by K Carr
I flinched at the pain echoing in his voice.
“Do you not know how much I wish I could go back in time and change things?” he said in-between heavy breaths that seemed hollow as he started to approach me. “I want to die,” he dragged out. “Every fucking day, I wake up and for a split second, I think everything is how it used to be but then I remember that it’s not and I want to die. If it wasn’t for you and Meggie,” He shook his head and took a deep breath. “God, Jen. I lost him too.”
I could feel the wetness on my face. When had the tears spilled past my lashes?
“You hate me.” he said. “I get that. I don’t blame you. I hate myself.” Connor narrowed his eyes at me. “But I’ll be damned if I let you stop me from being a father to Megan. I’ll fight you with everything I’ve got, I will fucking bankrupt us before I let you take her away from me.”
Was I shocked at his threat? Yes, yes I was. Shocked to the state where it shifted my emotions from despair into anger once more. “You wouldn’t dare.” I spat in derision. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“I will hire a new attorney, the best attorney,” he challenged. “I will pay whatever it costs to win in court. You want to do this? Well, fuck it. Let’s play hardball. Go for full custody,” he sneered. “See what happens. I just might apply for sole custody myself. How would you like that?”
“You vindictive piece of shit.” I knew the last fiscal year had seen our company take a dip in profits. Cory’s death had affected every aspect of our lives. “Fine. I’ll still win! No judge would grant you custody knowing your negligence caused the death of your son!”
The blood drained from his face, but it was the glittering shine of hatred I saw in his blue eyes which gave me pause. Connor let out a ragged breath then said in a harsh whisper, “Yeah, well maybe if you had taken him inside with Megan that day none of this would have happened. Maybe if you’d done that, our son would still be here. He would still be alive.”
Those words hung between us. Sharp and painful. Spoken out loud, never to be taken back. Did he know I sometimes secretly thought so too? How did he know? He couldn’t have known. In the silence of the dark nights when I laid in bed under the sheets, crying into my pillow, I wondered about it. If I had taken Cory inside with me and Megan, he wouldn’t have cycled into the road. The car wouldn’t have hit him. He wouldn’t be dead. If only I had taken him inside instead of leaving him outside with Connor. Inside, outside. Inside and outside. I had carried them in me, kept them safe until it was time for them to come out. In and out. I controlled the inside, I should’ve controlled the outside too. I was mother, I was their first and last line of defence. Even in the animal kingdom, mothers protected their young to the death. They would die before letting harm befall their young. I had failed to protect my young. If I had just taken him inside-
“I didn’t mean that, Jen.” Connor suddenly rasped out.
I licked my dry lips, unable to speak, unable to even formulate a response to his bitter pronouncement. Was it true? A part of me, the part of my mind which replayed that day over and over, that part of me felt the weight of a mother’s guilt. I should’ve been there. If I had been, then none of this would’ve happened. Our son would be alive. I had failed to do the most important thing as a mother, I hadn’t protected my child.
“I didn’t mean it.” Connor took a step towards me.
“You did.” I took a step back.
Connor shook his head. “No,” he said firmly. “I didn’t. I was angry and I wanted to hurt you in the worst possible way. I did not mean it.”
“You said it though.” I pointed out. Where was my bag? Had I left it in the kitchen.
“I’m sorry I did,” He tried to backtrack. It was backtracking. I knew it, he knew it. The words were out there now. Connor took a few more steps in my direction. “Jennifer, you have to know I don’t really think that.”
“You said it.” I repeated. My tone was hard now.
“Because I was angry.” he growled and pinched his nostrils. “Damn it, Jen. Let’s go back to counselling. You didn’t give it a chance-”
“I don’t want counselling,” I ground out. “I want my son back, but that’s not going to happen, is it?” My feet started carrying me away from the fireplace. I was certain my bag was in the kitchen. “And for the record, I did try.” I snatched my scarf up from where Megan had left it on the arm of the chair. “You know what, fine, we’ll let the courts decide. I’m not worried,” I was actually quite worried. My attorney had been reluctant for me to take this course since day one. Did she think we would lose if we sought full custody? Or was it because she knew the judicial system always gave white men the benefit of the doubt? Fuck. Pushing that terrifying new worry aside, I ground out, “It won’t be hard to show how inept you are as a father.”
“Damn it, Jen.” Connor exhaled in frustration. “You just have to push, don’t you? Where’s your fucking humanity? Can you not show me an ounce of mercy? Of compassion? I am your husband! I deserve a grain of respect. Just a bloody grain! Can you not give me that?”
“Compassion?!” I flung my scarf at him. It was an ineffective manifestation of my anger. The silk scarf floated downwards, metres away from where he stood. I grabbed the throw cushion from the chair and flung it at him. Connor ducked out of the way. “Mercy? Fuck you!” I yelled. “Respect? Respect my ass. I’ll respect you when you sign the divorce papers and give up your parental rights to-”
“I’m not signing them.” Connor’s cool announcement was at odds with the emotions racing across his face. It stopped my anger in its tracks.
“What?”
He gave me a fatalistic shrug. “I’m not signing anything. I don’t want a divorce, and I sure as hell don’t want to lose custody of my daughter. I’ll contest the divorce. I’ll fight you on every little thing brought in front the courts.”
“You can’t,” I looked around our living room, trying to collect my senses after his bombshell. I figured he would fight tooth and nail over the custody issue, but the divorce? I assumed he would go along with it. We weren’t happy, hadn’t been happy since Cory’s death. I thought the actual divorce, the dissolution of our once blissful marriage, would be the easiest thing to get done. “You can’t do that.”
He shrugged again. “I can. You want a divorce? Fine, but I’m sure as shit not going to help you get it.”
“You bastard.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“You’ve called me worse.” he said bitterly.
“Fine.” I hissed.
“Fine.” he replied and folded his arms over his broad chest.
“You want a battle,” I moved off. Each sharp click of my heels across the oak floorboards was a testament to my seething rage.
“No,” he called out. “I don’t. I really don’t. I want what’s left of my family back, not a battle.”
“Tough shit.” I tossed over my shoulder. “You’ve got one.” I stormed out the living room and went looking for my bag in the kitchen. He wanted to make things more difficult? He wanted it to descend into a shitfest? Well, fuck it. We would fight it out in court. “Bastard.” I muttered as I yanked my bag off the granite counter-top from next to the stack of recipe books we rarely ever used.
He caught up to me by the time I got to the front door. “I want to see Megan this week.”
I grabbed the door handle and twisted it open.
“Jennifer.” Connor said, trying and succeeding with his attempt of infusing a substantial level of rigidness in his tone. “I’m not fucking around with you. I want to see my daughter this week.”
“Speak to my lawyer.” I retorted, about to walk through the front door.
“No,” Connor warned. “I’ll be stopping by your mom’s place to see my daughter this week. I’m tired of walking on eggshells around you, I’m tired of enabling your behaviour.”
I spun around. “Enabling? My behaviour? What behaviour?”
“Yeah,” Connor shot back. “Your crappy
behaviour, and I’m tired of it. I’m seeing my daughter this week, as many times as she wants.” He folded his arms. “And if you have a problem with me being at your mom’s place, I’ll bring Megan here so we can-”
“The hell you will.” I scorned.
“Yes,” He dropped his arms and closed the distance between us. “I will.” Connor ran a hand through his hair and peered at me. “I love you, but we’re not doing this,” He wafted his index finger between us. “Anymore.”
I noisily breathed through my mouth in anger while glaring at him.
“I love you, Jen,” he repeated. “And I know, I know a part of you still loves me, so we’re done with this toxic fighting. I’ve told you where things stand from my point of view,” Connor gave me a tired smile. “And I’m not changing my mind. I’m going to fight for us even if you don’t want to. I’m not giving up on our family.”
“Fuck you,” I sneered, unable to deal with the depth of his pronouncement and needing the safety of my anger. My rage kept me safe, it kept me from wavering. “You’ll be hearing from my attorney.”
“Fine,” It wasn’t said in defeat, he just seemed matter-of-fact about it now. “I love you.”
“Well, I hate you.” I held my bag tightly across my body, as some sort of defensive shield.
Connor reached for me but stopped himself before I could jerk away. He sighed and nodded. “I know you do, but it doesn’t negate the fact you still love me too. It’s complicated, I know, but you – we will figure it out eventually.”
There were so many things I wanted to say, insults I wanted to hurl at him, but my anger was choking me. I hated him.
Watching the array of conflicting emotions on my face, Connor let out a resigned breath, then said, “We need to speak to the psychiatrist about Megan. Her outburst earlier,” Connor shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve never seen her react that way, ever.”
I felt a wave of worry consume my anger. She had been inconsolable and her behaviour had been frightening. My hands shook as I clasped them together. My poor baby, she had been distraught. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself before advising Connor in a cold voice, “For the last time, I said I will take care of it.”
“No,” He folded his arms, brows lowered, jaw tensed. “We will take care of it together.”
“I want a quick divorce.”
Connor snorted in disbelief. “And I told you that’s not happening. Now do you want me to call the psychiatrist and book a family appointment for us? I know she’s on summer holidays now but Meggie doesn’t usually have any afterschool activities on a Tuesday, I can try and get us in then.”
“I said I’ll handle it.” I bit out. “And I’m not kidding, Connor. You will sign those divorce papers-”
He cut me off with a terse, “I will do what I think is right for us as a family.” He unfolded his arms and checked his watch. “Do you have enough money? You haven’t used our joint accounts in ages. I’ve been transferring funds to your personal account but I don’t know if it’s enough to cover your spending. Turnover at the company has been lower than expected these past couple of months.”
“I’m more than capable of taking care of myself and Megan without your money,” I spat. Would he try and get his lawyer to prove I was unable to meet the financial requirements needed if seeking sole custody? Fuck. How fast would I be able to get a paying job?
Connor exhaled slowly before giving me the weight of his blue eyes. “Our money. Don’t be this way please. I’m trying to make sure you and Meg have everything you need, it’s my responsibility as your husband-”
“Screw you,” I snarled. “I don’t want you as a husband and I can take care of my daughter on my own. You will sign the fucking divorce papers.”
I glared at him, spun on my heels and stormed out the front door. I didn’t look over my shoulder, I didn’t want to know if he was watching me leave. Fuming, I stomped over to my car and got in. The harsh screech of tires on the driveway was an indication of how fast I wanted to escape his presence. Scowling out the windscreen as I drove away from what was once my perfect home I wondered how he could be so – so fucking spiteful! Hateful. Malicious. Pathetic. Repulsive.
Responsible. I heard my mother’s voice in my head as I slowed down on my approach to a zebra crossing. I knew he was transferring funds on a monthly basis since Megan and I had started staying at my Mom’s. I hadn’t asked for it, he’d just automatically done it.
Worried. He was worried about our daughter, I was too. I had never seen her act like she did earlier.
Heartbroken. I kept trying to erase the expression on his face when he verbalized how much he hated himself, how much he blamed himself for Cory’s death.
Vindictive. “Fuck you!” I yelled out loud. He had implied some blame should be allocated to me also, that maybe I should’ve taken Cory inside that fateful day. How? How could he have known those words were the perfect ones to hurt me the most? How did he know I secretly harboured those feelings of guilt? Was it a lucky guess on his part?
Tired. Connor looked tired, depleted actually. Gone was the spark he used to have, the spark which had made me fall in love with him. He didn’t have that spark anymore, the only time I saw a fraction of it was when he was with Megan. But I was tired too; tired of the back and forth, tired of this constant pain in the pit of my stomach, tired of knowing no matter what I did it was impossible to ever get back the happiness we had once held as a family. The tears were spilling out my eyes now. He wanted to die. I understood the sentiment. Yet it enraged me knowing those were his feelings. Selfish bastard. I knew my own thoughts, the ones despising him for feeling this way, were irrational. I knew it was illogical to begrudge him those feelings, but I remained enraged. He didn’t deserve death. I wanted him to suffer forever.
“Why? Fucking why? Why me?” I yelled out loud before having to pull the SUV over as I burst into uncontrollable tears. I cried for Megan, knowing that I was failing her in the worst way. I cried for Cory – I missed his face so much. I cried because this was unfair. Yes, I knew people, children, died every day; that the world was a far from perfect place. But why had I been meted out this lot in life? Why? There was no one, no omnipresent being, there was nowhere I could find the answer; and that filled me with bitterness.
Sobbing into my hands, I cried for Connor. He said he woke up every morning thinking things were back to how they used to be, all four of us…I knew those split seconds…I lived those split seconds every morning also, only for reality to slap me in the face when I opened my eyes. I cried for the future that could’ve been, the one which had been snatched from us the day our son died.
Chapter 6
“You both have to show a united front,”
Connor didn’t look at his wife, even though he wanted to.
“Remember,” Dr Belinda warned. “She’s already been through such a traumatic event for her age,”
Connor could feel the tension pouring off Jenny. Her hands were clenched together atop her lap.
“Any change, be it minor or major, might be enough to send Megan into a spiral of grief, anger – we have to bear in mind she is still a young child. One who doesn’t yet have the ability to deal with her emotions in what we adults would call a healthy way, and that isn’t her fault. She just isn’t old enough to have learnt those skills yet.”
“What can we do?” All Connor wanted was to help his daughter. “What does she need?”
“Well,”
“Connor and I are getting a divorce.” Jenny stated in an empty voice. “Megan and I are staying with my mother at the moment.”
The therapist smiled gently at them both. “I understand.”
Connor twisted around, trying his hardest not to scowl at his wife. “Can’t we put that on hold, Jen? Just stop mentioning it? It’s obvious our separation is exacerbating Meggie’s ability to deal with,” He cleared his throat, needing a second to get the words out. “Cory’s death.” He was scowling, damn it, and there was noth
ing he could do about it. “There are more important things than getting divorced right now. Our daughter’s mental health is at stake here.”
The therapist made a delicate sound to draw their attention back to her. “Family mediation is a tried and tested method of dealing with circumstances like-”
“Tried it, didn’t work.” Jen’s cold tone made Connor’s teeth grind. She turned her head towards him. “We’re getting a divorce,” Then she turned back to the therapist. “What steps do we need to take in order to help Megan get through this? The divorce is happening and I would like to ensure she’s prepared-”
“Why don’t you tell her about your attempts to get sole custody?” Connor spat out. “Huh? Why don’t you tell her how you’re limiting the time I get to spend with my daughter? Don’t you think that is having a fucked up effect on Megan?”
“Please. Language, Connor.” Jenny reprimanded him before sending the therapist an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry-”
“Don’t fucking apologize for me.” he interrupted angrily. Was this the twilight zone? Here she was acting as if foul language was beneath her when she was the swearer in their marriage!
Jenny looked at the therapist. “See? This is what I have to deal with-”
“Are you kidding me?” Connor stared at her in disbelief. He turned to the therapist. “Can you please explain to my stubborn wife that our fighting is harming Megan-”
“Oh shut up,” Jenny growled. “I never fight with you in front of Megan. Don’t try to paint this as something it’s not-”
He turned to her again. “Don’t you think she can pick up on the tension between us? Damn it, Jen. She’s a smart kid!” he snarled. “You’re living with your Mom now, not at home. Of course she’s going to realize we’re having major problems-”
“This isn’t about us,” she shot back. “It’s about establishing some level of consistency with Megan-”
“Then let me spend more time with her,” Connor ground out at the exact moment Dr Belinda said, “I agree, Jennifer.”