Fortunately, my divorce settlement and child support have supported me while I’ve been off work. Unfortunately, the money is quickly running out. What was once $325,000 is now only $92,400.00, and I have $54,500.00 charged on my credit cards. How is this possible, you ask? I’ve asked myself the same thing. Explaining where the money went is a little complicated.
First, I’ve never been good at managing money. Throughout our marriage, Ryan worked and handled everything. He made the money and I spent it. I never really gave much of thought to how much I was spending or how much was coming in. Now that I’m single it’s not easy to just stop shopping.
I owed my lawyer $88,200.00 from my divorce. My actual spending was almost two thousand dollars more than the budget Sharon and I made. The house I found was $2,700 per month, and the payments on my Lexus were so high that I traded it in. Ryan bought the furniture I took when I left the house so I bought all new furniture. I wanted a clean start, and that wouldn’t happen if I kept all that old furniture. A dress here, a few meals there, kids’ activities, birthdays, doctor’s appointments, my school tuition, and I watched the money slowly disappear like water draining from a leaky bucket.
Paul was struggling financially so I usually paid if we traveled or ate out. I lent him money when he got laid off. I spent more on Christmas than I wanted, mostly because I bought him a watch that I now wish I could get back. Every time I think of him I think of my gold Rolex on his wrist. Not a happy memory. He didn’t even give it back!
Three years after I received Ryan’s certified check, all the money from my divorce settlement is gone. I’m so tired of harassing bill collectors, late due notices, and bills I can never pay. I file for bankruptcy and move to an apartment that I can afford.
So now I’m living the life of a single mom. I’ve lost several jobs because of a flat tire, a dead battery, a sick child, a conference with a teacher, a doctor’s appointment, a bad breakup, or just a bad case of “I overslept.” When you’re a stay-at-home mom, these things don’t matter. When you’re a single parent, the world spins on a different axis. I work all day, and then come home and cook dinner, clean the kitchen, fold the load of clothes I left in the dryer three days ago, and get some sleep. There’s not enough time in the day. Not enough time in the night. There’s simply not enough time.
***************** PRESENT MOMENT *****************
When I started writing my story, I had no idea it would be this hard. I thought being a single mother was hard but really it was a joy. Now I can only dream of those days. After Paul and I broke up, I thought I had hit rock bottom but I had no idea what rock bottom actually looks like. Even at the lowest points in my life, I never once considered suicide. Today I’m sitting in this hellhole. and all I want to do is kill myself.
I was going to leave this out of my story but I might as well tell you everything. Just yesterday, I saw a rock buried in the dirt with one very sharp edge. I hid it in my hand and walked to a spot where no one would see me. I lowered myself down to the ground, opened my hand, and stared at the rock. I brushed my thumb over the edge of the rock again and again as my whole life went through my mind. One minute I was telling myself to hold out a little longer. The next minute I was reminding myself that my situation is hopeless, and I cannot bear the thought of staying here one more day. In the end, I simply had no will left to live. Death was my only answer. I closed my eyes and scraped the rock across my left wrist. I felt a sting and then a burn. I could feel the blood pouring out of my wrist, down my legs, and onto the ground, but when I opened my eyes and looked down, there was nothing there other than a scratch. I closed my eyes again. This time I pressed harder doing my best to tear open my purple veins. When I looked again there was a deeper scratch but not so much as a drop of blood.
I screamed in anger and frustration and threw the rock across the yard. Even death mocks me. I don’t have the dignity of ending my own life.
– CHAPTER 27 –
So where was I in my story? Oh yes. I work all day and come home exhausted. Today I’m too tired to fix dinner. As soon as I walk into my apartment, I see my oldest daughter on her phone and my youngest is watching television.
They give me a quick glance and say, “Hi Mom,” like it’s no big deal that I just worked all day and now I’m home. What happened to the kids who would rush to the door every time Ryan walked in like they hadn’t seen him for months?
“Come on, kids, let’s go out to eat,” I yell loud enough for everyone to hear.
My youngest daughter, Hope, is five now—that great age when everything’s magical. She loves school, her teacher, and her mommy and daddy. I still get to bathe her, dress her up, and fix her hair. She jumps up from the television, hugs my leg, and says, “I love you, Mommy.”
Grace, my eldest daughter, is another story. She’s sixteen and at that not-so-magical age when I thank the Lord that dirty looks can’t kill. She has a powerful computer that never leaves her hand. The one time I tried to ground her from her phone, she accused me of “ruining her life.” Everything is so dramatic. Lucky for me, she gets her pretty looks from me, and her brains from her father. She gets upset if she makes a low A. It doesn’t surprise me that she doesn’t want to go to eat since she’d rather be caught dead than on a family outing.
I don’t have to ask where Colt is. He’s twelve and at the same place he always is: sitting in front of his television, playing video games. I can never understand how anything can be so entertaining for so many hours. It doesn’t help that Ryan buys him a television, a PS Box (if that’s what it’s called), and any game he wants.
I open his bedroom door, remove the headphones from his ears, breaking his hypnotic state, and ask “Do you want to go out to eat?”
“Do I have to?” he complains.
“Yes, you have to,” I answer.
“Can I finish?” he pleads.
“No … now,” I say firmly.
He throws the remote control thingy on the floor and says “Uh” like I just asked him to take out the trash, which I wouldn’t dare do.
We drive to Chick-fil-A because it’s our favorite restaurant, and kids eat free on Tuesdays. I know every restaurant where kids eat free and today is Chick-fil-A day. Ryan calls Grace while we are on our way to the restaurant. When they hang up, I ask, “Why’d you tell him where we’re going to eat?”
“I don’t know,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Because he asked.”
When we get to the restaurant, I wait in line while Grace sits at a table on her phone. The other kids leave for the playscape. I’m just about to order when someone in line behind me says, “Cute kids.” When I turn, there’s a very attractive man with tan skin and dark hair—like most of the men I saw in Italy in my previous life. He’s over six feet tall and talks with a slight accent.
“Thank you,” I respond, paying him little attention.
“They really are cute,” he continues. “You’re lucky.”
I turn to the young girl at the register, and order two adult meals, and two free kids’ meals. I return to the table hoping to enjoy our family night out. My daughter never looks up from her phone. Our table is near the play area, which allows me to watch the kids through the glass. Every time Hope goes down the slide, she runs up to the glass in her strawberry dress and ponytail, and waves at me with a big smile. If I had three wishes, one of them would be that she remains this age for the rest of my life. The man from the counter sits down at the table directly across from me. When I look his way he says, “Hi, my name is Christian.”
There once was a time that I liked this kind of attention. Guys always open my door, compliment me or my kids, try to talk, and laugh at my not-so-funny jokes. Nowadays, I’m too exhausted to care. “Hello,” I say and turn back to my little girl who’s on her way back up the stairs.
“I always wanted kids of my own,” he says, “but my wife and I couldn’t have any.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Maybe it’s not too late,” I respond.
“Unfortunately, it is for us,” he says. “She was killed in a car wreck three years ago.”
“How terrible,” I say looking at him for the first time. “I’m so sorry.”
Just then, a young girl brings our food to the table. She walks off and returns with his food. We again share a quick smile when we inadvertently make eye contact. When we finish our meals, the kids head to the car and I’m left alone cleaning up the table. Christian turns to me and says, “Have a good day.”
“You too,” I say, trying to be polite.
We all load into the car and go to the nearby Walmart. This is never fun. Stores are so much easier when I’m on my own because the kids ask for everything, and I can afford nothing. I don’t have enough money to buy the things I need. Extra money for candy, snacks, or toys is completely out of the question. I tell the kids to wait in the car and I run into the store and grab a poster board, glue, glitter, and a package of colored markers before heading to the checkout line. I’m in line looking at a magazine that’s showcasing actors and actresses in their bathing suits looking their worst. When I put the magazine back on the shelf and turn around, I’m shocked to see the same man behind me in line.
“Hey, again,” he says with a big smile.
I’m not sure what to make of this. He looks nice enough but I’m definitely startled. Is this just a coincidence? Did he follow me from the restaurant? Is he stalking me? I don’t know whether to answer him or just ignore him. To be polite I say, “Hello again,” hoping it ends the discussion.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name,” he says.
“I didn’t give you my name. I don’t mean to be rude but I do have to run.”
“Of course,” he says, but just when I think the conversation is over, he turns to me and says, “I may be way out of line but I’d like to have dinner with you sometime.”
What? Can he not take a hint? I’ve been asked out enough that it shouldn’t affect me but the whole thing just freaks me out. Even if I was interested in dating someone, this is just too weird. (Not to mention the fact that he has no kids and recently lost his wife.) Why would he even want to date a woman with three kids, a full-time job, mounting bills, and not enough time in the day for her kids and housework––much less a man in her life? I sure wouldn’t date me if I were a man. Maybe he hasn’t thought this through. Maybe he’s still grieving from the death of his wife. Either way, this is not a relationship I want to pursue.
“Christian, you seem like a nice man but I’m not interested in dating right now.” There, I said it.
“We don’t have to call it a date. You seem like a very nice woman and I can really use a friend right now. I understand if you don’t want to date but we can just be friends. You can never have enough friends, right?”
He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a business card. The card looks very much like the business cards Ryan always carries but instead of saying “Attorney at Law” it says “President and CEO.”
I’ve heard this “we can just be friends” line before but it never ends that way. I don’t think men and women can “just be friends.” I smile at him and slide his card in my purse.
“Very nice to meet you, Faith,” he says after I pay the cashier.
“Bye,” I tell him, just trying to be polite before walking out of the store.
– CHAPTER 28 –
Every Thursday night my kids go to Ryan’s house, and Sharon’s kids go to their dad. I get a text from Sharon to let me know her kids just left, and she’ll be over shortly with a bottle of wine. She arrives thirty minutes later with a sack full of crackers, cheese, and two bottles of red wine. I grab two wine glasses from the kitchen, and turn on my stereo. With Sade’s The Sweetest Taboo, playing lightly in the background, we settle on the couch for the evening. When I turn to fill her glass, she has a big smile on her face and a freshly rolled joint in her hand.
“Uh oh,” I sigh, “it’s that serious?”
“What do you say?” she asks.
“One puff and that’s all. Any more makes me paranoid and weird.”
She lights the joint, takes a puff, and hands it to me. I take one puff, wait a few seconds, and take another.
“So what’s up?” I ask, even though I already have a pretty good idea why we’re here. I don’t hear from her when she starts dating someone but she always wants to talk when the relationship goes bad. Our wine therapy sessions are more about talking and listening than giving any real advice. My head is spinning anyway so I let her continue without being judgmental.
When she’s finished telling me about her latest boyfriend breakup, I pat her on the back and say, “Men suck. That’s why I don’t even bother anymore.”
“There are no good men out there,” she says.
“I thought it’d be so much easier,” I tell her. “I thought I’d be married within a year.”
“Everyone said the single life sucks but this is ridiculous,” she says.
“I really thought Paul was the one. He was —”
“The guy we,” she corrects me with a toast.
I tap my glass to hers. “The guy we don't talk about.” We sit there in silence and I finally say, “Well, either way, I’m done dating. This guy gave me his number and I—”
“What?!” she interrupts. “You met a guy? When?”
“I don’t know; about two weeks ago.”
“Where?” she follows up enthusiastically.
“It’s kinda weird. We were eating at Chick-fil-A.” I get “Chick-fil-A” out of my mouth and we both start laughing like I just told the funniest joke you ever heard. I don’t know why. There’s something about it that gets us both going. Next thing, we’re rolling on the floor and can’t stop.
We finally stop long enough for her to get out, “So how the hell do you meet a guy at Chick-fil-A?”
“I don’t know. I was waiting in line and he said ‘Hi’. I thought he was just being friendly so I said ‘Hi’ back. He sat down at the table next to ours while the kids were playing. He tried to talk but I mostly ignored him.”
“What’d he look like?” she asks.
“He was good-looking—dark hair and dark skin. He might be Italian.”
“You gotta be kidding,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m on dating sites, go out to happy hours, and you take your kids to eat a burger and some good-looking Italian guy comes right up and introduces himself to you?”
“Chicken,” I say, and we both break out laughing again. When the laughter dies down I continue. “Well, you haven’t even heard the weirdest part. We left and went to Walmart and he’s there. He came up and said hi again.”
“What? Did he follow you there?” she asks, sounding alarmed.
“I don’t know. I don’t know. When we were at Chick-fil-A, Grace said she needed a poster board for school. I told her we’d go to Walmart. Maybe he heard us talking.”
“So was that it? That’s all that happened?”
“Well, he gave me his card,” I continue. “He asks if I’d like to have a drink or dinner sometime. I told him thanks but I wasn’t interested.”
“So are you going to call him?”
“I don’t even know him,” I say. “I can’t call a complete stranger.”
“He’s not a complete stranger. At least you already met him. That’s more than most people know about someone these days. This is 2007. People go out with someone they meet online who they’ve never even seen.”
I finish my glass of wine and ask, “Yeah, I just don’t know what to think. Doesn’t it all seem weird to you?”
“No, it sounds like a good-looking, successful man asked you out. It’s old school. It’s sweet.” She holds out her hand. “Let me see the number.”
I grab my purse off the counter and dig for the business card. It’s right at the bottom of my purse where I left it. I get it out and show it to her.
ABSOLUTE BUSINESS ENTERPRISES
Christian Mareno
Pres
ident and CEO
Ph: (353) 285-5815
“Nice card,” she says as she reaches out and snatches it from my hand. “Very impressive.” She types the number into Google on her phone and says, “It’s a New York number.”
“I know, I looked it up.”
“What does he do?” she asks.
“I have no idea. Our conversation literally lasted less than a minute.”
“Well, you’ve gotta call him,” she says. “He could be a famous Italian designer or a prince or something. He could be the man of your dreams.”
“There are no Prince Charmings,” I promise. She pulls out her phone and, half-laughing but quite serious, warn her, “Don’t you dare.”
She dials the number and puts the phone to her ear. Surely, she’s joking. As soon as it starts ringing she pushes the speaker button so we both can hear, and hands me the phone. Before I have a chance to hang up, he answers.
“Hello, this is Christian.”
“Christian,” I say, shaking my finger at Sharon and mouthing “I’m going to kill you” under my breath. I turn my attention back to my conversation and say. “This is Faith. We met a few weeks ago.”
“Yes, Faith,” he says sounding surprised. “How have you been?”
The phone is still on speaker so Sharon hears the whole conversation. “I’ve just been so busy lately,” I say. “I haven’t really had time to call.”
“Well, I’m glad you did,” he tells me. “Unfortunately, I’m heading out of town as we speak. I’m about to catch a plane.” I look at Sharon and she’s showing a big frown. “I’ll be back in town next week,” he continues. “Perhaps we can talk when I return. Is this a good number I can call you back on?”
Sharon’s frown turns into a giant smile. She pretends to clap her hands in excitement. “Not really,” I say looking at Sharon, “this is my friend’s phone.”
“This is my cell,” he says. “Why don’t you text me your number.”
The Killing of Faith: A Suspense Thriller You Won't Soon Forget. (The Killing of Faith Series Book 1) Page 14