Leaving Salt Lake City

by Matthew Timion

  I had turned off the ability to try to have a relationship any more. I wasn’t going to give in and say, “Okay! Let’s do it!” The conversation ended soon afterwards and I was allowed to get back to obsessing over keeping my son away from his mother who received mysterious black eyes from non-existent CIA operatives.

  In a different world, without the court case and a crazy ex-wife, Courtney would have been perfect. I realized that I dated people I wanted to be like.

  My first wife came from a Mormon family that were all highly educated. They were strong in their religious beliefs and all ridiculously intelligent.

  Jessica was the opposite. She was carefree and fun. She had tattoos and partied. She took risks. She was perfect for the young man I once was, the former version of myself who was trying to find his way out of the Mormon culture that had defined me.

  Courtney was smart, beautiful, driven, successful, and confident. I wanted to be driven like she was. I wanted to be successful in my career, not bouncing between jobs in order to get a one dollar per hour raise. I wanted to be like her, but I didn’t like the way I felt when she was around me. I had already received so much negative feedback from Jessica about how I lived my life. I looked at myself and only focused on the negative. The last thing I wanted from a partner was someone that joined in the Matt-bashing. I hated being reminded of how much I had let myself go. I hated being told that I wasn’t good enough. I wanted to be adored, not fixed. I wanted to be cheered on, not beat down.

  I was alone again, but for the second time in my thirty one years on Earth, I made that choice myself. Perhaps Courtney did rub off on me a bit and I took a stand. I decided for myself that she wasn’t what I wanted. I set my sights on a family, one that wouldn’t look at a piece of clothing on my floor and give me an are-you-serious look while mumbling under her breath, “Disgusting.”

  PART 5

  | FORTY FIVE |

  A Cold Christmas

  November 2010

  The second court hearing went well. While the commissioner was duty-bound to assign a custody evaluator to our case, she was not duty bound to decide who paid for it. Jessica made no appearance again to court. The commissioner ordered Jessica had to pay the entire amount and was given thirty days to come up with the money. It was a waiting game for Jessica to pay the initial deposit of three thousand dollars. I waited for her to pay the custody evaluator, knowing that I would face talking with a professional trained in recognizing problems with people. The days went on and on. I heard nothing.

  Jessica called, drunk. I had no idea what had happened to the sober Jessica from the court documents, but the reappearance of drunk Jessica always eased my looming fears of how the court hearings would proceed. Drunk Jessica was back in control. She talked to Manny for a while. He handed me the phone with a confused look on his face. “She wants to talk to you, dad." I took the phone from Manny’s outstretched hands and went into the backyard in order to have some privacy. Jessica and I got into our regular shouting routine right away. She started accusing me of being the villain again. She said I had made all of her friends and family turn against her.

  “Does any of this have to do with Manny?” I asked.

  “No.”

  I hung up. I followed the letter of the law by letting her talk with Manny. There was no need for her to talk with me.

  Jessica repeatedly called back without answer for the next hour. I had to silence my phone. Her drunken voicemails consisted of statements like, “I cannot believe you won’t let me talk to my son!” and, “What is wrong with you? I’m going to sue you!” I sent her an email stating that if she tried to call me and not Manny again that I would call the police locally and at the military base where she lived in order to file charges for harassment. She stopped calling, probably partially due to the fact that I had called the police on her military base and made a complaint.

  It was October of 2010, and Manny was a demon for Halloween. He loved Halloween. It was easily his favorite Holiday. I wish I had had his enthusiasm for anything, let alone a holiday. I took a picture of Manny’s costumecomplete with horns and makeup. I put it on Facebook, and right away Courtney commented on the photo.

  Manny looks great...underneath (and on top of) your coffee table needs a little help. Sorry, you know me, and know I would have noticed.

  Leave it to Courtney to take a cute picture of my son dressed up for Halloween and turn it into a way to publicly tell me my house was dirty. I would love to say that I had cleaned it up right away due to the embarrassment or that I left it untouched out of protest. I did neither. I cleaned it on its normal schedule. Courtney’s comment was exactly just what I needed to remind me of why the two of us would never work out.

  In November of 2010 a small local Martial Arts tournament was coming up. I felt confident enough to try. I was still a white belt and wanted to compete. I was throwing everything I had into martial arts. In some ways it was my only outlet for a life filled with dog crap, a troubled son, and crippling debt. It also provided me with some new friends, none of whom were Mormon. All of the people at our martial arts school were either former Mormons or had relocated from the Midwest, never having experienced Mormonism first hand. I wasn’t judged for my lack of belief in Jesus' visitation of America after his resurrection. No one there was going to wonder if I secretly wore sacred underwear like the rest of the Mormons. My tattoos were an indicator of my disbelief.

  I left work during lunch to register for the tournament. The person running the tournament told me to drop the entry form off at a local community center. I had never been to such a place in America. I must have been the only white person there. The community center was teaching people what they needed to get ahead in America, whether it be English, how to start your own company, or how to file your taxes. It amazed me that such a place existed in Salt Lake City. Compared to the community center, living in a minority neighborhood Salt Lake City was a white-bred place.

  While driving back to work after dropping off the entry form, my phone rang. I never answered my phone while driving. My fear of other people dying extended to me as well except of course if it was a slow death caused by something like alcohol or fast food. I could handle a slow death. I looked down at my phone while waiting at the stop light and saw Jessica had called. We had not heard from her in well over a month.

  “It’s Jessica, I just wanted to call and say that I’ll be away for a month and I’ll be unable to call. Please give Manny a hug for me and tell him that I love him.”

  I didn’t tell Manny about Jessica’s sudden disappearance. If I told Manny he would have wanted to call her and he would have been upset when she didn’t answer. Where was she going for a month that would prevent her from calling? Did her DUI conviction finally go through? Perhaps she was in rehab. Maybe she was in jail. My mind raced and I searched online for a possible solution using every resource I had. I had no answer. Rehabilitation centers and jails don’t normally post lists of their guests.

  It was Jessica’s year for Thanksgiving and her thirty days without contact prevented her from taking Manny for the holiday. She was required by law to give me thirty days' notice. I didn’t like the idea of sending Manny to her, but since we were still in the middle of a custody battle I had to abide by the letter of the law. If she had given thirty days' notice then I had to grant visitation. In some ways her surprise hiatus was a blessing.

  The Martial Arts tournament went well. I ranked third and second in two different categories. Manny decided not to participate because he was afraid the tournament would be like one he saw on The Karate Kid. He was also embarrassed to be in front of so many people and afraid of getting hit without protective gear.

  The season went on. Jessica was still ordered to pay for the custody evaluator, but she never did. My attorney told me to wait it out a bit and see. If she didn’t pay for the custody evaluator after sixty days we would make a case to drop everything due to her lack of involvement. I used all of the money in my accoun
t to pay my lawyer just to do simple things like emailing me and sending legal documents.

  I had become a master of shuffling my bills. I could remain behind on one bill and pay another. I knew I could fall three months behind on my mortgage before the mortgage company got upset and threatened to take my house away. I knew that my phone could go two months without payment before they threatened to disconnect. The thing that wasn’t in my budget, however, was the heating bill. My gas bill was around ten dollars per month during the summer. In the winter it would climb to over one hundred and thirty dollars.

  I woke up one morning and it was freezing. I looked at the thermostat. It was just above fifty degrees in my house. How did this happen? At first I thought my furnace was broken, but I heard it humming along. I went outside and saw a disconnect notice on my front door. How did I miss the warnings? They’re supposed to let you know before they disconnect. I was a pro at disconnections at this point due to my multiple water disconnections. I even had had my power shut off once. I knew the drill.

  I checked the water and it was ice cold. No hot water. I called the gas company after taking Manny to school. The air outside made it look like I was a chain smoker. I missed smoking, but there was no way I could afford it. I wasn’t going to receive my paycheck for another day. One more day without heat. The timing was horrible. I pleaded with the gas company telling them that I had a minor child in the home and we needed heat.

  “We have a number of programs set up for people in need. For example, we cannot shut off the gas if an elderly person is in the house.”

  “But my son isn’t elderly. He’s six." Manny was really seven years old at that point, but I wanted some dramatic effect.

  “We cannot do anything then. If you pay your bill we can get your gas reconnected within twenty four hours.”

  We spent the night colder than normal, but I didn’t tell Manny the gas was shut off. I inspired him to take a bath instead of a shower. Lucky for me in Utah everyone’s stove is electric not gas powered. I boiled a few gallons of water and put them in the cold water already in the bathtub. I put two space heaters in his room so that he wouldn’t freeze at night. Luckily we were able to go to martial arts that night to be in a heated place. Perhaps Manny would never notice.

  Despite the temptation to just cut the lock they had put on my gas meter, I paid the bill the next morning. For whatever reason the government frowns highly on that. Cutting the lock could get you jail time even if it were just to provide heat for your family. It was too risky. I had assumed that because I had paid the bill so early in the morning that the gas would be turned on that very day. It wasn’t. We went three days without heat. Manny didn’t know. He would never have to tell the story about not having heat.

  I understand that three days without heat is not the end of the world. I have met many people over the years who have had to burn branches in their fireplace in order to heat their home. They had to do this all winter long. In a weird way I was jealous of them. I wish that I had had a fireplace where I could burn logs to heat my house. The logs in my backyard would have been perfect for that. I could then let the gas bill go unpaid for a while so that I could have afforded to buy Manny Christmas presents. I chose heat over Christmas gifts.

  My account balance was always negative. My family had no money either so asking them was out of the question. A man working with an organization called Volunteers of Utah took pity on us. He was Manny’s “Life Skills” teacher, which was a group set up for kids identified as at risk. We met with him once a week to talk about life lessons and making right choices. In my neighborhood kids that needed that service were a dime a dozen. Somehow Manny fit the mold. This man gave me an address and asked me to come during my lunch break.

  I drove up in my beat down car to the address. My car had been without an oil change for over a year and a half. I had just recently renewed my license plates eight months late. I would have to renew them again soon. The volunteer walked me through the makeshift store and told me to pick out clothes, toys, and movies. I was given soap, deodorant, and shampoo. They gave us a winter coat for Manny and a jacket for myself. I received a blanket for Manny that he still has today. All these items were free. I felt so much gratitude. I was beyond the point of not accepting a handout. I needed any help I could get. Thankfully this man saw the need and offered it. It was because of this man that Manny had gifts that year for Christmas. I couldn’t afford a thing.

  I drove down to Las Vegas for Christmas that year in my car afraid that it would blow up while I drove. Manny slept in the backseat using the only seat belt that still worked. I took my once stolen video camera that had been returned by the police months after the break-in and videotaped Manny opening gifts that year. He thought it was a normal Christmas. He had no idea what we were going through.

  On Christmas day, we attempted to call Jessica. Every child should talk to his or her parents on Christmas. Unfortunately she never answered when Manny called. I was hoping she would call back so I spent most of the day waiting for her call. Waiting for her to be a mother. She didn’t call. When we called her the phone rang and rang. There was no answer.

  We came home and I played a record on my old Victrola record player. It was a hand crank so I didn’t have to worry about using electricity. The song Silver Bells blared throughout the house, filling us with some semblance of Christmas Spirit.

  I loved the sound of records playin, especially if they were old. I would have done so much better in a different century before we had to worry about electrical bills and our gas being shut off. I decided my garden the next year would be even bigger. I wanted to feed us for the entire year. Perhaps it was time for me to seriously try to get a chicken coop. Although we rarely ate eggs, free eggs would be nice.

  Jessica called back the day after Christmas. She was hysterical. As Manny sat on the couch talking to her, he looked worried. He looked shocked and horrified.

  Jessica was crying and yelling so loudly that I could hear her shrill voice from ten feet away. “Manny, I don’t have a job! I don’t have any money!” She was sobbing. Why would she tell her son this? I sat at my laptop and wrote an email to Courtney giving her a play by play. Although our friendship was becoming more strained due to the money had given me months prior, Courtney and I were still in contact. She wanted her money back. I was too proud to tell her just how broke I was. Despite the overshadowing debt, she was still concerned about Manny and I.

  “Dad, can I send my allowance to Mom? She needs the money." I told him no. Jessica appeared to be unraveling again and she was attempting to bring Manny down with her. I would not let that happen.

  The new year was fast approaching and things had to change. I could not have another Christmas like that one. Manny was ignorant of what was going on around us. The effect of being so poor took a serious toll on me. I just wanted that life where there were two parents and we had more money than we could spend. I wanted to be loved again. I wanted to be inspired to be someone better than I was.

  My thoughts most nights centered on Courtney, and I wondered if I had made a mistake. I knew I had screwed it up too much to even attempt to try again. I slept on one side of my bed while remembering what it was like when she slept on the other side.

  | FORTY SIX |

  Just Go Away!

  December 2010

  Another court hearing. The Guardian Ad Litem was dropped from the case. This happened by the sheer lack of interest by Jessica. She was the one who wanted the involvement with the Guardian Ad Litem. Despite her original intent, her participation in everything she started stopped. Even when it appeared that she was no longer going to pursue the case, I kept paying money for an attorney.

  I emailed her receipts for her half of the day care bills. She replied.

  Matt, I will be working in January. I should be able to send some money then.

  January came.

  I haven't been paid yet. What I'm going to do is set things up with ORS to pay you a % of any
thing I make. Eventually when I have a full time job, I'm will pay you regularly and begin to catch up on what I owe.

  Please don't CC [my lawyer] on your emails anymore.

  I could only speculate that she could no longer afford her attorney, which in my mind meant Vince had quit paying for her legal fees. A homemaker wouldn't have much of an income.

  February came and I was alone still. I have never been a fan of Valentine’s Day. I think it’s overly commercialized and pointless, but the idea of Valentine’s Day is wonderful. I would have loved to spend my Valentine’s Day with someone. I would have embraced the idea, fully loaded with roses and gifts. Instead I spent it like I had spent my previous Father’s Day. Pretending it was a normal day made it much easier to deal with. It was much easier that way.

  Work continued on as normal. Poverty continued on as normal. I knew that if I worked hard enough and proved myself to my employer I would eventually make more money. It seemed the salary raise would not happen. I started taking on side jobs to make ends meet. For a while it worked. I would work forty hours a week and then come home and work five hours a night. The money wasn’t glamorous, but it started adding up. At one point I actually got caught up on my bills.

  Courtney sent me an email letting me know that she was moving to San Francisco for work. She had been promoted. She had made twice as much as I did. Now she was making more. I was so envious. She still wanted her money back. A few months before she had sent me a text message saying, “Hey, I’m in the Salt Lake City airport. Guess what I would love to get today?" Clearly she thought that obtaining fifteen hundred dollars was going to be an easy task for me. I don’t think she fully understood just how poor I was. No, she couldn't have understood. I never really told her.

  Although I knew it was probably impossible, I had promised Courtney that I would pay her back. I had daycare, mortgage, and utilities to pay. I could not produce the money she needed. She persisted asking. She would call and send me text messages. Sometimes she would email. I ignored her.