Melody

I was leaving work a few days later, still living in the hotel, when my phone rang with a call from Chelsea. I had a feeling I knew exactly what this was about.

"Yes, Chelsea."

"Henry, please. Back child support? I know you're angry but don't do this."

"What, he screws my wife and gives me 3 kids to raise and he gets off scot-free? He avoided me when I went to beat the crap out of him. What else is there?"

"This won't change things, Henry. It won't change what happened and you won't get any money out of us. We can't pay you what we don't have."

"They can always garnish his wages."

"C'mon, Henry. You know we barely make it as it is. That money won't make one bit of difference to you but it's the difference between feeding our kids well or not. Hell, even just paying a lawyer will probably bankrupt us. I know you want to punish Gabe, and you probably want to make me suffer for not telling you. But my kids are innocent in this. Don't hurt them just so you can hurt us."

All good points. The truth was that nothing would change what had already been done. I already made a good living so any money I got from them would just be to punish them. And that wasn't fair, at least to the kids. I didn't really want to do it, and in that moment I realized that I was striking out in anger in hopes of making someone else suffer, which was immature and unproductive. Obviously the only one that was going to have any consequences for this, the only one that was going to suffer, was me. I put Chelsea on hold and called my lawyer.

"Doug, it's Henry Weston. Drop the suit against my cousin. Yeah, I know you think it's the right choice. I don't really care what you think about it. Just send me your damn bill." I ended the call and returned the other line. "Fine. It's canceled. Happy?"

"Yes, Henry, thank you. It was the right thing to do. I hope you know what this means to us."

"I suppose I do. I also know what it means to me. It's the final nail in my coffin. See you later, Chels."

As I went to punch the button to end the call I heard Chelsea calling after me asking what I meant by that. But I didn't think it really mattered. No one seemed to care about what happened to anyone else but them, and least of all what happened to me apparently, so I doubted she'd lose any sleep over any decision I might make.

I went back to my hotel and stewed in my pain and misery. I was incredibly hurt by what Denise had done, and as I turned everything over in my mind a thought occurred to me that hadn't previously. I didn't actually have any kids. My entire life was a damn lie. My faithful wife...wasn't. My mother had colluded with my wife to get her to have sex with another man and pass off the kids as mine, after lying to me about a medical condition. But the hardest hit of all was that my kids, including my sweet little Gracie, the apple of my eye, weren't really mine. Oh, I still loved them, and I understand that biology is only one way to make a family, but it was different now. It just was. In that moment, something inside me just...snapped.

I didn't leave the hotel for 5 days. I didn't do anything for 5 days except go to the convenience store on the corner. I lived on prepackaged sandwiches and frozen burritos, washed down with plenty of beer. I didn't shave or shower or anything. I received a number of text messages pleading with me to call or text or anything. I ignored them all except the one that said that Nate's kidneys were determined to be functioning fully so no transplant would be needed. He was expected to make a full recovery and would be home in just a couple of days.

As I tried to sleep that night I smelled something really awful, and soon I realized it was me. It was 2:27am as I climbed out of bed and hopped into the shower. I stayed in there for a good 30 minutes (I love the seemingly unending supply of hot water in hotels) and then lay down for a few more hours of sleep. I woke up feeling refreshed, having made my decision. I had lived the whole of my adult life for other people. I had always had obligations to my family, and especially to my wife. I now no longer had those, at least not to Denise. She had done what she wanted to do so I was going to do what I wanted to do.

In the morning I called my boss and explained to him that once my FMLA ended I was quitting. He convinced me to do it as a leave of absence for now, even though at that moment I was sure I was never going back there. The only responsibility I had was to the kids, and the way I felt at the moment I was just not very concerned about that either. She created them without my involvement so she could pay for them without it, too.

My next stop was a Harley dealer. Oh, yeah, I was getting a hog. I had always wanted one but I put my wants on hold because I had a family. Well, no more! I had plenty of money in the bank and I took a good chunk of it out. I had even gone so far as to take a training course and get certified a couple years ago as part of a weekend camp, so I was going to ride while living on the road for a while. Part of me regretted that there would be more than enough in the bank to last Denise for a long time, but I WAS glad the kids would be taken care of.

The engine rumbled as I cruised slowly down the street. I was wearing a helmet so none of my neighbors could recognize me. I pulled up to the house, and before I had even shut the bike down Denise was flying out the door screaming to get the hell off of her driveway. The look on her face when I pulled off the helmet was priceless, but she recovered quickly.

"What in the hell is that thing?"

"My new motorcycle," I answered.

"Oh no. You need to take it back. There is no way we're keeping that thing."

"No."

"No? What the hell do you mean, no? We've talked about this before and we agreed..."

"No, Denise, you dictated and I went along. Well no more. You lost the right to tell me what to do the moment you spread for Gabe. Whatever you may have told yourself to justify it in your mind, all you did was cheat and deceive me, and I'm not listening to you anymore."

"Henry, please..."

"I'm done. I only came by to grab a few things and say goodbye to the kids."

I walked past her and into the house with her trailing behind me calling for me to stop and please talk to her. I didn't stop, heading straight into what used to be our bedroom and grabbing a few changes of clothes and my toothbrush. Hey, even outlaws from society need to take care of their teeth.

"You're not really leaving, are you?"

"Didn't I make that clear?"

"What about your job?"

"I quit."

"You...you quit? Are you out of your mind? We have 3 kids! How on earth are we gonna live?"

"Correction: you have 3 kids. I don't have any. And the days of me supporting you and your boyfriend's kids are over. I guess you'll have to actually get a job."

Okay, I know I was being a jerk. I had no intention of letting the kids suffer. Denise, yes, but the kids, no. But right now she didn't know that and I was enjoying her discomfort.

"Damn it, Henry, how many times do I have to tell you he has never been my boyfriend?"

"Until you no longer have 3 kids he fathered."

"I'm sorry, baby, okay. I'm sorry. I made a huge mistake and I'm sorry. But except for that we have such a great marriage. I love you so much. We have to find some way past this. Please don't destroy the family, Henry."

That pissed me off.

"Don't put this on me, Denise! What did you think was gonna happen when I found out about this? There are ways to build a family other than the way you did it. The only reason to do it your way was to hide my condition from me and so that you could 'experience pregnancy'! No, this is on you and your pimp, not me!"

"Fine! It's all my fault and I'm a terrible person! But, baby, please let me try and make it up to you."

"How on earth do you make something like this up to me? It's not like I can go father 3 kids with some other woman even if I wanted to. And I'm sure as hell not going to stoop to getting a bunch of revenge fucks. So please, tell me what you can do?"

"I...I don't know. I just know I don't want to lose you. Whether you believe it or not I love you and really had the best of intentions. Okay, so I may have let my own wants and needs affect the choices I made. I can see that now but you have to believe it wasn't on purpose."

"The problem is I don't know what to believe, and even if I believe what you just said I'm not sure it makes a difference. You still did what you did and there's nothing that can change that. So I'm leaving. Not forever but for a while. I'll call the kids when I get the chance."

"Just the kids?"

"For now. I'm gonna go say goodbye. I've left plenty of money in the account so you'll be fine for a long time."

"Thank you."

I made my way to Nate's room. He was resting while Gracie and Danny played quietly. They had always gotten along well and I was glad they would be there to support each other.

The conversation went predictably, with tears all around. I assured them I loved them and I'd be back to see them as soon as I could. When all was said and done I went to leave but before I could go Nate asked if he could speak with me alone for a minute. I hustled the smaller kids out of the room and sat on his bed.

"I know what's going on, dad."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not stupid. I've been paying attention when everyone thinks I'm asleep. Cousin Gabe is my biological father, isn't he?"

"You don't need to worry about things like..."

"Dad, I have a right to know."

"You're right, you do. Yes, he is. I mean, I don't have DNA to prove it but that's what I've been told."

"And Gracie and Danny?"

"That's my understanding."

"That's what I thought."

"It's not what it seems like."

"It seems like mom had sex with cousin Gabe an awful lot. Aren't you only supposed to do that with your husband?"

"It's complicated but, yes, that's what's supposed to happen."

"That's why you're leaving? Because we're not your kids anymore."

He was emotionless, matter-of-fact. I was again amazed at how mature he seemed to be, how well he seemed to be dealing with such adult subjects. Maybe facing death will do that to you.

"Hey. You will always be my kids. I didn't go through all those diapers and sleepless nights and skinned knees just to lose you when you're finally becoming interesting. No, I'm leaving because I need to decide what to do about your mom and I can't do that while I'm here constantly being angry with her."

"I understand that. But I don't understand why mom did...what she did."

"We'll have to talk about that another time, champ. Right now mom and I have some things we have to work through and that's private stuff."

"Are you gonna work through it dad?"

That was the $64,000 question, wasn't it?

"I don't know, buddy. Right now I just don't know."

"Okay dad. Take it easy. Just don't forget about us."

"Never."

I got one last hug from Gracie and Danny before heading out the front door. Denise hugged me as well but, unlike the kids, I didn't hug her back. I was still so angry at what she had done that even the slightest bit of affection had lost its appeal. I also let her know that Nate was aware of who his sperm donor was, and that he had figured it out himself. The look on her face made it clear she was not happy about that development.

Without a firm destination in mind, I started heading toward California. I had been there a couple of times but it was always for work and my time there was limited. This seemed like a good opportunity to take in the sights.

I purposely hadn't shaved before I left, thinking it would fit in with the 'biker image', which was something I knew very little about, and what I did know was mostly stereotypes. But they're stereotypes for a reason, right? So, in addition to the growth on my face and my unkempt hair, I packed my jeans, some t-shirts, socks, my work boots, and a leather jacket that I had once bought for a 50's Night dance that Denise and I went to several years ago. I knew I didn't have the attitude down, but I thought I looked the part.

I stopped by a local sporting goods/outdoors store with a plan to get a tent or something so I could sleep without having to splurge for a hotel room every night. I found the perfect thing: it was a cot with a built-in single-person tent. Basically, the cot was the base of the tent. It kept you off the ground and out of the elements.

I took my time on the 20+ hour drive from Texas to California. It actually took me about a week to make it out to the coast as I made numerous stops in New Mexico and Arizona on the way. When I finally arrived, I cruised the ocean highways and beaches and really was impressed with the views, both of the women in next-to-nothing bikinis and the beaches. It was heady stuff for a born-and-bred Texas boy.

I enjoyed Laguna Beach and Corona Del Mar but found Long Beach to be a little on the hoity-toity side. I get that those people are loaded and are entitled to enjoy the spoils, but it just wasn't a fit for me. All in all, I spent about two weeks on the sunny beached of Southern California and by the end I had reached the inescapable conclusion that it was a nice place to visit but I wouldn't want to live there. And thus I began the trek back to more familiar territory.

I also learned that perception is an amazing thing. Here I was, an upper level manager for a Fortune 500 company and about as plain as it gets in real life, but put me on a Harley and let my grooming slide a little bit and all of a sudden I had people watching me as I walked into a restaurant and acting like I was a Hell's Angel. I did nothing at all to dissuade them of this opinion. In fact, I kind of liked it.

I got the same reaction at the bars I stopped at along the way. It was a little different than walking into, say, Denny's, but many people still tended to leave a buffer zone. However, once they realized that you weren't going to kill them just for breathing, it became apparent that the fascination with the bad boy is a real thing. Every time I stopped for a drink I had at least a couple of women make it clear they were open to a night of fun, and most of them were married, or at least wearing rings. In fact, I was approached by so many that I found myself hoping it was a thing for single women to wear rings to increase the 'naughty factor'. You know, make guys think they're picking up a married woman. I politely declined all overtures.

But these bars were just regular bars, where I seem like I come from the bad side of town. I found myself wondering how I'd fare in an actual 'biker bar'. Then I wondered how on earth you find an actual biker bar. I ended up asking at a local motorcycle repair shop and they were quite helpful, and more than a little amused, I think.

They were nice enough to direct me a place called The Dirty Dog that was just a few minutes to the north, out by the regional airport. Even though by now I was back in Texas and only about 2 hours away from my home, it was an area I had never been to and wasn't at all familiar with. I made the drive the first time in the daylight so I could find the place. It was a stand-alone building that looked to be in pretty good shape, even as the abandoned buildings around it were shabby and dilapidated. I assumed the clientele of The Dirty Dog had driven the other businesses out, or at least contributed to it.

I went back into town and got a hotel room. I took a nap and then pondered on whether to take a shower or not. In my mind I imagined that bikers didn't shower very often but had no basis for that. Not wanting to stink up the place my first time I decided to shower and play it by ear. If anyone said anything about me smelling like Irish Spring, I'd pass it off as my monthly shower or something.

DAY 1 - Saturday

I pulled into the lot and, sure enough, there were several motorcycles plus a few pickups. I didn't know if there were some hierarchy or anything, so I just parked off to the side. Again, I was working entirely off assumptions and stereotypes.

I walked into the door and caught a few glances my way, but I obviously wasn't interesting enough to hold anyone's attention. I went to the counter and just ordered a beer, trying to keep a low profile. I sat at a small table nearby and as I scanned the room became aware of a woman that was watching me. She looked to be mid-30's with long, straight brown hair hanging to just above her butt. She wore jeans and boots with a black t-shirt and a plain denim vest. She was sitting with a guy that was the epitome of 'biker', right down to the leather vest, scowling look, and bulging muscles.

I tried to be nonchalant; just a guy drinking a beer. I was taking in the ambience, if such a word would apply to a place like this, and would periodically glance at the brunette and every time she was still watching me. It was a little disconcerting, frankly. I was the only one in the place sitting alone, and hadn't the faintest idea how to change that or to become 'one of them'. So I did nothing.

After about 15 minutes, during which the lady's eyes barely left me, she said something to the guy she was sitting with and then got up...and started walking toward me! She didn't have any makeup on but she didn't need it either. She was quite attractive naturally; maybe not model quality but certainly pleasant to look at. She sat down in the other seat without so much as a word. She looked at me for another 30 seconds.

"Accountant?" she said suddenly.

"I'm sorry?"

"Are you an accountant?"

"No."

"Mmm. Dentist?"

"Nope, not a dentist," I answered, becoming amused. "Why the questions?"

"Well, you're sure as hell not a biker so I figure mid-life crisis, and those guys are usually accountants or dentists or something similar."

I was no longer amused, but I don't think she realized it.

"Didn't pass the test, huh?"

"Not at all," she guffawed.

I stood up.

"Thanks for the reality check," I said, and started for the door.

She grabbed my arm and turned me back toward her.

"Hey, wait. I wasn't trying to run you off."

"No, just trying to embarrass and humiliate me. Well done."

I pulled out of her grasp and made the long walk across the bar to the door. I guess it wasn't really that long, but it sure seemed like it in that moment. I was sure every eye in the place was watching me and every person was silently mocking me. At least it was silently.

I got to my bike and swung my leg over and just sat for a minute. Never before had I felt more like I didn't belong anywhere. Before I could pull my helmet on I felt hands on my shoulders and felt the bike get weighed down as someone sat behind me. I had no doubt who it was.

"What are you doing?"

"Letting you take me for a ride."

I turned around and looked at her. She already had her long brown hair tied back with a Navy blue bandanna.

"Helmet?"

"You gonna crash?"

"Not planning to but..."

"Then let's go."

"I don't want any trouble from your boyfriend."

"No problem. Don't have one."

"Oh. I thought the guy you were sitting with..."

"That's my brother."

"That might be worse."

"It'll be fine. Let's go."

I fired up the engine and felt her arms wrap tight around me. I could feel her tits press into my back and suddenly my jeans were a little tighter. Without a destination I just started riding. Occasionally she would point or yell in my ear to go a particular way and I did so, having no particular opinion on where we went.

We cruised around at random for about 30 minutes before she started giving me more specific directions. At last we pulled up in front of a small house in a modest neighborhood. It was in good shape and the landscape was well maintained.