Serie Noire 02

Blood was gushing from his head and he fell down hard on the floor. He didn't move. I was scarred that I might have killed him. I grabbed the phone and called 911. It took the cops 30 fucking minutes to get there.

Dave was a creep after all! The last I heard, in court, he was doing three years in jail for his molestation of my child. The only comment I had from Tanya was the classic "I told you so!"

I was already very low in my children's esteem. I knew they loved me, but I also knew that they saw it as another proof that I was an unworthy mother.

It took me another three years before I decided to give another man a chance. Sure, I had a few one-night stands, but never at my place. Then I started to date Bob. I met him through some friends. We dated for a year, never going to my apartment, never introducing him to my kids. They knew I was dating a man but nothing was said till the day I finally invited him home.

The next day, Tanya took off with her boyfriend. She barely kept in touch and mostly talked with Mike and Michelle. Over the years, the phone calls stopped, and the only news I could get from her were through my two youngest.

And it was all for nothing because my fling with Bob ended when I learned he was married.

Keeping a sharp eye on my two remaining kids, I did date a few more men over the next few years, but nothing serious. Always a mean to an end: relieving my sexual needs!

Two years later, I started something more serious with a divorced man, Steve. He was a bit evasive about his divorce but I assumed that he had been cheating on his wife, which ended-up to be half the story.

One evening, we were at the apartment. Michelle was spending the night with some friends. We have been drinking quite a lot. We were seriously petting on the couch while a late night show was playing. OK, I had his cock way down my throat! Then I heard the keys in the front door lock.

"Shit!" I said. "Mike is back. Let's move to the bedroom!"

"No way!" said Steve. "We were here first and the show is not over yet. The kid can crash in the other bedroom."

I got up and told him: "Come on Steve, put your cock back in your pants before he comes in and let's go to the bedroom".

Then Mike was at the door. He sure wasn't please to see us there, on his bed. Hoping to give us time to move, he went to the kitchen. Mike is very like his father, a bit introverted, shy, and a constant dreamer. I wasn't surprised that he avoided the awkward situation. I am sure he would give me time to move to the bedroom.

"Come on! We are on Mike's bed," I said while pulling Steve to help him out of the couch. He got up then pushed me away from him.

"Fuck him! Let him sleep elsewhere!"

Again I pulled Steve arm. "No! It's his bed. Let's go. I'll finish you off in the bedroom."

Then I understood the evasiveness of Steve about his divorce.

"I said no bitch!" he said, then his fist connected straight with my face, twice - once on the nose, breaking it, then a second time on the side of the head. I went down straight to the floor, my head ringing, loosing all senses of up and down.

When I regained some consciousness, it took me a while to make sense of my surrounding. I had blood running down my nose non stop. And there was Steve, himself crouched on the floor, trying to avoid my iron frying pan that Mike was repeatedly hammering down on him. I saw it clearly when it did connect with Steve's head. He went down for the count. But Mike was still swinging. I gathered as much strength as I could and stopped Mike.

"It's alright now baby! Stop!" I said, gripping his swinging arm.

I called the cops. They were rather rough with Mike. I pleaded with them. I tried to explain that they shouldn't be handling him like a criminal. They finally eased up on him after they looked at Steve's rap sheet in regard of assault on women - his ex-wife and a few girlfriends. They took Steve away and I was pleased afterward to see that one cop gently patted Mike on his shoulder.

"You did good by your Mom, kid! Real good."

I had a few lovers after that, but none of them at my place. But it was too late already to mend the rift between the kids and me.

Within three years, Mike and Michelle left me. It was not such a sour separation as with Cassandra and Tanya, but they left me alone anyway. Soon, I was looking for a smaller and cheaper apartment. I finally found this cockroach filled lousy apartment, one I still can barely afford on my waitress salary.

God damned you George! Are you happy now!

I turned off the tube then took the Christmas card back to the living room. The CD player had stopped. I hesitated to put it back on. My eyes met the only picture I still kept, a picture of George with the kids, taken on Christmas, a few months before his death. It was the last picture of him.

And every night I wait for George to appear. After all, didn't he say he would see me in Hell.

In this second installment of Serie Noire, I played with a very common consequence of a broken marriage. Every year, over 30 000 Americans commit suicide. More than half used a firearm. There is more suicide than there is homicide. 90% of all suicides involve some kind of mental illness and the most common is depression. Among the life experiences causing depression are divorce, separation, or breakup of a relationship as well as losing custody of children, or feeling that a child custody decision is not fair, loss of hope.