Jo’s reaction exceeded my low expectations, in that he didn’t throw a fit or threaten to take me to court (although there would be plenty of that in our future). Custody has always been a struggle for us. We need to learn to work together to divide up time in order for Isaac to see both of us. Co-parenting means working together to meet Isaac’s needs, no matter what compromises and sacrifices we have to make. In order for me to move with Isaac, we would need to readjust the custody agreement. I was willing to work to find a way to give Jo the time he needed. Christmas? Major holidays? Summers? The judge, hopefully, would comprehend the move wasn’t whimsical wanderlust. It was an opportunity for me to provide a whole, stable family.
Co-parenting is doable knowing that we are all so much better off than if Jo and I had stayed together. It’s not like I dread dropping off Isaac at Jo’s. Of course, I wish I could have Isaac all of the time but the way we live now is a hundred times better than how I picture us living if Jo and I had stayed together. Harmoniously co-parenting Isaac has taken some transitioning to get used to. There were plenty of fights over allotted time slots when we each could have Isaac, many of which have had to be resolved in court.
Isaac loves Javi. He also loves Jo and knows that he is his father. Despite the many fights and the anger I have felt over the years, I do my best not to let Isaac hear me say anything negative about his father. Jo and I have our own issues, but keeping our son out of it is essential to protecting him from our mistakes. Isaac’s happiness is so much more important than anything else that’s going on. In the beginning, I really believed Isaac’s happiness was solely dependent on Jo and me working out our kinks. Now I realize we are so much healthier giving Isaac two whole families that love him unconditionally.
***
The most difficult part of co-parenting is that you are still in each other’s lives and sometimes it’s a challenge to totally stay out. While I may have been seen as the one who wanted to make our family work, for a long time Jo felt the same way, too. I’ve lost count of all the times he’s wanted to hook up with me. He did succeed when I was at my most vulnerable, in terms of my feelings for him, and I had lost a very important person in my life, Jordan, because of it. In between relationships, when Javi and I weren’t together, I did hook up with Jo. I had made the same mistake over and over. I’ve learned though. Jo continued to pursue me but I was done trying to convince myself that he wanted more than just hook ups. I would never cheat ever again. Javi means too much to me.
Jo’s girlfriend was the problem for me now. I had no jealousy or hatred for his new girlfriend, only anger. He had started seeing a girl who I suspected might be a pot smoker. I hadn’t smoked weed since I got pregnant with Isaac and it is something I no longer want in our lives. I had expected others would respect that I did not want my son to be around mind-altering substances. People change under the influence and I would never trust anyone I don’t know personally who’s high or drunk. Smoking weed and underage drinking is a personal choice. While I never saw her smoke pot myself, and Jo denied that she did, her social media content seemed to boast her high life choices.
The trouble started at the snap of a photo a few months into their relationship. Her apparent lack of discretion turned heads, including mine. She posted pictures online of herself wearing a gas mask and smoking out of what looked like a bong. It seemed this was beyond an anxiety reducing, self-medicating pastime. I was afraid it was a bad habit my son could potentially pick up one day. There was no way I wanted Isaac to be around weed or alcohol. I understood the full, detrimental repercussions. All I asked of Jo was that he keep Isaac away from it.
Thanks to the girl’s need to incessantly update her social media, I read posts that led me to believe she might be drinking around Isaac and that she may have been drinking with Jo’s dad during Jo’s weekend to have Isaac. I was furious. If true, there was nothing I could do about the situation, but I didn’t want her around my son.
The backlash I received for my feelings, infuriated me more than typical hate mail. I’m not the girl who buys into the old “everybody does it” cliché, so my disapproval for underage drinking isn’t all that surprising. You can’t have it all. You can’t partake in the merry idiocy and be in a relationship with someone who has a bigger priority than partying. Isaac is a priority in Jo’s life, too. I’ve never pretended to know every little detail about this girl or her relationship with Jo, but I felt her social media posts hinted at childish and stupid behavior.
I tolerated the idea of her in the beginning, even though the stupid stepmother notion caused some strain on my heart. Isaac was my baby. I didn’t want to be replaced by this girl. But, I quickly realized I will always hold a special place in Isaac’s life. Always. She never will.
How quickly my thoughts jump from her to my son. He is always at the forefront, the epicenter of my universe. That’s what all the people sending me hate failed to understand. Jo’s girlfriend never mattered to me. She still doesn’t. It’s my son. He is the prime source in my life that love springs from. There was no showdown or bitch slapping over Jo. Please.
I’m not jealous. The Jo chapter of my life was over long ago. I’ve given up on providing Isaac with two parents who are together yet miserable. Javi is the one who completes my true family. But the reality is that Jo will be in my life forever and for the immediate future so will his girlfriend. She will never see where I’m coming and I’d rather not waste any more breath trying to explain why I can’t pretend to like her or reason with her. It’s done. I’ll always be the bad person. I’ll always be the bitter ex.
Javi and I get married at the courthouse in Salisbury, PA
Chapter 18
Airman Marroquin
As Javi left for three months of training at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas, I was left at home feeling more alone than ever. The hole I felt without him grew bigger each day. Thankfully, Javi’s family was there to support me and help keep me sane. His sister, Lidia, persistently offered help with Isaac, which reminded me I was never truly alone. Javi’s brother, Sal, became a person I learned to trust and love. He became like a brother to me and we spent almost every day together. I never really understood the source of strength family bonds could provide until I was absorbed into Javi’s.
However, the nights where I turned to face his empty side of the bed were still full of loneliness. There was a cold emptiness where pillows lined up in place of the warm body that should have been there. Nobody could really fill that hole because I only wanted him. Since it was policy for no phone calls in the first few weeks of training, I scribbled on plenty of paper, sending out letters of love to temporarily close up the gaping hole. There was a sense of romance behind writing letters, as if we weren’t living in the age of social media and to-the-minute updates on what we just ate or where we plan on going next, but the downside to writing letters is how quickly outdated everything you have written becomes. No matter how much or how frequently I wrote to Javi, I couldn’t keep him in the loop.
The lack of daily communication was heart wrenching. Being in a relationship is all about communication. At that point, my marriage had none. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, but the separation was proving to be more of a challenge than I had originally thought it would be. For our generation, cell phones are like extra limbs. Texting and calling is second nature. I constantly had to resist habitually typing Javi’s name into my phone to send him a few quick words. It was all so abnormal in the beginning.
Thankfully, a few weeks in, phone conversations were allowed and the five-minute call we were granted every two weeks was precious, like an overdue paycheck you had been working so hard for. Commercials last longer than the conversations we were allowed to have. The effort to fit every syllable into those few minutes was rushed and desperate. Thankfully Javi couldn’t see me because I sometimes felt my rapid mouth movements and drastic hand gestures made me look like a used car salesman. We made these crazy, long distance phone calls work as best
as possible.
While Javi and I were making it through on the little communication we had, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at girls who cried over not seeing their boyfriends for a day or two. Try going months and never seeing his face. Not having the one loyal person who loved me and made me the happiest girl around, taught me the value of a simple call or even to have a night in with your loved one. It made me resort back to everything I was used to when I had been surviving solo. How I fared on my own reminded me that I did have the strength to keep going.
The five-minute phone calls were never as satisfying as I hoped they would be. Really they were just a reminder of my loneliness. At some point, they stopped being helpful at all and I completely lost it. For two days I questioned why I had chosen to put myself through such torture. I was young, but I was also a mother. Why didn’t I choose someone who would be able to be around? Being in a long distance relationship was a test I had never taken. So far, I felt like I was totally failing. I wasn’t just questioning a relationship but a marriage and I wasn’t sure how to find the answers I needed. I wanted to be done with the separation. I wanted to have Javi with me, but that was not an option at all. Discussing the marriage or how difficult the situation was for me wasn’t possible either. The crisis was mine alone to deal with.
Thankfully, Sal, Javi’s brother, was there to help me sort it all out. He dealt it up straight to me, reminding me of all of the reasons why I was married to a man living over a thousand miles away from me. It wasn’t ridiculous. The sacrifice made all the sense in the world when I heard it from someone else. I just needed reminding. The love hadn’t disappeared. Javi wasn’t here but the feelings were still strong. I just needed a little bit of a push to keep me going to the end.
The phone conversations became more frequent towards the end of his training. I had more access to Javi, including nights and weekends—almost like an advertisement from a phone company. Free nights and weekends, y’all! Their instructor allowed a weekly ten-minute phone call as long as they didn’t mess up severely. I wasn’t able to hug him or kiss him, but I was so excited to be gaining more of Javi back. The timing of the calls sucked, though. I’d usually be elbow-deep in bubbles, bathing Isaac, or in the middle of making dinner during the time Javi could speak to me. I’d become so engrossed in what we were talking about that I’d burn the chicken. Even when I could focus on our conversation, sometimes we were just out of step with one another. He was living one way now and I was still living the same way we were before he left.
I was lucky to have great friends to keep me busy until the days crept up to Javi’s graduation. It was the day we were all so proud and excited to finally reach. All of Javi’s hard work had paid off and he was joining a prestigious rank of honor to serve our country’s military. The nobility behind that sacrifice took a courage I couldn’t match up to. I was so excited to be going back down to Texas, not only to see my family, but also to be reunited with my husband. It was the most built up anticipation I had ever endured.
Leading up to the day I left for Texas, Jo sat me down to talk. We weren’t having many heart-to-hearts recently, so I was a little shocked to hear that he wanted to talk about more than just what Isaac did that day. I was a little uncomfortable as Jo began to express his true feelings.
“I want my family back,” he said defiantly.
Pre-Jordan I had wanted us to be a family so badly. I had cried. I had whined. It seemed like the only way to be happy at the time. But I was so wrong.
Jo went on to say he couldn’t sleep straight for a year. I almost gasped at the serious tone his voice had taken on. As he spoke, I couldn’t help but notice he didn’t mention his girlfriend once. He didn’t even acknowledge the fact that he wasn’t single. Why? I think she had no idea what his true feelings were because he kept them buried deep. He never admitted any of this on television. I think Jo didn’t want to reveal his wants on camera because he didn’t want his girlfriend to find out. Was he trying to cover his ground without having to lose anything . . . anyone?
His honesty was real, though. Jo wanted the three of us to be together again, but I had been done with this notion for a while. It wasn’t realistic. It wasn’t what made me happy. We didn’t work. The manner in which he presented the idea, made me feel like Jo didn’t take my marriage seriously and that he failed to see it was the world to me, not some temporary situation. I was so taken aback, I didn’t know what to say. All I could muster was, “I’m sorry you feel that way, Jo.”
I wasn’t angry with him for him approaching me in a somewhat inappropriate manner, but I was annoyed that he seemed to be hiding his feelings in order to keep his girlfriend. I was also uncomfortable because I didn’t know how to respond without coming off insensitive. The idea was so weird. Jo didn’t hate me? His true feelings for the past year hadn’t been reflected in his actions. It was hard for me to wrap my mind around the fact he was saying he really wanted us to work and that our past hook ups weren’t just physical.
Jo’s demeanor toward Javi made more sense than ever. He may have approved of Jordan for whatever reason, but Javi had made a serious commitment to me and I think Jo didn’t like Javi because deep down he knew that. Jo had asked me to marry him, but had never made any attempt to follow through on our engagement. It felt like just because Jo never married me, he now doubted my marriage to Javi.
Jo’s words were weird, but it didn’t change anything. Marriage is serious to me. I wouldn’t have gone months and months without Javi if I didn’t plan on seriously staying in a committed, legal bond to him. The distance had tested our love and we had passed. In my eyes, we had done more than just okay. I’d say we get a solid A for effort. Our reward was graduation day.
A few weeks later, in February of 2013, I returned to Texas to witness the United States Air Force Basic Military Training graduation ceremony. At the crack of dawn that morning, I was putting on makeup and fixing my hair. Knowing I would be seeing my husband for the first time in three months, I wanted to look as pretty as possible. My excitement was difficult to contain and my crooked eyeliner betrayed the fact that I couldn’t stop my hands from trembling.
As the sun was rising, traffic built up on the interstate. Everyone was headed to the same place. Families and friends had to arrive early in order to gain a seat and not be backed up behind the thousands of cars getting their road rage on. We had to wait for hours for the ceremony to start. My leg bounced up and down nervously as everyone settled down.
The quiet breeze gave a solemn air to the ceremony. For a few brief hours I was given a glimpse of the strict, disciplined lifestyle Javi had been leading. It was overwhelming and stressful to imagine the self-discipline one needed to get through military training. I had never been more proud. Seeing the airmen and women in a sea of blue standing so still, in perfectly uniformed lines, I understood the remarkable determination that was required to be part of the military. The flag waving majestically, each ripple representing a freedom, lifted my spirits. The whole scene made you question your own patriotism and ability to live up to being a true American. The thousand graduates below us had made the ultimate sacrifice to serve our country and protect our freedoms.
I wanted to thank each and every one of them for making such a huge sacrifice, but more importantly, there was one particular graduate I wanted to see so badly. The ceremony was glorious and a little too long. We were anxiously waiting to greet the man of the hour. Every single person in the stands searched for their loved one. There was a rule: the airmen and women couldn’t move from their spot until someone “tapped them out.” You had to approach your loved one and tap them on the shoulder. This provided a more orderly way to join the men and women with their families. It was a little like the game Duck, Duck, Goose. But where was my goose? I scanned the rows of young men and women—their uniforms and similar haircuts making it feel like a real life version of Where’s Waldo?—passing uniform after uniform, face after solemn face, with still no sign of Javi.
Many families had already “tapped out” their loved one. I wanted to be feeling the same joy they were experiencing. Hoping that the next face I looked at would be Javi’s, my entire body shook with excitement. The hunt finally ended when Javi’s face stood out like flower among thorns. He looked so handsome in his uniform and so very different from three months ago. His face was clean-shaven and he barely had any hair on his head. I also immediately noticed that he’d lost a significant amount of weight.
I pelted myself into his arms, assuming that would count as “tapping” him out.
His family had their cameras out, snapping as many photos possible in the initial minutes of the reunion. It felt like we were recreating those famous photographs of women seeing their military men for the first time in months. Kissing a man in uniform is a wonderful thing and then, when you cry all over their pressed blues, it ruins the formality of a momentous occasion. Just kidding.
At Javi’s BMT graduation, February, 2013
Our reunion was so much better than what was documented in the media. The facts were straight, but the reports couldn’t convey the intensity of the moment. Isaac’s laughter was so joyous and adorable; happiness was nearly exploding from everyone. The newness of marriage and our relationship was coming to life again. To see Javi’s face instead of just hearing his voice was so strange after all that time apart. I could hold his hand and kiss him as many times as I wanted. I didn’t have to dream about it or wish it. Magical moments are rare and for a long time I didn’t believe in them. Seeing Javi again created a firework display background and a soaring heart. It made me a believer again.
Pride Over Pity Page 10