Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 93957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
I was lost without him. I didn’t know how to make it better, and I didn’t have the luxury of showing up on his doorstep and making some grand gesture. It was my turn to have the kids.
One of the greatest gifts of parenthood was perspective. Children saw life at a different level. They gave without thinking, searched for good before evil, and spoke with a sense of wonder. Penny did, anyway. Parker struggled with the in-between phase the way most teenagers did, but at heart, he was still a kid. They both needed dinner and a friendly reminder about homework and chores. In other words, my life might be a disaster, but I had a responsibility.
And somehow, I muddled through. I reheated the untouched lasagna from the previous evening, asked about school, helped with a couple of assignments, and suggested winding down with a TV show.
“Can we watch a movie instead?” Parker asked.
I glanced at my watch and nodded. “Sure. If you can find one you both agree on.”
Penny clapped. “Easy! Let’s watch Spy Kids. Johnny said he loved that movie. Can he come over? I’m gonna text him.”
“No.” I fiddled with the buttons on the remote control, then cleared my voice. “Not tonight.”
“But he doesn’t mind. He likes it when I text him. He told me I could—”
“I know, honey. I know. I just—” I broke off with a hoarse noise. “Maybe not tonight. That’s all.”
Penny frowned and glanced over at Parker, who looked equally alarmed. After the longest five-second pause of my life, she twisted a lock of hair around her finger and cuddled up next to me on the sofa.
“We can watch whatever you want, Parker,” she said diplomatically as she reached for a throw and spread it over us.
“Okay. Um…I’ll find it.”
I don’t know what we watched. No clue. I blocked out sound and did my best to blend in with the furniture. I was here. An adult in the room.
Or not.
“Daddy?” Penny whispered twenty minutes into the movie or TV show or Bigfoot documentary or whatever the fuck was on the flat-screen. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
She wiped moisture from the corner of my eye and kissed my cheek, then fixed Parker with a meaningful stare.
He looked over at me and frowned. And just before I could push reset and get my emotional avalanche under control, he hopped from his end of the sofa and came to sit on my other side. He snagged a portion of the blanket for himself, eliciting an angry growl from his sister. Once they got the balance right, they turned their attention to the TV again.
And me? Tears welled in my eyes. I couldn’t see for shit. I gave myself a pep talk and almost succeeded in pulling it together.
“Don’t worry. It’s gonna be okay, Dad,” Parker whispered.
I nodded, eyes forward as tears ran unchecked. So much for being tough and brave. My own father would have been mortified. But it didn’t occur to me to be ashamed. I was too damn grateful.
Ending my marriage was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. It wasn’t easy on anyone. So many more people were affected by our divorce than the two of us—our kids, our families, our friends, yet I never regretted it. Nor did I think marrying in the first place was a mistake. I’d loved Fiona. I’d loved her passion, her ambition, her boundless energy, and her casually irreverent side. I’d loved that she wanted the same things I did. Success, a good home, children, security. And I’d mistakenly thought the fact that we set off on the same path meant we’d stay on that path for good.
There was no great story here. We simply grew apart. The things we used to love about each other became points of contention. Amusing idiosyncrasies turned into grating habits, and things that were once attractive seemed…distasteful. Sadly, it didn’t take long to unravel. We were married for twelve years and separated for two of those. If I had one regret, it was that we didn’t end it sooner. Kids shouldn’t be subjected to their parents’ constant squabbling and inability to communicate.
And it should be noted, our marriage didn’t end because of my sexuality. I didn’t meet someone else. I wouldn’t have let myself succumb to that kind of temptation. Nor did I suddenly want dick. I’d learned to bury those impulses years ago. Mind over matter. I told myself I had everything I wanted. Anything more would be greedy, and if I’d learned anything in my religious upbringing, it was that greed and lust were sins.
But one day, I woke up in a bad marriage, resenting the woman I used to love. We didn’t hate each other, but we were on that road. When counseling didn’t work, we tried a separation. That was when I realized I’d been playing this all wrong. I’d been so worried about going to hell for sins I hadn’t committed, but I was already there. The only thing that eventually made me feel whole and sane and happy was admitting my truth. I was bi.