Call Me Cockroach: Based on a True Story

by Leigh Byrne

  They both cheerfully agreed.

  For the next several days, the pros and cons of a reconciliation with Chad was all I thought about. If I went back to him, at least I would have my kids with me all the time and they would be happy because they would be living in the house they loved with their parents together. And I’d be certain to survive—have a roof over my head, food to eat. Survival was the name of the game—the only game I knew how to play. Sure, I would spend my days languishing in depression, turn myself inward again and crawl back inside the dark recesses of isolation. But no one would know of my misery, because I would keep my emotions pent up to avoid an argument. My eating disorder would probably come out of hiding. No, it definitely would come out. But the kids would be happy. The kids would be happy. The kids would be happy, and I would be okay somehow, because I was a cockroach.

  One weekend when I dropped the kids off with Chad, he came outside and stood on the front porch. His face looked like it had been run through a meat grinder. “What the hell happened to you?” I asked.

  “Bar fight.”

  “Over what?”

  “I had too much to drink and started running my mouth. Guess I was taking my anger out on the wrong person.”

  Molly burst into tears. She ran to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Daryl joined her. “Daddy, are you okay? I missed you!” Molly cried.

  Chad looked so pitiful standing on the front porch of the house we had built together, his face almost unrecognizable, our children clinging to him. It took everything I had to resist the impulse to run up and hug him too.

  School started, and like I’d promised, every morning I drove Molly to Junior High and Daryl to elementary in Sullivan. And like Molly had promised, she tolerated the motel apartment, but not a single day passed that she didn’t remind me how much she hated living there. Several times a week, both she and Daryl asked me when I was going to “at least try” to work things out with Chad. I gave in, and agreed to go back in two and a half weeks when the current month’s lease was up on the apartment.

  The closer it got to the end of the month, the more I began to regret having told the kids I would try to reconcile with Chad. Right when I’d made the decision to back out of the agreement, something changed my mind. I was going through some of Daryl’s school papers and ran across one where he had listed some of the things for which he was thankful. Number one on the list: I am thankful that my mama and daddy are getting back together soon. Alone, clutching that paper, I read it over and over and wept for hours. How could I let Daryl down?

  Matt called me at work the next day and asked if I would meet him for lunch. Our meetings were less clandestine now that I was legally separated from Chad. The town was well aware that there was something going on between the two of us. The rumors were much more scandalous and exciting than the reality. The adulteress and the—gasp—towel head!

  I enjoyed Matt’s company. He opened doors for me and bought me nice gifts. When I was around him, he almost made me believe I was pretty. I liked how he dressed and smelled, and the way his words softly rolled off his tongue. But I did not want to be in a permanent relationship with him. There were too many things I didn’t like about him. I didn’t like the creepy way he seemed to be everywhere I was. And I didn’t trust him. Our relationship was based on a lie about zippered pants. He wanted me to leave Chad because he was afraid of the drunken coal miner with guns, but he had no intention of leaving his wife. Money was involved, and a sick child. Much easier to keep the wife and take a naïve mistress. He was an intelligent man and he sensed the vulnerability in me—an easy target. And now I’d found out he was a player. Because of all this, I knew we weren’t going to be together long term. I just hadn’t figured out how I was going to break away from him.

  We ate at one of the few restaurants in town. As always, everyone in the place stared at us when we came in, as if we were actors walking onto a stage. Matt pulled out a wobbly wooden chair for me. I sat, picked up the paper napkin from the table, unfolded and placed it in my lap. As soon as we had put in our drink order, I said, “I told the kids I would try to work things out with Chad.”

  “What? Are you insane? You were lucky to get away from him. Do you think he will ever allow you to leave again?”

  “I feel like I should do it for the kids. I’ve tried, but can’t make them understand why I’m leaving. The reasons I give them all seem… selfish.”

  “Of course they’re selfish! You have to look out for yourself. Believe me Tuesday, when your children are grown and the time comes for them to make the decision whether or not they should leave you and pursue their own lives, they won’t think twice. And they shouldn’t, because they have the right to seek happiness the same as you do.”

  “Well, you’re one to talk, Matt,” I said. “By the way, how are your divorce proceedings coming along?”

  “I told you I would have to work into that slowly…”

  “Whatever.”

  “What difference does it make if you’re going back to Chad?” Although I’d pointed out otherwise on more than one occasion, he still thought I was leaving my husband for him.

  Dani was supportive when I called and told her of my decision to try to make my marriage work. “If you don’t try you’ll always wonder. And if it doesn’t work out, at least you’ll know you did everything you could.”

  I needed to hear that.

  When the lease was up on the apartment, I got my things together and moved back in with Chad. The instant I entered the house, I was thirteen-years-old again, locked in an attic.

  Chad was on his best behavior for a couple of days. Then he suggested I quit my job again. That was enough for me to realize he hadn’t changed.

  I managed to somehow stay a week before I called Dani. “I can’t do it, I said, shaking so much I could barely hold the phone. “If I stay any longer I’m afraid I’ll have a breakdown.”

  “At least you tried, sweetie,” she said.

  “The kids are going to hate me; they’re so happy now because they think Chad and I are together for good. I’m afraid I may have made it worse by coming back. Now they have their hopes up.”

  “What good would you be to them, or Chad, if you had a breakdown? Look, you stayed with him and put up with that godforsaken family of his longer than you should have for the kids, right? Do something just for yourself for once. I know you don’t think you deserve it, but you do. The kids will adjust.”

  “Dani, how do you always know the right thing to say?”

  “Get your stuff together. You’re coming to stay with me while you look for another apartment.”

  THE HIGH PRICE OF PANTYHOSE

  Molly and Daryl were with Chad, and Dani’s twins were at their dad’s for the weekend. I called Dani from work. “We need a girl’s night out. It will give you a chance to wear the new red dress we picked out for you.”

  “Sounds great, but I’ll have to stop and get some pantyhose if I’m wearing a dress.”

  “Good because I need some too.”

  “We’ll stop at the Bigfoot in Henderson and pick some up. I’ve got to get gas anyway.”

  When Dani and I walked into the Bigfoot, we drew plenty of attention from the men in the store. Not many women wore dresses where we lived, and back then, nobody went bare-legged. We selected our pantyhose—sheer black, because our pumps were black—paid for them, and the gas, and then headed back out to the car to put our new hose on.

  Putting panty hose on in the car was not new to us. It seemed like we were always running them when we went out. We’d actually gotten pretty good at the technique. We let our seats all the way back so we could stretch our legs out, and then we began to wiggle into our hose. In no time, I had mine on, but it was taking Dani longer because she had the steering wheel to contend with.

  “Uh-oh,” she said, when she had the hose halfway up her second leg.

  “What?”

  “I just put my fingernail through mine.”

&nb
sp; I laughed. “Run back in the store and get another pair.”

  “I can’t go back in there. I just bought pantyhose. They’ll think I’m nuts.”

  “Well, I can’t go in either then.”

  “Let’s drive up the road to the Sureway. I’ll get some there.”

  Dani bought another pair of panty hose at the grocery store and put them on without incident. She started the car engine, and I leaned back in my seat to get comfortable for the ride. Finally we were all set to go dancing.

  As we pulled out of the parking lot, I crossed my legs and the bottom of the glove box caught my new hose ever so slightly. I was afraid to look. Please don’t let there be a run.

  “Dani, you’re not going to believe this,” I said.

  “Don’t tell me you ran your hose.”

  “Bad. I need another pair.”

  She turned the car around. I went in the Sureway for my second pair of hose, and then put them on in the car.

  “This time I won’t cross my legs,” I assured Dani.

  “It’s probably best.”

  After all that, we needed a cigarette. We smoked only when we went out, and even then, we didn’t inhale all the way. Smoking gave us something to do with our nervous hands.

  In turn, Dani and I each lit our cigarettes with the car lighter. As I was putting the lighter back, a tiny spark of lit tobacco spat out and landed on my leg. I slapped at the spark until, thankfully, I was able to extinguish it. The bad news? The spark burned a huge hole in my second pair of pantyhose.

  Dani and I glared at the ring of exposed flesh on my leg, now red from all my slapping. We both busted out laughing, and laughed until we’d ruined our mascara and had to reapply it.

  When she caught her breath, Dani said, “There’s another Bigfoot up the road.”

  “It’s your turn,” I joked, as we were walking up to the Bigfoot. She decided to buy a spare pair of hose, just in case.

  Coming out of the store, we were still laughing intermittently, having more fun than we would have had at any bar or nightclub, when, suddenly, I saw something that made me stop laughing and freeze in my tracks.

  “What’s wrong, sweetie?” Dani asked.

  “There’s my mother.”

  “Where?”

  “Over there by the gas pumps,” I said, as if I’d spotted a vicious wild animal. “Oh my God, she’s looking this way.” Aware of how my reaction might have seemed to Dani, who knew nothing of my childhood, I added, “I’m shocked to see her here, that’s all. She lives in Tennessee.”

  Dani pulled my arm. “Well, come on, let’s go say hi! I can’t wait to meet her!”

  Mama began walking toward us. “Hey there, Ladybug,” she said. “How ya been?”

  “Mama, what are you doing here?”

  “I’m getting gas. I’m on my way to Michigan to see your brother.”

  Unbelievable, I thought. What are the chances of Mama and me both being at the same Bigfoot at exactly the same time? Fate is a cruel bitch. “Is that so,” I said.

  “Where are you girls headed?” Mama asked, casually.

  “We’re going to a dance club.”

  “Really? I miss my dancing days. You’d better enjoy it while you’re young!”

  Dani nudged me. “I’m sorry. Dani, this is my mother, Rose.”

  “It’s so nice to finally meet my best friend’s mother!”

  “Nice to meet you too, Dani. Is Dani short for Danielle?”

  “Daniela.”

  “Beautiful name.”

  “Speaking of beauty, isn’t my Ladybug the most beautiful girl you’ve ever laid eyes on?”

  “Mama, please.”

  “Well, you are! You’re gorgeous! Isn’t she Daniela?”

  “You probably need to be getting back on the road,” I said. “You’ve got a long way to go.”

  “I was thinking of staying in Henderson for the night.”

  “Oh no,” I said. “You would hate the motels in Henderson. I’ve heard some of them are roach-infested.” Dani gave me an strange look.

  “Well I guess I’ll get a room in the next town then. You know how much I hate cockroaches!”

  The three of us stood there in uncomfortable silence for a few long seconds. Mama finally spoke up. “Well, I’d better get going.”

  “Yeah, us too,” I said. “Bye.” I pulled Dani’s arm in the direction of the car.

  Dani turned to Mama as we walked away. “Nice to meet you, Rose!”

  “I’ll call you, Ladybug!” Mama hollered out.

  Yeah, right, I thought. You don’t even have my number, and I intend to keep it that way.

  As soon as we were in the car, Dani asked, “What’s the deal with your mother?”

  “It depends on what you mean.”

  “Well, first off, where were the hugs? You haven’t seen each other in forever and neither of you made a move to give the other a hug.”

  “We’re not huggers.”

  “And she didn’t even ask about your kids. Then—no offense, Tuesday—there was all the gushing about how beautiful you are. You are a pretty girl, but I’m sorry it sounds so… so… fake. It’s just not how a normal mother acts.”

  Although the trust I had for Dani had been instantaneous, and was now complete, I still hadn’t found the courage to talk to her about my past. When people found out, their attitude toward me changed. I couldn’t risk Dani thinking I was a liar, or—if she believed me—a freak. And I couldn’t bear the thought of her looking at me in the piteous way people did after I told them. Dani and I had something special—something pure—and I wanted to keep our friendship unmarred by my lurid past for as long as I could. Now I had no choice but to tell her. If I didn’t it would be the same as lying. I took a deep breath. “My mother hates me.”

  “I believe it,” she said.

  “What? Really?” I had said the exact words to others before her, only to be met with disbelief and debate. No one had ever said they believed me without hesitation, without a doubt.

  “Oh, yeah; I wasn’t going to tell you this, but as we were walking away and I turned to wave at her, the look she gave you behind your back was pure hate.”

  Dani and I never made it to the dance club that night. We’d already spent too much time running panty hose, and I was out of the mood anyway. We went to her place, and over several cups of coffee, I told her everything. Not the generalized story most people got, but every sordid detail I could remember. The words flowed, and with them came all the emotions I’d been holding back for so long.

  With sincere concern, and genuine tears pooling in her eyes, Dani gave me her full attention, sitting quietly until I got it all out. Her total faith that what I was saying was true breathed life into my story. It did happen. Talking openly and honestly helped me to understand that the most significant hindrance to my healing process had been my inability to discuss the details of my childhood abuse. Telling Dani was a positive step, possibly my first on the path to healing.

  TUESDAY’S ECLIPSE

  As the divorce proceedings progressed, things began to go south quickly. Chad’s mine shut down, putting him out of work indefinitely. He called and told me he couldn’t continue to pay child support. “You can’t get blood from a turnip,” were his exact words. But he assured me he would provide for Molly and Daryl. When I asked him how he proposed to do that without a job, he said, with his family’s help, he could pay the house payment and take care of the kids, but only if they lived with him. Bobbi had told him she wouldn’t give him a dime to pay me, but would gladly help take care of Molly and Daryl.

  When I hung up the phone from talking to him, I immediately dialed the lawyer representing both of us. As soon as I got her on the line and told her my name, I started in. “Chad says he’s going to stop paying child support!”

  “He tells me he’s been laid off from work,” she said. “If he has no income, he can’t continue to pay the current amount of support. We’ll have to adjust his payment amount, and I c
an tell you the reduction will be significant. He told me he can’t promise he can even pay the reduced amount.”

  “But the court will make him pay, right?”

  “Yes, eventually. But things could get rough for you and the kids in the meantime.”

  “I know he could get the money from his family,” I said.

  “Maybe so, but we can’t make him. If he doesn’t pay anything, you can have him put in jail for contempt of court. But do you really want to do that?”

  “I can’t. The kids already blame me enough as it is.”

  “Will your family give you money for the mortgage payment so you can stay in the house with the kids?”

  “Don’t have any family.”

  “Oh.”

  “No, and I don’t want the house anyway. His family lives all around there and they aren’t fond of me.”

  “You could sell it, but Chad told me you’ve also taken out a second mortgage. So selling is probably not a good option for you, because if the house goes for less than you owe the bank, since the mortgage is in both your names, you’ll be responsible for your half of the difference.”

  “Chad can keep the house.”

  “The court will most likely award you physical custody and order a child support payment. But Chad said it could be a while before he goes back to work. Do you have the means to provide for your children in case he’s stubborn about paying support?”

  “No, I can barely make it with the money he’s been paying.”

  “Divorce is never good for children, but sometimes it’s unavoidable. You and Chad have to ask yourselves what’s best for Molly and Daryl. What would be the smoothest transition for them?”

  “To stay in the house, but that’s not happening because I can’t afford the payment.”

  “Look, Chad has agreed to keep Molly and Daryl in the home they are accustomed to. With his family’s help, he says he can pay the house payment and make sure the children are provided for. He tells me it’s where they want to live anyway.”