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When I was 16 I was a bit of a fuck up, I'll admit it. I hung with the wrong crowd and generally behaved in a manner of which I am not proud. In the course of my shenanigans I met a girl or, depending on how you'd like to define terms, a woman. When I met her she was 25, 8 1/2 years my senior and already the mother of a 3 year old girl.
Being the obnoxious young buck that I was, I pursued her for a sexual relationship. At first, though she had no moral objection to partying with me and buying cigarettes and alcohol, she said that I was 'too young' to be a romantic or physical partner for her. This did not last long and before my 17th birthday we were involved in a sexual relationship.
It did not take long for me to figure out that she was a little left of center, psychologically, but I was a thickheaded teenager bent on sexual conquest. I continued with our sexual escapades despite the red flags thrown up left and right with her erratic behavior. This proved to be a fateful decision.
In the April of my 17th year the young lady became pregnant. She had been living with a mutual friend when we met, subsequently moved in with her parents but been kicked out, and a couple months before she conceived I asked my mother if she could move in with us. Tres trailer, I know.
It was when she moved in that things got really interesting. She became violent. She would rant about things that often made no sense or were completely fabricated, often punching, slapping, kicking and throwing objects when she got too worked up. It always seemed to happen at night, just when I was trying to go to sleep. If I tried to leave the bedroom and sleep on the couch she would follow me and carry on for unbelievably long periods of time without pause until she inevitably blew up and resorted to her fists. Or her feet. Or a nearby phone. She wasn't picky. Aside from being violent, she was a really shitty mom-to-be, smoking marijuana and cigarettes and drinking vodka on occasion.
I tolerated her abuse because she was pregnant with my child. On one solitary occasion, after she had punched me in the mouth, I finally called police. When officers arrived I asked that they remove her from the residence and take her to a hotel, for which I was glad to pay. They informed me that this was impossible. In cases of domestic violence they would be required by law to arrest her and press charges if I confirmed my allegation. Not wanting my unborn child to be in jail, I retracted my earlier statement and continued on tolerating her abusive and insane behavior. After my son was born it only got worse. She remained violent and would disappear for long stretches of time. Sometimes she was not at work when she said that was where she was going, sometimes she would even leave in her uniform only to have her boss call 45 minutes later asking where she was. She often came home drunk and high in the early hours of the morning, never before midnight. She began spending her free time with the meth dealers down the street. When I wasn't at work I was at home with my infant son and her 4 year old daughter. I wondered if I was just going to live this way forever until my son was about 3 months old. It was at this time that she punched me in the back of the head without any warning (something she had become fond of doing) and I spun around in shock. Preventing a flurry of further blows, I crossed her arms over her chest and held them there, finally bursting, "Sooner or later I'm going to turn around and hit you back simply because I don't know its you! Are you trying to make me hit you?!"
"YES" she answered, "That's EXACTLY what I'm trying to make you do!"
Well, I'm not a god damn woman beater. My father raised me to believe that a man doesn't lift his hand at a woman and that's the end of the discussion. I was not about to let this lunatic turn me into something I despised. Despite the fact that she had full physical and legal custody (automatically given to unwed mothers in my state), I threw her out on her ass and turned to my father for help financing an attorney. I sure as hell wasn't going to leave my son to chance with her.
While she bounced around, collecting welfare and getting kicked out of hotel after hotel for drug use and bizarre disturbances, I conferred with a lawyer. He told me that my best bet was to get anything and everything I could out of mediation because if it went before a judge I wasn't likely to get a damn thing except my paycheck garnished. I bluffed my ass off in mediation and managed to leave with joint legal and physical. I would pick him up on my way home from work and drop him off just before I went to bed. I would keep him for my days off and the preceding night.
We found a TINY apartment a few blocks from where she was shacking up with a colossal loser of a man-child. I mean, you couldn't walk straight into the living room/kitchen from outside. Going in the front door, you had to sidestep the refrigerator. Things were tight but I had my son and they were the happiest days of my life. I had long since stopped smoking weed, now I quit drinking and smoking and spent every free moment playing with and reading to my boy. Before he could speak 2 dozen words he had 3 dozen books memorized. I would read and he would turn the pages, knowing the order by heart.
Dropping him off was torture. As soon as we pulled up to his mother's apartment he begin to whimper, growing to a full blown wail by the time we reached her door. Five days a week I had to physically pry his arms from my neck as he howled and hand him to her state-paid unlicensed baby-sitter (she was rarely home). I remember choking back tears as a 40-something cholo who lived across the patio from her watched me drop off my anguished son and murmured, in a knowing tone, "Breaks your fucking heart, doesn't it?"
When my son was about 15 months old, his mother found a brand new loser. This one a 42 year old waiter at Denny's whom she met through the rave crowd she ran with. This guy had major issues and had always wanted a family, he was more than happy to watch her kids for her. One day I came to pick him up and discovered that her apartment was empty. After 3 days of searching, I found out from my grandmother that she had moved to a different city with my child and her new beau. My attorney told me that, if I was really lucky, I could get a judge to order visitation and for her to do half the driving. Evidently, my half of the custody didn't mean as much as hers.
For almost 5 years I worked as much as I could and took alternating weekends, or whatever she would give me, until I got the break I had been waiting for. Her 42 year old waiter had been convicted of beating her while the kids were upstairs listening, she had moved back in with her parents but was fighting with them constantly and wanted to move in with her hew boyfriend, some pot-headed 19 year old kid. She realized that without an older boyfriend or her parents she was actually going to have to gasp... be a parent! Well, that sure as shit wasn't going to happen. By this time I had a nice desk job in an upper middle class town and was managing some property on the side. Things were going fairly well on my end. I fed her an out, telling her that it he could have a much better school district if he came to live with me etc. An out was all she needed, she signed over full physical and legal custody faster than the back of her welfare check.
Fast forward a year, she hooks back up with the Denny's waiter and he gets her pregnant with her 3rd child by a 3rd father. He decides that he wants 'his family' whole and insists that she fight to get my son back. The courts, in their infinite wisdom and impartiality, gave her every weekend except the first of the month and half of the summer break. Not too terrible, right?
My son's half sister wasn't 7 months old before Mr Denny's discovers that his precious fiance is pimping herself across the web and to pretty much anyone filthy enough to stoop to her physical level. Shocking, right? She seemed like such an angel. So she moves back in with her parents, into their 2 bedroom trailer in a 55+ community, and resumes her partying ways while her parents do what they've always done and cram Southern Baptist nonsense into the kids' heads while she's out getting loaded and layed. Until my second big break.
It eventually comes to pass that she doesn't take our son to school on a Monday following her weekend. She says he is sick, I say I'll come get him. She says she isn't home, she'll take him to school Tuesday. In the interest of avoiding conflict, I write it down and let it go. I show up at school on Tuesday and her parents call me to say they have him. They couldn't bring him to school for some nebulous reason and his mom is nowhere to be found. My girlfriend discovers, after I was tipped off by Mr Denny's, that my son missed school because his mom took the car and got herself arrested for DUI, driving on a suspended license, possession of marijuana and FELONY POSSESSION OF METHAMPHETAMINE. Needless to say, I hire yet another lawyer and file motions for an emergency custody order granting her no visitation, which is signed and ordered.
Coming close to the conclusion, bear with me.
We had a custody hearing wednesday. My attorney suggested that we offer her 2 hours of visitation, every other week, supervised by my father, a retired senior law enforcement official, to demonstrate that we can be reasonable. The judge rejected my dad as the supervisor, basically because my son's mother doesn't like him. She (the judge) appointed her (mother) parents supervisors. Called it a "compromise". A compromise? She's a 35 year old, unemployed, homeless junkie who has 3 kids by 3 father, one of whom was a minor, recently married a total stranger she found on the internet (Oh, yeah, I left that part out) and is under indictment on felony drug charges. Why the fuck do I have to compromise?!