Born Again

A/N - Hello! Well, I've had people ask if I would write some more romance stories, but while I like to write them, I also like to write stories filled with a little drama. I'm also one of those authors that occasionally likes to beat down on his protagonist for a while only for them to rise like a phoenix.

Not everything that happens in the first stanza of this story is realistic as according to Australian law surrounding divorce. But the laws around divorce and child custody in Australia don't exactly lend themselves to a lot of drama!

Not the usual caveats. Yep, spelling is still usually spot on as Word is kind enough to underline anything spelled incorrectly, and I still use Australian / British standard English, otherwise known as proper English. However, I now have an editor / proofreader, fellow member OhDave1 . He offered his services being a fan of my work and I gratefully accepted. All mistakes are owned up to by the author. Please remember this is just fantasy and I'm still an amateur.

Comments and feedback are appreciated as always.

*****

It's often said by many that you must fall to the bottom before you can start to rise. I understood the sentiment but had no idea what it truly meant until my life started to unravel over the space of around a year, from the moment my wife told me that she was leaving me until, well, I lost everything that mattered to me.

It's often suggested that the husband is the last to know. I don't know if it's the fact we're blinkered because of our genuine, wholehearted love of our wives, or if perhaps we don't want to face the truth to prevent our hearts from being broken, or if some of us are just totally oblivious to the behaviour clearly taking place.

Arriving home from work after another long day getting my hands dirty as a 'tradie' - tradesman to the rest of the world - having worked for my father since leaving high school at sixteen, working for him full-time since though I'd graduated various courses over the years to increase my skills and understanding. I now worked primarily as a 'sparky' (electrician) having passed the final exams a couple of years back though had started out as a 'chippy' (carpenter).

Parking my ute next to my wife's Toyota hybrid, I walked in and was met with silence. Though my kids were now early teenagers, they were at least polite enough to meet me when they heard my car pull up. Walking through the kitchen, I found my wife sitting at the table, a bottle of wine and a glass in front of her. When she met my eyes, there was no smile, and I had a sinking feeling already. I knew I was going to hear four words in particular...

"Where are the kids?"

"With my parents. Take a seat, Mark. We need to talk."

Ah, the four words that send a shiver down the spine of any man when mentioned by his partner. Nothing good has ever followed those words. Figuring I might as well just face the executioner without the blindfold, I grabbed a beer from the fridge, popped the cap and took a pull before I sat opposite her.

"Okay, the floor is yours, Carly. What do we need to talk about?"

The bag she took to work rested on one of the chairs beside her. I knew she carried her laptop and other things inside it, retrieving a manila folder and sliding it over the table towards me. "This is a separation agreement that I've put together with my lawyer over the past month..."

"Who is he?"

"Who is who?" she asked innocently.

I wasn't going to buy her bullshit. I met her eyes, and she held my gaze until she looked away. "I'm not stupid, Carly. The reason I'm being given these papers is that you've obviously met someone. It's just poor old Mark who is the last to know what's going on. Do the kids know?"

"They're aware I'm not happy with our marriage. They know they will be leaving..."

"No, they're not leaving."

"Read the paperwork, Mark. They will be leaving with me. It is why they're not here right now because I know you'll be difficult about it."

The insistent tone gave me pause. I had a feeling there was going to be paperwork that meant my kids were being taken from me without me able to do a thing about it.

"Who is he?"

"I've never cheated on you, Mark."

"Don't give me that shit, Carly. It might not be physical, so it was at least emotional. You've at least left the marriage in every sense but the physical. I'll ask you again and you might as well just answer the fucking question. Who is he?"

She sipped at her wine before finally nodding. "Fine, you want to know. It's Lucas." Raising my eyebrows, I knew the name very well. And it all made sense rather quickly.

You see, I made a good living as a tradesman while my wife worked in an office as a personal assistant for an executive at a global corporation. The problem is that despite our decent wages combined, we were one of hundreds of thousands of Sydneysiders who had been priced out of the housing market. When the average house price is over a million dollars, even in the western suburbs, unless you wanted to live in what I considered 'the sticks' on the very western edges of the metropolitan area, then add the cost of bills, fuel, school for the kids, and all the other essentials that need to be paid every fortnight, we'd learned early on that obtaining a mortgage with the required deposit was almost impossible. Even the banks of Mum and Dad couldn't really help us.

We'd been renting our current house for the past five years, thankful that although we'd moved a couple of times since the birth of our children, we'd managed to stay in the same area of the city. I wouldn't say life was a struggle. In fact, we lived rather comfortably alongside our neighbours, but while I was content with our life though always wanting a little bit more, I knew my wife always had her sights set on a hell of a lot more. She'd always been far more materialistic than me.

Lucas Wilson was rich. Bloody rich. And he'd known my wife nearly all her life. They had dated off and on through high school, but he headed off to the United States to study at university, and I met my wife through friends who attended the university she had attended. There was definitely an immediate physical attraction between us, and it took all of three dates for us to tumble into bed. Within six months, we'd moved in together, and six months after that, we married. Following our marriage were a couple of kids while we made progress in our chosen careers.

But I knew Lucas had returned to Sydney in the last couple of years having made his fortune in the United States, some of the money his own, the rest thanks to his well-to-parents, and had set up more than one company upon his return home. And it seemed like my wife's head had been seriously turned.

"Guess he figured you could be bought, eh? How much is your cunt worth, I wonder?"

"Don't be unduly cruel, Mark. It's beneath you."

Flicking open the paperwork, it was pretty much what I expected. She would be leaving with half of our savings. A significant chunk of change, but still nowhere near enough for a deposit on a house, at least the sort that would mean a manageable mortgage. We would not touch each other's superannuation. As we rented, there would be no split of the house and she had no desire for any of the contents. Only a request for a few of our children's pictures.

The first kick in the guts was the immediate reversion to her maiden name. I knew it would happen upon a divorce, but to do so immediately told me everything. No hope at all, not that I'd really want her to stay after pulling a stunt like this.

The second kick was the restraining order. I'd never been violent against my wife during our entire marriage. Hell, I hated just raising my voice as I'd done it once early on in our relationship, vividly remembering the look of fear on her face, and I never wanted to see that again. I was left to wonder how she'd got one considering here was no history of abuse.

The third and last kick was that my interactions with my children would be severely limited until custody arrangements could be made.

"How often?" I asked.

"You will get them every second weekend, spending Saturday night with you, before being returned by Sunday at lunchtime."

"You fucking bitch," I spat, "You're using our own children as ammunition against me."

"I'm merely keeping them safe."

"From me? I've never touched a hair on either of their heads."

"But there's no telling what you'll do now that I'm leaving you."

"Have you fucked him?"

"No, Mark. I would never cheat on you. But with this agreement, I will now be considering myself free of my vows and I will be moving in with Lucas from tonight."

"With my kids? You're moving my kids in with another man?"

"They've already met Lucas and..."

I rose to my feet and the bottle smashed into the wall opposite. "You dare introduce our children to another man before we're even divorced?"

She remained calm as I glared at her though when pouring the wine bottle, I didn't miss her hand shaking so I knew she was afraid of my reaction. "I will be marrying him upon our divorce going through and he will be their stepfather. I wished to get their relationship started on a good footing. As for the kids, as we will be moving in with him, they will be changing schools and will be making new friends."

"You callous, manipulative bitch."

"There is no need for name calling, Mark. I understand you're angry..."

"Angry? I'm beyond angry, you worthless, vapid cunt." No point hiding what I really thought of the situation, but I knew each barb sent her way was stinging. Until I'd walked in the door, I'd been her loving husband. How the hell did she think I'd react?

I stood up and walked to the bedrooms. It was easy to see that most of the kids' stuff had already been moved. When I walked into our bedroom, there was nothing of my wife left. Everything of hers was gone. I slumped and couldn't believe it. I'd been well and truly outplayed in a game I didn't even know I was participating in.

She'd moved from the kitchen to the living room when I returned. "The paperwork doesn't need your signature, Mark. The restraining order is already in effect. If you come anywhere near my place of work, the school our children will soon be attending, or the residence of Lucas, I will ensure you are arrested and charged."

"Fuck me, who the fuck are you?"

"I'm finally getting what I want, Mark, and you're not going to stop me. But if you must know, Lucas and his advisors have ensured all of this will play out exactly as we planned. I will let you know that you will not be seeing the kids for the next couple of months so they can settle into their new home a lot easier. My lawyer will be in touch regarding the date of the first visitation."

And with that, she simply picked up her handbag and walked out of our home. Talk about being completely and utterly blindsided. I didn't even bother following her outside, getting on the phone with my parents first. They had no idea what was going on, so that was some relief that I hadn't been stabbed in the back by my own family. My sisters were almost apoplectic when I let them know what had just gone on, assuring me of their complete support though they knew there was little they could do except give me their love.

I barely slept that night.

My father greeted me at work the next morning by insisting I get in his car before driving me to the family lawyer. Giving him the paperwork, he offered the chance to fight some of it, but he admitted most of it was watertight. "Whoever your wife used knew their stuff. There's nothing concrete, but as a woman, all she has to do is insinuate her safety is at risk, and that of your children..."

"Despite the lack of evidence? No police report. Nothing from my children."

He shrugged. "As I said, all it takes is an insinuation, and unfortunately as a man, just one accusation is enough to stick and can be very hard to shake. A bit of acting from her and even the most innocent of men can find themselves stopped from seeing their kids. I'm sorry, Mark. I'll do what I can..."

"I just want to see my kids. I still love the bitch too, but I'm already left thinking she fell out of love with me long ago. She said that she had his lawyers come up with this in the last month, so God knows how long she'd had her head turned." I gave it some thought before asking, "What about the fact she's moved in with him already?"

"Australia is a no-fault country, Mark. She could already be out fucking most of the male population of Sydney and it won't matter a damn. Sure, the presiding judge might have a personal opinion, but that won't affect any judgement made. There are guidelines when it comes to a divorce."

"So what you're basically saying is that I'm already fucked?"

"I'll do what I can to get access to your kids, but when it comes to your wife, the judge won't even mandate counselling as you've been married for over a decade. I mean, you could ask for it, but I'll be blunt with you, Mark. What would counselling achieve? She's taken every single possible step to sever her ties with you already. She doesn't want to remain married to you."

"Yeah, I've realised that already," I muttered.

Returning home to our three-bedroom house, I realised I was fucked in more ways than one. I couldn't afford the place on my wage alone. I called the landlady and let her know what was going on. Although sympathetic, we came to an agreement that I would be moving out sooner rather than later. She wouldn't evict me, as we'd been excellent tenants, and would use the bond we'd put down to make up for any shortfall should I run into financial difficulties. Given that my wife had dumped all this shit on me on a Tuesday, I spent the rest of the week going to work before returning home to an empty house.

All my friends were now aware of what was going on. I was pleased when my doorbell rang on Friday evening to be greeted by the faces of my six closest friends, but what meant even more was a cuddle from each of their wives. They'd come prepared with beer and food, gathering out the back by the barbecue as I told them of everything that happened.

"Did you have any idea at all?" Julie asked.

"I've never really talked about my sex life, but we made love on Sunday night, two days before she dumped all this shit on me. There were no signs at all. No decrease in affection or sex. She hadn't been working late. No nights out with the girls. Absolutely nothing. I would talk to her parents, and see if I've missed something, but I reckon they'd cover for her. I mean, they liked me, but I was always left believing they thought she could do better."

"What are you going to do?" Steven wondered.

"I'm going apartment hunting over the weekend. I can't afford to stay here. Hell, just an apartment on my wage alone will hardly be enough. Living as a single man in Sydney is next to impossible it seems. You either live with your wife or partner, or you find a friend who can take up the slack. I talked to my landlady and though sad to hear I'm going, it's still her business at the end of the day. No doubt she'll have a family in here within a week of me moving out."

"And what will you do about her?" Mike asked.

"There's nothing I can do. She even got a restraining order against me." I heard the gasps of shock from nearly everyone. "Yep, claimed to fear for her safety during the divorce process. I can't even see my kids for the next couple of months. My lawyer got in touch with hers. She can't take me to the cleaners or anything, she makes just as much as I do, but she can fuck me over when it comes to the kids."

"What a bitch," Stacy muttered before she got up from her chair to hug me, "I'll get the word out to the girls and see if we can find anything out for you."

"I'm guessing none of you were clued in?"

All my friends assured me yet again that none of them had a clue that my wife was going to do that. I got rather drunk that night, surprised the only tears I shed were about my kids being taken. I still loved my wife, but I was already feeling very bitter and angry towards her for how she'd gone about it. Waking in the morning, I staggered through the house, hearing movement with Mike appearing alongside his wife from one room, and Steven and his wife from the other. The four of them didn't want to leave me alone after it was obvious that I was on the road to being very drunk, and though they trusted me, they still worried about me doing something silly.

Making contact with various agents that Saturday, I was taken out to a half dozen apartments in the afternoon. All of them were in the local area. I had no idea where Lucas called home, but I could take a guess it would either be the eastern suburbs or north of the bridge. The sort of suburbs we could never afford to live in.

The estate agent was cute, at least, and as I told her my story, we were sitting at her desk upon returning to her office when she put it bluntly. "She traded up, Mark. I don't mean that to disparage you, I just mean that's how it will look to most people."

"I've read about things like that. You just don't think it's going to happen to you. I knew Lucas was back in Sydney. She rarely mentioned him before or after his return. Probably her way of not alerting me to his interest in her."

"I'll be here tomorrow if you'd like to check out a couple more properties. I do have one or two townhouses within your price range."

"Anywhere close to my parents and sisters?" I asked, giving her their addresses. My sisters had barely moved a suburb or two away. Guess it comes from our Italian heritage, at least from my mother's side. Mum barely wanted me to leave the house when I moved in with Carly.

And I knew if anyone else would be hurting, it would be my mother. She'd treated Carly like another daughter. My father being a typical bloke, he'd just tell me to show a stiff upper lip, get drunk a few times to deal with it, and then get back to work.

I didn't want to rush into moving, and the cute estate agent by the name of Katie would be calling me every couple of days with suggestions. We met up the next weekend on both days, even stopping for lunch as we got to know each other. Though she was attractive, I wasn't stupid. She was being friendly to seal the deal, but it did make me feel better when we parted on Sunday when she said, "I think your wife is a fool. You're a great guy, Mark."

That made me blush. Considering how down in the dumps I was feeling, it was nice a woman seemed to think that. Then she kissed my cheek and assured me things would get better.

Six weeks after that Tuesday evening when my wife walked out, I moved into my new townhouse. It was only a small two-bedroom place as anything three-bedroom and up was simply unaffordable, though as I didn't want to get rid of all the furniture, I put plenty of things in storage, not writing off the idea of perhaps meeting someone in the future. My soon-to-be former landlady was sad to see me leave as she was aware of everything. An older lady, who had a string of properties, she did give me a hug before I left for the final time.

Moving in on a Saturday, I spent most of Sunday getting my new house into order. I didn't want it to be a bachelor pad as I was still living in the hope that my kids would be visiting soon. I hadn't heard a word from them, the restraining order forbidding me any contact with my soon-to-be ex-wife and kids. My lawyer had argued that point, told that I could be abusive even over the phone. Even he was left shaking his head at the shit my wife had pulled on me.

"Any date on when you can see the kids?" Mum asked when I visited for Sunday lunch the next week. Mum had Italian heritage but had been born in Australia. My grandparents had both emigrated to join the large Italian population that once existed in the inner-west of the city. She was an Italian citizen, though. She'd returned there to study and had met my father, who was one of the thousands of Australians who would disappear to Europe to travel every year.