clear her head. She turned white as she tried to back-peddle. And even though I didn’t have the mental faculties to understand it, denying she would do such a thing to me, it slowly sank in. I became a bit hostile, asking why she needed this item, turning to her girlfriend, Mariah Schwallier, whom had accompanied her to the music festival. I asked Mariah to tell me what was going on. Silence slammed down hard as Mindy stomped around in a somewhat silent fit of rage, taking things from the house and placing them in the van, so she could go stay with her parents. She asked her friend to help saying that she thought it would be best for her and our children to go stay “somewhere else”. She would now be staying in her mom and dad’s lower level- the new phrase at that time for the basement. Mindy commented that they could live there comfortably, meaning more free from guilt.

Very soon after she went there to stay, Mindy’s father, Marc, asked me if I would finish his basement. I began working there in the evenings and on weekends. The work totaled four grand in value but I did it for free. It was a duel purpose- making it an effective way to see my kids, and get in her space in an attempt to resolve things between us. The idea was to save our marriage but there was nothing to save since her heart had never been in it and I had known that truth for some time.   

My sobriety had started and ended with her, having quit drinking to marry her after learning of her pregnancy. When she announced that she wanted a divorce my comment was simply, “I guess that means you won’t mind me having a beer then.” That moment I went right to Mulligan’s Pub, in Eastown. Even still, I was a glutton for punishment. Maybe it was from being beaten regularly as a child. Who knows but I have a feeling that I would have outright killed her, had I not always been accustom to grief and pain. Sometimes I catch myself wondering how long I would have spent in prison for ridding myself of her for real.