Life & Times Series, Book 3

Part 1

Day 231

I know from jump people are going to think they have me all figured out before they read this. I know I haven't done very much to make a name for myself, and my reputation alludes me greatly. I can't even be mad--I did it to myself. From day one when I met Irene and wasn't honest with her, and did nothing to ever establish an honest relationship. I've never felt such remorse as I do now, and yeah, I admit it, it's because my life has turned to shit. Ever since I left Cameron at Irene's place, it's like I've been living under a storm cloud and the rain won't.let.up. Shit, I'm writing this from my jail cell as we speak. But like I said, I have no one to blame but myself.

I'm stuck. I have nowhere else to turn but this notebook. Only God knows when I might see an alleged loved one ever again. God knows Nicolette sure as hell doesn't want to see me. I played puppet master to that marionette more times than I even care to imagine. I actually began to feel sorry for her after a while. No one should be that damn dense that a sleaze like me can play that many games for so long, and it takes me slugging her with a bat before she finally bolts. Maybe I wanted to give her a reason to leave me alone. Either that, or I am fuckin' crazy and have a serious anger problem.

It's also ironic that when she called the cops on me, I felt more remorse for leaving my son with my ex-girlfriend than I did for hitting his mother with a bat. Maybe because I never cared about Nicolette, but I guess none of that matters now. I'd been warned as a kid for laying around with women I didn't care about, and now here I was paying the ultimate price for being hard-headed as I had a kid out in the world with someone who pissed me off to the fullest. Once again, none of this matters now. I won't be seeing my son or his mother ever again. She'll probably be put in protective custody and only God knows what Irene and Justin did with Cameron. If they gave him up, I just hope he gets a good home. He deserves it. An abuser with anger issues and his enabler does not a good home make.

Prologue

Nothing like August heat in Queens. I jogged back to my house in Flushing that I shared with my husband, Justin, and sweat poured so hard down my face that it stung my eyes. My blue racerback tank clung to me like saran wrap, and I panted to catch my breath in between gallops of water from my water bottle. Still moving my legs, I took a moment to check the mailbox. We had a bit of stack today, probably mostly bills and junk mail. I made a mental note to sort through it once I got inside. I sighed heavily as a pounded the wooden stairs, eagerly awaiting to get there and hop in the shower so I could collapse on the couch. I jogged down the hallway to our bedroom, unsure if I was still in running mode or just avoiding the inevitable stiffening of the muscles. Once inside, I threw my iPhone and keys onto the dresser and did my best to stretch myself before stripping completely. The house was quiet with Justin at work and Cameron at the babysitter's. Thank God, because I didn't feel much like conversation right now. I was sweaty and gross, and just wanted to be sweaty and gross alone.

The shower felt delicious. There is nothing like a post-workout shower, especially on a day as hot as this one. I had the air conditioning on blast through the entire house and still felt sweaty after I got out of the bathroom. I let myself air-dry, somewhat nervous I might catch a cold. I shuffled to the bedroom like an old lady, water droplets and strands of wet hair slapping my face with each step. I used the towel to dry my hair and flopped onto the bed, still nude. It felt good to just be. For the first time in a long time in my life, I was at peace with things, at peace with life. I'd made peace with losing my parents, I'd forgiven Edwin for pawning his son off on us, and I felt good inside. No more hang ups about if I was good enough or valuable enough for anyone. Justin and I were in a place that was so beautiful and so balanced that our marriage was feeling natural, not forced like past relationships I'd been in, and we'd had a great wedding. I had a good job, a great guy, a cute "son", and all was good. I finally was getting my comeuppance.