It Started Like This

I staggered into the bathroom: and before I get there a cup of coffee magically appears in my hand – by magic I mean by my wife, Alison. I close the bathroom door with the full knowledge that I am not going to have much time, but I just cannot seem to move today. I look into the mirror and what stares back at me is a shaggy mountain man. I haven’t cut my hair in almost a year and then only a trim, presently it is shagging out of its rubber band which I put in yesterday. My beard is in disparate need of some grooming, but I haven’t had time. Even with clipper in the drawer by my left knee. It is too much.

I had a life that most would envy. Graduated top of my class from Boston College with a degree in business, totally paid for by mom and dad. Married my college sweet heart less than a year later. We were going places. I had a job with a leading drug company and became top salesman: with a car, expense account and indecently priced suits. I did it all while working on my master’s degree in finance. I changed jobs keeping my eye on the goal, which was top management – more money.

This new company made microchips. Well, they designed a microchip, which were made in Malaysia. I made it to a position which I managed managers, but I still had managers above me. The company was losing money like a bi-polar woman on a shopping high and we were all bracing for the crash. So, I came up with a money saving way to streamline the company. I figured out how to run it more efficiently. The problem – to many chiefs and not enough Indians the company loved it. I was a hero. Saved millions of dollars and profits went through the roof – and I streamlined myself out of a job.

Meanwhile Alison, my rock, had taken a job right out of college -she had a lot student loans. She worked for a not-for-profit group doing not-for-profit things. (That is the correct term because they are allowed to make a profit and someone should tell them that.) She didn’t make much money, but she was happy. That was all that mattered to me. Then came children. First Emily and then Mellissa, the plan had two more down the road. This was the start. She was going to take care of the home and hearth, volunteer at the children’s schools, the local food bank and be my cheering squad. I was going to make the money. Me-slay dragons and bring home the bacon. Her-clean the cave and raise the kids.

But then life happened.

It started when I lost my job, but I got a sweet severance package of six months’ pay and health insurance which they paid half of – with two kids that was important. Keeping my job would have been better, but I was counting my blessing and all that jazz. I took a moment to breath, enjoy the kids – most of the time. The girl’s constant ‘War of the Purple Tea Cup’ finally did me in. I suggested we need to invest in a second purple tea cup.

Alison said, “No. They need to learn”

“What?” I asked, “How to argue?”

“No.” She said, “To share, to compromise and to communicate.”

I let them learn for over a week until one day I snapped. I stormed into their bedroom and grabbed the offending item from the waring Israelites and Muslims of our household. Stomped to the kitchen and threw it into the garbage disposal. The flip of that switch – I felt relief. Then I turned around and saw the three women I share a house with glaring at me. Two with a look of horror, the other with shock and a look that shifted between I’m going to sleep on the couch tonight and hero worship. This single event turned me into a job seeking machine.

Finding another job proved futile, because of the tanked economy. After six months of unemployment- reality hit. Alison and I were no longer living the plan. We were just trying to live. Thankfully Alison talked me into a smaller house than I thought we should own, back before children. Then refused to move once we started our family. Did I tell you she is a saver? Did I tell you she is my rock? She turned out to be our family’s salvation. People will tell you that money isn’t important, but those people have jobs.

Then Alison’s father had a heart attack and it was a mixed blessing. Heart attack, bad – Alison gets a job with benne’s, good. Even though I am the one with a degree in business, he would only let Alison help him with his lawn and garden store. So, I coached Alison through the books on the phone and at night after the kids went to bed. She was exhausted, out of her element and missed the girls. I on the other hand when not taking care of the kids or helping Alison – was looking for a job and an identity. I felt like I was failing my family.

After four hundred and ninety-one days I got a job: two thousand and five miles away.

Alison and I looked at each other that night, over the dirty dishes, on the table, in silence. Not soothing as it normally would have been. The darkness that surrounded the bright kitchen made us feel isolated.

This would put us back onto our plan. I would be going out and bringing back the bacon. I would have value. Alison could be home with the girls again, where she wanted to be. I would however be moving my family and leaving everything we loved behind to a place where we had never been – New Mexico. With low rain fall and lots of sand and it was the complete opposite to New Hampshire.

She stated, “The change will be good.” She paused and I heard the sink drip. “Dad is better.”

I said, “It is an opportunity of a life-time.”

She said, “I told you I would follow you wherever you wanted to go.” I heard her sigh as she got up to start the dishes. I felt the pull of defeat.

I said, “It will put us back on track for the plan.” I bring over the dishes.

“We should be happy.” She said as she scrapes the plates.

“It will be an adventure.” I said and she turned on the garbage disposal.

“This was what we wanted. What we needed.” She said as the dishpan filled with warm sudsy water.

“I’ll dry.” I said and picked up the towel.

I took the job.

Two weeks later I was heading to the airport. The girls were crying. Alison was grim. ‘But a man’s gotta to do what a man’s gotta to do.’ The Duke’s quotes were going to get me through this, because nothing else seemed to be working. As my plane took off and I watched Boston become a miniature version of itself – The Duke came to my rescue once again, ‘what doesn’t kill you, makes you strong. I put all of John Wayne’s movies on my Netflix que – I needed him.

While I was gone Alison got the house ready for sale, took care of the girls and still helped her father – who refused to hire anyone. I coached her through the phone at night if she needed it and between faxes and emails during the day. I came home every other weekend and they came out once a month. I watched the girls change and grow before my eyes thanks to Face-Time. I hated the heat. I was told it was not bad because it was a dry heat – news flash: hot is hot. Slowly we settled into a dissatisfying routine that was going to go on for longer than we wanted. The house was going to take time to sell. The economy sucked and so did my life.

I made friends and missed the girls. Alison missed her me time. I recommended she start to have a girl’s night, which turned out great for me. My reserved, modest wife would come home drunk and horny and we would have phone sex, or Face-Time sex if she wasn’t too smashed to work the app. Things would get better we kept telling each other, we were getting back to the plan.

Then my mother died.

I flew back home. My sister got there first and took over the arrangements. The funeral happened three days later and she told me she would send out any thank you notes– then she left. I was responsible for Dad. That is what she told me, ‘I took care of Mom, now you take care of Dad.’ Like I was to bring him to the pound or find him a new home. Did I tell you my father was an ass? Neither one of us got along with him or each other for that matter. Only proof the three of us were related was our auburn hair and our drive for success.

I took two weeks off from work to settle my mother’s minor affairs that my sister couldn’t handle from Chicago. I’m really trying to figure out what to do with my dad – that was major. I sat there in my parent’s driveway, in front of a double wide mobile home. The irony was not lost on me. My father dragged us from California to New York and to some really Podunk towns in-between. We lived in McMansions with a minimum of two full baths and the most updated kitchens. Now, after making all that money he retired, and my mother bought a double wide in Green Acres Park in Webster New Hampshire – to be close to grandchildren. She told him she lived his way for the past thirty-five years and now they were going to live her way.

The stress of life started getting to me and I began doing something I gave up when I met Alison – swearing. It was Alison’s steadfast rules. Every woman has one and that was hers. My mom, it was no shoes in the house. It was only in my head right now, but it would be only a matter of time before it started coming out of my mouth. I was not happy. I wanted my family back, my mom back and someone else to deal with my dad and his health issues. Alison said she would do it. Even though I was tempted, I couldn’t do that to her. She was my rock and dealing with Dad would send her over the edge. Then I would need to become her rock. I am not a good rock.

It took me several minutes of mediation and prayer to a Deity that I didn’t believe in – I wanted to hedge my bets. I walked into his home, took off my shoes then called for him. Silence. I found him in the bedroom. He was holding their wedding picture. Mom had a blue ‘Jackie-O’ suite going on and Dad looked very ‘Men in Black’ with the dark suit and sunglasses. They looked happy. It is one of the few family pictures of my dad where he didn’t look constipated.

Then I see the tears.

My dad never cried. His parents died when I was twelve in a car crash – nothing. His brother died in Afghanistan – the Bush Senior’s war. Nothing when he talked about his only brother and by the stories they were close. I don’t know what to do. I want to run. Should I call Alison? Touch him? Shit. Shit. Shit.

I sat down beside him, close but not touching. Touching was my mom’s thing. “Dad?” I said. He said nothing. I reach out. Then pulled away. Screwed up my courage and cautiously put my hand on his shoulder. I feel him shaking. Then he said, “I thought I was right. The money, the job and the power made me a man.” He took in a breath that shook the bed. “A good man provides the best of everything for his family.” He did do that. He gave us the best money could buy – everything from toothbrushes to educations. I believed it – that is why we had the plan. “She always said a job was worth one point in life, but memories with family will win the game.”

My mom was our glue. She organized every family event, holiday and vacation. I remember her quoting every eighty’s Mormon commercial that she had ever seen. One she’d say was “Listening is the beginning of understanding” that is what I did. Dad talk about all the things he missed, thing I forgot or didn’t even remembered.

I thought of the Facetime chats with the girls. I was there when Mellissa got her first bike but watched on video when she finally learned how to ride it. My father-in-law taught her. I was on the tenth floor of a fifteen-floor building in a large office with a window and a view. It was a view slowly being blocked by another building going up, but a view. My father’s words then suddenly hit me, “I am sorry for all I missed.” I realized I had not missed him.

That is when I saw the light.

I went straight to Alison’s dad’s business, the Great Green Growers. It was a landscaping store on the cusp of becoming bigger, but her dad said that he didn’t want to lose control of quality. He may be a half-ass business man, but he was a first-rate family man. Alison was in the back struggling over books – which were so messed up only a clairvoyant with an investigative accounting degree would understand.

“Coffee break” I said. I grabbed her hand and dragged her past neatly stacked piles of mulch and garden tools. We passed a shocked sales clerk and my confused father-in-law and took her out for coffee. I told her my epiphany. I confessed that I was miserable at my job. She owned up to enjoying working at the store but hated and did not understand the books – nor wanted to.

We agreed we needed a new plan. Only two things were required: to be together and to spend more time with the kids. One call to her father and then of course two panicked calls back from him. Two hours, six cups of coffee and three chocolate frosted donuts later we sketched a new out on a napkin in eye liner, which hangs framed in our bedroom. Neither one of us were completely happy with it, but that is compromise. We are however for the first time excited about the adventure ahead.

The new plan: Alison – brings home the bacon and spreads fertilizer. Me – take care of the home and hearth. I will also do the books and payroll, which if I get them fixed will only take a couple hours a week – at most. I quit my job and became a househusband, a stay at home dad, and every morning I stand in front of the mirror and tell myself that there is more to being a man than making money, some mornings I wish it wasn’t true.

This is one of those mornings because Emily our oldest started banging on the bathroom door with the flat of her hand. It echoed like a gong. “Dad! Ebon is licking my homework.”

Our youngest has struck again.