Learning to Cry (20 page)

By week two we were in a routine, back at school, and heading over to group every day. I quickly got to know another couple, and it sounded like they were dealing with many of the same circumstances we were. Troubled child, outbursts, depression, aggression. The mother told me on the second day I met her how she talked with the police for the 20th time again just last weekend. It seemed her daughter wanted to leave for a party, her husband blocked the door, and 911 was dialed. Her daughter had felt it was abusive to block the door, so she had called in the reinforcements.

I remember she said she knew most of the officers by their first names. I kept thinking how lucky we were not to be in that position, yet. Things could have been so much worse. When we sat in the parents’ group, they spent most of the time talking. Since Cheryl hadn’t bothered going and I was a little more reserved in the beginning, it was easy to let them have the floor. We learned more specifics about the previously mentioned incident and a few others, all of which occurred over the past few days. It sounded like they had their hands full.

One of the things they discussed really stood out in my mind. They had three daughters, like Cheryl and I, and Jessica, their daughter in the program, was their middle child. Their oldest one was an angel in comparison as they described her. I am willing to bet she was more of a typical kid, so normal stress was looked upon as angelic. Everyone has their issues in life. Interestingly, we all go through ups and downs, as well. When everyone in a house hits a down at the same time though, now that is a problem.

The parents talked about having three children and how they had now drawn a line and decided that all three needed the same amount of attention. This past weekend had been their youngest daughter’s birthday, and in the middle of her party Jessica exploded. She caused a scene, and some of the adults left with their kids. It was a madhouse. They finally decided it was the end. They were not going to tolerate that kind of activity anymore. Was it fair to their other two daughters that so much focus had to be on Jessica? Were they not all living in the house together, and didn’t they all deserve the same amount of effort and devotion?

I wondered to myself if Melissa thought of this. If she thought about her sisters and what they must be going through. Was it fair to them that so much time and effort was spent on her happiness versus the other two girls? Did she even notice this, believe this, or understand this? Most of the time she was around, the rest of the house walked on eggshells. She was always on edge, and nobody wanted to set her off. I guess that might be exaggerating. It wasn’t most of the time, but it was enough that you consciously thought about making the effort.

I thought about her two younger sisters and the events to which they had now been exposed, including the screaming and seeing their older sister curse both me and her mother. Mostly her mother, but she had raised her voice to me, as well. Is that something they would now think of as acceptable behavior? Melissa was a role model whether she understood and accepted this. You often hear of so many athletes and young movie stars saying they didn’t choose to be a role model and, therefore, didn’t care how their actions affected their fans. Is that the right attitude?

Maybe a star athlete is different, but your older sister? If anyone should care about presenting a good picture it should be her, right? Jesus, maybe that was part of the problem. Maybe being the oldest presented too much pressure.  Maybe the oldest shouldn’t have to worry about what her sisters thought. At some point Melissa had to focus on herself. I guess that is what our new program was about. Finding some answers, opening up discussions and plotting a new course.

It was nice to see Melissa getting better. She was smiling again. She had a little bit of life back in her eye. I knew it would be a long road back but at least I felt like we had made the first step. What did I know?

Father

Just when I thought I was out, they pulled me back in. I guess I shouldn’t keep repeating that. The saying is getting old, plus all women are drastically different. There is a reason I divorced my ex-wife. I realize the Catholics think you should live in misery if you make a bad choice, but I just couldn’t do it. I had to move on. It was difficult. It was hard on the kids, but in the end I hold onto the belief that it was the right thing for everyone involved. It just made sense.

My middle daughter, Amelia, was doing fantastically in school. She got good grades, made the honor roll, and did better than most of her peers. She would always struggle with comprehension. We knew that since her original IEP (Individualized Education Program) or Special Education as some people called it, but her work ethic was carrying her through. This finally meant it was time to evaluate her again to see where she stood and if there were any reasons to keep a special designation on her academic status. There are only so many semesters you can make honor roll before your achievements are noticed.

I received the call from Karen, Amelia’s school psychologist, requesting to set up a meeting. I agreed to a time and informed Karen of my divorce since we had last convened. Being a school psychologist she was accustomed to marriages dissolving and agreed to call my ex-wife directly. Once the meeting was set up and the agenda distributed, it was only a few days before we all got together. All of us but my ex-wife. I never understood why but for some reason she didn’t show up to that specific meeting. This seemed to be a pattern for her. I wonder if her pretentious friends know this little fact or does she keep it hidden with the rest of her insanity?

During our gathering Amelia’s teachers and counselors praised her far and wide. We all unanimously agreed that she was far too advanced to remain in special education.  She had been in mainstream courses 100 percent of the time anyway and no longer needed any extra tutoring. All of her teachers understood that she would still struggle conceptually, but at her age, she was finding ways around her roadblocks. Her study habits were exemplary. Still, Cheryl was not in attendance so we couldn’t make the decision final. We signed the paperwork, and we agreed that Karen would call her and see if we could reach a consensus.

As I was leaving, I asked Karen for her business card in case I needed to discuss anything further. Secretly I already intended to ask her out, I just had not figured out a game plan, yet. She was wonderful to talk with, drop-dead gorgeous, and her smile was amazingly sincere. The second she laughed, her already soft and charismatic features melted me from the inside out. I had been on dates with a few women since my separation, but I anticipated Karen, if she said yes, might be the last woman I would ask out.

A few days after the meeting, I stood in my office and happened to reach into my jacket pocket. I guess I hadn’t worn the jacket since I saw Karen, or maybe just hadn’t used the pocket. Either way I found her card. I picked it up, stared at it for a minute, and even seeing her name brought a smile to my face. There are some people who possess the ability to shoot a warm feeling through your entire body. She possessed the ability to do this to me even when she wasn’t present.

I called her and got her voice mail. Not wanting to leave a message I hung up and tried again in a couple of hours. Again, voice mail. If I believed in fate I might have taken this as a sign, but since I didn’t, I simply hung up and tried again the next day. Finally, my luck turned, and she picked up. It was late in the afternoon, around 4 p.m., and once I heard her voice I closed the door to my office and made some small talk. Had she heard from Cheryl, where were we with Amelia, etc.

Finally, I asked her if she enjoyed skydiving. This threw her off a little, and she replied that a friend of hers had gone, but she never had. She didn’t think she had the mental fortitude to jump out of a plane. With that, I agreed. I emphasized I wasn’t asking her if she would jump out of a plane. I was asking her if she thought she might enjoy skydiving. The two were not as related as she thought. The phone was silent for a second. I thought I might have thrown her off a little. Then, she said if she didn’t have to jump out of the plane, the rush of flying through the air would probably be incredible.  She also added that the answer seemed silly by skipping over the jumping out of the plane part. She couldn’t figure out how a person might skydive without the jumping?

That was all I needed. I asked her if she would be interested in joining me the following Saturday afternoon for indoor skydiving. She laughed, understanding entering the sound of her voice, and she fumbled with an answer. It came out no, but she was very apologetic. She was dating somebody at the time, though not seriously. She was, however, still Amelia’s school psychologist. Amelia might be getting transferred out of the system soon, but they were still currently connected. She couldn’t date one of her students’ fathers.

I acknowledged this, feigned an understanding, and attempted a gracious retreat. Before I could backpedal, though, Karen asked me a question, and we talked for over an hour and a half. Nothing too deep, just what we were doing, how things were going. General small talk. If I hadn’t known better I could have sworn she said yes instead of no.

Later in our relationship, I found out that she became enamored with me during our meeting on Amelia’s status and couldn’t stop talking about me after I left.  She asked the teacher, who was also her friend, if she thought I was cute. Karen made it a point of saying she never dated a student’s dad, but she thought I was hot. She still swears to this day that I overheard this conversation, but I didn’t. I guess if two people are attracted to each other, it just comes out.

We periodically talked on the phone during the next few weeks until the day came for Amelia’s final meeting. Cheryl was present, we all signed the papers, and she was officially out of the program. She was a free student, so to say. I could say the same for myself. Karen was no longer dating the same guy, so two days later we were on our first date.

What better way to enjoy somebody’s company that going to a San Francisco Giants baseball game? It was a cool evening. We drank some beer and had some concession stand garlic fries. I should say that I drank beer. Karen is allergic to gluten, so she steers clear of the wheat in all foods, including beer. Our only snag was the two Canadian guys sitting next to us. One kept asking Karen for her phone number, and she gave it to him right in front of me.

While this perturbed me, she remembers the story slightly different than I do. I was nervous, which never happens to me on a date, and these two guys were sitting next to us. They struck up a conversation, and I engaged them which seemed polite. Karen insists that I spent more time talking with them than I did with her and that the guy had, as a friendly gesture, asked for our number, not hers.  How naïve are women, really?

I explained to her several times after the incident that all men only care about one thing. There is a constant hope that a physical relationship will flourish from any casual contact with as many women as possible. That is the only reason a guy would ask a girl for her number. I, of course, am the exception. I was interested in Karen for much more.

We left the game and headed back to her apartment. She lived in San Francisco, and there was a tiny bar on the first floor of her building. It was dark and had an almost tropical atmosphere. We hung out long enough for me to get too drunk to drive. That was my goal, and it didn’t take me long since I purposely drank as much as I could as fast as I was able to swallow. I figured Karen was way too nice to let me head home intoxicated. I anticipated she would offer me her couch for the night. Men really are pigs. I swear to God.

She did just that, and as we raced up her stairs my hand inadvertently brushed her ass. OK, I might have purposely brushed her perfectly round butt, but I would never openly admit this to Karen. She insists I actually grabbed her ass, but that is not true.  We headed upstairs and before long were making out. Her lips were soft and accepting. We forcefully kissed at first, but then slowed down to a softer more caring touch.

I felt animalistic and craved her so badly I thought my insides would burst. I am not sure I had ever felt so connected to another person. Something about the contradiction of her soft school teacher attributes as they collided with this bad girl persona drove me insane. I felt more alive than I had in years. She stirred dormant feelings into a churning cyclone inside my stomach.

We spent the next several weeks dating without letting my girls know anything. I have them every other week so it was easy one week and difficult one week. Karen and I were like high school kids, really. She sneaked in the house late at night when the children were with me, tip-toeing to my bedroom. She woke up early and headed out to her apartment before anyone else arose. It is funny how as kids we hide our significant others from our parents, and then as a dating parent, we feel the need to hide those same individuals from our kids.

Finally, it didn’t make any sense to keep these two worlds apart, and we decided to tell the children. Melissa was doing much better, the two little ones were adjusting to everything rather well and Karen and I were ready to take the next step.

I tried to inform Cheryl first, which seemed the right thing to do, but she didn’t seem interested. I wonder how I would have felt being on the other end. We were married for several years and had three children together. No matter what happened there would always be some semblance of feelings between the two of us, even if mine were now consumed with hate.

I sat the girls down, told them about Karen, and asked if they wanted to meet her.  Amelia didn’t realize who Karen was. She remembered her as the mean lady who tested her and always pulled her out of class. That cracked me up and scared me at the same time. Introducing the girls to a new person in their lives would be hard enough – accompanying baggage wasn’t going to help.

All the girls were genuinely thrilled at the prospect, though. I am not sure they understood what it meant or what a new woman would mean going forward, but they were excited. The mind of a child is a freaky world that doesn’t always make sense. It is filled with holes and cavernous dark recesses that can illuminate as quickly as a spotlight on a burning skyscraper. The rapidly changing emotional rollercoaster is as close to insanity as we get in our lives.

Finally, we stopped talking about Karen, sat down, and Karen came in. Cassandra was fine. She was curious, open, and accepting, wondering who Karen was. She asked questions. I have always heard that a divorce is easiest on younger children, and from my personal experience, I wholeheartedly agree. I think the younger you are, the more adaptive you are prone to be with all situations. You are already learning so many new things, and everything around you is an adventure. Divorce and new significant others are probably just additional escapades.

Amelia’s reaction was perplexing. She was guarded as usual, but I could also see the recognition in her eyes of this person who she had known peripherally for several years. Karen, as a school psychologist, never did any counseling with Amelia. There was never any in-depth probing. It was all an analysis on her emotional and academic well being and what programs would best benefit her going forward. Karen had also monitored Amelia once or twice a year.

Amelia warmed up to Karen, but it took her several weeks to acclimate. Even with their history, Karen now played a different role in her life. It reminds me of being a kid and seeing my teacher in the grocery store or at the movies. It throws you off, even on your best day. Teachers just don’t seem like real people when you are a child. They live, sleep, and eat at school. They don’t have real lives. Seeing them in a casual environment was crazy.

Melissa, as usual, concerned me. She accepted Karen and was gracious in the conversation, but I had realized her coping skills with a changing environment were miniscule. She had a strange desire to gravitate towards things she might hate rather than wrap her arms around anything new. Maybe I should have recognized this earlier. Maybe if I were more perceptive it would have helped guide some of my decisions. Jesus, I don’t really know. We live our lives the best we can and take our lumps as they come.

The introduction went well. We spent time together as a newly formed family, and within a few weeks Karen moved in. I know, what was I thinking? Damn, what was Karen thinking? The kids were open to the idea and quickly fell in love with Karen almost as fast as I did. She adapted to a chaotic environment although I don’t know if she fully understood what she was getting herself into.

Karen had two older brothers who were almost 20 years her senior. She actually had three older brothers, but one was gay and died of AIDS. She remembered him fondly even though he died when she was still relatively young. When she describes him, she always laughs and says she should have known he was gay from the very beginning. He always loved helping her do her hair, picking out her clothes, and adding the finishing touches on her make-up. How many guys do that?

So, Karen really grew up as an only child. With three kids running around in a house, you are anything but alone. On the weeks the kids spasmodically ran amuck, there was very little time to sit and think. I think Karen liked this aspect but was also on the edge of her nerves during the beginning. The insanity of all the different personalities, the bickering, the yelling, the constant, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Dad, Daddy,” can be a little overwhelming if you are not used to it.

Even with all of the turmoil, the most endearing thing came from Melissa. I drove her to the store one day and asked her what her thoughts were on Karen. I wanted to know how she felt things were going. Her response almost made me cry.

She said, “Dad, the only thing that scares me is that you and Karen might break up one day. I love Karen, and I love that she makes you happy. She’s wonderful to have around. I’ve never seen you so happy. Seeing you with Karen makes me realize how sad you must’ve been when you and Mom were married.”