The Dentist

Gilchrist's lawyer was clever. They got Eugenie to quit work, and then they waited before they filed the official papers. When the shit finally reached me Eugenie was unemployed. I was stuck with full alimony payments. Who would've believed the woman I'd lived with and loved for nearly fifteen years could do what she was doing? I'd heard how in divorce love can turn on a dime. I guess that's what happened.

The divorce went through and became final. Eugenie sold our house. Gone was the used riding mower, the cheap push mower, the weed whacker, the flowers, the tool shed, gone was Maia's dance floor I'd constructed in the cellar. Lea had a private 'treasure box' with all her special personals. Somehow that got sold. Even Sophie's teddy disappeared! Two weeks later she and Gilchrist got married. At least I was off the hook for alimony.

++++++++++

I made up my mind. When each of the kids turned sixteen they could choose who they wanted to stay with. Well Maia was almost fifteen. I hoped she might do the flip.

I saw Eugenie from time to time. I thought she looked kind of haggard. I wanted to hate her. I really did, but I still had that feeling in my gut. Something just wasn't right.

She'd stopped going to church. So had the girls. I heard she'd been to Hawaii, and Paris, and Italy. They'd gone to Florida but they'd left the kids home. I thought that really sucked. I guessed now my girls would never get to Disney World. Damn, I'd just like to take them to the park.

I really missed them. I'd drive by their school when it let out just to see them get in the taxi that was there every day to pick them up. Their mom I supposed was too busy.

Yeah her new marriage with her new lover was working out pretty good, or so I thought. I occasionally wondered why his first two wives never made it. Slowly the word got back to me. What's the old line? 'What worse than not getting what you want? It's getting what you want.'

Eugenie's mom was the first to spot something. It was nothing really, just a bruise, a little bruise on her daughter's right arm. Then I started to hear other things from other people. Eugenie and her new husband would go out. He'd say stuff like, "You better be good or I'll have to punish you." My sources told me when he said something like that she'd always react with this really shrill awkward sounding laugh. I got it; this was the kind of laugh that meant somebody was afraid.

Then Eugenie's mom told me about the time her daughter said she fell down the steps. Eugenie told her mom it was an accident, but her mom didn't believe it.

I called around. Yes, I found out. Gilchrist's first wives hadn't divorced him; they'd fled from him. They'd surrendered everything they had just to escape. The son-of-a-bitch was a wife beater. I felt bad about Eugenie, but I was more scared about my kids. What if he...I had to do something. But what?

I needed help, I had no money, but that didn't mean I was completely without resources. I'd been teaching for almost twenty years. There were kids I'd taught in community college. There were kids who'd joined the State Police and were a part of the Sheriff's Office. Yeah, I was broke, totally impecunious, but I still had friends. I started to call around. I put out the word.

Pretty soon I had Mr. Gilchrist covered, and from what I heard he was getting steadily worse. The word was she'd become something of a prisoner in her own house. Yeah the big mansion on the north end of town was her personal prison. Damn shame; she was already trapped in the prison of her own mind. Somehow I had to get a message to Eugenie. If was for the kids; somebody had to do something.

I went to see her mother. That was an interesting conversation.

I said, "I want you to see to it that Eugenie gets this cell phone. My number's inside. All she has to do hit the right button and I'll be there."

Her mom's reply was scary, "I don't think she'll use it. He's got her so scared she afraid to even say anything. He does things to her all the time; little things, mean things. He looks for excuses to hurt her."

"Look," I told her, we've got to think of the kids too you know."

"I agree but I'm afraid she's convinced herself because of what she did to you that she deserves everything he's dishing out."

I told her, "Well you've got to disabuse her of that. Tell her I'm still here. I'm here for the kids, but I'm here for her too. Tell her its August fifteen years ago all over again. I was there for her then. I'm here now. All she has to do is use the phone."

Her mom shook her head, "I'll give it to her, but I don't know."

That's when I said, "Well look see to it that Maia knows it's there. If Eugenie is too scared, maybe Maia will use it." I know it might sound stupid; it's this rescue mentality many of us teachers acquire and well...

See here, I wasn't some wimp. I wasn't some pussy looking to beg to get his wife back. I was a man. A woman was in trouble. My three kids could be in a desperate situation. I started to panic; what if he beat Eugenie to death? What if my kids saw him? Shit like that happens; it happens all the time.

I guess I started to compensate for Eugenie's cruelty toward me. The dentist, the sick pervert, probably used every trick in the book, every emotional device to turn her head.

I reminded Eugenie's mother before I left, "Forget Eugenie. Give the cell phone to Maia."

Did Maia call me? That's exactly what happened. Ten nights later around 10:00 o'clock I got the call. It was my daughter, "Daddy you need to get here. He's really beating her up. He's got her on the floor. She accidentally spilled some milk on the table. He slapped her and he was twisting her arm and he's pouring more and more milk on the floor. He's being really mean to her and he's making her clean up all kinds of stuff."

I tried to calm her down, "Take it easy babe. Daddy's on his way. Just go downstairs and see that the front door is unlocked. Then go back to your room and wait. I'll be ten minutes."

I yanked on a coat and sped out the door. I thought about calling the police right away, but changed my mind. I decided I needed some private time, some 'quality time' with Mr. Vincent Gilchrist the dental surgeon.

I didn't speed, but I didn't waste time either. I wasn't going for Eugenie. I was doing this for Maia, and Lea, and Sophie. I was their Daddy. They needed me.

I pulled up his long drive and got out. As I approached the front door I could hear him screaming at her. 'Jesus,' I thought, 'was he planning to kill her?' I tried the door. 'Good for you Maia', the door was unlocked. I walked straight to the source of the yelling.

Holy Christ! He had her on the floor. He was standing over her with a fry pan! She was cringing back into the corner of the kitchen. The look on her face was one of absolute sheer terror! His expression was one of undisguised delight; I'd say mixed with sadistic fury.

I'd gotten there just in time, as calmly as I could. I used my Karate voice. I spoke, "Hey Gilchrist, the party's over."

He looked over at me. I'd never seen such a wild fanatical look, he spoke, "Well look who's here," He waved the pan at me, "Come and get it."

I figured he had to be on something. I'd soon find out. His kitchen was fairly large. I had enough room to maneuver. I moved toward him. He leaped out at me.

One thing went through my mind, 'Oh thank you Jesus!' He lunged. I side stepped. As he tried to turn I went to work. His right elbow went first. That was the arm holding the pan. It only takes about fifteen pounds of pressure to break an elbow. One second his forearm was pointing west; the next it was pointing east, then it was hanging listlessly. The sound of his crunching bones was like music to my tone deaf ears. He screeched in pain; I used my left foot and finished off his right knee. This was fun! Before he could react I broke both his clavicles. I did a real number on them! I was getting ready to hammer his Adam's apple, maybe break a few ribs.

That's when the State Policeman came in. Oh yeah I had called them on the way over. The policeman yelled at me to stop, and I did. I looked down and watched the sadistic shit eating son-of-a-bitch writhing on the floor. I felt exultant!

Gilchrist was crying, but through his tears he tried to tell the policeman how I'd broken into his house and blah blah blah.

The policeman wasn't listening. By then more policemen had arrived. The first policeman looked at me, "You all right?"

"Yeah I'm fine but my ex-wife needs help, and my kids are all hiding upstairs," we looked down at my ex-wife.

By then Eugenie had her arms wrapped around my legs. She kept mumbling and crying. She was all bruised up. She had the beginnings of a black eye. It looked like he'd punched her in the cheek. She was looking up at me sobbing and crying. At first no one understood a single thing she said, but I started to get it. Between the sobs and incoherent mumbling she was whimpering, "You came... you came for me...Chase you came for me...you're here."

I thought, 'Fuck! Here for her? Well...maybe...partly anyway.'

The second policeman said, "I've called the paramedics. We'll get her to a hospital first. I'll call a second ambulance for him. He looked down at the moaning and crying wife-beater with undisguised disgust.

I went upstairs and found my girls; they raced toward me crying and calling my name.

Sophie was crying, "Oh daddy where have you been?"

Lea started pleading, "Can we go home with you? Please take us home!"

A thought ran through my head, 'Our home was gone.' Then I kissed her, I held her, and I answered, "You betcha!"

My brain rekindled, 'My home was in my arms!'

Maia asked, "What about mom?"

I told her, "They're taking her to the hospital."

Lea, wiping her eyes asked, "Yeah but what about after that?"

Maia added, "We ALL need to be with you daddy,"

She really emphasized the word all, but shit she said daddy. I missed that! I really missed that!

++++++++++

Well that was that. I suppose most people would figure since the bastard was caught he probably went to jail, got his name in the paper for the sick bastard he was, and was then ostracized from the community. No such luck. It's money that talks!

Gilchrist filed a complaint saying I'd broken into his house. Guess what? He won.

Then he filed for divorce. His lawyer came up with all sorts of phony bullshit about how Eugenie was an unfit mother. It wasn't what his lawyer said; it was the way she said it. They twisted everything she ever said all out of context. If she couldn't hold her kids; he was going to at least be able to decide when, where, and how long he could visit. The only way out for Eugenie and my kids was to drop any suggestion about spousal abuse, and to drop any financial claims. In fact before they were finished they had most of the property she'd brought with her into the marriage. My ex-wife had foolishly signed off on some stupid strangely worded prenuptial, much like I once had long before, she ended up lucky to walk away with anything.

I wanted to fight the cocksucker. I really did, but our lawyer sat us down and laid it out. He laid it out in cold blood. They'd made all kinds of shit up about Eugenie. We knew that. But back when Eugenie was divorcing me she and that conniving shit-face dentist had made up all kinds of shit that really hung me out to dry. None of it was true, but it wasn't exactly false either. Our lawyer explained all that old garbage would be brought back up. He reminded us about that old movie Kramer vs. Kramer, and how Meryl Streep's lawyer tore Dustin Hoffman a new ass over the most benign, the most trivial remarks.

Worse, he reminded us all this cost money. We were flat broke. We found out not only was Gilchrist richer than Croesus, but he was using his sister's New York law firm. They could tie us up in court for years. We had to face hard reality; we lived in a rich man's country. Piddling little public school teachers and their stressed out ex-wives didn't amount to squat.

Yeah the wife-beater won in court. Shit! We never even went to court. About the break-in I had to pay a fine. I even nearly lost my job. They tried, believe me they tried. It didn't matter so much anyway. Affirmative action had finally hit our county. My big chance to become a principal just slipped away. I was a white male; they hired minority females for next three principal's slots. Hell, I heard from an 'old timer' who was still on the inside one of the candidates didn't even go through the normally required interview process. I knew then the train had passed me by.

They got to Eugenie too. She lost her car. She'd sold the mini-van, and he'd let her drive one of his Mercedes. All the money she and I had set aside for the kids' college that she'd won back in our divorce had somehow been misallocated. I wondered who'd managed that. All that money ended up in Gilchrist's pocket.

Yeah the good old boy won. But then maybe he didn't? I knew he wasn't playing golf anymore. There's no way that man will ever swing a club again. And as for tennis, or racket ball, or any pick-up games of basketball, not going to happen, not after the knee treatment I gave him. I wonder sometimes how he manages in the office what with the injuries to his clavicles. Doesn't he have to bend and twist and stretch when he works on a patient? I suppose there's a price to pay for everything. I sure hope he thinks about me sometimes. They tell me he has a special car now. He can't use a regular gas pedal. I feel real bad.

My poor ex-wife ended up in the hospital with a variety of contusions. They weren't so bad. What was really bad was her state of mind. I'd thought she was in trouble when she left; well the mental abuses heaped on her by Gilchrist; one piled upon the other had thoroughly wilted her. She needed more than just TLC; she needed a heavy dose of counseling. The problem was there just wasn't any money. His insurance company finagled a way to drop her. How they did that I'll never know.

After almost a year with the Marque DE Sade Eugenie was a genuine basket case. My mom didn't have any money, her mom was dying from emphysema, and she wasn't married to me anyway. This all happened before the Affordable Health Care Act so even if I did decide to remarry her she'd be coming onto my policy with a basket full of pre-existing conditions.

I don't know much about all that Obama care, don't care much either, but the pre-existing thing could be a big help if I ever decided to remarry her. Tell the truth, if I could get her some mental health care I would remarry her. I mean it wouldn't be macho, but I'm convinced it would be right. Jesus I gave that a lot of thought. She'd told me she was a slut when I married her the first time. I did it then partly because I was afraid if I didn't it might get back to my family. I have three girls now; what if I was able to get her some care but didn't and my girls found out? What kind of role model would I look like then?

Once it was over she tried to get her old job back, but she'd quit in such a self-righteous huff they weren't interested. They'd hired a replacement, but they promised to keep her in mind; it was the old 'don't call us we'll call you.' Then someone in her office had spread the word on the street about her having an attitude so poor Eugenie was lucky when she got a part time job at a warehouse typing invoices. I thought at least it was better than Walmart until I stopped in. The place was filthy; dust and debris everywhere ruining the last of her nice clothes and stifling her ability to breathe. Shit, her mom had died of emphysema! I didn't know if that kind of thing had any hereditary significance, but I sure didn't want my kids' mom to die like that.

She found a small one bedroom apartment; it was much too small for the kids, and since she'd sold the house right after our divorce the only place for the kids was with me and my mom. So we took them in. I was glad of it too.

So there was poor Eugenie; alone, holding a piss poor job, no car, no spare money, and the kids were with me. I know back in the day we'd taken her granted; I guess we just figured she'd always be there. I took the girls over to see her every night. Sometimes I stayed, but usually I left them alone. For Christ's sake she was their mom. I think they were the only thing that was keeping her going.

It couldn't go on. Damn, it upset me to see her the way she looked. I mean the flippant spritely young coquette I'd married was gone. In her place was a tired old woman in worn out clothes in need of a good dye job with glasses that needed to be seriously upgraded.

She always was near sighted as hell; she couldn't wear contacts; now she sat in a dingy dirty old chair in a roach infested apartment with Lea's report card two inches from her nose trying decipher whether the kid got an A of a B in Language Arts. I swear it wrung me out!

Another thing, back when things had been good I used to take great delight in pissing her off by frazzling up her carefully done up hair with my fingers; it was usually a prelude to a great session in bed. I looked at her hair now and it broke my heart. Hair grows about a half an inch a month. There she was leaning over to read Lea's report and all I saw was a heap of lank ratty looking dark brown hair with an inch of grey at the roots.

I recall that night when she was looking at the report cards how I took my hand and cupped the back of her head. My fingertips touched the back of her right ear. I traced the tip of my index finger up and down the back of her neck and watched as she shivered. I'd given her chills.

Without taking her eyes off the report card she reached back and touched my hand with her fingers. She looked up, said something nice about the report card, then she sort of sighed, gazed off with this far away expression and then gave me a hint of a soft smile. I felt like she could've used a hug. I could've used one too. It was stupid of me I know.

One night after me and the girls got back from Eugenie's Maia and I had a talk, or more accurately Maia talked to me.

She started, "Daddy we can't just leave her there. She's our mom, and you loved her once. I think you still do."

I gulped and answered, "I know, but I don't know what else to do."

Maia had the answer. The kid was growing up; she always had answers, "She could come and live with us. She needs to have a home daddy. We girls, we need her. And I know you won't admit it, but I think you need her too. Besides, if she was with us we could look after her."

Well Maia had me. I'd learned to make it without Eugenie, but now I knew I couldn't leave her out there by herself. Oh part of me wanted to just let her rot, but a bigger part knew I couldn't do it. I just couldn't do it. Fuck! She had it coming, but I just couldn't do it!

The girls and I went over one night; we got to her place before she got back from work. She had to walk back and forth to work so she was always tired. Plus with the depression all she wanted to do was sleep. We packed up everything she owned and loaded the stuff, such as it was, in my Malibu. When she got there we didn't let her go inside. We marched her over to my car and the three girls, me, and Eugenie, with all her stuff drove over to my mother's. How we got everybody and all the stuff in the car I'll never know.

OK, call me a sap. Call me a wimp, but I wasn't married to her. She was just my kids' mom, and she needed to be taken care of. We moved her in, and set her up in the living room. My mom had one bedroom. I had another, and the three girls all shared the third. It was an awful arrangement, but it was the best we could do. At least the girls had a queen sized bed. I mean all our stuff, the lawn mowers the flower beds she'd worked so hard on, the furniture, hell the house; it was all long gone, a distant memory.