During the week Manny was away, Krystal and I stopped seeing each other. She knew she was not the only person I was dating, but I guess the reality of it finally got to her. One day she left and didn’t come back. It seemed like the strings holding me to Salt Lake City were getting cut left and right.
It was time for Manny to come back from visiting Jessica and our future was unknown, but I was willing to do whatever I needed to do to ensure Manny grew up to be a well functioning adult. The phone rang. I saw the all too familiar number from “Jessica Timion” on my phone.
“I want you to know I didn’t do this on purpose, but we were late and missed the flight back.”
In a state of disbelief, I responded. “Okay. What are your options?”
“We cannot get another flight until next week. I am so sorry. Vince is pissed at me too for this, saying that I’m totally irresponsible.”
“Well, then I guess we don’t have much of an option, do we?”
“I was thinking, since you were thinking of moving here anyway, why not just let him stay until the summer and then you can move out here? After all, Kindergarten isn’t that important.”
“No." What she was suggesting was so absurd I didn’t think it warranted much else of a response.
“Okay, I’ll get him back next week and send you the ticket information.”
Her irresponsibility and disregard for Manny’s education was too much for me to handle. Every so often she would appear to care about Manny, and I’m sure she did in her own way, but it wasn’t in the way that he needed. I decided at that moment that there was no way we would be moving to North Carolina. If she could not get him on a plane with a week of notice, what else was she incapable of doing?
Manny arrived a week later. In his suitcase was the divorce paperwork. The papers were signed. Finally.
I submitted the paperwork to the courthouse knowing it would take ninety days to finalize. Almost two years after we had split, things were finally ending.
Another phone call. Jessica had something important to tell me.
“I’m not living with Vince any more.”
Unbelievable. She was trying to get me to let Manny stay for the rest of the school year and then suddenly she was out living on her own.
“Well, we’ve been planning this for a while. We waited until Manny left before I moved out. We both decided that we needed our own space in order to be a better couple. We needed to date and be separate in order to stay in love." The story eerily reminded me of what she told me when she wanted a divorce.
“So is Vince okay with this?”
“Yeah, it was his idea. He even bought me furniture to help get my new place in order.”
After everything we had been through, Jessica’s unpredictability affected me less than it did before. At least I knew that I had custody of Manny. Jessica could keep messing up her own life as long as Manny was not a part of it. I could live with that. I sighed in relief and had the best night of sleep in years. It was really going to be over. I no longer had to worry about if she lived with Ricky Bobby in Kansas, or Vince in North Carolina, or by herself in North Carolina, how how her deployments would affect Manny’s stability.
Evelyn, who I had reconnected with at the wedding, came over. Evelyn was still talking with Vince. Vince had told her that he and Jessica had in fact broken up. This didn’t match with Jessica’s version of why she had moved out. We laid in bed talking. Despite a bad breakup years before, Evelyn wasn't over Vince. A part of her still wanted to be with him. “Vince thinks Jessica is totally crazy. Like completely nuts." This really didn’t surprise me. I was indifferent at this point, but still elated by that the divorce paperwork was signed.
Evelyn and I dated for a while, which usually consisted of her coming over. I didn’t have the money or the motivation to try to have a formal dating relationship. I wasn’t ready at the time. She stopped coming over; she said that my version of dating was not the same as her version of dating. I think it had more to do with our six year age difference, her having three teenage children, but ultimately it was because I wasn’t ready for a relationship. I started to see a pattern in myself. I clearly wasn’t relationship material. I had to change that.
The school year ended, and Manny had his kindergarten graduation. I was the proud dad with the video camera. The kids sang songs for the parents and every time the lyrics “I love you” were part of the song Manny would look straight at me and gesture that he was saying those words to me. I started crying.
Kids from a foster background often times have a difficult time forming emotional attachments with their caregivers and their adoptive parents. This is known as an attachment disorder. There are a number of theories as to the cause, and a number of controversial treatments, but attachment disorders are fairly common for children with Manny’s background. This disorder has been seen even in kids adopted as infants. Manny’s love and affection towards me (and his mother) had always been legitimate. His emotional bonds had formed and they were real. Part of me hated that the bond he developed with Jessica was also real.
My little guy was getting bigger. He had graduated kindergarten, his first rite of passage. Now I just had to worry about him getting a driver’s license and getting accepted into college.
The summer of 2009 was fast approaching. I was waiting to receive the finalized divorce documents so that I could frame them. It was going to be one of my proudest accomplishments. I had wanted to do the same thing when I resigned my membership from the Mormon Church years back. When I received the letter confirming that I was no longer a Mormon on record I had gone so far as to buy a frame. Suddenly though my disassociation with the organization seemed like gratification enough. I didn’t need to brag about it. Perhaps I would feel the same way about the divorce.
Despite being required by state law to give thirty days' notice of making any travel arrangements, Jessica still had not given any notice to take Manny for the summer. Two weeks before the departure date, she sent me flight plans. I could have fought it, but the last thing I needed to do was disrupt the divorce process. It was all in my favor now. I welcomed the six week vacation from parenting. According to Jessica, Manny would be spending an equal amount of time with Jessica at her new apartment and Vince’s house. She said that they were still dating.
In our familiar routine, I took Manny to the airport, and watched him get on the plane. He was going to fly unaccompanied again. Hopefully this time he would return on time.
| THIRTY THREE |
Back into the swing of things
Summer 2009
“I think that I’ve decided that if I don’t end up with Jessica, I’ll move to Utah and go to BYU or something. I have too many friends there. Man, one thing is for sure, the friends you make on your mission are real, genuine friends. I love everyone here, all servants of God, with a holy calling. Wow.”
-private missionary journal, Matt Timion, April 1, 1999
I had started talking with an old high school friend from Illinois. I started talking with Courtney online. My obvious desperation is something I am embarrassed of to this day, but during one of our first interactions I said, “If this moves forward, how quickly would you be able to move to Utah?" Was I really asking someone I had not seen in almost fifteen years to move in with me? How desperate could I be? Luckily, Courtney did not run the other way when my emotional desperation reared its ugly head. I talked with Courtney almost every night, and we started really getting to know each other. We began really liking each other. She seemed to be someone I could be happy with. She made me laugh every night.
Manny came back without a problem from Jessica’s, and his summer in North Carolina went well. Manny’s homecoming was happy, and Jessica kept in contact with me over the entire summer. She even sent pictures every few weeks to let me know how Manny was doing. I partially felt like she was being overly nice, but I dismissed the idea as paranoia.
Manny was enrolled in the first grade; he started attending scho
ol just one week after coming home. His teacher was kind and a veteran educator. His after school program was understanding and patient. Just a few weeks after school began, however, Manny’s behavioral problems began to resurface. Manny’s inability to focus and stay on task required him to be relocated to a different class. In the after school program he would often times get in trouble or be sent home early because he had acted out. He bit, he kicked, and one time he stabbed another child with a pencil. When I talked to him about his behavior, he would shut down. One time, however, in tears he told me, “I don’t know where I’m going to live." He didn’t know if home was with me in Utah or in North Carolina with Jessica. My goal to provide stability for his life was a complete failure.
Manny needed someone to talk with so I worked with the school to take advantage of their resources. Talking with a school counselor on a regular basis seemed to help quite a bit. While he lied and stole sometimes, I wasn’t as concerned about those behaviors. I was more concerned about how he behaved when he was upset. Manny would normally go into a violent rage. It was no different than how he acted when he was three years old, but now he had the ability to use his words instead of using his body to bang his head against the wall. However, he still would, bang his head against the floor or punch himself in the head.
I decided I needed to take Manny back to his therapeutic preschool to see if they had something for school aged children. Certainly our situation was not unique. Anything, even a monthly support group could help. We met with Susan, Manny's former therapist, again. I noticed that the last name on her office had changed.
“What happened to your name?”
Laughing, she said, “I thought you’d notice that.”
“Divorce?”
“Yeah, and when I was going through it, all I could think about was what you and Jessica went through. Matt, I suddenly knew exactly how you must have felt during the whole thing." I had wondered what she really thought when Jessica and I were sitting in her office the year before, but I could never ask.
The options available for Manny at the preschool were rather limited because of his age. We tried to make a number of therapy appointments, but scheduling became such an issue that we opted to just stick with the therapist at the school. Manny was not a bad kid, but he needed a lot of extra support and attention. I knew to expect this from former foster kids, but actually having to deal with it was another matter completely.
Dealing with his issues was what I had signed up for though, and Manny’s behaviors were really not uncommon. Resolving his behavioral problems was going to take time. I noticed that the longer he was back home with me, the better his behavior became. He was calmer and he made some progress in school despite the fact that his reading and math were a year behind. The excellent teachers and school administrators knew what to do, and we benefited from their experience.
Time went on and Manny got back into the swing of things. I had purchased a vintage Atari 2600 while Manny was gone for the summer for him to play. He played it and its sixty or so games for a few months before growing bored with it. He liked his Nintendo Wii better. I had this weird belief that my son should experience all of the things I did as a child because I turned out okay. As a result we had an Atari, we listened to vinyl records, and he knew all too well what a VCR and a tape deck were. This also extended to movies we watched. He knew more about children’s movies from my childhood than he did about modern children’s movies. We mixed vintage items with their modern counterparts like the rotary phone in our living room, but I feared that Manny would one day feel unfamiliar with modern technology. Luckily he recognized those relics were old. He always referred to those items as “things from the old days."
There was close to no contact from Jessica. She would call once a month and talk with Manny for awhile and call a month later. I interpreted this as her letting go and moving on. She still had not paid any child support, which was beginning to really hurt me financially. I was still paying for my house, Manny’s day care, food, clothes, bills, etc., all on about fourteen dollars per hour. What had become my life was a stark difference from years before when I had so much money that I could afford to buy cars and still have money saved away. Life had definitely changed.
Being a single parent affected my ability to interact with my ex-Mormon friends. I didn’t have the time or the money to socialize with them like I used to. On top of that, I was not entirely welcome around some of them. Lester, the de facto leader of the group, had a problem with me. Even though he had said he had forgiven me for my association with Jessica and Vince, what he said in private was completely different. He talked about the “dark energy” around me and how he could not be in the same room as me. The way I saw it, everyone loved Lester. I had zero desire to make other people feel uncomfortable in my presence so I opted to absent myself from the ex-Mormon social gatherings. The group of people with whom I was so close at one point had become a group of people I would see on the Internet.
The only ex-Mormons I still associated with were my roommate Alan, my friend Nadia, and my friend Mary Ann. Nadia and Mary Ann were great because they had kids as well. As the ex-Mormon group splintered further, those of us with similar lives tended to band together. From our old group of friends, a new one emerged. Those in my new smaller group were all parents. At the very least it was an easy way to organize a play date or find a babysitter in case of emergencies.
Just like I had assumed that my fellow Mormon missionaries and I would be great friends for the rest of our lives, I assumed that these amazing relationships I had formed with my fellow ex-Mormons would be life-long friendships. Only a few of my co-missionaries would talk to me anymore, and it seems that only a few of my fellow ex-Mormons considered me worth the effort.
It dawned on me that once again, ex-Mormons were no different than their former selves. The ingrained belief to avoid evil or the appearance of it at all costs. The only difference was that ex-Mormons didn’t view evil as disbelief in a church, but rather disbelief in their new religion whether it be partying, open sexual relationships, liberalism, conservatism, atheism, or diet fads) Obviously, they had rejected the religion, but they couldn't remove the cultural influences they had been raised with.
I was no different. I myself did the exact same thing when I bought into the religion of Jessica. I never questioned a single thing she said. Her words were gospel, and her actions were infallible. I should have recognized her lies, but my unquestioning devotion to her made me no better than a person who would enthusiastically put his or her faith in a new diet fad or some other ridiculous belief.
Alan, Nadia, and Mary Ann were the only family I had in Utah. My biological family was out of state, and I had been given strict instructions to never talk to Jessica’s family again. Jessica didn’t want me talking with her brothers or sister. I honestly never knew if this edict was given to her siblings as well. They never reached out to me either. I always assumed that her declaration to keep us from associating with each other was an attempt to control the flow of information. I was okay with not talking with her family. I finally saw Jessica for who she was. Unfortunately the person who suffered the most for the lack of family interaction was Manny. He had cousins nearby that he could never see.
Courtney was going to visit soon. My feelings for her were becoming more profound. With all of the women I had dated since Jessica, none of them held a candle to this woman that I still had not seen in person. Unfortunately, in an act that I can only justify with a bad metaphor, I continued to see other people for a short while. Like an atheist who still celebrates Christian holidays, I would occasionally have women over from my past.
There were only two of them, and it only happened when they were in town from out of state, but it somehow made sense at the moment. I just wanted to feel wanted again if only for an evening at a time. That behavior had to stop, and it did. I couldn’t be that guy any more. I felt like I was no better than Jessica while she was cheating on Vince with Ricky B
obby.
| THIRTY FOUR |
Courtney
September 2009
Courtney’s flight was booked, and she was scheduled to spend a week with us. We had been talking on the phone for quite some time and she had vacation time she needed to use. It was one of those “make it or break it” trips. When she arrived, I found out that Courtney was a lot more aware of cleanliness than I was.
I liked to blame my messiness on me being a man and her being a woman, but her observations about my house were spot on. I had neglected my house. The overwhelming nature of being a single parent with negative cash flow affected me in more ways than I previously had realized. Who had time to clean when I was busy trying to raise my son? Raising Manny was a full time job by itself.
Truthfully though, I didn’t even know how to clean the place. When Jessica had lived with me she had been in control of the whole cleaning process. She told me to do something and I did it. She told me to vacuum a room or dust the table and I did it. We would get the entire house cleaned in under two hours. Since she had left my motivation to clean and organize was not there. No one was there to lead. No one was there to tell me I did something right or to try again. I cleaned when I could and in a way I felt acceptable. The absence of Jessica in my life meant the person I assumed was my guide into normal adulthood was no longer there. I was left to make up my own rules and figure it out myself.
The first night of Courtney’s first visit was amazing. After she acclimated to a “guy” house we pressed forward.
The next morning the sun woke us up. Well, that’s not true. What woke us up were the morning sounds from my neighbor’s chickens. There must have been ten of them.
Courtney shot up. “Matt,” she said, trying to wake me up. “Matt! What in the hell is going on?" She was referencing the chickens. She had gone from living in an apartment building in Chicago to staying with me in my house in Utah. She went from traffic and trains to neighbors with chickens clucking at six in the morning. I imagine she felt she was in the country, a total hick town.
Leaving Salt Lake City Page 17
