Saint Walsh

Lisa Kay

Life died when I discovered my husband in bed with my little sister on her prom night. There used to be a day when I was a happy administrator, a delicate soul who still attended church, a hopeful woman looking forward to motherhood, until I came upon that terrifying sight. I remembered my lunch pack crashing to the floor, the left over bits of a Subway spreading on the carpet as I witnessed the two of them rushing to put on their clothes. I, on the other hand, leaned over, like a dummy, to pick the food off the ground. Since then, my world had consisted of just that, picking up fallen pieces, but never really succeeding.

But why bother you with these details---you already sorta knew this.

What you don't know is, shortly after, I met the charming Todd Mulvaney. He romanced me with his equally dark story of wild romances, and for just a brief moment I felt not as alone. He promised me a cut and dry one night stand, one where he would be gone by morning, this went as planned, but something unexpected happened. I got pregnant with my one and only son, Oliver James. And that's when this wild ride officially began.

I didn't want to get back in contact with Todd, but I had no choice, any wealth I had was tied to my dirt bag ex husband, so moving in with Mr. Mulvaney was my only option.

The process of moving in with him being just as I expected--dreadful.

He was beautiful for our night introduction, but when I really got to know him his beauty quickly melted away. The next fifteen years I was in complete distress mode. Let me tell you how this guy had no money: nothing. His father did, but he insisted on not taking any more from him. He had two other black-mixed kids who looked nothing like my perfect baby boy.

The first ten years of our time together we lived in his father's house, a man named Vincent Mulvaney, a man he hardly knew. And as unbearable as that was, our mixed up home situation had nothing on his annoying, transformational, complex history. He had told me a year before he met me his name was something else. Then a year before that he met his real father: Vincent. Then some years before that all his family died in the same month. It was like he was cursed or something. He had the oddest job as a private investigator. Most of the time, he would go around acting as though he was James Bond; leaving then coming back then leaving again. Horrible.

Now that I have completed exposition, I can tell you how we ended in Hollywood city. Oliver's fifteenth birthday had recently passed and Todd approached me to ask if I could take Oliver with me to Phoenix. This worked out perfectly because I was gonna take my son anyway. Then came the catch, (because with Todd there is always a catch), he then basically begged me to take Ronnie and JC, his older kids, as well. Furious as I was, I knew I had to take them because Oliver would have hated me even more if I didn't.

Halfway to Phoenix, I got a call for an even better job in Universal City, California, some place right next to Beverly Hills. It was in that moment I had a huge decision to make. I knew Todd would despise me if I switched to the Hills (for some reason he detested California and never wanted me to take Oliver there.) But I felt my happiness was on the line, and I was already doing him a solid by taking his other rude kids. So to California we headed, I made plans immediately. The children fussed at me, and I didn't care, because it was about damn time that Lisa Kay got what she wanted.

"So don't tell your father." I warned them. "Or I know at least two of you that will be out on the side of the road."

Despite what the kids thought California was wonderful; Beverly Hills a dream, which perfectly described all it would ever be to me; a dream. Todd abandoning his kids was weird, but I couldn't consider him and his problems anymore so I moved to Beverly Hills. The move being just what I needed. As far as it being good for Oliver... not so much. Right when I declared happiness, mayhem struck, and I got a call from the police station.