74,000 Miles

My ex-wife had a running joke in her family that dates back to when her oldest brother, who is now 41 years old, procrastinated on a middle school book report and was forced to write a last minute essay about a work of fiction that was so fictional that it didn't even exist.  Amazingly, his act of creative academic malfeasance resulted in him getting an A.  Three years later his younger brother wrote a book report about the same phantom novel and also got an A.  Another three years on, their little sister followed suit with the same results.  The (nonexistent) book in question was called "All is Quiet Now," written by the great (nonexistent) author Estelle Pendleton.

I think of that moment tonight for a variety of reasons:

• It's a funny story that can't help but stick with me
• It's a reminder that she actually did once have a close relationship with her siblings
• It illustrates how far back her ease with telling lies goes
• It really illustrates how much she and her family have always believed themselves to be smarter than those around them and thumbed their collective noses at authority
• The author's first name was the same as their grandmother's, who recently passed away
• It proves that the teachers and schools in their little town have always more than a few books short of a library, both literally and figuratively
• Most of all, in my house, all is very, very quiet now.

It's been 16 days since I took my kids back to Maine.  Though I was sad to drop them off at the end of six great weeks together it somehow didn't feel quite as awful this time as it did every other time before.  In the past, the car ride from the airport back to my ex-wife's house (as if she would pick them up!) was always a funeral march, with my soul filling with anger and sadness until the tears inevitably sloshed out of me around the time I had to say goodbye to my kids.  This time it was a goodbye party--we joked and laughed all the way.  After kissing them each one last time and bidding them farewell I actually felt at peace, and drove off with a clear mind.

I have to believe that the tighter bond we forged with each other during the summer had at least something to do with the difference in everyone's mood.  My kids had been an integral part of my new life and home for an extended period of time, and they both enjoyed it.  I got to feel like a real parent, and not just a "frequent father," and felt secure in the knowledge that next summer would be the same way.  I wasn't worried about the trip back to Virginia, the two months until I would visit Maine again, or the thousands of miles that I'd be traveling over the next 10.5 months just to maintain a relationship with my kids.  All of my anxieties drifted away in that moment, and smiled as I drove off.

The positive feeling lasted for a few days, as if I had just visited a particularly skilled acupuncturist, and the tingly feling lasted longer than usual.  The intervening two weeks have not been quite so kind.  I came back to my job, which has quickly become tedious and unfulfilling, and I've been having trouble motivating myself to do much of anything.  I took a quick trip to Arizona with my wife, ostensibly for us to have a brief getaway, but really to help my mom and aunt figure out what to do with my 93 year old grandmother, who is rapidly descending into dementia.  My ex's phone went out for two days and, since she refused to get a cell phone, I ended up having to call the cops to do a welfare check (they were fine).  Finally, my wife and stepdaughter have been in Atlanta for the past 10 days--it was supposed to be my stepdaughter's time with her dad but, to nobody's surprise, the bum has only seen her for one afternoon so far.

And, thus, all is quiet now.  I've been largely alone with my thoughts for 10 days.  I work in an office with just one other person and we spend much of our collective day at our respective computers, with little occasion to socialize with each other.  I come home to a dark, empty house and have to motivate myself to do more than slump on the couch.  In between I have forced myself to stay active and busy by playing soccer, riding my bike, and even going to the movies with a high school friend.  All of it has been a largely unsuccessful exercise in not dwelling on my situation and getting on with my life.

I have determined that the only way I'm going to keep going in the right direction is to find a career path that engages and motivates me.  My job is paying the bills, but I come home each night drained and tired, and feeling like I'm just treading water.  If my life at home was in good order, any old job would suffice, and I'd find a way to keep going.  But I need more--if I don't find some meaning in my work I will undoubtedly fall back into a depression. 

There will be many more miles to travel in the coming months.  I am hopeful that I will find my way professionally soon, so that I have the strength and energy that I need to soldier on as the Frequent Father.

18,700 Miles

Seeing as how the number after the comma in this posting's title is odd, I'm in the midst of a one-way trip. I've been back in Maine for 10 days and started my job last week. It's going pretty well, I guess--I like the work and am enjoying being busy again, but there is the matter of my boss' wife being literally on her death bed, which makes things more than a little gloomy. That's all secondary, though, as I've seen my kids on 5 of the 10 days that I've been here. I remind myself that seeing them makes everything else worthwhile.

This past weekend was my beloved daughter's 3rd birthday. She had asked me several times to come to her party, but her mother decided not to invite me. In fact, her mother decided not to invite anyone except for her dad. She didn't invite her mother or brother, not after the drunken incident with the fiance. And she's got no friends, so nobody else was there. It breaks my heart.

When I went to pick up my kids that afternoon, it all seemed OK. They came running out of the house, and hopped right into my car. I actually exchanged a few pleasant words with my ex in the process. But the bum had other ideas. While I was buckling my kids into their car seats, he snuck up behind me and was standing about five feet away, staring me down. When I closed the door and stood up, I saw him glaring at me, as if he was about to pounce. I looked over and asked, "Do you have a problem?

He said, "You know, she wakes up twice at night crying for her mother. Can you handle that?"

I replied, "You're not her mother. This doesn't concern you." I then glanced over at my ex, and said, "Do you have something to say to me? Because if you do, I'll be happy to discuss it."

She said nothing. He jumped back in and said, "Well I'm her stepfather."

I took two steps towards him and said, "I told you, this doesn't concern you. Now get out of my way."

"What?" he replied.

"Get the FUCK out of my way," I said.

He stomped off, threatening to call the police (for what, I don't know exactly). I drove away in a huff.

The good news is that the rest of my daughter's birthday weekend was good news. My birthday present to my little girl was to get her a "princess bed." I bought a daybed--white with pink roses--and princess sheets and a princess comforter to give her a special place at my apartment for her to sleep. And to my great joy, she did sleep! No crying for mommy--she just snuggled up in her new bed, put her thumb in her mouth and went right to sleep. I can't possibly express in words the joy I felt watching her close her eyes and go to sleep in my house. It almost made up for all of my suffering. Almost.

On Sunday I drove my kids up to Lake Winnipesaukee in New Hampshire, where an old college friend has a family cabin right on the lake. We spent the whole day swimming and riding around in a paddle boat. It was the perfect summer day in New England, and I'm sure they'll remember it for a long, long time. I dropped them off and came back to my apartment to get ready for the work week.

Later that night I got an email from my ex brother-in-law's girlfriend. They apparently had tried to send a gift over to my daughter, but my ex refused to accept it. She told her dad (who was the go-between) that if he didn't take it back, she would throw it away. She is so angry over the incident in the barn that she intends to never speak with her brother again, I guess. I called her brother up to discuss things, and he kept me on the phone for 45 minutes, telling me all sorts of wild stories. He told me that she admitted to him as recently as 2 months ago that the fiance is still drinking heavily (in direct contrast to what she's told me). He said that she's been working for several months for a friend of his, taking money under the table, which of course violates her child support agreement and constitutes tax evasion. He also told me that his friend (her employer) reports that, while she's on the phone with him for work, he's heard the fiance screaming obscenities at my children in the background.

Given her brother's checkered past, I'm not sure what I believe, but I know he loves my children, and I also know that he is deeply hurt by his sister's behavior. I have no illusions that these latest twists and turns will get me any closer to getting custody of my kids, but at least I'm living close by to keep an eye on things.

I've obviously left out the part about now living 1,100 miles away from my wife and stepdaughter. That's a whole 'nother story, one that will have to wait for another day.