I watch the man get his composure, straightening his jacket, while his wife says something in his ear and guides him to a nearby corridor where I assume the choir normally enters during a service. In that time I pick Mila into my arms and head over to the casket I haven’t yet been able to get to. The first thing I see is her folded hands. My teeth grind as I turn my gaze away and look at Mila, who I notice is staring at her lifeless mother. I can already tell this is the first time she’s seeing her. “Mommy wake up,” she orders.
My eyes are full of a burning liquid as my jaws clench together to keep me from losing it. She doesn’t need to see me withdrawn and weak. “She can’t wake up, baby. Mommy needs to sleep now.”
“Why?”
“She’s going to heaven,” I try to convince her. “She’s an angel now.”
“Her fly?”
There’s a picture of angels with wings in her bedroom with a prayer on it. I can only assume Etherly told her about angels. “Maybe.”
She’s sad as she responds. “But her here.”
“I know it’s hard to understand. She’s here so we can say goodbye.”
“Okay.”
My eyes follow the black fabric of the dress her mother has selected. It’s long-sleeved, loose fitted, and with a high neck. It looks like something a grandmother would wear, instead of someone young and once full of life. It’s hideous, causing me to cringe as I take it in, all while avoiding her unmoving face. When I catch a hint of her lips I start to feel wetness trickling down my cheeks. It’s obvious they’ve been sewn or glued shut. Her lips were always full and plump, while now they look fake and unnatural. I’m confounded, unable to avoid feeling as if I’m suffocating. She promised to love me forever, but now…now she’s gone. I’m left to pick up the pieces, with a little girl who is without a mother. Mila leans forward to touch her mother. I allow it, because she shouldn’t be punished for things she can’t understand. Eth would hate me if I kept her from this. She’s two. How much can she remember?
“I’m going to miss Mommy,” I manage to get out with a whimper.
While my daughter continues to trace her little unknowing fingers across her mother’s cold tough skin, I bring my focus to the face I fell in love with. She’s positioned awkwardly. Her makeup is too heavy, her eyes in the same affixed shut as the lips. It looks nothing like her, so I find it incomprehensible to be able to see her as anything but the shell of someone I know and love. When the constant staring gets too much to bear, I turn to find a seat where I can recollect, only to see two uniformed officers approaching.
I know exactly why they’re here, and of course I become defensive. I keep Mila in my arms even when we’re face to face and give them a piece of my mind, yelling out for my in-laws to show their cowardly faces. They’ve done this. They called the police and now I’m being charged with assault.
All it takes for me to go off is having one of them try to pull Mila out of my arms. As soon as I can no longer feel her on my hip I’m a raging lunatic, because I know exactly what will happen next.
I’m complacent by the time I’m shoved into the cop car. Many of the visitors have followed the commotion outside and are watching from afar. The last thing I see is my mother-in-law, that spiteful monster of a bitch, holding my precious little girl and kissing her on the cheek.
Fuck!
Chapter 5
With my pending trial and only being released on bail, I was forced to remain in jail. My initial hearing for possession happens exactly four weeks from my second incarceration. In that time everything came crashing down on me. It was no longer just the loss of a loved one. My in-laws were going for sole custody of Mila, and with the growing charges against me, I knew there was a good chance they’d win. They hired some big time lawyer to represent them, and since I don’t have a pot to piss in knew this even lessened my odds.
Determined I would get out for this being my first offense, I considered every single option out there. I thought about doing the right thing, letting the courts decide my fate. Then I imagined a way to get them out of my life for good, without committing murder, though that has crossed my mind on a few occasions.
With the law against me, I knew if the shit hit the fan I’d have to go to extreme measures to keep us together. Mila is all I have left. I wasn’t willing to live my life without her being a part of it every single day. She needed to know I’d never give up on her, even if times were tough and felt impossible.
I’ve been coping, the best I’m able to in my situation. It’s not like there is a ton of things to keep from thinking about my loss. I miss her. I even miss the fighting and complaining.
My cell mate is a class act, and I’m saying that sarcastically. Steve Steeple. He’s in his forties, hair down to his shoulders that he usually keeps in a neat braid. He’s about six-foot with a good two hundred pounds scattered over a muscular build. From the way he talks, he’s a ladies man, though I’m not sure anything out of his mouth is believable. He’s married with two children. Entertaining to say the least. He’s a con man, or was before someone caught on and had him put away. He’s been in for two years for identity theft, and claims he has a solution to all my problems. With one more month left to serve, he promises that I’ll have a friend if I need one, albeit I’m not sure he’s the kind I want on my side. Only time will tell if he can be trusted, but I’m not overlooking the opportunity for assistance, need be.
Because of my situation, and the fact that we’re stuck together for twenty-four hours a day, I listen to all of his ideas. It doesn’t hurt to have a backup plan being that my chances of getting Mila back without good representation is grim.
In the past four weeks I’ve made daily attempts to call Mila, only to be threatened and hung up on. They claim she’s better off without me. They say they’ll spend every penny of their fortune to ensure she never has to lay eyes on me again. I’m sick over it. I dwell on the negative, burdened by my past mistakes, and the fact that maybe I could have prevented all of this had I been stronger and taken control.
I have a handful of friends, and even less I can count on. My phone time is limited to minutes, so it’s not like I have the opportunity to get much help on the outside. I’ve been in touch with my boss, who has had to replace me because he needed the help. My landlord is threatening to evict me, even though he knows my situation. Money is money. No matter where I turn everything is bleak. I’m at my lowest, desperately holding onto nothing but hope.
The closer I get to being free, the more Steve’s plans seem to make sense. I’ve learned to trust him, or at least in this case. Giving him money to invest in a mutual fund would be a different story.
When I stand in court, dressed in my orange suit, I see my in-laws in the back. They are there to watch me go down, but my court appointed attorney has guaranteed me I’ll get probation. Nearly thirty minutes later I’m being escorted back to the jail where I’ll be officially released. My probation officer is my ride home. He’s an older gentlemen, bald on the top of his head. His cheeks are a bright pink, and from the way his stomach hits the steering wheel I’d say he spends most of his lunch breaks at fast food restaurants. His name is Daniel Homer. I can’t help from thinking about the Simpsons the whole time he speaks, wondering if the animated character was created in his own image.
He gives me the rundown of rules I need to abide by, not that I’m listening. I’m fully aware I’m up shit’s creek without a paddle. I know what this will do for my custody case. It’s only a matter of time before my worst possible fears become my living reality.
It’s a Thursday morning. I’ve spent the past six weeks finding work, if that’s what my new job would be labeled as. Despite the fact that I’m skilled in the automobile trade, I’m stocking shelves at a local Walmart. My town is small and jobs are hard to come by. My midnight shift leaves little time to prepare for my impending hearing, but it keeps me focused. I’ve been living out my car, and keeping most of the contents of my house in a cheap storage uni
t. To be honest, I’ve spent a couple nights there on my mattress. It beats having to get comfortable in a compact Nissan Sentra. Plus the unit is heated, so I don’t need to burn a shit ton of gas to keep from getting hypothermia when the temperature drops outside.
It all seems preposterous, but I’m awaiting my first paycheck to land an apartment that will suffice until I can afford something with a yard for Mila. I don’t want her to suffer, and know at some point I’ll either be able to get my old job back, or find another shop looking for a responsible employee.
Every single minute of the day my heart hurts for my little girl that I miss dearly. She’s all I have left, and I know whatever the judge orders won’t change anything. Whether I win or lose, I’ll find a way to get her away from those horrible people. One thing I’m thankful for is knowing she’s still young enough that they won’t be able to brainwash or manipulate her into thinking I’m a bad person. I’m not.
I may have a terrible temper given certain circumstances, but who wouldn’t? Everything has been ripped out from under me. I’ve been poisoned, burned, shot down.
Having been raised in a broken home, I’ve learned to handle major catastrophes, yet nothing could prepare me for this sort of devastation. Etherly will never be in the bed next to me. I’ll never feel her hands touching me. We’ll never share moments of euphoria, not in this life.
I’ve contemplated ending my existence, and the only thing preventing it from happening is knowing my child needs me, because if I don’t regain custody she’ll be exiled to a future similar to her mothers. I refuse to let that happen.
I won’t give up.
My first check isn’t what I originally estimated. They’ve taken out taxes, Social Security, and other fees. Since most apartments need good credit and a security deposit I’ve had to lower my standards. I’m staying at a nearly hundred year old flea bag motel that probably has a bed bug infestation, so just to be on the safe side I’ve purchased a plastic cover and fumigated. The carpet is a green shaded multi-shag, while the drapes and bedding are orange. I’ve stuffed both in a box in the closet and prefer to use my own. I don’t want to begin to think what kind of activities have happened on the mattress or other fabric items. On my first day off I even clean the carpets and bleached every hard surface. I’m by no means a clean freak, but it’s never a good sign when you see your neighbors itching all the time.
I feel like a loser. I’m exactly where my in-laws said I would be, and it’s disconcerting since I’ve done everything in my power to always provide for my family, even with an addiction. For the most part mine has always been under control. It relaxed me. I still went to work, did my job, and came home every night. My girls never suffered. I just wish I’d known of Etherly’s other addictions, because I know I could have gotten her help before her life was lost.
I will forever have regrets.
Awaiting my court date is proving to be a struggle. I’m still calling my in-laws on a daily basis, trying to see my daughter. They’ve blocked my cell phone number, making me search the area for payphones or other means of getting through.
With the small amount I owe for the efficiency apartment I’m renting, I’ve been able to save over six hundred dollars in the first month.
It’s amazing how much money I’m able to save when I don’t need to pay utilities and grocery bills. I changed my cell phone plan to the minimum, and even got rid of cable and Wi-Fi. Usually I’ll eat a can of raviolis, or some ramen to keep my food costs low. I need every penny for when my sweet girl comes home. We’ll struggle for a little while, but I have a plan. A good one.
I’m leaving this two-bit small ass town and going somewhere new. There’s too many bad memories to remain, plus I want to be as far away from my in-laws as possible.
The morning of the hearing I’m undeniably nervous. My hands won’t stop shaking, beads of sweat trickle down my temples, and my throat feels dry even though I’m drinking a bottle of water. Upon entering the court house and seeing my opposing team giving me a once over, I swallow a lump in my throat while struggling to keep the dizziness away. Out of the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of someone who brings me back from losing it. She’s so beautiful, in her mother’s image, her smile a contagion I need to be in the presence of. She’s like a diamond amidst a pile of rubble. With no regard for the backlash I’ll receive from my asshole in-laws, I rush toward her, holding out my arms at the exact time she hurdles in my direction. Swooping her up and planting kisses over her face is like the greatest high. I don’t recall ever feeling so complete. She’s everything, which only significantly makes this day harder. I know what’s at stake, and the extremes I’m willing to take if things aren’t in my favor.
I’m not sure why, but they say nothing as I continue holding her as the proceedings begin. I think they already knew how things would go, so this was them giving me time to say my goodbyes to my precious little princess.
Condemned to a fate worse than death itself, I stand and hear the words that will for sure be the end of everything good in my life.
I'm not fit to be a parent according to the judge. My in-laws have been granted sole custody. It's not permitted to include pending charges, yet I know they had to be a factor. They used everything against me.
She’s being pulled from my hold, my eyes burning as the verdict reverberates in my ears. I’d rather die than watch them take her from me again, yet it’s happening, and I can’t do a damn thing about it except watch in horror.
This is it. They’re forcing my hand whether they see it or not. I won’t have supervised visitation like the judge suggests. I don’t want to have to sit in a room and be babysat in order to spend time with Mila. She’s mine. She should be with me always.
As I exit the courtroom the appointed attorney tells me I can appeal, but what good would it do? It will be months before I’m financially capable of moving, and even longer, maybe not ever to be able to afford a lawyer capable of taking on their heartless lawyer. It’s a lose-lose.
As I’m walking outside of the building I hear my name coming from my little girl’s lips. She’s calling out, “Daddy, Daddy,” but they refuse to give in. They treat her like she’s property to them, another reason I need to make sure I get her the hell away from them.
The gut-wrenching following week will go down as my worst to date. I make it through one night before I fall victim to my own desires. Taking half of my own paycheck, I make a purchase I know I’ll regret. Burning with pain, tortured by truth and lies, I pop a few pills and let the magic happen. Steady coursing through my veins, I close my eyes and pray this is a nightmare. I’m broken inside, ripped apart by love. My scars can’t be erased. I’m burdened with a constant ache. My will to continue is failing. I’m wrecked, damaged, and far too aggressive to make good decisions. Something has to give. I’m desperate, fully prepared to go beyond a degree of right and wrong to find solace.
This is war, and I refuse to surrender, not until I have what I want, what’s mine. They have the only remaining part of my broken, yet reparable heart, and I’m about to do whatever it takes to get it back.
Chapter 6
People can give condolences, offer advice, and even say they know what you're going through, but at the end of the day no one can look me in the eye and understand how I feel at this very moment. I'm gutted, forced to watch my child grow everyday from afar.
Steve provides me with an address and several photos of the inside of the furnished home. He explains the family left almost everything behind when the bank took the home from them. My daughter will have a room of her own from day one, but there's just one problem. We'll be squatters. If I'm caught I won't just go to jail for kidnapping. The list of charges will continue to grow, ensuring I spend the rest of my daughter's childhood without her.
It kills me to imagine it. In fact, I've spent the past several days in the cemetery at Etherly's grave asking her to help us start over. If there is a God, which I've always been taught to believe there
is one, I pray I'm doing the right thing. In my heart I know I'm not a bad guy. I couldn't care less what anyone thinks about me. The only person I need on my side is my daughter. As long as she loves and trusts me all will be well with the world.
Dealt with an impossible hand, I’m forced to make choices that could make or break a future. I’m chained to an absolute certainty that if I don’t act now it’ll be too late. Each second that passes without my little girl is way more time than my in-laws could ever deserve.
I’m out of options, so when my cell mate gets released from jail and looks me up I know he could be my only hope. He tells me where I can obtain fake identification, for not just myself but also Mila. Then we discuss where I’m going to go once I have her.
Coming from a very small town, where everyone sort of knows who you are, I’m inclined to travel far away, possibly to a busy city where we could get lost in the crowd and hopefully forgotten, at least until I can get us settled and start a new life for us. That being said, I know the repercussions that I’ll be faced with if I take this route.
I’m talking about kidnapping my own child and running.
It’s crazy.
Dangerous.
My last resort.
It’s my only choice. I won’t live without her.
Steve and I spend the next two weeks devising a plan. He’s got some contacts in Richmond Virginia, and tells me his cousin is a real estate agent for foreclosure properties. He says he knows a place with running water and electric that I could stay in until I find another to safely move to. The next part of the plan is up to me, and without even thinking about it I realize I’m off to a good start. Changing my appearance won’t be difficult. Since going to jail, and losing Etherly, I’ve lost a ton of weight. My once clean cut face is full of hair, an almost beard, and the buzz hair I’d gotten used to having has grown out. I head to the store and get some black dye, making sure my once brown hair is now a few shades darker. After buzzing around my ears, I don’t recognize the man staring back at me. To make my face unrecognizable, I buy a pair of black rimmed glasses without a prescription. For the next three weeks I let myself go. My late night job makes it easy to keep out of the public eye. I make my daily calls to the assholes keeping my daughter from me, pay my bills, and save up every cent leftover for my escape. I’m antsy. On several occasions I’ve driven to their neighborhood and watched them through the windows, catching short glimpses of my little girl I’ll soon be with.
The Wrong Side of Rock Bottom Page 4