February Sucks -- Big Time

In July, I decided to sell the house -- it just had too many bad memories associated with it. I found a nice three-bedroom condo close by that included security, so I bought it and we moved in. Thanks to the help of a counselor, I was slowly putting my life back together, but I still didn't have much of a social life, thanks to all the hours I spent with the children. They were still my first priority, after all.

Audrey introduced me to April, a friend of hers who had gone through a divorce and we dated on and off for a few months. She was nice and we seemed to hit it off, but I was still gun shy after what Linda had done.

In December, Linda's doctor asked if I could bring the children by to see her on Christmas. He told me the visit might help bring Linda out of her permanent funk. Until now, they had said she still wasn't in any shape to see them. I talked it over with her mother and asked the children if they would like to see their mother for Christmas. To my surprise, both of them did, so on the day before Christmas Eve, I took them to the facility, which was set in the middle of a nicely-manicured area on the outskirts of town.

At first, the children were nervous about approaching her. I couldn't blame them. She looked haggard and utterly devastated. The light in her eyes had gone, and she seemed to be looking at something a million miles away. She perked up, though, when the children came up to her and gave me a wan smile.

"Thank you for bringing them," she said quietly. I nodded my head and didn't say anything. By then, most of the hatred I had felt for her was gone, replaced with sadness. The doctor and I watched as they caught her up with what had been going on. After about an hour, the doctor asked if I wanted to take the kids back. I watched for a bit and shook my head.

"Nah, let her have this," I said. "It's Christmas, after all." He smiled and nodded his head. We watched as they talked and laughed. Teh doctor turned to me as Linda and the kids spent time together.

"I'm curious, Mr. Carlisle," he said. "What happened? I know her side of this and I know what was reported. But I never got your story. Would you mind telling me? Maybe it'll give me some insight into her thought processes."

I told him what happened and how I felt. Hopefully that would fill in some of the blanks. When I finished, he looked at me thoughtfully.

"Have you thought about reconciling?" he asked. I shook my head.

"Never gonna happen," I said.

"She made a mistake, granted, but isn't there any way you can get past it?" he asked me.

"No, doc," I said. "Leaving the creamer out all night is a mistake. I know, I've done it. What she did was cold and calculating. She plotted with her friends to make it happen. It's time she took responsibility for her actions and moved on. Why don't you help her do that?"

"All she wants is her family to love her," he said.

"Yeah, well, want in one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up fastest," I said.

"You seem to be harboring some anger," he said.

"How would you feel in my place, doc?" I asked. "Wouldn't you be a bit angry if your wife turned her back and left you without even so much as a by your leave?"

"I can see your point," he admitted.

"How long do you think she'll be here?" I asked.

"Hard to say," he said. "She's a ward of the State now. She has to show them she can function in society on her own without being a danger to herself and others. She's a long way from that right now. She could be here for years."

I nodded my head in understanding. We fell silent and watched her interact with the children. Finally, I could tell that Linda was getting tired.

"She tires much more easily these days," the doctor said. He walked over to her. "Linda, it's time for your medications now. The children need to go home." She nodded her head and gave the kids one last kiss. She looked up at me, sadness in her eyes.

"Thank you so much, Jim," she said. "I'd love it if I could see them a bit more often. I'm doing better now, really I am."

"Yes, Linda, I see that," I said.

"You're looking really good," she said. "Are you seeing anyone?"

"I date from time to time, but nothing serious," I said.

"I miss you. And I still love you," she said. I nodded my head.

"I miss the woman I married," I said. "Get better, okay? And Merry Christmas." She smiled and for a moment I saw a hint of the old Linda.

"Merry Christmas," she said. "And thanks again."

"You're welcome," I said. The children said their goodbyes and came to my side.

"Can we see her next week, Dad?" Emma asked. "Can we? Please?"

"Yeah, can we, Dad," little Timmy asked.

"Oh, I guess we can work something out," I said. "Come on, let's get you guys home, okay?" And thus began the twice-monthly ritual. Most of the time, Linda's mother would take the kids down, but sometimes I would. I even spoke with her a bit a couple times, but we never discussed the Asshole. There was no way I was getting back with her, and she knew it. But she seemed to enjoy the few minutes we shared.

A year and a few days after that Friday when our lives were turned upside down, the first coronavirus death was reported in the United States. That was on February 29. Didn't I say that February would have to improve to suck? The next month, lockdowns and stay-at-home orders were issued. Oh, yeah, it sucked.

In a few months, it will have been two years since Linda walked away from her family with the Asshole. And while things still suck, they don't suck anywhere near as bad as they once did. In June 2020, for example, LaValliere's team threw up their hands and settled the class action.

Lisa was right -- by the time it was all said and done, the Asshole was penniless. We didn't get much, but it was satisfying to know that he was done -- for good. He had lost everything -- his money, his reputation as a community "hero," his fame, even a testicle and his ability to ever get an erection. Even Linda smiled at that.

Maybe next February wouldn't suck, or at least as bad as the last two did, anyway.