Widow's Undoing

by L. Wilder

  “Yes, sir. We will handle it. Not only will he be grounded until the end of time, but I’m also going to find him a counselor...a really good one.”

  “I’d suggest Dr. Archer. I’ve known several families who’ve had a great deal of success with him. He seems to be great in situations like these. Just let him know I sent you, and hopefully, he can get you in pretty quickly.”

  “Oh, wow. Thank you. I’ll definitely do that.”

  “Good deal. You can come pick him up at the station on Third.”

  “Thank you so much! I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  I hadn’t even hung up the phone when I grabbed my keys and raced for the door. As I drove over to the station, I took a moment to reflect on my life and the choices I’d made. I’ll admit I had my doubts about whether or not leaving my ex-husband was the right thing to do.

  Anyone who thinks life gets better, easier, after divorce is wrong—bad wrong. Divorce isn’t some grand escape from an unwanted life. It isn’t a ‘get out of jail free’ card. Divorce is hard. It’s a monster that lurks in the shadows and pounces when you least expect it. It will pull at you. It will break your heart and make you doubt yourself at every turn. And just when you think it can’t get any worse—when you have nothing left to give, it will come back for more. Divorce doesn’t care if you’ve done everything right. It doesn’t care if you were a dedicated, faithful spouse and doting parent. It also doesn’t care that you’re the one who screwed everything up and caused the demise of the marriage. The details don’t matter. No one is spared from the hurt. No one.

  I learned this the hard way. After years of being mentally and physically abused by my husband, I finally packed up my two sons and left. I thought it was the only way I could save my boys from a lifetime of heartache and abuse. I thought by leaving I was protecting them, giving them a chance at a normal life, but I quickly learned that I hadn’t saved them at all. Their narcissistic, abusive father didn’t magically disappear. He didn’t step away and allow us to have a life without him in it. Oh no. There was no way in hell he’d give us up like that. Not because he loved and adored us. That couldn’t be farther from the truth.

  Marc was a prideful man who saw us as his possessions. Even though he hadn’t taken care of his possessions, he wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of letting us go. In fact, he was determined to keep his hold on us tight—especially where the boys were concerned. We spent months in and out of court—each of us sharing our reasons for the demise of our marriage. I’d hoped the judge would see that his abusive nature was detrimental to the boy’s wellbeing, but no such luck. This particular judge believed that no matter how awful their father was, the boys needed him in their lives. After it was all said and done, he ordered Marc to attend anger management classes for six months, thinking that was all he needed to become a positive role model in their lives. He was wrong. Oh boy, was his wrong.

  Even after months and months of counseling, Marc was still the same short-tempered asshole he’d always been—if not more so. The anger management classes seemed to make that chip on his shoulder even bigger, and just like before, the man never thought he was wrong about anything. Whenever things didn’t go his way, he jumped at the chance to blame me. He was really something. No matter how big or small, if something went wrong he’d find a way to make it my fault.

  The same held true when I called to let him know about what had happened with Corry. Even though I dreaded even talking to him, I didn’t have a choice. I had to let him know. As soon as we returned from the police station, I sent Corry to his room, and I went out to the garage. After I dialed his number, I took out a cigarette from my secret stash and quickly lit it, taking a few quick puffs as I waited for him to answer. I rarely smoked, only when I was super stressed, and I was always sure to keep it hidden from the kids. It was my one true vice, and why I’d chosen to make my call to Marc in the garage.

  As soon as he answered, I said, “Hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but I need to talk to you about Corry.”

  “Okay...What about him?”

  “Well, um...he got into some trouble this afternoon.” I took a quick puff from my cigarette and tried to brace myself for his reaction when I said, “He and his friends were caught trying to buy a THC vape pod from an undercover policeman.”

  “THC? You mean marijuana?” His voice was growing louder by the second. “My son was trying to buy fucking marijuana? How the fuck did that happen?”

  “I’m not really sure. I just know Corry was with a few of his friends down at the park, and they tried to buy it from an undercover officer. The officer called me a little while ago to let me know what had happened.”

  “When was this?”

  “A couple of hours ago?”

  “It’s after dark.” I could hear the anger in his voice building as he fussed, “What the hell was he doing out at this hour?”

  “It wasn’t dark at the time, Marc. We hadn’t even had dinner yet, so I didn’t see the harm in them going to play basketball for an hour or two.” It was well before sundown, but that didn’t matter. I knew he would twist everything around to be my fault. Normally, it wouldn’t bother me. I would let it roll off my back, but this was different. This was something Marc could use to get full custody of the boys. I tried my best to choose my words wisely as I told him, “The park is just around the corner, and I always call to check in on him.”

  “Instead of calling to check on him, you should’ve gotten your ass over there and made sure he was doing what he was supposed to. Maybe then he wouldn’t have been out there buying fucking dope!” Marc roared. “For Christ’s sake, Frankie. Do you even watch the boys, or do you just let them run wild and do whatever the hell they want?”

  “You know damn well I watch them, Marc.” I’d made a lot of mistakes with the boys—one of them was staying with Marc as long as I had. I should’ve never let them be exposed to his madness for so long. I should’ve gotten out of there. I should’ve ignored Marc’s threats about killing me and packed my bags. At the very least, I should’ve talked to my parents and told them what was going on. I should’ve gotten help from someone, anyone. Something. Anything. I was simply too ashamed. Too embarrassed that I’d married someone so awful, and I didn’t want to be a burden. I was the one who had to figure it out. I kept telling myself it would get better, that I’d make it better, but I’d failed—I’d failed them and I’d failed myself. And I was still paying the consequences for that failure. I stomped out my cigarette, then tossed it into the trash as I snapped, “I’ve always tried to do right by Corry and Sean, and you know it!”

  “That’s the fucking problem right there! You coddle them too damn much. They rule the roost over there, and you let them get away with it!” Before I had a chance for a rebuttal, he snarled, “To think you let my boy go out and buy fucking marijuana!”

  “I didn’t let him buy marijuana, Marc! Had I known he was even thinking about buying it, I wouldn’t have let him go!” I clinched my fist at my side, trying my best to steady myself. I knew it would be like this, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear his harsh words. I knew I had to redirect the focus of our conversation from me and back to where it truly belonged, so I said, “We’re getting off track here. Right now, we need to be figuring out what we are going to do about Corry.”

  “We’re gonna beat his ass. That’s what we’re gonna do. At least, I know that’s what I’m gonna do! I’m sure you’ll want to just give him a little slap on the wrist, but if you do that, it will be the mistake of a lifetime! That boy needs some real fucking discipline, and I’m about to give it to him.”

  If I were talking to a rational man, I might agree with what Marc was saying, but he wasn’t a rational man—even when he was dealing with his own child. He had a short fuse, and when he blew, he didn’t care who he hurt or how badly. I couldn’t imagine putting Corry through that again, so I did my best to try and calm him down. “I don’t think beating his ass is the answer. Not with this.
Corry is just fifteen. The very idea that he would even think about buying marijuana is a real problem. I think it’s a cry for help.”

  “Oh, I guess this is where you’re gonna say he needs more counseling or some shit like that.”

  “Actually, I am.” I’d tried talking to Corry. I’d taken him to one counselor after the next, but he simply wouldn’t open up. He kept all that hurt bottled up inside, and it was utterly heartbreaking to know there wasn’t anything I could do to help him. “Corry is a good kid. He’s just lost his way, and if we can find the right person to help him, then maybe he can find his way back.”

  “It’s time to face the facts, Frankie. The boy’s just a bad seed. No counselor or any amount of guidance is gonna change that.” The angry tone in his voice had suddenly been replaced with disgust and resentment. “We’ve just gotta do what we can to keep him from screwing up Sean.”

  “Corry isn’t a bad seed, Marc. He’s a good kid who made a bad mistake.”

  “Yeah, keep telling yourself that shit. Your naïve bullshit is why we’ve found ourselves in this fucking mess in the first place. If you’d laid down the law and made those boys do right around there then none of this would’ve happened.”

  And just like that, we were right back where we started. The blame fell back on my plate once again. I wanted to turn the tables on him and remind him about the years of abuse he’d put us all through and all the vile and malicious things he’d said, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. Marc had never once taken any responsibility for the things he’d done wrong.

  I was used to it. When we were married, he’d beat the hell out of me, and in a matter of seconds, he would find a way to convince me it was my fault. So much so, I’d end up apologizing for the whole ordeal. It was sick. I knew that, but at that moment—when I was actually there and living it, I couldn’t see how insane it all was. I was too brainwashed. I let myself believe that if I tried harder I could make things better, but there was no making it better.

  Sadly, it took Marc punching Corry at one of his baseball games for me to see that. It was one thing to hit me, but there was no way in hell I was going to let him hurt my kids—not any more than he already had.

  I was trying to think of my response to his slam on my parenting when he blurted out, “Those boys know how things are in my house and wouldn’t try this kind of bullshit under my roof. Time for you to make it clear that it’s your house, your rules.”

  “Okay. I’ll be sure and do that.”

  “You best hope that you do because otherwise...”

  “I’ve got it, Marc. I’ll talk to them.”

  “Good. I’ll be doing the same when they come to my house next weekend.”

  I cringed at the thought. It was bad enough to send them there when things were going well. I still got late night calls and texts from both boys pleading for me to let them come home, but my hands were tied. The judge made sure of that. I cleared my throat before saying, “Okay. I’ll keep you posted on things here, and I hope you’ll do the same when they come there.”

  “Um-hmm. Sure thing...And Frankie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Hammer down on him. Seriously. I meant it when I said it’s your house, your rules. It’s time to prove it.”

  I didn’t respond. Instead, I said a quick goodbye and hung up the phone. I took a moment to collect myself, but I didn’t take long. It was time for me to have a talk with Corry. I hadn’t spoken to him since we’d gotten back from the police station. I was too upset, too mortified, to even speak, but I’d put it off long enough. After letting out a deep breath, I stood and headed to his room. I tapped on his door, and when I stepped inside, I found him standing in the middle of the room holding an armful of dirty clothes. His eyes were full of remorse as he muttered, “I thought I’d pick up a bit.”

  “It could definitely use it.” I glanced around the room and was surprised to see that most of the trash had been picked up and all the dirty dishes were piled by the door. “I don’t see how you get it so messy in here so fast.”

  “It’s a talent of mine,” he joked. While Sean looked more like me, Corry was the spitting image of his father. He was tall with dark hair and soft olive skin, and his beautiful, dark eyes could melt the coldest of hearts. Thankfully, his demeanor was nothing like his father’s. Corry was sweet and thoughtful, never wanting to let anyone down. “But don’t worry. I’ll get it all cleaned up.”

  “I’d appreciate it.” I walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed. “We need to talk about what happened tonight.”

  “I know.” He carried his pile of dirty clothes over to the hamper and dropped them inside. “I’m really sorry.”

  “What were you thinking?”

  “I don’t know.” His eyes dropped to the ground—a clear sign he wasn’t telling the truth when he said, “I just didn’t think it was a big deal.”

  “You didn’t think it was a big deal?”

  “Don’t get mad.”

  “Too late. I’m already furious!” I snapped. “You know better than this. I’ve taught you better than this.”

  He looked up at me as he replied, “This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I threw my hands up in disbelief. “This has everything to do with me. You’re my son. My child to raise, and clearly, I haven’t done a good job.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Then, explain it to me. I need to understand why you did this, Corry, cause right now, I don’t feel like I have a clue what’s going on with you.” His dark eyes filled with tears as I said, “I never dreamed you would be vaping, much less smoking marijuana.”

  “Mom, everybody vapes. So, yeah, it’s not a big deal.”

  “No, it is a big deal,” I argued. “You are fifteen years old, and you have no clue what those vapes are doing to your lungs. They are dangerous.”

  “It’s just a little steam and nicotine, but whatever.” He turned to look at the wall, avoiding eye contact as he mumbled, “I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

  “I’m trying to, Corry. Really I am.” I reached out and took hold of his arm, tugging him over to the bed. Once he was seated next to me, I placed my hand on his knee and said, “Was buying the marijuana your idea or your friends?”

  “It was theirs, but don’t go and get it in your head that they’re bad or something ‘cause they’re not. Evan and Jace are my friends, and they’re good guys. Really good guys.”

  “Good guys don’t use drugs, Corry.”

  “Everyone smokes pot, Mom.”

  “No. Everyone doesn’t smoke pot, Corry. Especially when they’re only fifteen and too young to know how to deal with the side effects of a narcotic.”

  “I just...”

  “This isn’t okay, Corry, and there’s nothing you can say to make me believe otherwise. Not only is marijuana illegal, it’s a mind-altering drug, and I will not have you using it. Not now, not ever. Is that understood?”

  “Yeah...understood.”

  “And just so we’re clear, you are grounded for the next month.”

  “A month?” he complained.

  “Yes, a month. No hanging out with your friends. You go to school and come straight home. That’s it. You got it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And I want you to see a counselor.”

  “Come on, Mom. I don’t want to see another counselor. They don’t do anything...They just ask stupid questions. It’s a waste of time.”

  “It will be different this time. You’ll see.” I reached out and placed my hand on his shoulder. “I love you, Corry. I know there’s a reason behind all this, and I want us to work together to find out what it is. You willing to do that for me?”

  His eyes dropped to the floor, and after several moments, he finally nodded. “Yeah, I’m in.”

  “Great.” I wound my arms around him and pulled him close, hugging him tightly. “We’re going to get through this. You’ll see.”

&n
bsp; “It’s not like I have cancer or something, Mom. I bought a little pot with my buddies.” He pulled back, and when he saw the expression on my face, he held up his hands in surrender. “I won’t do it again. I swear it.”

  “Good, I’m going to hold you to that.” I stood, and on my way out the door, I told him, “Finish cleaning up in here. It’s a nightmare.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I left his room and went straight to my office. I pulled up my laptop and looked up Dr. Archer. When I saw all the rave reviews, I sent him an email, telling him about Officer Reynolds suggesting that I reach out to him about Corry. I told him all about our situation and left him my cell phone number, asking for him to call with his next available appointment. As soon as I was done, I closed the laptop and went to bed. I was exhausted and ready to call it a day.

  The following day, I received a call from Dr. Archer. Turned out that he had a cancelation at ten that morning. I hated for Corry to miss school, but I knew it was important for us to get started. Besides, Dr. Archer had made it pretty clear he was booked up. He let me know right away that it would be several weeks before we could get an afternoon appointment, so I set up several morning appointments for this week and next, then several more afternoon appointments for the weeks after.

  The following days were hectic, but good. I was actually feeling pretty good about things until later in the week when I was hit with another unexpected surprise. I’d gone to pick up Sean from basketball practice—something I’d done a hundred times before. That night was like any other. As soon as I got to the school, I parked and lay my head back. It wasn’t long before my mind start drifting, and I found myself thinking about Corry. He hadn’t been happy about missing school to see Dr. Archer, especially three times in a row, but after that third appointment, he seemed to be feeling a little better about things. I, on the other hand, was still a nervous wreck and worried something was terribly wrong with my son. I didn’t know if I was doing enough to help him, but at the same time, I didn’t know what else I could do. I felt so torn. By the time Sean made it to the car, I was on the verge of tears. I didn’t want him to know I was upset, so I put on a brave face and smiled as I watched him buckle his seat belt. As I pulled out of the school’s parking lot, I asked, “How was practice?”