The Long, Broken Road

Every broken heart are like Northern stars for those who travel the broken road. I might be paraphrasing Rascal Flatts, but that's what was going through my head as I got back out on the open highway. I was lost and needed direction. I am where I am today due to the many times that my heart was broken. And now, it would seem that my world is in turmoil yet again because the main culprit for these tragedies is back. I needed closure. In prison, there was no rational thought of why it happened. I believe most of my thoughts centered around 'Die, bitch!' And then when I wasn't allowed to see my girls, I believe that thought changed into 'Die, you fucking bitch!'

I'm pretty sure that a psychiatrist would not view that as constructive progression towards healing. The guitar playing transferred my energies, helped me find a calm and inner peace. But it was nothing more than a Band-Aid. The raging beast of hate and destruction still lurked beneath the surface, just waiting for the next 'Doug' to happen. I let go of my hate. Perhaps it was time to follow this broken road back to its source.

But first, I had to make a phone call. I looked at my phone and noticed I missed a call from my parole officer. I had not spoken to him for a couple of years now. I do find it strange that the old man told me to go speak to my parole officer, and out of the blue, he called my phone. He must have called 911 and reported me to the police. I'll listen to that voice mail message after I take care of a couple of things. Hopefully, I don't get arrested until then.

Brette's voice struggled with slumber as she answered the phone, "Hello?"

"I promised you an Open Mic day. You better get on it."

Past that, I really have no idea what she said. I think she was having conversations with the neighbor's dogs. The high pitched squealing and whatever else, I think dogs would have been the only creatures on this planet that could have comprehended her statements. On the bright side, she was awake.

"You better call Bear, too. We'll probably need his fiddle, depending on what songs you want to play."

I'm not sure if she heard me. Still, I figured I better put that bug in her ear. The girl is much too impulsive. She loves to fly by the seat of her pants, but there are times when proper planning is needed to have success. Alabama wisely warned all country singers that if they wanted to play in Texas, they had to have a fiddle in the band and it was sage advice. I'm pretty sure that Austin could be interchanged with Nashville.

The next errand, if you will, revolved around dealing with the nine hundred pound gorilla that's been lording over me ever since she came down here to tell me about Abby. Fortunately, I knew where she was staying from eavesdropping on her conversation with Brette. And Brette certainly didn't need to know that I was going to see Melanie. This wasn't about her, though. She would have to get over herself. Besides, I made her happy by offering up the Open Mic night. I'm not a complete fool.

Inside the hotel, I had the front desk ring Melanie to let her know that I was here. Originally, I just wanted them to tell me the room number, but apparently, it wasn't policy to give out that information. So much for the element of surprise, like she had on me, but this was not about having the upper hand. Or at least, that's what I told myself. Things needed to be discussed as two rational adults. It's not a game of one-upmanship. Though if we are talking tit for tat, she does have a great pair of tits and I have my tats. Wait, I really need to focus on the matter at hand.

Her answering the door in just a terry cloth robe did not help my concentration and focus any. She let me in, though there was concern on her brow. And rightfully so, we had not heard from Abby and she's still missing.

"Have you heard anything?"

I shook my head. All of my contacts and resources are ones that would make Garth Brooks proud. Unless Abby started drowning in whiskey and expecting beer to chase her blues away, they hadn't seen her. But I viewed that as a good thing. If she was seen in those low places, then I'd be really worried.

Her tone turned upbeat as she walked back to get her cell phone. "Allie sent me some pics that Abby took last night." She holds up her phone to show off the images. Before I could get a good look, Melanie continued, "She stopped by the old house, Steve."

I scrolled through the images. Sure enough, the images showed the old house. And it was not just pictures taken from the road, but from the inside of the house as well. Abby focused a lot on her childhood, it would seem. Her bedroom, the spacious living room where they held many slumber parties and the backyard were only a few of the images that she had captured. I didn't know this, but when we had the back patio redone and had fresh concrete put down, Abby and Allie made handprints before the concrete hardened. My eyes teared up, but I was not about to let them fall.

All I could do was croak out the single word question, "Why?"

Melanie cowered as she backed away. I think she picked up on the real meaning to the question, and not that I was questioning why Abby would stop by the old house. She wrapped her arms around herself, perhaps fearful of my reaction.

In her soft, demure tones, she answered, "I felt neglected." She quickly added in a pleading, almost begging manner, "I'm not blaming you. I know it was me who ended the marriage. But please, let me tell you how I felt."

For now, I held the beast at bay. I could tell he wanted to lash out, but I didn't come here for a fight.

My silence must have been her queue to continue. "You were working all the time. Even when you weren't at work, you were on the computer working. I don't fault you for that. I know we had bills to pay, and someone had to do something to make ends meet. I get that. But it still doesn't change the fact that you weren't there. And after spending most of my day dealing with children, I wanted to feel like an adult. I wanted you to make me feel like Melanie the wife, not Melanie the Mommy.

"Unfortunately, the few minutes that I could get from you were spent dealing with adult issues like finances, household chores, and whatever else responsible parents are supposed to do. I'm sure that came across as nagging, and you certainly didn't need that. You were under stress as it was. Still, I went from being Melanie the Mommy to Melanie the Nag, and could never seem to find Melanie the wife or Melanie the woman."

I couldn't hold back, "But you could find it with him?!"

Melanie flinched with the rage and animosity, but she stood her ground. Perhaps she was expecting me to hit her, or maybe she felt like that she needed the lashing, it was hard to say.

"One day, I gave myself a selfish coffee break and stopped by the Bongo Java. It was just relaxing fun people watching all of the students that came into the coffee house. That is when I met Doug. He stood out against all those students, wearing a sharp suit. He was engaging. I felt at ease talking to him, and I got to talk about current events that didn't revolve around Dora the Explorer or the latest gossip of the PTA. He was intelligent, witty, and he paid attention to me."

I'm sure she could see the pain, and how the beast was just boiling beneath the skin.

"He was everything that you used to be before we got married. At first, it was just conversation. But when he said that he'd make it a point to visit the coffee house on a regular basis if it meant seeing me on a regular basis, I felt flattered. I felt like a woman again. Someone desired my company. Someone appreciated me for who I was. I told myself that it was just a friend and harmless conversation. But I would be lying if I said I didn't look forward to those 'coffee house dates'. I found myself dressing up for him. He looked so debonair in his suits, that I felt so underdressed in jeans and a blouse.

"I'll spare the details, but the 'coffee house dates' turned into regular dates. After the first time..." She hesitated. Tears had formed in her eyes as if to express the significance of those words, "... I felt so guilty. I told myself that it was a mistake. I told myself that it was a one-time mistake, and that I would make it up to you. I was going to be the best wife you ever had. But you never had time for me. There were days that I felt like I could walk naked into your study, and you wouldn't notice. I wanted to fuck you so bad, to assuage my guilt. But you were too pre-occupied. It became easier and easier to become Doug's girlfriend than to be your wife."

I growled, "For richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health; in the good times and the bad! Did those words have no meaning?!"

She was crying now, "Yes, God damn it! They meant everything to me! But you were having your affair with that damn computer! You cared more about that damn program than me! I tried to get the girls to distract you, and pull you away from the fucking thing so you could see your daughters grow up! So that you could see that you're supposed to be a father and a husband, too! Yes, I know we needed money. Yes, I know you were working hard to put food on the table and to be a good provider! I know that! But I needed the Steve that I married. I needed the Steve that I loved. When you weren't there, Doug easily stepped in."

She collapsed on her bed, crying into her hands. The beast within me stalked uneasily; however, it didn't strike. Perhaps it was waiting for just the right time; but for now, I was the one that was in control of my emotions. I hated her for what she did.

"Why didn't you say something? I couldn't read your mind. How was I supposed to know that ... he ... was taking my place? He ... wasn't paying the bills. He... wasn't the one who had to listen to how everything I was doing wasn't enough for you!"

"No! Steve, don't think that. You were a great provider. Yes, I think everyone always wants more money despite how much they make. But we weren't robbing Peter to pay Paul. We had a small savings, but we weren't living paycheck to paycheck."

I turned my back to her. I couldn't stand to look at her as I made my next statement, "But he was the better lover. He gave you what you needed to make you feel like a woman."

There was a scoffing laugh. I had heard this many times before, but it was directed towards 'friends' that proclaimed their superiority in whatever they were doing, but she felt they were amateurish at best. Don't get her started on people promoting how cute their babies are, or how wonderful their children are when in actuality, they are far from cute or far from wonderful.

"The fucker couldn't satisfy a blow-up doll."

Ok, I couldn't help myself. That was funny. I let out a laugh, but I didn't let it linger. If anything, I was confused. I looked over my shoulder at her. She wasn't looking at me. She simply embraced herself and stared out the balcony window. After a moment or two, she looked down to her hands. She fidgeted with her wedding ring.

"But it was more than what I was getting at home." She closed her eyes and said to no one in particular, "If I only knew then what I know now, I would have tried harder." Finally, she did turn to face me, "For that, I'm sorry, Steve. I really am. You deserved more. You deserved better." She paused and I could hear the pain in her voice, "I hope that girl, that woman makes you happy. You deserve to be happy."

I decided to be cordial to her, and I sat down next to her. She put a comforting hand on her thigh, and gave a gentle squeeze. "So why did you come all the way down here, Mel? You could have just called."

She put her hand on mine, and looked me in the eye, "Doug wanted nothing to do with Abby. She wasn't his daughter. I was worried sick, and he showed little care. I came down here because I needed someone who had the same worries that I did.

"I wasn't lying when I said that Doug and Abby mixed like oil and water. Abby rebelled against him. They were his step-children, but I think he got more than he bargained for. He was in love with me, and the girls were a part of the package. Unfortunately, he didn't love them. He wanted to send them away to boarding schools to get 'a better education'. When I insisted that they can go to schools in Skokie, he relented but did little to be involved in the process. While Abby rebelled, Allie simply followed in her father's footsteps. If she didn't have her nose in a book, she was on the computer. They both made excuses to go over to friends' houses whenever they could.

"As the fights between Abby and Doug intensified, his love for me started to diminish. He wanted me to rein her in. He wanted me to discipline her. When I refused, he started to see that the girls were more than just 'luggage', but that they were a part of me. His eye started to stray. We'd go out, and he'd be checking out the waitress, or our hostess, or one of the women at the restaurant. It shouldn't have come as any surprise to me. After all, he didn't respect my wedding vows to you, why should I have expected him to respect the wedding vows we made together?"

She looked down to herself, "I started seeing all my flaws. I was a horrible mother for putting my daughters through a divorce and living with a man that didn't care for them like their father. I was a horrible wife for giving up on the man I truly loved. I was a horrible woman because I couldn't keep my current husband from looking at other women. I started working out to lose weight. When it looked like my breasts were sagging, I got them augmented so I could compete with the younger women. If I got divorced to Doug, what was the point? I put my girls through a world of Hell because I couldn't get my shit together. No, I vowed to make it work with Doug.

"I did some degrading things. I started wearing shorter skirts and more daring necklines. I let him treat me like a trophy wife, which is what I think he wanted all along. I even dyed my hair blonde for him. Abby said it makes me look stupid. She's probably right. I started questioning all of my decision making abilities. I relied on him to make me feel better about myself. Abby had the fire that I did not. Deep down inside, I cheered for Abby when she got into those fights with Doug. I wished I could have been her. I wished I would have fought harder, the way she did. I failed once at marriage, I didn't want to fail a second time.

"When she ran away, she escaped the nightmare living with the Harpers had become. I admired her, so I followed suit. I really wanted Allie to come along, but I couldn't tell if I was being responsible or selfish with coming down here. And to be honest, I didn't know what I'd find here. A part of me held out hope that you would still care for Abby, even if..."

She caught herself. She gave my hand another squeeze, "I had no idea you were sending birthday cards and Christmas cards, Steve. Honestly. I let Doug handle all matters of the house. It was his house, after all. I was his trophy wife. If you would like, I would be more than happy to deliver them for you, personally. Well, for Allie at least. Abby can have hers when we find her."

I'm not sure if she needed to get all of this off of her chest, and didn't care that I was silent throughout all of that. However, to hear it from her lips, I had to compile everything that she had said. The beast within me was now unsure of who the true victim was. Sure, I had to face five years in prison and restart my life anew. It sounded like Melanie was in a mental prison. Her visit to Nashville sounded more like parole rather than an admission of freedom. Plus, Allie would still pull her back to Skokie regardless of what happened here. I no longer had the desire to see her suffer. I had no penchant to gloat over her self-imposed misery. She's admitted to making the bed that she now lies in and regrets every minute of it. The man that existed before the Stone Age urged me to say something comforting. The Stone Age Neanderthal in me wanted to do more harm to that asshole, though I had no desire to go back to prison.

"Well, say something," she begged with tears in her eyes.

I didn't know what to say. I simply pulled her into my arms and held onto her. She immediately returned the embrace. Her grip made me believe that she was holding on for dear life. That she was clinging onto me, hoping that I would never let her go. I couldn't guarantee that hope, too much has past. But for now, she needed a strong shoulder, and I could provide that. More importantly, I think my silent embrace said everything that needed to be said. She buried her face in my chest and cried. I cradled her carefully, stroking her hair.

I said in a soft, hushing tone, "We'll find Abby, and everything will be all right."

She readjusted her embrace, tightening her hold on me. I'm pretty sure she didn't want this moment to end. Oddly enough, neither did I. Even though, this is the woman that destroyed my life. I went to prison because of this woman. Oh, shit. I forgot all about that voice mail message from the parole officer. I released my hold on Melanie. She was very disappointed, and looked up at me with sorrowful eyes. She had the look of someone who was afraid that she had done something wrong.

"Hold on, Mel. I forgot about something. I'm not going anywhere."

I got up from the bed and walked towards the door, trying to give myself some privacy between myself and Melanie. She didn't need to be involved with whatever the parole officer had to say. I played back the message.

"Steve, this is Officer Veers. I have a young lady here who wants to say something...

"Hi, Papa. I'm here in town. Can you give –"

My eyes lit up upon hearing Abby talk into my phone, but I cursed up and down as I stared at my phone. My battery died mid-sentence. Curse you, phone gods! Needless to say, it did catch Melanie's attention. The look of concern was upon her face as she got up from the bed and moved towards me. Between hearing Abby's voice, having my phone die, and gazing upon my ex-wife, I was a man torn all to shreds. During our hugging, her robe must have come undone. She was wearing nothing underneath that robe. My God, she was beautiful. Melanie blushed as she looked down at herself, immediately fixing the robe so that it covered her body once more.

I wanted to say "You don't have to fix that on account of me", but it ended up being translated as "Abby left me a message, but my phone died. Can I borrow your phone?"

Melanie's expression lit up a thousand times as well. I loved her smile. She could light up the room with her thousand watt smile. When she was really happy, the curl of her lips would make her eyes twinkle. After such a heart rendering moment, it was good to see her like this. She immediately handed her phone to me.

"She'll think it's me calling her, and she won't pick up."

I offered Melanie one of my know-it-all winks and started texting. I typed only two words to Abby.

• Baby girl?

The phone rang almost instantaneously.

"Papa, is that you?"

I laughed with tears in my eyes. If she was my baby girl, I was her Papa. Not dad, father, or daddy. I was Papa. Like Papa Bear, Momma Bear, and Baby Bear. Melanie leaned her body in close, wrapping her arms around my waist as she listened in on the conversation. I put one arm around her as I replied back, "Yes, Baby Girl. It's me."

The excitement in Abby's voice diminished, "Why are you on mom's phone? Are you in Chicago?"

"No. My phone died, and I'm using your mother's. Didn't you get your mom's messages?"

Now, the disdain came through loud and clear, "I deleted all of them. She's nothing more than a mouth piece for..." She altered her voice to sound more mocking as she said in a sing-song voice, "...Doug."