I'm Not Julia Roberts
Page 7
Beatrix
Posted on theothermother.com, April 14, 1999:
Hi everyone:
I’m not a stepmom or even close to it, but I am dating a man with three young sons. I have to say, you guys are scaring me! Some of you have all these horror stories! My boyfriend’s kids are always nice to me. Am I just lucky, or is this the calm before the storm?
Lulu34
February 18, 1999, Instant Messaging:
BeaFREE40: So, did you guys do anything fun over the weekend?
SuuuperDawg: We went to the park, but it was 2 cold, so we went home. And then we went to Lu’s party. She let us toast marshmellows in her fireplace.
BeaFREE: MarshMALLOWS. With an “A.” And who the heck is LU?
November 7, 1998
Beatrix:
I’ll be out of town from Monday to Wednesday. You can call my cell if there’s an emergency.
Ward
October 2, 1998
Beatrix:
I’ll be out of town this weekend, so I’ll be unable to watch the boys as you’d asked. I did call my mother and she said she’d be happy to baby-sit, if you have a need.
Ward
September 12, 1998
Beatrix:
I’ll be out of town for the next few days. In an emergency, I can be reached on my cell. You have the number.
Ward
August 15, 1998
Beatrix:
I’ll be out of town next week, so I was wondering if you were available to watch the boys Thursday and Friday. Please let me know.
Ward
June 7, 1998. Chat Room Transcript:
BeaFREE40: He’s so jealous. You should see his face when he comes to get the boys. It’s sad, really, if you think about it. I almost feel bad for him.
Beasmom: I feel bad for him.
BeaFREE40: I said almost.
Beasmom: Bea, honey, can you just call me on the phone? I know you bought me this computer and set everything up, but typing on this thing makes my joints ache.
May 29, 1998
To: mtractenberg@worldcom.com
Fr: WardHarrison@home.com
Mitch:
I met someone. And I’m starting to think it could be going somewhere.
I’m freaking terrified.
Ward
May 4, 1998
Beatrix:
When you say that you don’t know what’s more important than your plans, you mean you don’t understand what’s more important than YOU.
Forget it, it doesn’t matter. I’ll be around that evening.
Ward
May 1, 1998
Ward:
Frankly, I don’t understand what’s more important than this. Can’t you just move your plans to another date?
Beatrix
April 28, 1998
Beatrix:
The plans are fine, except for the bit about Sunday. You’ll drop them off between 5 and 10? Can you narrow that down a bit? I had plans for that night. . . .
Ward
April 15, 1998
Ward:
The wedding is planned for Saturday the 23rd—I enclosed a copy of the invitation so that you have the details. As the boys are an integral part of the ceremony, I would like to have them from Friday evening for the rehearsal dinner through Sunday evening, when we leave for our honeymoon. We’ll drop them off at your house sometime between 5 pm and 10. We’ll be in Paris for ten days, returning on the 5th. I’ll pick the boys up from school on the 8th.
Please confirm these schedule changes with me at your earliest convenience.
Beatrix
March 15, 1998
To: akstone@earthlink.net
Fr: luklein@goldrealty.com
Hey, Annie,
Remember that blind date I told you about? The one with that dad guy? The one I was absolutely dreading? Yeah, um, well . . . wasn’t as bad as I thought. Actually, it was good. More than good. Even with the tucking the shirt in thing that all dads do. (Is this some sort of dad rule? Tucking AND belts?) Anyway, he’s smart and funny, with curly hair, great hands. Talented hands, if you know what I mean. Talented everything. I know we nice girls aren’t supposed to sample the wares before the third date, but I couldn’t help myself.
Geez, I hope he calls me, cause otherwise I’m going to feel like the proverbial ho. (Uh, is that a proverb????)
Lu
February 16, 1998
Beatrix:
This is the third time I’ve requested that you file the quit claim deed on the house. I’d rather not go through the lawyer about this, but if it’s not filed by next month, I’ll have to.
Ward
January 4, 1998
To: mtractenberg@worldcom.com
Fr: WardHarrison@home.com
Mitch:
It’s D-Day. My own personal D-Day. I almost can’t believe it. I’m a single man.
Things had been going pretty smoothly for a while. No fights, none of her stupid ass notes, no fighting me every time I come to pick up the boys. I even shook hands with that guy she’s shacked up with. (The boys seem to think he’s OK, so that’s something.) I was nervous to see Beatrix in court. She looked good, lost a little weight, the works. But as we were going through it, as the judge decided this and that, I realized something important. I loved her, I totally loved her, but I never really liked her. She’s picky, she’s literal, she’s demanding, she loves to get on her high horse and ride the thing till he’s dead. I don’t want to be with that kind of person. The kind of person who, if you fell off your bike and broke your leg, would yell at you for riding irresponsibly instead of asking if you were OK.
And while I was having these thoughts, I noticed something else. Her shoes. She wore these red shoes that I bought for her way back when we were dating, these “mary-janes” she always loved. I think it was a slam, you know? I think she was trying to tell me that she could kick up her heels without me.
So I know you’ll say that I’m reading too much into the whole thing, but I don’t think I am. I think that’s it. And now it’s over. Done. Dead.
I wish I knew what to feel.
Ward
Gratitude Journal:
September 12, 1997
Devin, trying so hard to be a man. He shakes Alan’s hand.
Britt, the boy you can take anywhere, the boy who will help with anything. Just this morning he made me pancakes (or tried to. He forgot the eggs, the batter burned solid, and we had to throw out the pan).
Ollie, sweet Ollie. He says “good morning!” to the squirrels in the yard, he wants to be a vet and a juggler and a police person. He actually said “police person.” Who couldn’t love a boy like that?
Alan, who showed me what real love and support is. I finally have a fully committed partner to share my life with. I can’t describe the feeling. I’m dizzy, I’m flying. (Ha! I’m relieved!)
Friends who give me unconditional love no matter what’s happening with me or what size I am.
I’ve lost 14 pounds!!!!!
August 20, 1997
To: mtractenberg@worldcom.com
Fr: WardHarrison@home.com
I’ve been thinking about this unconditional love concept, and you know, I’ve decided that it’s bullshit. The only people you love unconditionally are your kids, and even that isn’t always as true as we all pretend it is. Could you say that you’d still love your wife in the same way if you discovered she was an embezzler? If she gained 200 pounds slamming Twinkies? If she started sleeping with some guy she works with? Is it realistic to think that we’ll love another person no matter what they do? Is it realistic to plan our lives as if nothing will ever change?
July 18, 1997. Chat Room Transcript:
BeaFREE40: I don’t know why he can’t see how hard this is for the boys. I don’t care what the court says. He’s a bastard.
Beasmom: He is their father.
BeaFREE40: But he’s still a bastard.
Beasmom: This is upsetting you. Let’s chat a
bout something else. Get it, chat? I’m getting pretty good at this high-tech stuff, don’t you think?
BeaFREE40: What else is there to talk about, Mom? This is my life, you know. My life.
Beasmom: Yes, honey. But this is what you wanted, isn’t it?
BeaFREE40: So it’s my fault? I’m getting what I deserve?
Beasmom: I didn’t say that.
BeaFREE40: You didn’t have to. I can see it in people’s faces. They have no idea the pain I had to go through living with that man. They think I’m some sort of floozy.
Beasmom: Honey, nobody uses the word “floozy” anymore.
June 19, 1997
Beatrix Harrison
N. New England Avenue
Chicago, IL
Dear Ms. Harrison:
As per the custody order dated May 5, 1997, your sons, Devin, Britt, and Oliver Harrison are to spend Thursday and Friday of every week and every other weekend with their father, Ward Harrison. If you continue to interfere with this court-ordered custody arrangement, or attempt to deny Mr. Harrison his right to see his sons, we will have no choice but to pursue legal avenues to rectify the situation.
If you have any questions, feel free to contact me at this office.
Dana Sherry,
Esquire
February 7, 1997
Ward:
What the hell are you trying to pull? Having our sons jumping back and forth from house to house with their underwear in a paper bag doesn’t benefit THEM, it benefits YOU. They’re just little kids! Have you thought of how difficult this will be for them? Why can’t you accept that they’re happy with me, in one place? Why can’t you see that this is the best thing for them? Are you trying to get back at me? Well, let me tell you right now that it won’t work. It’s low, Ward, low even for you, to use our sons like this. And I’ll tell you something else: I’ll fight you every step of the way.
Beatrix
February 2, 1997
Beatrix:
I agree that the boys need a father, which is why I’ve decided that weekend visitation isn’t enough. I have no interest in being some sort of Disneyland dad with no real relationship with his children. I’ve investigated joint physical custody and believe this type of arrangement will suit the boys best. My lawyer and I are working on a proposal. As soon as we have the details hammered out, I’ll let you know.
Ward
January 2, 1997
To: mtractenberg@worldcom.com
Fr: WardHarrison@home.com
I picked the boys up the other day and they told me that the asshole has moved in with them. Can you believe this? It’s been what, four months!?
I’m trying to pull it together. I have to pull it together. I swore in front of the kids. I’ve never done that before, but some shithead cut me off and I called him a fat fucking fuck—that’s exactly what I said. Ollie looked so shocked, I thought he was going to pass out. He must think I’ve lost my mind. Now I’m worried that he’ll tell his crazy mother and she’ll sue me for having a potty mouth.
How could she move in with that guy so soon?
Ward
December 13, 1996
Beatrix:
I wonder sometimes if you have any idea how ridiculous you sound. If the boys aren’t supposed to be involved in “adult matters,” then why did you introduce them to your boyfriend before we even separated? Why were the boys attending Alan’s family functions before I even knew the man existed? And why would you tell them that you were “just friends” when it was clear to them and to the rest of the world what you were doing?
You are in no position to moralize. If they’re confused and upset, maybe YOU need to look into the mirror for the reason why.
Ward
December 4, 1996
Ward:
As per our temporary agreement, I will be picking the boys up from school so that we can spend my birthday together. Since we are planning a late dinner, I will need to keep them overnight. Please let me know if there’s any problem with this.
I’d also like to bring something else to your attention. You need to be more careful about what you say to the boys. Frankly, I don’t care what you think of me, but please don’t take your anger out on our children. They’re scared and confused enough as it is. They need their father right now, not some babbling lunatic. I don’t know what you told them about Alan, but I don’t appreciate your comments or insinuations. They don’t understand adult matters and shouldn’t be involved in any of them. As I’ve told you repeatedly, the breakup of our marriage has nothing to do with him and everything to do with YOU. If you’re looking for a villain, you might try looking in the mirror.
Beatrix
Posted on SPLITSVILLE.com, November 28, 1996:
What a great website! I’m so glad I found you guys. I’ll start hunting down those receipts right away. I had another quick question for you all: I received a small (2K) incentive bonus from my employer. Is this considered income? I got it after we separated. Thanks!
2Good2BeBlue
November 2, 1996
Beatrix:
Hey, thanks for turning off the boiler and opening all the windows when you left. The autumn leaves on the dining room table were an especially nice touch.
Ward
Note on kitchen table:
November 1, 1996
Good-bye!! Good luck!! Feel free to take the lamp in the living room. I’ve always hated the damn thing.
September 10, 1996
Ward:
I don’t think you understand. Nothing in my life is up to you, now.
Beatrix
September 6, 1996
Beatrix:
Do whatever you have to do. But I don’t want that sweaty asshole you’re hooked up with to step foot in my home.
Ward
September 5, 1996
Ward:
I’ll be moving out on the first of the month. I’d appreciate it if you’d make arrangements to be away from the house during the hours of 8 am to 4 pm. I don’t think we need to make this any harder than it has to be.
Beatrix
August 9, 1996
To: mtractenberg@worldcom.com
Fr: WardHarrison@home.com
So maybe you’re right, it’s just like back in high school, all chicks are bitches and we just have to deal with it. I just wanted to know when she stopped wanting to be married to me. How long this has been a sham, you know? I thought that was a pretty simple question. I mean, we’re talking about the woman who has an answer for everything. So why doesn’t she have an answer for the most important thing? (Yeah, I know, maybe she doesn’t think it’s the most important thing. Shut up already.)
You won’t believe this book she gave me, supposedly written by some marriage expert. She’s an expert all right. She’s been married four fucking times, I looked it up. What the hell am I supposed to do with a marriage book by some dumb bitch who’s been married four fucking times?
Shit. Everything’s shit. And my language is going down the fucking toilet.
Ward
July 20, 1996
Beatrix:
I don’t believe you. But I guess it doesn’t matter now.
Ward
July 19, 1996
Ward:
I got your letter and I don’t know what to say except that I’m sorry. I have tried, tried as hard as I could for as long as I could, tried to tell you I wasn’t happy, tried to get you to understand, but I can’t try anymore. I just can’t.
It’s clear to me now that we’re not meant to be together. You’re a good man and a wonderful father, but we’ve both changed so much. It goes deeper than the arguments we’ve had about having another baby, or my job, or your job, or who’s doing what around the house—I just don’t love you in the same way, and I’m not sure if I ever did. We were so young, we never got a chance to experience the world—what did we know about love and marriage and all of it? Now we—and that means the both of us—will have a chance to find out. In the lon
g run, I know this is the right thing. If you looked into your heart, you’d know it, too.
I’m giving you this book, which has really helped me to understand what went wrong with us, and what we can do to keep that from happening with other people. I hope it helps you, too.
There is something you need to understand: Alan has nothing to do with my decision. I’ve known for a long time that I had to leave, meeting him simply gave me the courage to do it. I never meant to get involved, I never meant to hurt you or the boys. Believe me, this has caused me more anguish than you’ll ever know.
Beatrix
July 17, 1996
Beatrix:
I’ve tried to write this letter so many times in so many different ways that I’m hip deep in wadded papers. I think I just have to come out and say it: I don’t know what went wrong.
I try to see it, understand it, but I can’t. I guess I didn’t meet your needs. I worked too hard. I didn’t help around the house or help with the boys enough. I didn’t listen. I didn’t encourage you enough, or in the right way. I pushed you into the arms of someone else. I don’t like cats. Is that it? I don’t know.
But whatever it is, I’m sorry for it all. For disappointing you, for taking you for granted. Right now I have no clue what would make me turn my back on you the way I must have, what small shiny thing could have captured my attention for so long that you felt I had forgotten about you. Because I didn’t. I never have.
Do you remember that day we were window-shopping, just a few months after we met? You were so busy staring at those shoes you liked—they were the red ones, you always liked red, red like your hair—and you walked right into a telephone pole, nearly knocking yourself out? And you laughed so hard that you were snorting, and you demanded to know why I wasn’t snorting, too? Why I kept asking you if you were hurt rather than collapsing into hysterics myself? And you assumed that I was just a nice, concerned guy hoping that you didn’t have a concussion? I wasn’t a nice guy then, I’m not one now, as you’ve said many times. So, I’ll tell you, I asked if it hurt because standing there, watching you laugh, I hoped so much that I could knock you out like that, I wanted it so much my heart hurt. I wanted you to feel that same way. I wanted you to hurt, too.
So, I can see that this isn’t making much sense, but then, my head’s a fucking mess; I feel like I’ve just plowed into a telephone pole, only it isn’t funny. I don’t think I can get through this, and I don’t want to. Do you want to? Do you really? I’ll say I love you, but after ten years of marriage, it’s not that simple. I everything you. You’re the mother of my children. There isn’t a corner of my world that doesn’t have you in it, somewhere, in some way.