My wife says the last few weeks have been bad for her, but she does not explain why. Her voice over the phone yesterday dragged, her words coming out in slow motion. She was never an enthusiastic, lively person but now she sounds even more tired and depressed.
I left home seven months ago but things have lately gotten shaky. We both make good money but the family bank account is now often overdrawn. My wife, who has several advanced degrees, was never a good budgeter and I always paid the bills.
Now she is paying the bills and things are going ape shit. I have noticed the money situation over the last few weeks is even more screwed up now that she knows I will be moving into my own place. Can you spell S-A-B-O-T-A-G-E?
We had a heated discussion Monday over child rearing. She lets the kids run all over her and gives them whatever they ask for — she is a creampuff. I visited the family home a few weeks ago and had to jump on the kids to make their beds, wash clothes, scour that dirt ring from around the bath tub, put trash in the trash can and not on the floor, wash their asses, and get dinner started so mommy wouldn’t have to when she got home.
My kids have also been showing more attitude lately but they are teenagers. Teenagers are sweet one minute and nasty, ungrateful bitches the next. I try to overlook that shit because one day they will grow up, have kids of their own, and figure out what’s up.
“They are angry at you,” she said to me last night. “They saw some Web pages you were looking at and think you may be gay. You need to explain to them what is going on.”
“’Debra’ I am an adult. I don’t have to explain my sexuality to the kids. All they need to know is that we are not getting along and can’t live with each other but we love them and will look out for them.”
“Immanuel Jr. is afraid to talk to you about it. He thinks you may blow up at him.”
“You shouldn’t even be having that conversation with him,” I reply. “He has my cellphone and my email. I’m his father and see him every day. Just have him call me and I’ll answer whatever questions he asks in a level he can understand.”
“And look, if you want to go to Dr. Melvin (the family therapist) and discuss this issue, make an appointment so we can get good advice,” I continued.
She coddles my son. He is a good kid but spoiled. When he didn’t do homework she used to call the teachers and get him more time to get it done. I would say, let him suffer the consequences and flunk and repeat the grade if he has to.
And two years ago when I was still living at home I snatched him up by the collar because in one week he ran up the cell phone bill to over $400, was flunking several classes, and was slow getting out of bed to attend a school function.
He lied to his mother, saying I choked and beat him to the ground. She called the police on me without even letting me explain. They left before I could get back home from running errands but that day I made up my mind to leave her.
“I’m sorry, I was wrong,” she said. But I didn’t believe her. My wife is a passive aggressive codependent. Debra smiles in your face and hides her talons behind her back.
Because when my wife called the cops she had already found out I got down with men. At times it seems like she uses the kids as a weapon to get back at me. She is the good mother who gives them everything they want — dinners and movies and roller skating nights every weekend, damn the expense and whether they are doing chores properly or getting good grades.
I think now she is trying to portray me in their eyes as the down-low bugaboo who broke up the family and betrayed her. Or maybe I’m overreacting.
“You could have at least left me first before you starting messing around with men,” she told me yesterday.
I know now her pain and anger is still raw. I feel sorry for her a moment and apologize for how things went down. But then I think to myself:“God. I have been away for months. Can’t she start to move on. Will this woman ever get a life?”
Because I am happier now living my true self and not lying and fooling around behind her back. And the marriage was so…over. I got tired of having to cook and do housework and bring in the money and pay bills and keep the yard straight and arrange her social life and eat her pussy and fuck her good on Saturday mornings and make sure the kids were in order while she walked around in a purple haze.
Even if I was with her things would never be the same again. Some broken things can’t be mended.
And I am also suspicious of her motivations. Is she trying to make me come out to the kids to make herself look better in their eyes? To humiliate me? Or is she really trying to be open and honest.
So today while I work I Google and research articles on coming out to children. A few articles say young children can handle the news as long as the language used to explain the situation fits their years. However, many others say wait until older children are in their 20s and even 30s because the world for teenagers is still very much black and white and many are questioning their own sexuality.
I call my buddy “Rex” for advice. He is in New York City visiting family. When I call he is walking down the streets of Harlem. Rex is in a good mood because there is so much male eye candy on the streets of New York. But his buoyant tone gets hard edged when I tell him the deal.
“Oh, you don’t have to tell your kids shit!,” he said. “She is just mad that you are moving on with your life and is trying to bring you down in front of the kids and make herself look good. You are still their father. They don’t need to know that shit!”
Then I call my other buddy, “Colin,” and explain the funky family dynamics at play here. Colin’s voice is calm and soothing.
“Hey, only tell your kids when you feel comfortable,” he advises.
And that is what I plan to do.