Penny for Her Thoughts: Where, Oh Where?Part 3 [Final]

Kim & Tom

From There to Here

By Penelope Griffiths

Fast-forward five more years, when, with two kids in tow, I made my escape.
    Divorce is never pretty, but I just wanted out. My lawyer told me that if I left the marital home, I’d lose everything, but all I could think of was, if I didn’t leave, I’d be miserable and probably do something I’d regret – possibly with a heavy, blunt instrument. So, I left, but only after I’d made arrangements for my mother, who was living with us, to get an assisted-living house, and an agreement from my soon-to-be-ex-husband for me to have some of the furniture, along with our dog, Cindy.
    Fast-forward another almost two years and I was back living in the City, in a house with kids, a dog, and a new man in tow. I left my first husband without ever thinking I’d meet another, but when I eventually met him, it was love at first picture. My heart beat so hard and so fast I thought I might faint. And worst of all, I couldn’t utter a coherent sentence. Still, I must have done something right, because he decided to follow me and we bought a house together.

As for the ex, just as the lawyer had predicted, I didn’t get anything from the house except the pre-agreed furniture, which I’d bought myself before we got married, and Cindy. I didn’t care – I was free of him, and that was enough.
    But he and I had two children, and I worked hard to maintain cordial conversations so he could still be a “good father.” But, unfortunately, the same could not be said of him. He refused to set reasonable times to pick the children up or drop them off. Sometimes he didn’t even turn up, and it was very hard on the kids. It didn’t help that his girlfriend didn’t want to have anything to do with them, and he obediently complied. After six months and the children’s several harrowing visits with their father and his girlfriend, and my daughter’s having nightmares whenever she returned from them, I tried to meet with him to discuss how to move forward, but he wasn’t interested in discussing it, and after that he refused to take my calls or respond to my letters.
    During all this time I had not received a penny from him for the kids. I didn’t ask for anything for myself, but bringing kids up is expensive, and I thought he should step up. In the end, after almost two and a half years, it took a court order to prise a paltry £60 a month ($75) out of him, and that was it – no birthday cards or presents, no Christmas presents, no nothing. In his head, or maybe his by-then-wife’s head, the £60 a month should cover everything for his kids, and that’s how it stayed. Many years later, when her father and her step-mother visited her in America, they told her that I’d “sucked them dry” and “prevented us seeing you,” but my daughter knew those were “fantasy lies,” and told them so.
    The sad thing is that if anyone had said to me when I was marrying him that he’d be this deadbeat dad, I’d have berated them until their head fell off, because I truly didn’t think he could possibly be that kind of man. But his (and his wife’s?) need for revenge on me clearly ran deep, and like many another parent, he used the children as weapons.
    That “drama” aside, our lives were full and fun. The kids liked their new home, school, and friends,  and they got on great with their step-dad. And, as for me, well, I had met my soulmate, and I was deeply in love.
    But, alas, true love rarely runs smooth or forever!

My second foray into marriage was, for me, a very exciting time. I was “head over heels,” and so was he – at least for the first five years. But a few details about him first. He was eight years younger than me and had a bit of a “bad boy” reputation. I had heard about him before I ever met him, because the hairdresser I went to had his picture up and when I asked who everyone in the photo was, she told me all the gossip about him. He’d been married to a local girl who was a well-known model on the catwalk, but he’d cheated on her with another girl, so, just two years after their huge society wedding their marriage was over. His model ex-wife went onward and upward with her career and cat-walked all the international fashion shows from New York City to Milan, Paris, and other major European cities.
    He, on the other hand, stayed with the new girl he had cheated with – but not for long, and I met him when he was entering another short-lived relationship. As I said earlier, I was knocked off my feet by him, but, knowing what I knew about him, I was not going to get caught up. So we became friends and I even “fixed him up” with dates while all the time falling more and more in love with him. I was also a single mother, so my priorities were the children. He and I remained on the back burner; after all, I was older and technically not yet divorced (even though my ex-husband was already living with his going-to-be-second wife).
    So, how did our friendship morph into marriage? It happened suddenly. After five years, I decided to move back into the city. He wanted to travel (he was a New Zealander), and we’d discussed how we could buy a house together that he could use as his base in the UK. It was still hard seeing him with other women, but one night before I moved, I realised that he hadn’t been on a date for weeks and he and I had been spending more time together. And then, boom – he told me he loved me and didn’t want to go on any more dates, so stop fixing him up!
    Now, I was under no illusions, based on what I knew and had seen of him and his dating, but I had come out of a 10-year loveless marriage and figured I’d rather have 18 months to 2 years (the usual duration of this man’s faithfulness) of happiness with someone I was mad for than not have it, so I went into marriage with him with my eyes wide open. And then one year became two, and then three, and then four, and it began to look as though it would go on forever.

With the kids in Rotarua, New Zealand
(c. 1987)

In Copenhagen (that’s me in my dreams)

At Lake Garda, in Italy

In Tahita (c. 2002)

    But I hadn’t factored in the burden on him of being a step-father to a feisty teenage girl. So, after ten years, it appeared that we were done, so I chose to be a mother to kids who needed me rather than ditch my kids for the love of my life. He found someone younger and off he went to live his best life – no kids in tow for him. Well, not at that time, but he did go on to have kids. Plus another wife or two that I know of. It seems that a leopard can’t change its spots for long.
    I’ve remained single these past 20+ years, and very happy and fulfilled. Both of my kids got degrees. My son went on to work in hospitality and meet and marry a girl from Hong Kong, where they moved in 2012.

With the kids at Disneyland in California (c. 1989)

With Tom in New York (3 days before 9/11/2001)

With Tom in New York (2008)

    My daughter became a Maths teacher and ended up here in the US, which is why I’m now here too. I have twin grandsons (now almost 8 years old) and their mother and I wanted them to know their “Mamgu” – after all, they’re half British and, more important, half Welsh.

The reasons I moved to America

But for all the roller-coaster ride I’ve had so far in my life, these few years here with the 45th POTUS have been the most surreal I’ve experienced. Politics here is nothing like politics in the UK, where, if someone in your own party doesn’t agree with you, he or she will go on record to publicly tell you. And that includes the current Prime Minster’s own brother, who overtly criticised and disagreed with him during a session in Westminster! All I’ve witnessed of Republicans when the POTUS was blatantly telling lies is either nothing or full-on support. But even more jaw-dropping for me was the screaming silence from Democrats when POTUS’s lies were uttered.
    It’s one thing to keep silent because you don’t want to cause an issue. But surely when your country’s reputation and its very moral compass is being suffocated, you must speak up and start fighting for good over evil, right over wrong.
    And then January 6th happened! Surely now the Democrats and all good Americans would stand up, no matter what their politics, and be counted. But no! Just like an episode of West Wing or House of Cards, the series continues!
    I watched with a mixture of excitement and shock as 2020 events unfolded! Surely Covid would pull the country together. The POTUS would “pull it out of the hat” and save the nation. But no! He actually made it worse! All the lies and misinformation he spread, the “fake news” he fueled, the conspiracy theories he eluded to…the script was mind-blowing, the acting real, the orange make up not so much.
    What happened to the Hollywood ending? The American Dream? The good guy winning? The baddies going down, quietly or not?
    The whole world was witnessing the slow but inevitable crashing down of the facade that America is the “greatest” and “free-est” country in the world! Pandora’s Box is not just open now; its contents are spread far and wide across the 50 States, and I for one am sad and scared about what could happen if this tumultuous wagon train is not halted. A country is only as great as its people, and it appears that millions want things their way however that can be achieved. They’re not bothered that people have died and are dying, so long as they are right. And anyone who doesn’t agree with them isn’t welcome.
    The next four years are going to be bumpy, so make sure your seat belt is firmly tethered. Don’t stick your arms outside the car, and remain seated until this ride comes to a complete stop. Enjoy the ride if you can – it’s going to be mind-blowing on many levels, with more twists and turns and shouts than Chuck Berry. History is going to have volumes and volumes on the 45th Presidency, and also, I’m sure, on the 46th.

Copyright © 2021 by Penelope Griffiths