June 7th (11:35 AM)
"Well, aren't you a lucky guy? Looks like it's twins! Congratulation!", Linnie heard his doctor cheer as he removed the machine off the blue slim smothered all over his stomach, that now look like an apple, getting bumpier as the months pass, "If everything here goes correctly, you should be due around March of next year."
Twins? Twins? Linnie wasn't sure what to think. His mind immediately jumped to all the times Nora complained about how much she had to spend just to feed their 3 kids, and the countless number of times she claimed that they were a mistake; that the condom factory didn't produce strong enough protection.
Maybe he could get an abortion before Nora found out? But as that thought fathomed his mind, Linnie felt tears swell in his eyes as he placed his hand on his stomach and exited the doctor's office. No, that's not an option. What kind of man would he be if he had just decided to kill the innocent life growing in his stomach? Linnie could only imagine what would be if he did get one; imaginary questions of "Why Papa?" and "Why didn't you want us?", echoing his mind, weighing his heart down as if it had been turned to stone.
As he got into his car and drove himself home to complete today's chores, Linnie also felt haunted by the aftermath of his birth. He remembered a time when their youngest, Cosmo, was born and Nora had a few chances to hold him. Every time his back was turned, Linnie heard a small bump before Cosmo's crying would erupt before he saw Cosmo lying on the floor, and Nora walking away to watch the TV or crack open a beer, leaving Linnie to scoop the child back into his arms. There was also a time where Cosmo had just turned three, and Nora had thrown away some of his toys because they were "giving her a fucking headache". Linnie remembered the look on Cosmo's face as he saw his favorite toys disappearing, and the endless waterfalls his eyes made as he yelled at Nora to stop and that he'd be quiet.
Come to think about it, the more those memories of Nora and the kids invaded his mind, the deeper his frown grew, and his somewhat thin eyebrows furrowed. He kicked himself mentally as he thought about his role in the family. He had never uttered a word in defense of the kids or yelled back at Nora to leave them alone, but rather, all he could do was comfort their children as they shattered into a million pieces, wrapping his arms around their body.
Linnie sighed sadly as he finally made it back to his place, and turned the key into the lock, only to be greeted by thrown around beer and whiskey bottles from last night's dinner, brown liquid spilling out from the bottles, the sticky smell forcing Linnie to wrinkle his tiny nose. He bent over, his stomach poking out in the middle, as he barely managed to pick up the bottles and throw them away. The burning, whiskey smell nearly made his head smell once again, forcing him to sit back down at he took a good long look at his surroundings. Crooked walls with beer stains and holes from Nora's punches, a static TV that blared loudly, cockroaches invading the kitchen pantries from time to time, a trash can that was constantly overflowed with beer bottles and occasionally, a cigarette pack. Not to mention, the constant demands for liquor store trips and the screaming and yelling that threw down the walls…Linnie didn't understand why he continued to put up with this.
He clenched his stomach gently but firmly as he got up from the tattered, filthy couch, grabbing the telephone that hung lazily on top of the kitchen counter, snarling as his eyes noticed a parade of ants marching on top of the bread Linnie could have sworn he had just bought.
"Daisy? It's Linnie. Um-can the kids and I ask a huge favor? Um...d-do you still have that lawyer's number? I-no you don't have to pay. Y-Yes I know I don't have anything. I just-really? Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden-oh..ok-yes, I'll come by once the kids get out of school-oh thanks you so much."
July 5th (6:19 PM)
Linnie steadied the cold compress on his eye as he threw the last of the kids' bags in the back of his car, as they waited for him in the back seat. His eye felt like it had been melted off, almost as painful as the words stoned at him after Nora had found out. His stomach was now inflated to the size of an orange, and Cosmo kept jumping up and down about their new baby siblings. After he checked the house for everything once last time, Linnie looked over their kitchen one last night, re-reading the letter he had left on the coffee-stained bar:
Dear Nora,
By the time you receive this letter, the kids and I would have already left. I'm sorry to have done this to you without a warning, but right now, I honestly believe this is the best thing for our (or should I say my) children at the time. After the behavior you had displayed last night, I refuse to put my twins into a world where the first thing they're greeted with is a punch and a slap across the face, much like you have with our other children. Don't worry dear; you no longer must worry about spending another dime on any of us. Over this last month, I managed to find a remote job and I'm currently staying with family until I earn enough for a place of my own. I've also taken the liberty of cancelling my cell-phone plan, so you'll only be responsible for your own, from now on. I'm sorry to have suddenly spring this on you, but I feel like I need to start doing what's best for me, my twins, and the kids. Now, before you say anything, I can already imagine what you're thinking right now:
"After all I do for you! After all I do for this family! How could you do something so selfish?", you know what, Nora? You're quite right. You did always make the best meals in the house after all. Honestly, your knuckle sandwiches just can't be beat. It never seemed like the kids and I could get enough of the way yours seemed to taste like meat and alcohol, kind of like a drunken thanksgiving turkey. Did you put extra ketchup on the last one you gave me last night? Any special seasoning? All jokes aside, I don't think sandwiches that taste like blood and tears are going to help our children grow big and strong. Plus, I really don't want all that whiskey laced around your fingers to get in their eyes, or mine as a matter of fact. It's not good for the babies.
"Why can you be more grateful? You were living the good life! I paid for everything you needed!", yes you did. Something you could've avoided had you let me get a job and contribute to the household. But no. It was always, "You don't need to be working anywhere outside the kitchen, doll face. Stay in your lane, Linnie, and let the ladies run this place". You know, I always find it interesting how if your tone wasn't sitting on some sort of pedestal, your words were often slurred together, with nothing but complaints about work, or the kids foaming from your jack and coke breath. Honestly, one of the greatest mysteries to me is how you expect people to treat you with respect when you don't even represent it. When I think about you, I don't think of some CEO who knows how to run a business. Had I not known you, I'd probably imagine some potato-IQ moron who had just gotten kicked out of the nightclubs. Pardon the language, but really. I suggest you get a dictionary and look up the word, dignity.
"But you'll regret ever leaving me! Don't you realize that without me, you'll be back to your pathetic, lonely life? Besides, I'm great in bed.", Yeah no, darling. You were so fast in bed, you made Sonic the Hedgehog look slow. Now unlike you, I refuse to swear so please, pardon my censorship. Anyhow, "sleeping" with you in bed was like a chore. Every time you pinned me on the mattress and pressed onto my chest, it felt like all the strength I had in my body was fading away as I continued to squirm and attempt to get you off me. I remember my face got all red and hot as you let's say had gotten quite personal with me, and for a moment, I honestly felt like I was being set on fire. I had screamed and cried for you to stop, but you just wouldn't, and I really can't look at other women the same way without thinking about that memory. Every moment in that bedroom (and that crooked old, alcohol-stained house for the matter) felt like I was in prison, and I had been sentenced a lifetime with no parole. Heh, ironically, now that I'm writing this, a lifetime sentence would be a vacation compared to everything you had put me and the kids through.
Now with all that said Nora, I don't hate you. I had always promised my mother growing up that I would never hate on another person, no matter the circumstance, and as you are aware, you knew how much I loved her. I don't want to get even with you, or even press charges for that matter. I just want to move on with my life with the children by my side and continue to raise them as well as my twins in a much love, safe environment that I had been foolish to hope that you would help provide. I did talk to my sister's lawyer however, and I do feel that it is best to set a court date to discuss not only our divorce, but also confirm that I have full custody of our children, which knowing you, I'm sure you won't have much trouble agreeing to. I just ask that after court, if you ever come into contact with any of my children to kindly look the other direction. As far as I'm concerned, you were never their mother and I'm sure you remember what I told them about talking to strangers, right?
You know, despite all that you've done, I don't regret my relationship with you. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have my three (and soon to be five) wonderful children in my life. I had just wished it was under more loving circumstances instead of this fiery brutality that you've shown me. But I guess it's true what they say, Nora. You can't force true love. I just wish I would've done this sooner.
I really do wish you the best in your life. I hope you can find some help somewhere and live a much happier life in the future.
Sincerely,
Linnie