Giving Until It Hurts

Please read my profile for my stance on comments. Feel free to email suggestions or to start a conversation. Private messages work too.

Tom Scholz: "Well, I'm taking my time. I'm just moving on. You'll forget about me after I've been gone."

+ + + +

Life was moving too fast. Over the last four years I'd graduated from college, found a great job, married Hannah, and started a family. Hannah and I met at a job fair. She wasn't a student, but helping with the logistics. She caught me glancing her way, and then I caught her glancing my way.

While she waited for her lunch order, I took the opportunity to strike up a conversation. Things moved quickly. I'd heard about avoiding bounce back relationships, but I was smitten. Hannah was on a double rebound. She'd broken up with her high school sweetheart two years prior, and then had recently broken up with his replacement.

Hannah seemed to be on a mission to get married. It never occurred to me that we should wait. I was that convinced that we were destined to be together.

So here we are, three years later, with a little boy who turned two three weeks ago, and a little girl who popped out six months back. I've been getting some hints that we need to add another.

Hannah is what some would call a micro manager. I think the word is helicoptering. Her kids are going to be raised HER way. She even jumps her mother's case if she gets any pushback. I think it's somewhat ridiculous to worry about every little detail, but then again, they didn't grow in my belly. So by now you've figured out that Hannah is a stay at home mother. No one is completely capable of looking after her children. It was a full six months after Steven, my son, was born before I was able to convince Hannah to let her mother watch him. We finally had a night out. Unfortunately, Hannah called every thirty minutes and really didn't enjoy herself. Life's been a challenge.

Work has kept me busy to the point that, during the week, I only get to spend a few minutes with the kids each night. On weekends, it's usually half a day or more each day, with an occasional full day devoted to my family. Today was one of those occasions where I had time to enjoy an afternoon with friends and family. We were hosting a backyard barbeque.

Hannah did a great job organizing the food for all, and the entertainment for everyone's kids. Attending today were several couples from where I work, several couples from the neighborhood, and of course family. Family was John, Hannah's brother, and his wife Suzie. Hannah's parents, Frank and Lois, were also here. My family lives a few states away. Oh yeah, the kids. Everyone had kids. Our backyard was overflowing with activity.

I was a passive observer that evening. Talking politics, religion, and video games just doesn't float my boat. All of the adults at the party wore sandals of one form or the other. Thankfully we had a slight breeze to dissipate the stifling heat. The ad-hoc firework show, illegal of course, would take place around 9:30 Pm.

Several of the adults were having a lively conversation. Rather than join in, I sat back and continued to enjoy people watching. John is infatuated with himself and his accomplishments. I'd reach my limit, so I excused myself to observe the kids playing. Since my infant girl, Sherri, was fussy, I started walking around with her.

Infants fascinate me. They are miniature people with tiny little fingernails and even tinier toenails. When Steven found me he claimed that someone spilled his drink. His right sock was now soaked orange. When I peeled those unmatched socks off, I chuckled. After fawning over Sherri's fingers and toes, it was apparent that Steven had nearly identical fingers and toes. Well duh, what was I expecting?

Just like that, I had a finger and toe fetish. Without much effort, I noticed that both of John's kids had similar big toes. They were kind of stubby, like a tablespoon. My kids have slim or skinny big toes, like a teaspoon. After Hannah took Sherri from me, feeding and a diaper change time, I rejoined the current inane discussion. John had actually let someone else talk.

My first glance was at my toes. Mine were tablespoons, so the kids must have Hannah's toes. Continuing my fetish, I glanced at the big toes of both John and Suzie, I could see where their kids got their big toes. Both were shaped like tablespoons. Their kids could have gotten theirs from either.

I gave my seat up to Lois, and then Frank snuggled up to her. It's pretty sweet to see a couple, who have been together close to thirty years, still cling to each other. I can only hope!

After they sat, I did some toe inventory. Both Frank and Lois had tablespoons for big toes. That's where John got his. As I sat there listening to why congress should do this or that, I had one of those 'oh shit' moments. If both of our kids, and both of John's kids, have identical toes, wouldn't it make sense that John and Hannah should have very similar toes? For our kids to have such different toes, that must mean that Hannah has different toes. Does that mean that Lois cheated and Hannah isn't really Frank's daughter? My heart was racing.

I can't go accusing. Be smart. Don't say or do anything. Take a day or two to figure something out. Walking around bought me some solace.

Hannah must have put Sherri down for a nap, as she reappeared childless. As casually as I could, I tried to avoid Hannah. I kept telling myself, don't do something stupid.

Eventually Hannah cornered me, something about getting more plastic spoons. Maybe I was confirming my suspicions about Lois, but when I looked at Hannah's toes, my heart sank. Tablespoons. I have tablespoons too, but our kids have teaspoons. Now my stomach was really doing flip-flops.

You can say I was naive. I realize now that I was clueless, but I wasn't stupid. To say I was distracted the rest of the evening is an understatement. Hannah jumped my case a few times. I got out of doing the fireworks by telling everyone that John wasn't capable of such an endeavor. Thank you Tom Sawyer.

Checking out the invited male guests, there were a few with teaspoons for big toes. I kept an evil eye on them. None of them paid any attention to Steven or Sherri. Twice more that night, I looked closely at my family's toes. Two parents with tablespoons, and two children with teaspoons. My knowledge of inheritable traits is near zero. The first thing I needed to do was search on the internet.

During the fireworks, Hannah planted herself in my lap. She caught me looking "What are you staring at Grant?"

"Your toes. All of a sudden I have a foot fetish."

This generated a round of teasing. My forced smile helped to hide the cramps my stomach was experiencing.

Needless to say, I had less than a restful night of sleep. In the morning, I did those internet searches. Could be a generation skip kind of thing. Still, I arrived at the conclusion that DNA testing was necessary.

Back online, I bought the test kit, to be delivered to my office. Hopefully it arrives in an unmarked envelope. This will be more than a little embarrassing if I've jumped to a wrong conclusion.

Following the instructions, I swabbed some cheeks and sent back the DNA test kit. Hannah's was the toughest to get, but she has a habit of falling asleep in her chair almost every night. Once her mouth was open, I soaked up a touch of her drool. Two weeks later my suspicions were confirmed. I'm not a father.

Presenting the results of the DNA test did not go as expected. The proverbial straw that broke my back was when Hannah shrugged her shoulders and smirked. I very much expected tears, of which there were none. Perhaps I had my hopes pinned on Hannah begging for forgiveness, which easily didn't happen. To say I was played is an understatement.

"You might as well just accept it Grant. It's obvious that I had an affair. That doesn't mean that I don't love you. Even though we only had sex the one time, when Steven was born it was obvious to me that you weren't the father. It was that cute nose. You have to admit that he has the cutest nose and dimples. Steven is such a wonderful baby. Once we started talking about having another child, I realized I wanted one just like Steven, so I contacted my lover and he promised to help me out. You even agreed that we should have another one like Steven."

I was ready to explode "NO FUCKING WAY DID I AGREE TO THAT!"

"Calm down. Semantics. I asked, you agreed. We had to fuck every day for about two weeks to make sure I was pregnant. That was the time I told you I had a yeast infection and gave you a bunch of blowjobs. You seemed to like that just fine. Again, this doesn't mean that I don't love you. You are a great father. As far as sex, up until now you have had no complaints. There's no reason things can't go forward exactly as before. You might as well just accept it."

My words were delivered slowly, dripping with venom. "I don't think so Hannah. I've had a few days to think about this, and I'll be filing for divorce."

"You know you'll still need to pay child support."

"Not happening. I'll become a vagrant before that happens."

Being young, and living from paycheck to paycheck, it didn't take long to move all of my belongings from our rented house to my cheap apartment. I had to get out of there before I did something that would put me behind bars.

My parents paid for the divorce lawyer. My mother was crushed as she had really gotten into the grandmother thing. I was ready to kill someone when my attorney told me, that in Florida, Hannah could be right about child support. Sometimes all it takes for the court to award it, is being on the birth certificate. Another so called test is claiming to be the child's father. I was living in the wrong state as Florida only cared about the child getting money from somebody other than the state.

Regardless, I filed for divorce and had Hannah served. After a few days of being wine drunk, the most equitable solution emerged from the hazy bar. It would take research. It would take planning. It would mean breaking a few laws. I was bitter enough to attempt it. Using a burner phone I bought with cash, I did my online research. I certainly didn't want any form of an electronic trail pointing at me. I made a point to never use the Wi-Fi available at my apartment or work.

My dad and I are buddies, but his father, Grandpa Curtis, has been my lifeline growing up. After spending countless hours fine tuning my plans, I ran the idea past Curtis. He really perked up. There were still more than a few 'I'm not sure how this will happen' sections, but overall it was deviously delicious. If and when it happens, it will be the emotional equivalent of Newton's third law 'for each action, this is an equal and opposite reaction.'

Curtis barked at me "From now on, you will never mention this plan, or any part of it, to anyone! I've got it from this point forward. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

Grandpa was dead serious so I quickly replied "Yes sir!"

There are some things that a guy should never have to experience. Finding out that your wife WANTED her lover to father her babies is one of the most painful. If my plan came into fruition, there would be plenty of pain to go around. The beauty of it was that nobody would suffer any physical trauma.

And that was it. I put the plan in the back of my mind. Sharing details about the divorce seemed to be the main topic of conversation when I talked with my parents. Since nothing had happened, I wasn't convinced that Curtis could get the plan to sprout wings. As it turned out, the timing couldn't have worked out any better.

I was sitting in Hannah's attorney's office with my attorney for our pre-trial attempt to come to an equitable settlement. Staring daggers at the cheating slut, my love had definitely turned into hate. When asked where HER kids were, Hannah said she dropped them off at her parent's house before coming here.

+ + + +

Lois had just put her grandkids down for their morning nap when the doorbell rang.

'Dammit, I hope that didn't wake the kids' she muttered to no one, just the walls.

Peeking through the peep hole, she saw two young men wearing hard hats, safety vests, and steel toed boots. Leaving the door latch intact, Lois cracked opened the door.

"What can I do for you boys?"

"We are going around the neighborhood alerting everyone of a suspected gas leak. Have you smelled anything like spoiled eggs?"

"Oh dear! No, and my sense of smell is pretty good too."

"Does your gas line connect to the back of the house?"

"Yes, by the bathroom window."

"Would you mind if we went around into the back yard and inspected it? You can monitor us there."

"Yes, please do that. I'll meet you."

Lois closed the front door and scurried to the sliding glass door leading to the back deck. When the young men emerged, she pointed at the gray contraption. She giggled to herself 'As if these boys don't know what a gas meter looks like.'

After a minute, the taller guy motioned Lois over. She came off of the deck and stood next to the guys.

"You should really trim back these rose bushes. See how close they are getting? You don't want your landscaping causing any problems."

"I'm sorry. I'll get my shears out and clean that up."

"You don't need to do it now. Wait here while we finish up. Would you mind signing our log? This just says we made contact with a person at this address."

It took the boys several minutes before they gave Lois the 'All clear!' She signed their log.

"Thanks guys!"

"No, thank you. Have a great day."

Lois went inside and fixed herself an ice tea. The mail truck could be heard making the rounds. She hoped that it wasn't the replacement driver. He'd been leaving other people's mail in her box, and others were getting some of her mail. Peeking out her front window, she watched as the mail truck arrived. It was the lady who normally delivered the mail. When the truck drove off, Lois made her way to the front door.

Her first emotion was confusion. The door latch was hanging from the door. The mounting screws were still in the mounting plate, but that plate was no longer connected to the door molding. She stood motionless for a few seconds and then it hit her 'Someone has broken in!'

Literally sprinting down the hall, she saw the bedroom doors slightly ajar. She had closed them when she put the children down for their naps. Lois's heart was racing and her stomach cramping when she saw the bedrooms empty. Both kids were missing. Screaming their names, she looked everywhere. Rushing back to the kitchen, she grabbed her cell phone and called nine one one. Her hysterical call was filled with emotion. Slumping to her knees, she tried to call Hannah, but it went directly to messages.

'Call me Hannah. Oh gawd, please call me.'

Lois was shaking so badly that it took her a few minutes to compose a simple text message to Hannah 'Please call me.'

The sound of a siren approaching was comforting. Tears were dripping from Lois's face.

+ + + +

Hannah, who thought she was holding the upper hand, smirked triumphantly at me.

"You might as well just accept it Grant."

"Not happening Hannah."

At the conference table, Hannah's lawyer tried to calm the contentious meeting "Let's take a fifteen minute break."

I didn't get up. I'd purposely left my phone in my truck. Finally, it appeared that things had gone according to plan. We all heard a blood curdling scream. Hannah did not disappoint.

Some looks can only be experienced. I'd never seen such a look of terror.

"YOU BASTARD! WHERE ARE MY BABIES?"

"Don't have a clue what you're talking about Hannah. Calm down, have a seat."

Hannah was having none of that. She was making a beeline towards me when my attorney stopped her progress.

"HE KIDNAPPED MY CHILDREN!"

My attorney answered for me "Hannah, he's been sitting here. What are you talking about? You don't need to shout."

Taking a deep breath "My mother was babysitting when some guys came to the door. After they left, the kids were gone. I know you're behind this Grant. I have to leave."

I smirked at Hannah. If looks could kill, my funeral will be in a day or two.

The question rolling around in my mind was 'should I go play racquetball before I go back to my apartment?'

There was no reason to make this easy for Hannah. Time was of the essence. The statistics for abductions are grim. If not found within the first day, there is a strong likelihood that they will never be found. Her kids were in no danger, but Hannah would not find that out for a few days.

After playing racquetball, rather well I might add, I grabbed a quick meal at the burger joint. Driving into my apartment complex parking lot, I spotted them. There were a few unmarked vehicles with people inside of them, all failing to look inconspicuous. Before exiting my car, I called my attorney. He said to go with them and he'd meet me at the station. 'Don't say a thing until I'm there' were his parting words.

Locking my car, I turned to find myself very popular. My smirk just wouldn't subside. They gave me my Miranda rights, and I chose to remain silent. Once all were accounted for, my attorney gave the detectives the green light.

"Please proceed detective. We have nothing to hide."

"Mr. Lindberg, are you aware that your children were kidnapped today?"

"Since I have no children, your question makes no sense."

My attorney was smirking.

"Mr. Lindberg, you are listed on the birth certificates as being their father."

"Then you should arrest Mrs. Lindberg as she lied on an official document. Counselor, please give the detectives copies of the DNA tests."

After inspecting both test results "Sir, your wife insists that you are behind the disappearance of your...her children."

"Are we playing guilty by accusation? If that's the case then I insist that her mother ate the children."

"Aren't you concerned at all about the children?"

"Sure. The starving children in Africa concern me. Thinking of those poor kids living in squalor after the hurricanes brings a tear to my eye."

"Would you submit to a polygraph?"

My attorney jumped in "We will only agree to things which are admissible in court. Unless you have any other questions, or are prepared to arrest my client, I think we should break up this little tea party."

Both detectives left the room. I knew better than to talk as these rooms are wired. Ten minutes went by before they returned.

"Chances are that we'll have another little chat Mr. Lindberg."

Our city's finest wouldn't give me a ride back to my empty apartment. Rather than bother anyone, I caught a cab. This ratty old apartment doesn't feel like a home. I ordered some pasta to be delivered. A few glasses of wine, and way too much to eat, made me sleepy. The doorbell and loud knocking on my door snapped me out of my nap. The clock on the wall said it was past 11 Pm.

Looking through the peep hole, I saw a very distraught Hannah standing there with her parents. How the hell did they find me? This apartment didn't have security latches, so without opening the door I spoke loudly "What do you want?"

Fighting back the sobs "My babies. You know where they are. Give them back."

I cracked the window open far enough to allow them to see my face.

As sarcastically as I could "You might as well just accept it Hannah."

John grabbed Hannah before she could use her finger nails to strip my face of skin. I took the opportunity to close the window. When she threatened to kill me, the neighbors called nine one one. It was a very loud few minutes of screaming, all done by Hannah.

Her removal, by the police, made getting a restraining order a snap.

+ + + +

After counting the C-notes, twice as many as they'd paid out, the slickly dressed man spoke.