THANK YOU FOR YOUR RESPONSE, IT'S SO KIND! I DIDN'T KNOW THERE WAS ANOTHER STORY LIKE THIS, SO HOPEFULLY THIS ONE WILL BE DIFFERENT. I DID NOT MEAN TO HAVE THE SAME IDEA WHERE CHRISTIAN IS ANA'S BEST FRIEND'S FATHER, SO I HOPE I HAVEN'T OFFENDED ANYONE. HOPE YOU ENJOY!
IN TOO DEEP
CHAPTER 2
CHRISTIAN POINT OF VIEW
"We need to talk urgently. Call me when you can." This.
This was the message I received on my cell from my wife while in the middle of a meeting. I'd felt my phone, on silent, go off in my pocket, vibrating through my trousers while conversing with the other fellow members of the board around me.
Because I was head CEO, which made me practically boss of my own company, I could afford to slip my hand into my pocket and pull out my phone in front of others without being questioned for it. No one blinked an eye when I did, opening the text from my wife.
It had been the last thing I'd been expecting, to receive a message from her claiming that we needed to talk. I'd heard it as one of those proverbial dreaded four words that any man, married or in a relationship, loathes to hear.
We need to talk...
An ultimate sign that all was not apparently well. Since she'd bothered to send me a text like that with no further explanation, I'd started fretting that it was in regards to our 15 year old daughter at the time; the biggest achievement in my life, first to where I was now, making millions of dollars a year running my own successful telecommunications company.
I'd excused myself to go into the hallway, running my fingers through my hair while hitting the dial button. I could feel a surge of adrenaline, of panic racing within me; I could already hear the words in my head.
Kate's been admitted into a hospital, something happened to her...
Only, apparently I couldn't have been more wrong when she answered on the forth ring.
"Christian, thank you for getting back to me so quickly. I wasn't expecting that." There it was, in her tone of voice. It was the way she spoke to me, something that I hated. It started happening a lot at the time, where she'd speak to me in a somewhat hateful, sarcastic tone of voice. Even then, I still couldn't have anticipated what was happening.
"Well, you said we needed to urgently talk. What's happened? Is Katherine-?"
"Katherine's fine," she spoke over me. I let out the breath I hadn't known I'd been holding in. "This isn't about Kate at all."
"Then what's this about?"
I could hear another man in the background then. Things had been rocky between us for some while. As my hours had increased at work, as well as travelling away from home, I hadn't been able to be there as much as I could. Then one night, after catching a late night flight back home, she'd acted colder, distant. She wouldn't speak to me like she usually did, and I had no idea why. I'd ended up sleeping on the couch after she'd told me about these dinners she'd apparently had with an old friend- something I was assuming she'd made up to get back at me, to punish me over being away due to business and work.
I'd noticed she'd started treating me differently, always with disdain, with sarcasm. Nothing I had ever done during that time had seemed enough for her. I was trying and trying, and yet, she was making it hard.
"I want a divorce. I've been in denial about it for a long time, but now, I realize it's not healthy for me to try keep it in anymore. I need to be honest."
A divorce? "Wait, what?"
"I don't love you anymore. Really, I don't think I have felt love for you for a while now."
She may as well have kicked me in the balls in the middle of my staff. All the air seemed to leave my lungs, I felt as though I'd become paralyzed. I wasn't even so sure I had heard her right.
"I think I've misheard you," I muttered into the phone, leaning against the wall. I peered through the glass into the meeting room, noticing everyone looking at me. They were all waiting, and I wondered then what my face looked like to them. "Did you say you want-"
"- A divorce, Christian," she confirmed, in that cold, ugly voice she'd always addressed me with lately. "I've met someone."
Met someone?
Met someone... The phrase rang inside my head over and over, like an annoying song. I felt like beating the shit out of someone then, but at the same time, denial and skepticism acted as my self-preservation. Surely this was another bullshit way of her getting back at me for not being at home as often as she'd liked? How could there possibly be someone else?
"It's been happening for a while now," she continued, though I wasn't sure whether she was just trying to rub more salt into my wounds. "You don't know him, but he-"
I really didn't want any details. "-Look," I began, trying to speak as calm and collected as humanly possible. I brought up my hand to pinch the bridge of my nose with my index finger and thumb. My eyes caught onto the thin gold wedding band on my finger; the ring I'd worn devotedly since we first got married years ago ever since she announced her pregnancy. Getting married at 18, it was the logical step for the pair of us. "I understand you're still mad at me due to my work hours picking up and not being home as much as I usually am, but you and Kate are-"
My whole entire fucking world, I was about to say. But she started again.
"-Let's not beat around the bush here, Christian. We're just not working out, and surely, you've noticed that for a while now? We keep making each other miserable."
The only thing I'd noticed was how colder she had gotten towards me. I'd sensed it for a while now. She was clearly the miserable one, not me.
She'd began to feel like a stranger whenever I came home. Our sex life had fizzled out, to the point where whenever I was interested, I'd have to go to extra lengths to initiate it. There was a time there where she couldn't keep her hands off me, but then, I don't know how or when... things changed. She'd complain that she felt too tired or "in the morning" she'd feel more up to it, which when morning came, it never happened. Whenever she kissed me goodbye it felt distant, like she was doing it out of mere obligation than anything else.
We share a joint bank account, because obviously, I am not greedy with money and I think it's pretty fucking fair to share money with your wife. I certainly made enough as it was.
But going through transaction records in bank statements the past few months before she had initiated the divorce, I'd seen she'd started purchasing 5 thousand dollar designer dresses and would come home looking different, wearing different make-up, smelling different.
It wasn't just the clothes and jewelry. It was going out to lunch every single day, buying expensive meals and, even at one stage, having booked and purchased a room in a high class hotel while I was away on a business trip months and months ago. Who the fuck had she gone into a hotel room with? Was it him? Had I truly been blind all that fucking time?
And then, she turned it all onto me, like a brutal snowstorm tumbling down all around me, high-lighting all my faults, my errors.
"You're such a workaholic, Christian, you never have any fun. Remember that time you promised to take Kate and I to Vancouver and you never ended up doing that because something came up at the last minute?"
"You brought Kate a car early already for when she finally gets her license, yes. But what about me? Remember that yacht I was interested in? You've known for months and yet, you can easily splurge on buying your daughter a car for over 30 grand? You knew how interested I was in that!"
"You never once listen to me, so now I've found somebody who does. He actually listens to me and understands, he doesn't try getting immediately to the root of the problem to try and fix it. He just listens!"
On and on, it went. Me the fucking asshole. Admittedly, she had a point, and now I could see it and accept it more logically now. I did work too much, sacrificing time with my wife and child. And I'd always had this thing where, whenever a problem came up, I'd address it immediately, trying to fix it and take control without taking the other person into consideration. But what I did not need was for her to throw it all into my fucking face.
"Look, I'm at work right now," I spoke over her, my control nearly evaporating. My voice had started to rise. "Can we speak about this later preferably in person? You couldn't have told me this tonight in person and speak to me like a civilized adult instead of interrupting me in the middle of work?"
She'd laughed then on the other line. "See? That's my point. You're always putting your work above anything else."
"That's not true!" I argued back. "If anything happened to Kate, I'd be leaving work within a second to be with her. You know that."
"Yes, with Kate! Not with me! I've found someone who finally puts me first for once, not all of this other shit!"
Our conversation and arguing was escalating, to the point where she was shouting now. We really should do it later in person. That was something she always never understood; There was a right way to fight and solve things, and it was speaking logically and thinking it out, whereas with her, she reacted without thinking, always letting her emotions get the better of her.
"We'll talk about it tonight when I get home," I said, making the decision for her, for myself. "I really can't do this shit right now."
"No, we won't be, because I'm not coming home, I'm done," she wailed over me, her voice shaking. "My decision is final. We're done. I've already taken half of my things." She'd worked herself up to the point where she was breathing heavily on the other line, her voice drained. "We're over," she finished softly, in a toneless voice. "There's nothing else that needs to be said. There's nothing else you can say or do. I just... I don't love you anymore."
And so that was it, done and dusted, just like that.
We were done. Years of marriage since the age of 18 gone down the drain.
The divorce proceedings and settlement went quickly. I just wanted it to be over. I gave her half of the money we shared in the joint account, I got to keep the family house. We got joint custody of our daughter, and then that was that. She went off, living her own life with this other man I didn't have the heart to learn about. The end.
Which, of course, sadly, it isn't that simple, although I wish it was.
We met in high school, having a daughter together young. It's a long time, something you can't just forget easily. At least I couldn't.
Working seemed to offer me distractions well enough, and most of the time, I tried not to let myself think about her too much. Looking after Kate, teaching her how to drive, making sure she did well at school, that offer me another great distraction. But the feelings always there, deep inside me.
Bitterness. Resentment.
I would have been happy tossing out all of our belongings, starting afresh and redecorating the house so I wouldn't have any reminders of her, but Kate didn't want that. I would have been happy smashing all of our photos and tearing apart the photo-album, only Kate didn't want that either.
She wanted those memories of the life her parents shared together, the baby photos. Our wedding photos. While I would have felt better tearing them apart and lighting everything on fire, it wasn't fair to Kate. She was still her mother, no matter how much I wished I could banish her from existence.
So now, Kate doesn't speak of her anymore. She doesn't even say her name. When she goes to see her mother, she isn't allowed to tell me what happened, or what her new partner is like. It's something I can't handle knowing. I'd rather pretend everything is normal and that her mother doesn't exist.
I hate her mother. I hate her for leaving me, for leaving me for someone else.
My therapist that I see, Flynn, tells me it isn't healthy to direct my anger onto my daughter. After all, she's still her mother so I shouldn't project any anger or bitterness onto her. But there are frankly times when I want to address her mother as the bitch, if we ever were to speak about her at all. "How's the bitch?" I would say. "How's her new asshole partner?"
But, as Flynn says, it isn't fair on her. So I've resolved not to think of her mother nor speak of her at all. It doesn't help erase the pain and misery of knowing she left me for some other guy, that they're no doubt sponging off on the half of the money I gave her, holidaying and doing fuck knows what together.
Three years have gone past from that phone call, and the whole divorce, and still, I can't recover from how much I loathe the bitch for tearing our family apart, for seeing someone else when she was still married to me. But that's something I try to keep strictly to myself.
Right now, I want to just focus solely on being the best person I can be, for my daughter. It hasn't been easy.
These past 3 years of living alone with her, I've learned a few things. About how different women are to men, girls especially. They may as well not be humans. The amount of time my daughter has cried in front of me, is astounding. You can't tell her to toughen up and stop crying like a baby, because girls, they are emotional creatures who require sensitivity and listening.
She's certainly taught me it's okay to be emotional in front of her, to a certain extent.
Before, when her mother and I were still together, she'd always run to her Mom for girl talk. Now, she runs to me. Usually, I don't like touchy-feely emotional shit, I never have. I hate hugging, and I hate people touching me or stepping into my personal space. But with Kate, it's different. When she's upset, she's the most emotional, touchy-feely person in the world. She needs hugs and declarations of emotional love, and it's something I've now grown to like, not so much as be embarrassed about and try to shut off.
Trying to raise her these past 3 years as a single, divorced father has certainly taught me how to be more in touch with my emotional side. The only good thing about her bitch of a mother and I separating, is how closer we have become, and how much more I have learned about her. Especially learning how much I need to change when I'm around her.
At work, I'm focused, alert, trying to keep as calm and methodical as I can be. Detached even. But when I get home, when I'm with Kate, I've learned how necessary it is for the mask to be taken off. She's taught me that it's okay to be goofy, particularly in front of your daughter. It's okay not to be serious all the time or stoic. It's okay to allow myself to be vulnerable to her. It took some time to get used to at first, but now we're doing great.
Now I've found that perfect balance; those two personas of being the businessman. And then, at home, with my daughter, the father.
It hasn't been easy, but we're finally getting there. I think I'm finally getting there.
It isn't a steady progression of either upwards or downwards. There are days where it's up, and there are days when it's down. It's never constant, one way or the other.
Today's a downward. It's Kate's day to go stay-over at her mother's house. Her mother never steps a foot into the house. She always waits in the car.
The car honks outside the front, and I grit my teeth, moving towards the window at the harsh, grating sound of it.
So she's brought herself a new car. It's a new model, probably a Mercedes, black exterior, tinted windows. The window on the driver's side is down, and I think I see him. The new partner. The asshole now fucking my bitch of an ex-wife.
Rip my fucking heart out, why don't you?
He slams a hand on the horn again, practically waking up the whole entire fucking neighborhood. Why can't her mother just step out of the car and come up to the house to get Kate rather than have her new asshole boyfriend honk on the horn loudly, disrupting my neighbors?
Then again, it's probably a smart move. I'm not so sure what I'd do if he actually approached the front door to get Kate. I have a feeling I'd either get violent or grovel.
"Just a second," Kate calls loudly from in her bedroom, as if they can hear her from all the way inside the house. "God, I'm just getting my things!"
She comes down the stairs, struggling with her laptop bag, her backpack.
Just like every other time it's her turn to go with her mother, I force a smile as I turn to face her, acting as though I don't have a care in the world when, really, punching the asshole that is now dating my ex-wife would be very satisfying at this point. But my therapist also made an extremely valid point that, while the divorce happened between me and my ex, it also happened to our daughter as well and we have to put our bitter, violent thoughts aside for the sake of making her feel comfortable. Alienating one parent- a bad idea.
"You all ready to go?" I ask her.
"Yep, I think so." Still struggling with her bags, she smiles, coming towards me. When she kisses me goodbye on the cheek, it's like my entire heart warms up. I may try to put on a facade of being a cold hearted businessman, but when it comes to this girl, she's my weak point, my Achilles heel. "See you tomorrow. Love you."
"Yes, you too, baby."
I return to my place at the window, watching as her mother finally steps out of the car, helping Kate put her bags in the backseat. She's wearing stilettos, a dress I recognize she used to wear a lot when we were still married, and she seems more tanned than I remember she was.
Bitch, I think to myself, both bitterly and wistfully as she gets back into the car. I don't even care how pathetic I am, hiding behind the blinds, spying on my ex. All I know, is that something becomes abundantly clear as I watch the car roll down the street, a heavy feeling in my heart.
I don't know if I'll ever be able to fully get over her. All the history we have, the child, the pain... it's all too much. But it would be nice to share a life with someone again one day, to not die alone.
I suppose that scares me the most, fearless as I often try to appear to everyone around me. The idea of dying alone.
HOPE THIS WAS OKAY AS AN INTRODUCTION TO CHRISTIAN? I AM PROBABLY TERRIBLE AT WRITING HIS POINT OF VIEW, IT'S SO HARD. I INTEND TO UPDATE 3 TIMES A WEEK, SO CHAPTERS WILL BE ARRIVING A LOT AS SOON AS I CAN. ANY SUGGESTIONS ON PLOT, ETC, ARE WELCOME IF YOU WANT TO LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU WOULD LIKE TO SEE HAPPEN.