“Take your clothes off and get in bed,” he snarled as he threw a toothbrush at me; literally threw a toothbrush that hit my body, super romantic. I quickly realized the situation was going bad by the look of anger in his eyes. He seemed to be on a mission to get me into bed, and I no longer felt comfortable. Did I really know this guy and what he was capable of? I decided the answer was no.
I quickly said, “I really need to get home, I have an early wake-up call tomorrow to get kids off for school. Give me your address and I will call a cab, no need to drive me home.” I realized this was the same feeling I’d had years ago in high school, and I didn’t like it one bit.
This was before Uber, and I had trouble finding the number for a cab on my phone because I was shaking so much.
“What is the address here?” I asked when I finally got a cab company on the line.
“You figure it out,” he snapped, as he went to his bedroom and slammed the door like an angry twelve-year-old. I found his address on a bill that was on the counter and went outside to sit on the front steps and wait for the cab. As I sat waiting, I started crying. I realized it was both humiliation and fear, but why I would feel that way for doing nothing wrong? Greg actually knew this guy from college. I wanted to tell Greg what had just happened and hear his comforting voice. I dialed his number and I told him everything. He was beyond angry, he wanted to come kick the guy’s ass for doing that to me. And I loved that he wanted to.
CHAPTER 17
SHORTLY AFTER GREG AND I divorced in 2009, my friend Christy and I took a trip to Los Angeles after buying a charity fundraiser auction item to attend the Ellen Degeneres Show. Ellen’s show literally saved my life during those first few difficult months. Many times I found myself laughing through tears while I watched. I was so excited to get away for a few days, a much-needed break from all my responsibilities at home.
As Christy and I waited in a large room with the other 300+ guests, the producers went around the room picking out about twenty of us, including Christy and me. After being asked a few questions about ourselves, we were then narrowed down to about eight ladies, and I was one of them. I was practically jumping out of my skin with excitement as we were told that five of us would be selected to participate in a game on stage for the chance to win a car later in the week. If you are an Ellen fan, you know exactly what I am talking about, and probably excited for me right now!
Our small group was taken to a trailer behind the studio, and the producers asked us to pretend what we would do if we heard our name being called from the audience. We took turns jumping around and clapping our hands like wild lunatics as the producer called out our names. My acting skills from my teen years kicked into high gear—I was determined to get on that stage.
The show began, and tears of joy welled up in my eyes as Ellen walked on stage. She was the only person who could bring a smile to my face for a long time, and there she was, right in front of me. After Ellen’s opening monologue, they started calling the names one by one. Those called would be playing Blindfolded Musical Chairs, my all-time favorite Ellen game! My name was the third one called! I didn’t have to use my acting skills at all by this point, as adrenaline completely took over. I don’t think I have ever been more excited about anything in my life than I was when I heard my name called. Even though they said “Swindle” instead of “Swindell,” I leapt from my seat and sprinted down the stairs to the stage so fast, I can’t believe I didn’t tumble down. I jumped around clapping frantically and hugging the other girls. Just then, a curtain opened and the new car was revealed. That escalated our excitement even more, if that was possible.
I ended up winning the game, and to this day can’t remember the last time I had that much fun. I was invited back the following week to play in the finale for the chance to win the car, along with the other winners from the week before. Sadly, I didn’t end up winning that red Ford Focus, but the experience goes on my Top 5 List of all-time favorite life moments:
Marrying Greg
The birth of my children
The World Series win
Hanging out with Garth Brooks and Trisha Yearwood and Trisha cooking us breakfast
Being on the Ellen Degeneres Show
Meeting Ellen and being on her show wasn’t the only memorable part of that trip. After the show, Christy and I hit all the hot spots in L.A. and soaked up every minute of our trip. On the last night, we went to a new club that was a known hangout for celebrities. We were on a mission to catch a glimpse of whoever we could. There was a long line at the entrance that consisted of only the most beautiful people, and it was a little on the intimidating side. Christy and I attempted the old “flirt with the door guy” trick to avoid waiting in the mile-long line, and it worked! The tall and extremely hot man attending the door immediately sparked my attention. He had a John Mayer look to him, a look I usually am not attracted to, but I was that night.
He softly shook my hand with an intense and very interested look in his eyes and asked,“What is your name, beautiful?”
“Samantha.” For some silly reason, I gave him a fake one. Maybe I was trying to be mysterious, which makes me laugh, even writing this, because I am about the most un-mysterious person around.
“I’m Derek, nice to meet you.” Our hands lingered just a little longer than was necessary, but I didn’t mind. I reluctantly let go, but not before giving him the best flirty smile I could produce.
As we got drinks at the bar and soaked up the energy around us, I noticed Derek staring at me. He couldn’t leave his busy post at the entrance but motioned for me to come over to him, and I shyly obliged. As I approached, he looked at me like a tiger about to eat a steak dinner.
“You are absolutely gorgeous. Please tell me you are from here.” I have always been a sucker for verbal affirmation, especially after all that I had been through, and his affirmation was incredibly intoxicating, even more so than my glass of wine.
We chatted for a few minutes about where I lived, why I was in L.A. and if I was married. Then out of the blue, he asked if he could kiss me. I have always been a fan of making out and sometimes even prefer just doing that to having sex. Much safer, fewer strings attached, and just as fulfilling for me.
“I think I might be a little old for you,” I said, knowing he didn’t care how old I was.
“You are the perfect age for me, and I have been dying to kiss you all night.”
I wasn’t married or even in a relationship at the time. I guessed that he could not be older than twenty-seven and later found out he was twenty-six. I told him I was thirty-nine, and his only response was that it made me even sexier. That was good enough for me!
We stood there making out like teenagers for a while, only stopping so he could let more people in the club when others would leave. Did I feel awkward making out with a total stranger in front of other total strangers? Not a bit. I was in another state, nobody knew who I was, and I could be anyone but a divorced mother of four. Samantha was living up to her fake name with pleasure.
“Okay, lovebirds, time to go,” Christy said playfully as she grabbed my hand to leave. But not before Derek asked for my phone number and hoped we could stay in touch. Not expecting to hear from him again, I gave it to him.
Not long after the weekend in L.A., I decided to take a trip by myself to Laguna Beach. I wanted to see an old friend of mine from the Minnesota Twins days who was living in Orange County, and I welcomed spending a few days alone. I booked a beautiful oceanfront room at Surf and Sand Resort and was ready for a few days by myself with a good book, walks on the beach, and room service on my patio. I have always liked doing things by myself, which is odd, now that I think about how often I felt lonely for a man in my life. I happily go to movies alone, will sit alone in a restaurant, and highly recommend that every mother in the world take a three-day vacation completely alone. It is food for the soul.
I landed at LAX and secured a cab, heading south on Pacific Coast Highway to Laguna Beach. I w
as completely relaxed, happy to leave my very complicated life in Austin behind for a few days. Derek and I had been texting on and off since my last visit, and we had set a day for him to meet me at my hotel. Was I nervous or scared that a twenty-six-year-old total stranger was going to be my booty call? Nope, not in the slightest. I checked in, unpacked and got ready for my “date.”
I met him in the lobby, and for a fleeting moment I thought he should be dating my oldest daughter, not about to hook up with her mother. My first thought was that he looked so much more age appropriate the night at the club, wearing a suit, than he did in his board shorts, a tank top and tousled dark hair. I had forgotten how tall he was, he had to have been at least 6'4", which is exactly what I liked since I’m so tall. We had a quick and nervous kiss hello, then without saying a word, I took his hand and led him directly to the elevator. My heart was pounding so hard, I was convinced he could hear it. Nothing about this was normal for me, but I was not turning back now.
We walked down the long outdoor hallway overlooking the ocean to my suite. When I opened the door, he commented on how nice my room was as I opened two cold beers that I had waiting. I have always been more of a wine drinker, but assumed my younger companion would prefer beer. I needed something to calm the nerves that had suddenly taken over my entire body, and to keep myself from calling the whole crazy thing off.
We talked for a few minutes as we sat in chairs opposite each other, about the book I was reading, the weather outside, and what my plans were for the remainder of my trip. Our age difference was suddenly very apparent, showing how difficult it was to carry on a meaningful conversation. But then again, I guess we were not really there to have a heated discussion about politics or the latest mortgage crisis sweeping the nation. After our poor attempt at small talk, he stood up and held his hand out to me. This was happening, and I was terrified and exhilarated all at the same time.
Being that I love my family with all my heart, and I will look them in the eye every day after this book is published, I will leave those details out. Derek was exactly what this broken, exhausted woman needed at that exact moment in her life. I felt cherished, appreciated, and worshipped in a very dramatic-sounding way. It was the best remedy for me to feel alive again. He had awakened parts of my body that had been asleep for much too long. He allowed me to forget about the pain of autism, of being a single mom, and that I was the girl who was cheated on by her husband. We stayed in touch for a while, but honestly, that one day was all I needed.
I hope every woman in the world who has ever felt the way I did, finds her own Derek to come to the rescue. To treat her like she is the most amazingly beautiful human being on earth. That is exactly what he did for me, and for that I will be forever grateful.
CHAPTER 18
I MET SHANE A FEW MONTHS after my Laguna Beach trip. He was a welcome ray of sunshine and one who I had never experienced in a male personality. He was the complete opposite of Greg in every way, which was just what I probably needed. He was tall, with green eyes and sandy-blond curly hair that I could not stop running my fingers through. He had a slim athletic build and a big personality to go with it. He had two children who were ten and thirteen and who enjoyed hanging out with my kids, especially Brenna and Sophia, who were closer in age. They were sweet kids and easy to like from the very beginning.
He made me laugh constantly with his goofy and sometimes outrageous comments and impersonations. Things progressed quickly, and we saw each other almost every day. He was thoughtful and involved with all my kids and was genuinely interested in what was going on in their lives, especially Dawson. He would even clean up after Dawson when he would have a poop accident in the bathtub, which happened almost nightly. Not an easy task for anyone’s stomach to handle, much less a non-family member. His extended family welcomed us with open arms, included us in family get-togethers, and I loved how close they all were. Shane was my first real boyfriend who took my mind off all that had happened in the past. I soon found out his wife had cheated on him as well. We had something in common, something that most people can’t comprehend, and it bonded us in a way that made me feel safe. Something I definitely needed at the time.
Christmas Eve 2009, a few months after we’d met, Shane proposed. With all six kids standing around him as he bent on one knee holding a beautiful diamond ring. Everyone was gathered in my kitchen, all with tears of joy in their eyes.
I said “Yes!” as all the kids jumped around, hugging each other with excitement. Even with all the joy and laughter going on around me, I had a strange feeling that I could not quite understand.
It was almost exactly one year after my life had imploded, and everything seemed to be taking a turn for the better, but it was Greg’s face I saw momentarily after that proposal—just like in the movie The Notebook. I wrote it off as being a natural feeling after being married for almost seventeen years, and I knew it would still take some time to fully recover. I truly believed I was in love again and was excited about my new future with my new soon-to-be blended family. We decided to plan the wedding sooner than later for reasons I really can’t remember now, other than we were just anxious to get this party started, and his lease was almost up on his rental house.
I am really good at moving, and soon I discovered that I am also really good at planning a wedding in less than four months. Everyone was so excited for the big day, including me and all the kids. I was also busy getting my home ready for three more people to move in. I was sure it was the best thing for my children, and I was ready to have the feeling of being a whole family again.
I had pretty much been married my whole life, since I was eighteen. It was all I really knew, and being someone’s wife was where I felt at ease. I was not alone anymore and it felt good. But that warm fuzzy feeling didn’t last long, and as the date got closer, panic set in. The wedding was just around the corner, and I tried with all my heart to keep that panic tucked deep inside, knowing if I called the whole thing off, the kids would be heartbroken.
I vividly remember Shane and me getting into our first major fight the day they were moving into my house. I am sure I was being a total bitch, but the mess that was forming all over the house was testing every agitated nerve in my body. I always kept my house very clean and organized, and all of a sudden there were kids running everywhere, half-drank soda cans, water bottles, and random shoes all over the place.
At one point I firmly asked all the children that had taken over my home, “Is it possible to NOT eat or drink something for more than five minutes?” as I snatched up more chip bags and half-drank water bottles from the coffee table. To this very day, I don’t have water bottles in my house.
Shane thought it would be fun to invite his kids’ friends over during the move-in process, but the loud commotion of kids running up and down the stairs and slamming doors felt as though a bomb in my brain was about to go off any second. Dawson was not having a good day, either, and the commotion seemed to be getting to him as much as it was getting to me. I had finally reached my breaking point, and I let Shane know exactly how I was feeling.
I was bawling my eyes out, and from the look on his face, I think he was actually scared. I could not tell if he was in shock from me crying so hard, or if it was something else. He asked me if I wanted to call the whole thing off, and while a tiny voice deep inside screamed “YES,” my outside voice quietly said “No.”
The wedding was a week away. I had paid for the entire $45,000 affair myself, and the kids would have been crushed if I called it off. I wrote off the whole episode to nerves, being tired, and the strangeness of a new man living in the same house and sleeping in the same bed that Greg and I had shared just one year earlier.
Despite my mental breakdown the week before, the rehearsal dinner turned out to be a success. Everyone had a great time at the intimate little restaurant we had rented, and the bond between the families was easy to see. My family of four children was about to become six, and I had to admit it was sweet how
they all got along so well, making everything seem okay.
“Picture perfect,” I thought, as I tried to ignore the “oh shit, what am I about to do?” feeling enough to enjoy the evening with friends and family. To everyone watching, we were going to be a perfectly blended family, but inside my head, it looked very different.
When the dinner was over, Hayley and I climbed into my black SUV to head back to the resort where the wedding would take place. The younger ones were staying at the house with Shane and would be coming back bright and early the next morning for all the wedding-day preparations. I was happy the dinner went well, but I still had a nagging feeling, something I couldn’t put my finger on. Maybe I was still tired from everyone moving into my house the week before, combined with Dawson trying to adjust to all the chaos, and keeping up with his therapies and his daily care. Or were all these strange feelings a reaction to the text I got from Greg earlier that day?
Greg texted that he was happy for me, but that he was heading to the liquor store to get a bottle of Grey Goose so he didn’t have to think about me getting married. He said he missed me and hated what had happened between us. He wanted to make sure I was happy.
What did that mean, and why was I feeling a deep desire to run to Greg and tell him I was scared and that I still loved him?
Hayley and I drove to the hotel in silence for a few minutes, then it all came pouring out, like lava finally erupting from a volcano. She chose her words carefully at first, and I could tell she was trying to be as gentle with my feelings as possible. I knew where it was going, and I didn’t want to hear one word of it. I was too scared to go there.
With her brown eyes pleading, she said, “Mom, please don’t do this. You’re not ready, you need more time to get over Dad. It’s too soon, and I’m not sure any of this is right.”
With the sudden sense that I needed to defend myself, I snapped back, “Are you serious? Why are you doing this to me now, of all times?”
Rounding Home: A Memoir of Love, Betrayal, Heartbreak, and Hope with an Intimate Look into Raising a Child with Severe Autism Page 13