Paying My Dues

"I know but how long do we have left? I have a huge house for us with every amenity. I hate seeing you living in squalor here with Quinn in this dump."

"Tamara is fourteen now. When she turns eighteen and heads off to college, I'll try my best to let Quinn down easily. I'll make it look as if he and I are drifting apart. After I divorce him, then I can pretend to discover you, fall in love and we'll marry. Tamara will see it as a natural transition and only see you in a positive light. If she found out that you are her biological daughter before then, and learned that we betrayed Quinn who she calls her father, she may hate you and draw closer to him. We have to play this out delicately to ensure Tamara's smooth transition of love from Quinn to you."

"I know, you're right. I just hate being called her uncle when in fact I'm her real father. You're worth the wait, Faye. I would have married a lesser woman long ago had I not had your love and the promise of you becoming my legal wife. Spiritually, we've always been married but I want that piece of paper that confirms it legally."

"And you'll have it, sweetheart. I swear it. You have almost all of me now. All Quinn gets is leftovers and sloppy seconds."

I could bear it no more. Rage filled me to overflowing. I was ready to go in there and kill them both. But then I remembered Tamara. She may not be my biological daughter but I'm the only father she's known since birth. If I killed or even hurt them, I'd go to jail and Tamara will have lost both parents. I decided to act later when I had a cooler head. I silently backtracked to my car, left to get some lunch, and gather my thoughts. As angry as I was, tears still escaped my eyes. This was WAY worse than Jenny. Tamara isn't my flesh and blood daughter? No wonder he played the loving uncle. He was ingratiating himself in her life readying her for the transition. I was about to upset their precious timetable. I threw my lunch away because I couldn't eat, even though I knew I needed to.

Although I didn't want to embroil my grandpa in my family drama, he was the only one whose advice I could trust. I called and told him that Faye and I no longer wanted the same things from marriage and that we'd soon be parting ways. I asked him for a reference for a good divorce attorney without asking me any more questions for the time being. He expressed his sincere sorrow for my situation, thought for a moment, put me on hold to make a call, and connected me via a conference call with Mr. Henry Lockwood of Lockwood and Sons. They were a prestigious law firm in the city, Mr. Lockwood assured me that he would personally handle my case and represent me to the best of his ability. We made an appointment for the next day at noon.

Upon grandpa's advice, my next stop was the bank. I immediately withdrew half of the cash from both our checking and savings accounts and had my name removed from all joint accounts. The bank wanted me to open another account. I just wanted the cash for now. We had four credit cards, one in each of our names and two in both names. I canceled the two in both names after paying off a small balance that was on one of them.

I returned home at my regular time. Faye was already preparing supper for the three of us. I went straight to Tamara's room where she was doing her homework. I gave her a loving, reassuring hug and spent my time helping her finish. She was now the only bright spot in my life. After I took a shower and changed, Faye asked me why I seemed so jittery and upset. I explained that my truck had broken down earlier, leaving me stranded for a good while before things got sorted out. I didn't want to have any confrontation with Tamara present. She seemed to accept that excuse. At bedtime that night, she made no move for sex, and I was relieved. I would never touch her intimately again. When she said, "I love you," as we laid down to sleep, I merely replied, "Goodnight."

The next two nights, Faye tried to initiate sex. I said that I wasn't in the mood. She tried vigilantly to engage me in conversation about what was wrong. I merely acted despondent, which was a valid emotion. I offered no further clarification. Whether she suspected I knew something or not was immaterial. She dressed seductively. I ignored her, something I had never done before, not once.

I took that Friday off from work. I left home early giving the appearance of going to work but returned after Faye left for her job. My first task was to change the entry locks to the house to prevent any unwanted incursions. I suspected she had given my asshole brother a key. Next, I quickly dumped all of Faye's clothing, toiletries, and personal belongings into large garbage bags and arranged them neatly outdoors on the carport. Mr. Lockwood was both fast and efficient. After my initial meeting with him, he had Faye served that morning at 10:00 am at her work. I had no idea what her reaction would be, nor did I care. I instructed Mr. Lockwood to make sure that Faye understood that I would never talk with her except in his presence, and the presence of her attorney.

It was soon obvious that she paid no attention to that instruction. After I ignored her cell phone calls, she must have called the plant to reach out to me. I feel certain that she followed up with Brandon when I was unavailable. Brandon would quickly discover from my supervisor that I had called off that day. I expected her to show up fairly soon. It was clear that I had underestimated the impact of having her served. Three cars soon pulled up together in my driveway. It was Brandon, followed by Faye, and then my dad, truly a family affair. I went back inside the house and locked the door. Faye tried her keys, then Brandon took his turn at the new locks to no avail. They began pounding on the door and yelling at me to let them in. I yelled back.

"Shut up! SHUT UP, ALL OF YOU! If all three of you will step back twenty feet away from the house, I'll step out on the porch to talk. If not, I'll call the police on you for disturbing the peace."

They received the message and stepped back in unison.

I nervously pressed the door open and stepped out onto the porch, prepared to make a hasty retreat should one be required. The three of them looked both anxious and angry.

Faye started it off, "Why Quinn? Divorce papers? Out of the Blue? Embarrassing me in front of my colleagues? Haven't I been a good wife to you? What's this all about?" She argued.

"Why wait, Jenny?" Faye knew that my calling her Jenny was my sarcastic way of calling out her betrayal with my brother as Jenny had done. "I'm merely helping you both by giving you exactly what you want, and saving us all a lot of time."

"You're talking crazy, Quinn! Both? Who both? What do you mean?" She urged.

"Now that our divorce proceedings have begun, you can move in with this rotting pile of shit ex-brother of mine, marry him, and never have to fake another orgasm with me. I won't stand in your way. I've tossed all your belongings in these garbage bags. If you don't take them, the garbage man will. Now get the hell out of here, both of you motherfucking backstabbers! And don't ever grace my door again!" I yelled.

Brandon chimed, "After everything we've done for you, this is the thanks we get? I won't let you talk to her like that, you useless pansy."

"Quinn, Quinn," Faye called out emphatically. "Oh, my God, no, no, no, no!"

"I won't ever have to talk to either of you ever again as long as I never see either of your ugly faces for the rest of my life. Take your lying, backstabbing, bitch-whore with you, asshole!"

"And dad, please tell this sack of shit that he is forever dead to me! I'm not in the habit of talking to piles of shit. Both of you disgust me. I'll despise you both until the day I die!" I seethed.

I stepped back inside and locked the door. The three of them talked heatedly among themselves for about five minutes, endeavoring, I supposed, to figure out how I'd come to learn of my wife's and brother's treachery. The further surprising revelation to me about this particular encounter was in what was not said. Dad never questioned a single inflammatory remark I made. I thought it telling also that they had not mentioned Tamara either.

When Tamara didn't get off the bus, I figured that they had already picked her up from the school to pre-emptively lay claim to her. I called the school office. They confirmed that Tamara had been picked up from the school and would be home-schooled from now on. That was unexpected. Was Faye going to quit her job and home-school her now? If so, there's only one place she would do that without access to this house, Brandon's. She would never involve her parents in her depravity. Well, now everyone knows that I'm aware of their unholy affair. They don't know how I discovered it, or that I'm aware that Tamara isn't my biological child. They may try to use her as leverage against me down the road.

Now that we were technically separated, I grabbed the mattress off our bed, stood it up on its side, and began dragging it outside and around back. I tossed the mattress in the backyard. I soon returned with the box spring followed by the headboard and footboard. I brought out a gas can from the garage, splashed about a pint of fuel all over, and lit it. It was cathartic to watch their tryst bed go up in flames. I took a long hot shower to rid myself of contamination from even touching it. I relocated the bed in the spare bedroom to the master bedroom. It was as if one dark cloud moved away from overhead.

Now that the proverbial cat was out of the bag, I went ahead and canceled her cell phone service and changed the number on mine. I also altered my login and password for the phone account online so she could not use her intimate knowledge of me to access it to get my new number. The silence was golden. I wondered what kind of lies they would feed Tamara. Mr. Lockwood advised me not to verbally engage them until a custody arrangement had been agreed upon. Given the temerity of Faye and Brandon's betrayal, he advised that we go by the book and take no chances of being further manipulated. I completely agreed.

I returned to the plant Monday morning, fully expecting to be fired at Brandon's insistence. Dad was waiting for me when I reported to my supervisor's office for my day's run assignments. As the COO, he has access to anyone anywhere. Besides, he wasn't my nemesis, Brandon was.

"Quinn, I'd like to talk to you for a minute, please."

"Sure." I tersely answered.

"Quinn, I don't know what happened to cause you to take the measures you did last Friday and say those horrible things. As you can imagine, tempers have flared all weekend, and we're all pretty upset about this whole debacle. However, I want you to know that business is business, and personal issues have no place in business. I've instructed Brandon to stay away from you as much as possible and avoid interacting with you. I want you to know that, even though I don't pretend to understand any of this, your job is secure as long as you continue the excellent work you have always given us. Brandon will leave you alone as long as you reciprocate. I don't want any nasty family matters becoming fodder for gossip in this plant. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," I respectfully responded.

A week later, Mr. Lockwood had arranged for Faye and me to meet for mediation to discuss custody arrangements before getting to divorce issues. We were not allowed to have our respective attorneys present during mediation. It was only to be the three of us. As I was headed to the meeting room where the mediation attorney would meet with us, I saw my ex-brother seated in the lobby. He acted as if he wanted to speak to me but I completely ignored eye contact and entered the room where Faye was already waiting. She and I were seated on opposite sides of the table, facing each other while the mediator sat at the head.

Faye opened, "Hi Quinn, you look good. Tamara and I miss you terribly. We both want you to come home."

The mediator awaited my response to gauge the atmosphere of the room. I remained silent. The mediator had not yet spoken directly to me.

"Thank you both for coming. My name is Sheila Gordon. I'm an attorney empowered by the court to conduct these custody mediation proceedings in an attempt to arrive at a mutually agreed upon custody arrangement that will save time in the courts. I sense that the atmosphere between you is terse. I assure you that I've seen it all. We're not here to settle divorce or personal issues. Our sole purpose is to hammer out how 14-year-old Tamara Davenport will spend her time. In the interest of decorum, let's start with you, Faye. May I call you Faye?" Faye nodded her consent.

"Thank you. Please explain to me what you would like to see in the way of custody."

Faye began, "I love Quinn with all my heart. I forgive him for everything. I only want the three of us to be together again. Then he can see our daughter, Tamara, every day. There's no need for any custody agreement."

"Faye, I realize you may still have deep feelings for Quinn, but that's not why we're here. In the pre-filed petition, as you know, he's asking for 50/50 shared custody of your daughter. Are you saying you're amenable to that?"

"If he'd just come to his senses and allow us to return home where we belong, he could see her every day just as I said. He's the one who kicked us out. He's the one who needs to put us back together."

"I'm sorry Faye. What you're asking is not within the domain of these proceedings. Quinn's petition requests that the two of you split Tamara's time by alternating weeks. Do you agree to let him have her for a week, and then you have your week with her, and so forth and so on?"

Faye became indignant. "Send my daughter away half the time? Hell no. That will never happen! It's either all or nothing, Quinn. Either you take us back as I ask, or you'll never see her again. Do you hear me? All or nothing!" She angrily iterated.

"That is an unreasonable position, Faye. Let me warn you, if you cannot arrive at mutually agreeable terms for Tamara's custody during these mediation proceedings, then the court will be forced to order an arrangement that they believe to be in the best interest of the child. Terms that both of you might not be happy with. But once the judge makes a ruling that will be the law. Now, after hearing what I just said, are you open to making Quinn a counteroffer that you can agree with? Give me something to start with, Faye, anything."

Faye sat there in stark silence. Sensing the impasse, Sheila commanded, "Here are legal notices I am serving you both. Four weeks from now, you are both to report back here to this same room to give this a second attempt. Faye, I suggest you think long and hard about what I said. If you cannot come to an agreement here concerning Tamara's custody, then a judge will make an arbitrary ruling for you. At least here you have a say. In court, you will not."

Faye angrily looked at me and spat, "Get over yourself, Quinn. The only way to see Tamara again is to reunite us all and resume our life together. Why don't we both set aside our pride for her and do what's best for her? She needs both of us in her life every day, at least until she's eighteen."

I looked at Sheila. "Ms. Gordon, isn't it customary that ladies go first? Please have her leave and I'll wait for ten minutes to avoid further confrontation."

"I must say, Quinn, I wish all of my clients were as poised as you. Yes, Faye. Please leave now. Quinn will wait here with me for ten minutes as a deputy escorts you to your car to leave the premises. There will be no ambushes, not on my watch."

"Fine! BE an asshole! You never had it so good before me, and you never will again. Think about that!" Faye finally turned and left in a huff.

The next day Mr. Lockwood informed me of mandatory marriage counseling sessions mandated by the court. He indicated that Faye had the backing of a very high-powered attorney with strong connections to many judges. He suspected some palm greasing was going on but could never prove it. He was unable to reduce the number of mandated sessions, ten total, twice per week. But he did manage to wrangle us into choosing the counselor. He gave me the name of one he trusts to be fair, which was the best he could do. I was to report to the counselor tomorrow at 6 pm. He warned me not to become belligerent but not overly cooperative either. Now I have an idea of how a tightrope walker must feel.

Brandon was again waiting in the lobby upon my arrival. He stood and acted as if he wanted to say something to me. When I again ignored him, he wisely remained mute. I have no idea why he would support Faye reconciling with me. It was baffling, to say the least. I sat as far away from Faye as possible, much to her chagrin. She tearfully pleaded her case. Her undying love for me would never be extinguished, yadda, yadda, yadda. She begged me to tell her what I think I know and how I found out. So I calmly recounted the whole sordid story, sparing no intimate detail. She was sobbing uncontrollably as I exited our first session. Brandon rushed to her side when he heard her cries of anguish as I left. Why? Why in the world would my rejection pain her so much when she obviously loves the asshole more? Nothing she says or does makes any sense.

In all of the subsequent counseling sessions, Faye demanded physical proof of my accusations. Aside from the fact that I was an eye/ear witness, she touted my lack of audio-video recorded evidence to support my purported accusations, as mere jealous speculation, an overactive imagination, or even nightmares. When I suggested that Tamara be DNA tested to determine her biological parentage, she said I was crazy, and only wanted to hurt our innocent child, making her a pawn by my unfounded allegations. Needless to say, neither of us made any headway, and the counseling sessions were an abject failure.

With the counseling sessions behind us, my main focus returned to Tamara. Our second and third custody mediations fared no better. All three attempts to break Faye's blockade proved unsuccessful. She reiterated that she wanted the three of us back together. That was the only way she'd ever allow me to see my daughter again. For some reason, she believed I would buckle, and live with her contemptible betrayal as a tradeoff to be allowed to see Tamara regularly. I will never live with Faye again, no matter the cost. I have no idea why she still suggests reuniting. The only thing that made any sense at all was that she might be thinking reconciliation would be best for Tamara's benefit, certainly not Faye's or mine. Out of the blue, Faye handed me a Manila envelope containing a legal quitclaim to her portion of the house and all furnishings, as well as all jointly held cash assets. She claimed it to be proof of her sincerity hoping it would move me toward reconciliation. It did not. Finally, Sheila, our mediator, submitted her opinion to the judge on Davenport vs. Davenport custody dispute. My attorney, Mr. Lockwood, submitted a brief on my behalf in tandem with Sheila's recommendation.

Faye was ordered by the court to arrange to drop off Tamara at my home every other weekend as an interim measure until the docketed court case was decided by a judge for a permanent custody arrangement until Tamara turned 18. I was happy to have received even this small amount of time with her and looked forward to our first weekend together. He issued an additional edict ordering me to start paying child support in the amount of $400.00 per month until the permanent custody order defined otherwise. Faye and I were ordered to provide verified phone numbers to each other through our attorneys for bi-directional communication concerning the child. The numbers were to be used for no other purpose.