My editing team is the best. PapaKilo14, Hal, Pixel the Cat, Georgeanderson and Olddave1951. They catch my stupid mistakes, correct me when my stories contradict themselves and cut the fat. I'm very grateful and I love you guys. You know what you do. The readers only see the end result. I get the credit but you know. I get peer review from HarddaysKnight and Saxon_Hart. I love you guys, too, and having you in my corner, reading my stories first, makes all the difference. You know how many you read that never get posted because you think they suck. You keep me from looking stupid. Well, any stupider than I have to.
Author's note: I'm not an attorney. I found out as much as I could, but I'm not a professional researcher, I'm a teacher. If the law is different and you lawyers out there know better, I'm sure you'll let me know. I've never been divorced, so I know only what I can find out from others who have, and the internet. This is my world, and I get to make the laws. Hope you enjoy. Randi.
"In time, every successful revolution puts on the robes of the tyrant it has deposed." Barbara Tuchman said that. I suspect she's correct. I never dreamed I was a tyrant, but I suppose the villains in life seldom realize their roles. They always excuse their actions, as if, somehow, their villainy were acceptable because they are the ones doing it. Standards of things, like honesty, fair play, selflessness, which they demand from others, they have no regard for in themselves. If you lie to them, treat them unfairly, show no regard for them, they complain bitterly, but let the shoe be on the other foot and it's just peachy. I wasn't always a villain. In fact, few people of my acquaintance seem to realize that I'm a villain. My wife and my two daughters are the ones who cast me in that role.
Somehow, in an Orwellian twist, objecting to lying and cheating became tyrannical. After the insurrection, my wife became the tyrant.
My wife is Amber. She's a tall, dark complected beauty. I'm not sure of her ancestry. She, and her mother, claim Native American bloodlines, but everyone does. She has more of a Mediterranean look to me. My name is Kabrick North. I have no idea where my parents found that name, or what my ancestry is, either. Everyone calls me Kab. My two daughters are Dacy and Tobe. Dacy was fifteen and Tobe was thirteen.
The first sign of my new role came as we lay in bed on a Saturday night. Amber had just finished fucking me into exhaustion. I was spooning her, holding one big brown breast cupped in the palm of my hand and her fantastic ass pushed into my softening cock. She turned her head to look at me and I drowned in her huge brown eyes. "Kab," she said. "The girls at work asked me go to a lodge with them next weekend and scrapbook. Would you mind?"
Actually, I did mind, but not very much. I had tickets to a baseball game and I had intended to take her and the girls. I hadn't mentioned anything to them, yet. It was just spring training, so it wasn't a big deal. "No, I know you like that kind of thing," I said. "Go and have a good time. You've been wanting to catch up on getting our pictures organized."
Not a villain, right? This was the beginning of my ascent to the tyrant's throne, although I had no idea at the time. She went, and came back very happy. She had made three new albums of our family pictures, all decorated up with things she liked. She was very proud of them. I admired them for the requisite time and forgot about it. The next month, she went again. After six months, it became twice a month and this escalated over a year's time to once a week. None of this was a problem until Bianca, one of Amber's friends from work, saw me in the grocery store. She asked me why I never came with Amber.
"Well, I have very little interest in scrapbooking," I told her. "Anyway, I've never been invited."
She looked at me funny. "We only scrapbook once a month," she said. "The rest of the time we go out for drinks and dancing. Jeremy always comes with me. You should come. It'd be fun." Jeremy is her husband.
Who knew? I had never heard one word about drinks and dancing. As far as I knew, it was all about making pretty books. I hadn't checked to see what Amber's scrapbooks were looking like, because as I said, I have very little interest in scrapbooks, none, in fact. We obviously needed to have a talk.
I went straight home. Amber was out and Dacy wanted to talk to me. Her boyfriend had asked her to go to a concert. She went places with him when they were part of a group. I had major qualms about a fifteen-year-old girl going to a concert alone with her seventeen-year-old boyfriend. I told her she could go if other friends went with them. My rule was that she couldn't date alone until she was old enough to drive. I explained this for the thousandth time and she went off in a huff. "God, Daddy, you're such a freaking tyrant," she said in a parting shot. I was adapting to my new role. This was the first time I was made aware of my lofty position. She didn't speak to me for three days.
When Amber got home, I cornered her. "I saw Bianca at the grocery store and she asked me if I was coming to your next drinks and dancing, slash, scrapbooking event," I said.
Amber's face flushed and she immediately took a defensive attitude. "I've been meaning to ask you," she said.
"Ah, I guess it just slipped your mind," I said. "It must have been difficult to remember to mention that scrapbooking had morphed into drinking and dancing. I completely understand. They are so similar in nature that you just forgot. Well, no problem, we husbands are rarely interested in their wives drinking and dancing, anyway. Is there anything else you've been meaning to tell me?"
"There's no need for the sarcasm," she snapped back. "I don't have to tell you what I'm doing every minute of the day."
"No, I suppose you're right," I said. "Typically, though, people seem to think it's important for their spouse to know where they are, just in case of emergencies, you know. Jeremy seems to know Bianca is dancing and drinking. She even told me he goes with her. Can you imagine that? I can't imagine any man wanting to be with his wife while she was drinking and dancing, can you?"
She flushed even more. "You know you don't care anything about dancing," she said. "This is just a girl thing."
"Jeremy's a girl?" I asked. "I had no idea. He doesn't set my gaydar off at all. It must be getting defective. When did he switch teams?"
"Don't be stupid," she said. "He isn't gay. He just likes to be there to make sure Bianca doesn't get in over her head."
"Strange man," I said. "Do any other husbands share his paranoia?"
"None of the other husbands know what we do," she said.
"So Bianca is the only honest woman in the group?" I asked. "Nice set of friends you have there, Amber."
"You don't know them, and I don't appreciate you making snide remarks about my friends," she said. "None of the other husbands try to be a dictator like you. No one is being dishonest."
"You mean, other than you," I said. "Maybe the others aren't married."
"How can you accuse me of being dishonest?" she was ready to explode. "I never lied about anything!"
"No, I suppose you're right," I said. "I apologize. What I meant to say was that she's the only one in the group that isn't a deceitful bitch."
Amber looked at me as if I'd slapped her and stormed off upstairs. Dinner was a little strained that evening. With two of them not speaking to me, it was very awkward. I can do awkward. I went and watched a basketball game before going upstairs. Amber was already in bed and the bedroom door was locked. I got the little round key down off the doorjamb and unlocked it, replaced the key and went in. She was lying on the bed and she raised her head when I opened the door.
"Get out," she said. "You're sleeping on the couch."
I ignored her and got clean underwear out of my drawer. "I'm not sleeping with you," she said. "It's going to be a long time before you get back in here."
I ignored her and got in the shower. When I was through, I went and got in bed. She sat up. "I told you you're not sleeping here!" she snarled. "Get out."
"I don't need your permission to sleep in my own bed," I told her. "If you don't like it, you go sleep on the couch." I think she was shocked. I've heard men talk about their wives making them sleep on the couch. I always thought it was a metaphor. Apparently, she'd heard the same stories and believed them. Maybe she'd heard different stories where men actually go sleep on the couch. Fortunately, I outweigh her by seventy pounds, I'm four inches taller and she would find me tough to drag. I guess she thought she could just lock me out of my own bedroom and I'd be as meek as a lamb. Well, this lamb was becoming a lion. That's what we tyrants do. We refuse to cooperate in our own deposition. She was spitting mad.
She got up, grabbed her pillow and rummaged around in the chest for a blanket. She was gone in a few minutes and I got a good night's sleep. When I went to work the next morning, she was up and looking tired. I guess the couch wasn't all that good a bed. I never liked the thing, even as a place to sit. It has a hundred stupid pillows on it and it's very uncomfortable as a chair, much less a bed. When I came home, I went upstairs to change and discovered that everything I owned was missing. I looked around and discovered that she had cleaned out her scrap booking supplies and that room had become a bedroom. All my things were in there. There's a day bed in there and I guess she thought I was going to sleep on it. I wasn't. I moved my things back into my bedroom.
Amber came up and saw me carrying suits down the hall to our bedroom. "What are you doing?" she asked. "I cleaned out the spare room. You're sleeping in there until you apologize to me."
"No, I'm not," I told her. "Let's see you make me sleep in there. If anyone's moving in there, it's going to be you. Do you want a divorce, Amber? Is that what you're angling for here?"
She looked shocked. "What are you talking about? You were rude to me. You called me a lying bitch!"
"Deceitful bitch," I said. "It was deceitful bitch. Accuracy is important. Technically, you weren't a lying bitch, just a deceitful one."
"What the hell is wrong with you, Kab?" she said. "I'm the mother of your children and your wife. You can't talk to me like that!"
"Why not?" I asked.
She didn't know what to say for a minute. I'm sure this wasn't going according to plan. I was supposed to come pleading and crawling back, totally ignoring the fact that she was a deceitful bitch. Her mouth opened and closed a few times.
"You've never spoken to me like that in the whole 17 years we've been married."
"You were never a deceitful bitch before," I pointed out. "Well, not that I know of. Maybe you were and I just didn't know. So, do you want a divorce?"
"No, I don't," she said. "I want my husband to realize that he can't speak to me like I'm some disobedient schoolgirl. I'm an adult woman and you need to speak to me with respect."
"Respect is earned," I told her. "Deceitful bitches don't get any respect. Since you don't see fit to explain to me how scrap booking became drinking and dancing, how you allowed it to slip your mind that you should mention this to me and you don't appear to be at all embarrassed by your early onset Alzheimer's, it seems clear to me that you do want a divorce. Then, you won't have to worry about these lapses of memory anymore."
"You're blowing this way out of proportion," she said. Apparently, she believed that a good offense was the best defense, because she went on the attack. "Why did you tell Dacy that she couldn't go to the concert?"
"I didn't tell her that," I said. "Remember, accuracy is important. Words mean things, Amber."
"Well, what did you say?" she asked.
"I told her she couldn't go alone with her boyfriend," I said. "If they are going with a group of friends, I'm fine with it. She doesn't date alone until she can drive. You helped me decide that rule."
"Well, I changed my mind. I told her she could go," she said.
"Okay, I'll speak to an attorney Monday," I said. I turned away and went down to the den. She followed me, yelling the whole time, but I wasn't listening. I turned on the game and ignored her. She eventually gave up and went somewhere. At this point, I really didn't give a damn where.
Dacy came in after a bit and gave me a smug little smirk. I would have to do something about that. Evidently, Tobe had been regaled with tales of my tyranny and she wasn't speaking to me, either. That suited my mood just fine. I went fishing Saturday, and Sunday I went to a boat show. Amber had seemingly accepted her defeat and moved into the spare bedroom herself. I slept well, enjoying the room in the bed to sprawl out wherever I wanted.
I took the day off on Monday and visited my attorney. You can do things like that when you're a tyrant and own the company. I had him begin divorce proceedings and he promised to have the papers served at our house on the following Monday. I then got on Ticketmaster and bought a ticket to the concert where Dacy was staging her insurrection. I made the usual arrangements to separate our finances and had a pretty good week. Tobe had a band concert on Friday. She still wasn't speaking to me so I went to a movie I had been wanting to see. I went to bed around midnight and Amber still wasn't home. The girls shut themselves in their rooms and I played video games and then went to bed.
The next evening, Dacy got ready and left for the concert and I left ten minutes later. I located her and her boyfriend in the auditorium. I had checked out her ticket number and got a seat directly behind them. The music was as bad as you can imagine, but I had my phone and earphones. Dacy was shocked when she saw me but I didn't say anything. I could tell she was fuming and I really enjoyed it. They got up and moved at one point and I ambled along, just staying in eyeshot. I don't think they enjoyed the concert nearly as much as they thought they would.
I went home after the concert and Sunday morning there were three very angry females waiting in ambush in the kitchen when I came downstairs. Luckily, I didn't have to go through the kitchen. I just went through the laundry room and into the garage. I had a tee time, and I just walked by their ambush and played golf. I went to a tool sale afterward and picked up an impact wrench I'd been wanting. When I got home, they heard me come in, but before the ambush could be reassembled, I was in the bedroom with the door locked and a chair under the knob in case they knew about the key thing.
They beat on the door and yelled, but I had my handy headphones. Best investment I ever made. I left for work the next morning before they were up. When I got home at 4:30, the ambushers were out in full force. I got a Mountain Dew and went into the den. They swirled around like gnats and I made no attempt to avoid them. I was quite the villain. I had spoiled Dacy's date, failed to attend Tobe's concert and had seriously hurt Amber's feelings. I felt pretty good. My reign as tyrant was taking off like a rocket.
Just before five, the doorbell rang and I answered it. It was the process server. He looked like a refugee from the Russian mafia. His head was shaved and he had tattoos on his neck, disappearing into the nice suit he was wearing. He looked fierce. I let him in and he did his thing. He appeared to be all out of bubble gum and stuck to kicking ass. The three girls didn't say a word while he was there except for Amber identifying herself.
After he left there was silence for a moment. Amber opened the envelope and her face went white when she saw what was inside. She collapsed on the uncomfortable couch and I sat in my comfortable recliner, drinking my Mountain Dew.
"Mom, are you okay?" Tobe asked her. "Who was that guy? What did he give you?"
Amber looked at me as if she was seeing me for the first time. "You're divorcing me?" she gasped.
"Well, there is the little drinking and dancing thing," I said. "Then there's the moving my things into the spare bedroom, the couch thing and the letting Dacy go to the concert thing, too. I know where you were Friday night, Amber. You three have had a pretty good life up until now. All I ever asked in return was to be loved and respected. I've given you nearly everything you've ever asked for. In spite of that, there's been this little insurrection going on around here. I love all three of you, but you seem determined to cast me in the role of the villain. I've accepted your assessment and I'm just acting according to the script. Dacy, I'm wondering how you're going to get that Camaro you wanted when you turn sixteen. Tobe, I'm pretty sure band camp is out from now on. I don't think your mother can afford those things on her office manager salary. Amber, good luck with the mortgage. Oh, yeah, the car payments, the utilities, the club memberships and your health insurance, too. I'll be moving out this week."
They stared at me like I was insane. "Where are you going?" Amber croaked out.
"Mexico," I said. "I think I can live like a king down there. I'll have maids and servants and a driver. Maybe I'll find a beautiful dusky maiden with a couple of kids that will think I'm just great. I've got it all planned out. It's going to be great. I hope you'll all find someone that makes you happy. Dacy seems to be pretty high on that pimply faced asshat she went to the concert with. Maybe Tobe will do just fine and become a famous musician without all those camps and lessons. Just think, Amber. You can go out drinking and dancing all the time. I'm sure you'll enjoy not being burdened by having to account for where you are every minute of the day. Have nice lives."
I went up and got the suitcases I had packed and carried them to the truck. I had to make three trips and I guess they were all still in shock, because they didn't move and I didn't hear them say a word. I went and checked into my room at the Hampton, changed and went down to the pool. I swam laps until I was exhausted, sat in the hot tub until I was somewhat revived and went back to my room.
My phone was making its alert sound and I checked. I had three missed calls, all from Amber. She had left one voice mail. I listened to it. "Kabrick, we need to talk," she said. "The girls and I want you to come home. Give us a chance to talk to you. You said you loved us. If that's still true, give us a chance. Come home and we'll work things out."
Ah, now she wanted to talk. She might even be willing to explain her deceitful bitchiness. I was going to do it, but it would be on my terms. I sent her a text. "Those eggs are scrambled. I was there for the last 17 years. You had a chance to talk. You moved into the spare bedroom, after moving my things in there. This time, you don't have to bother moving them. I took care of that."
The phone rang immediately. I didn't answer it and I got three texts five minutes later. There was one from each of them. Dacy and Tobe just asked me to please not do this and to give them a chance to talk to me. Amber just repeated her "We can work this out, please come home" mantra.
I sent her another text and told her that I'd meet them for breakfast at Iggy's at eight on Saturday. I knew that would bug them. They all like to sleep until about noon on Saturday. I'm a very good tyrant. I discovered I enjoyed inventing petty irritations for my minions. They'd certainly invented enough for me over the last few weeks.
I was very busy at work that week. It takes a lot of work to sell a business. There were a million papers to sign and meetings to attend. I got it done. Talbot Manufacturing had been making me offers for years. I got the papers all signed and the money was deposited in my account in Boca del Rio. Yes, I really was going to Mexico. I speak fluent Spanish and I had some expatriate friends that had been telling me how great it was there. I was a wealthy man and Amber wasn't going to get any of it without my permission. That's the way good tyrants operate.
I had my bags packed and my ticket in my jacket pocket when I sat down at the restaurant. They showed up in about ten minutes and slid into the booth, Amber beside me and the girls across from me. I had my briefcase and all the documents I needed in it.
They wanted to begin talking right away, but I made them wait until after we ordered. We tyrants are grouchy before our morning coffee. Our food came and we talked while we ate. Dacy spoke first.
"Daddy, you've been almost impossible to live with lately. You're such a control freak. You made me so mad that I just went over the top. I'm sorry. I do respect you and I'm grateful for everything you do for us. I'm just not a baby anymore and you've got to let me make my own decisions."
"Me, too," Tobe chimed in. "I feel the same way. We love you, Daddy, but we're growing up and you just can't control our lives anymore. I'm sorry I didn't speak to you."
"Alrighty then," I smiled at them. "Thank you for the apology."
"I want to apologize, too," Amber said. "I should have told you about the girls nights. It was just some harmless girl's fun. I didn't think you'd care."
"Well, it's very nice of you to apologize, Amber," I said. "The problem is, that balloon is out of air."
"What ... what do you mean?" she stammered. "I told you what it was and I'm sorry I didn't tell you when it started."
I opened my briefcase and slid the pictures over in front of her. They were nice pictures, very graphic. They showed Amber and two of her girlfriends being gang banged at one of the girlfriend's houses. Amber had one cock in her from behind and another one in her mouth. It was hard to tell if the cock behind her was in her ass or in her pussy.
"It might have been harmless to you," I told her. "Unless, of course, you have some social disease. I'm clean, by the way. The doctor was positive. Maybe you should think about getting checked. It doesn't look like your fuck buddies were wearing condoms. I don't think it was harmless to me."
Her jaw dropped. I saw Dacy and Tobe crane their necks around to get a look. Amber snatched the pictures up and turned them face down.
"How ... oh God ... you weren't supposed ... how did you get those pictures Kabrick?"
"Do you really think that matters?" I asked. "If it helps you, I told you I was going to speak to an attorney. The attorney hired a detective. He followed you last Friday."
"I'm sorry ... you weren't supposed to know, Kab." She was crying now. "It was just some excitement. You know I was a virgin when we got married. I just didn't want to wonder the rest of my life if I was missing out. It was never supposed to affect us. It didn't hurt you if you didn't know. I didn't want to live my life and regret never knowing. I never meant for you to know. I was only going to do it once. You've got to believe me, Kab."
"No, I don't," I said. "Where do people come up with the idea that what you don't know doesn't hurt you? If your coronary arteries are blocked and you don't know, does the heart attack hurt you? If you have cancer and you don't know; is it hurting you? Your little escapades were a cancer, eating away at the vitals of our marriage, Amber. The cancer doesn't hurt you until you die from it. That's what you did to our marriage. You killed it. You didn't want to live with not knowing what it was like to fuck other men? Well, I don't want to live my life not knowing what it would be like to have 100 million dollars. Does that make it okay to rob Fort Knox? You wouldn't mind to help me with that, would you, Amber? That's the biggest load of shit I've ever seen shoveled."
She got up and ran sobbing from the restaurant. Tobe looked over at me. "I can't believe you did that," she said.
"I guess you don't have enough faith," I told her. "How disappointing. Faith will set you free. No, wait; it's the truth that sets you free. Forgive my mangling of the metaphor."
They looked at me as if I was nuts. Well, we tyrants aren't known for our mental stability. They just sat there. Dacy opened her mouth but nothing came out. She cleared her throat. "That was so mean," she said.
"I think your ride is leaving," I told them. "I wouldn't want you to be stuck here with someone mean. You better scoot."
They scooted. I paid the check and drove to the airport. An hour later, I was flying the friendly skies on my way to the rest of my life. I had many regrets. I couldn't see how I could have stopped anything that had happened, though. I'd been happy, satisfied and proud for 16 years. It had all gone to shit. I felt lonely and depressed. I did what I always do when I feel depressed. I took a nap. It was a long nap and by the time I woke up, we were an hour out of Heroica Vera Cruz.
I sat and ruminated. Amber was on her own. She'd made her bed of lies and she'd have to sleep in it. The girls, well, they were just girls. I'd see to it that they got what they needed. My attorney would take care of money arrangements. If they wanted to see me, I'd make that happen. If they didn't, they had their mother, for what she was worth.
It took about six months for Tobe to try to get in touch with me. My attorney called me and I called the house. Dacy answered and I asked to speak to Tobe. I don't think Dacy recognized my voice.
"Hi, baby," I said when I heard Tobe's voice.
"Daddy? Is that you?" she began to cry. "Daddy, I'm so, so sorry. Please, Daddy, I'm so sorry. I need you. Mom is a mess. She drinks all the time and she spends all her time running around with men and her friends from work. I think she's doing drugs. The only good thing that's happened to us since you left, no, since we drove you away, was when you paid for me to go to band camp. Dacy is being a slut and I can't stand it here anymore. Please, Daddy, I need you. Do you still love me? I was so mean to you, but I hope you still love me. I'm so sorry I treated you like that. I know it was all Mom's fault. Well, it was partly mine, too. I need you, Dad. I know I didn't have your back, but I'm praying that you still love me."
"Of course I still love you, Tobe," I said. "I just don't know what I can do. I can't come there. Your mother would probably have me arrested."
"Can I come to you?" she asked.
"I don't see how," I said. "Your mother won't let you come here. I'd be glad to see you, but I just don't see how."
"If you send me the money I'll run away," she said. "She'll never notice until I'm with you. I hardly see her and when I do, she's mean to me. She hates me, Dad."
"I can't believe she hates you," I told her. "She'll wise up, eventually. Why do you say she hates you?"
"I got a bad grade at school and she yelled at me." Her voice was shaking. "I told her she had no room to say anything to me after she drove the only good thing in our lives away," she sobbed. "She slapped me and told me I was a brat and she wasn't going to put up with any shit from me. She was drunk or high, I think. Daddy, I'm so sorry. I just let them convince me that you were some kind of evil dictator. I see how wrong I was. Please, help me."
"Okay, baby, calm down," I said. "I'll work something out. Minors can't travel alone without their parent's permission, especially out of the country. Let me see if I can work something out. Call me tomorrow and I'll see what's possible, okay?"
I gave her my phone number and she calmed down. She told me she loved me and we ended the call. I called my attorney and he told me she needed a passport, but that was it as far as the Mexican authorities were concerned. It might be useful for her to have a signed letter of consent from me, allowing her to travel unaccompanied. I knew she had a passport because we had gone to France the year before. I faxed him the letter and made the travel arrangements.
Somehow, my benevolent dictatorship now seemed attractive to Tobe. I was being rehabilitated, and Amber had taken my place as chief tyrant. One of her oppressed subjects was about to vote with her feet. I felt positively benign.
When Tobe called the next day, I had it all in hand. She was going to tell her mother and sister that she was spending the weekend with a friend. She was going to catch a cab to the airport and board her flight. I would pick her up at the airport and we'd see where we went from there. I'd thought about having my attorney pick her up, but that would have made him an accessory and I didn't want to expose him to that. I was sure that Amber would be very vindictive if she got the chance.
When Tobe came down the ramp, I was waiting for her. She flew across the tarmac and threw herself on me, sobbing and laughing at the same time. I swung her around and set her down.
"Let me look at you, baby," I said. "God, you've grown like a weed. You're more beautiful than ever!" She was, too. She had her mother's dark skin and huge brown eyes. She was starting to fill out in some woman curves and she was gorgeous. She was mine, too, and I could see that shining in the wet pools of her eyes.
"You look good, Daddy," she said. "You've lost some weight and you have a great tan. She pressed herself against me. "I've missed you so much. Do you still love me?"
"Of course I do," I said. "I never stopped. I hoped someday I'd have the chance to show you. You kind of weren't letting me do that."
"I know, and I'm so sorry," she said. "If you let me, I'm going to show you how much you mean to me. I was wrong, Dad. I don't know what was wrong with me."
"It's okay," I told her. "We're going to be fine. Is Dacy okay?"
She was very sober. "I don't think so. She's sort of acting like Mom. I think she's having sex with that assh ... that jerk she's dating." She looked at me to see how I was going to react to her slip of the tongue.
I laughed. "He is an asshole. I don't mind you using descriptive words, Tobe. Girls shouldn't use a lot of bad language, though. It just makes you seem vulgar and cheap. You can say anything you want to if it's just us, okay?"
She hugged me again. I took her hand and we walked to the car. She loved the house. I showed her her bedroom and she loved that, too. We sat and talked until two AM. She caught me up on her life and I caught her up on mine. We talked about what she wanted to do and she wanted to stay with me permanently. That made my year. I had no idea what to expect from Amber, but I knew there wasn't a lot she would be able to do. She didn't know where I was and things are a bit different in Mexico. There's very little of the spying and locating that the US government is able to do. As long as you keep your nose clean, there is really very little that you can't do. Money buys nearly everything. Short of me committing a major crime and being caught, Amber would never find us.
I don't think she even tried. Tobe had mailed her a letter from the airport, explaining why and where she was going. I never heard anything from her. It took another year before we heard anything at all from either Amber or Dacy. Tobe was in school and doing well. She was speaking Spanish like a native and with her coloring, she really fit in.
Then, my attorney sent me an email. Dacy wanted to speak to me. I had him get her one of those cheap phones with prepaid minutes on it. I arranged a time when she could talk without Amber knowing, and I called her.
She knew who it was when she answered. No one else had that number. Our conversation didn't begin well. She was crying so much I couldn't understand a word she was saying. That went on for a while. Finally, she calmed down enough that I could understand her and the words came tumbling out. She was pregnant. When she told me that, we went through the crying thing again. I was uncertain what a tyrant's response should be. I knew what a father's response was. The little girl that I had loved all her life was in trouble. There was no way I was going to let her face that alone.
"What are you going to do, Dacy?" I asked her. "What does your Mom think?"
"She thinks I'm an idiot," she said bitterly. "She wouldn't let me get on birth control. I always used condoms, Dad. I guess one must have broken or something. I was stupid."
"What about the baby's father?" I asked her.
"He bailed on me the minute I told him," she said. "Dad, I don't even have health insurance. Mom never bothered to sign me up. I'm sixteen years old, I'm pregnant and my life is over."
"Your life isn't over," I told her. "It's complicated, but you're going to be okay. Do you want the baby, Dacy?"
"No, Dad, I don't," she wept. "I don't want to bring a baby into this world with that douche bag's genes."
"Are you going to get an abortion?" I asked.
"I want to," she said. "I don't have a clue how to go about it and I can't afford it anyway. Dad, can I come to you? I know Tobe is with you. Will you give me another chance?"
"Yes, baby," I said. "You're my little girl and I'll always give you another chance. All you have to do is ask."
"I'm asking, Dad," she said. "I'm begging. God, I've been so stupid and such a child. I'm having to grow up really fast. I know what I did to you was wrong, Daddy. I'm so sorry ... I should have listened to you and not Mom. I just wanted my way and she let me have it for a while. I realize now that she was just using me against you. She's totally about her. I don't know why I didn't see that."
"You're very young," I told her. "It's okay, Dacy. Let's concentrate on the future. Let's fix this problem and then we can tackle everything else, okay?"
She sniffled and cried a little more and I promised to call her the next day to give her the details of what I came up with. Then I had to tell Tobe what was going on. She was a little miffed.
"Why does she have to come here and ruin everything," she said. "We're perfect, Dad. I don't want her here."
"Tobe, she's your sister, she's my daughter and she's in trouble. Don't you love her? Don't you think we should help her?"
"I used to love her," she said. "When we were all a family, I loved her. She turned into someone else. She treated me like crap and ... and ... oh, my God! That's what I did to you, isn't it Daddy? She's just like me!" She threw herself on me and clung to me. I just hugged her and stroked that midnight black hair.
"We're over that, baby," I said. "Yes, she's like you and we need to help her, just like I needed to help you. I think we'll find out that we have your sister back, just like I found out with you that I had my baby girl back."
"Dad, you're amazing," she squeezed me even tighter. "I'm fourteen, you know. I'll always be your baby girl, though."
We made the same arrangements for Dacy that I'd made for Tobe. Sunday night we picked her up at the airport. It was very emotional and the two girls spent a long time mending fences. Dacy didn't look pregnant. I asked her and it turned out she was only six weeks along. She was insistent that she wanted an abortion so I arranged it at the clinic in Heroica Vera Cruz. I'm totally opposed to abortion, but that wasn't my decision to make. If there was ever a case for one, this was it. She was sixteen-years-old, unmarried, dumped by the tool that had knocked her up and not ready for the responsibility of motherhood. I'd have felt very uncomfortable if the pregnancy had been farther along. We took her in on Friday, and in a week, she was back to her old beautiful, cheerful self.
Dacy is the polar opposite of Tobe in looks. She's taller and more willowy and she has blonde hair. There are a lot of blondes on my side of the family. It took them a week to get their problems worked out and they were back to the duo that had me wrapped around their fingers since they were babies. My life as the tyrant was over. I never really cared for it anyway. I had been replaced. Amber was now the villain in our piece. I hoped she enjoyed her new role. The insurrection was over.
My attorney contacted me and told me that Amber had been harassing him. She wanted to know where the girls were, where I was, what I wanted to do about the divorce and to let me know she was selling the house before she lost it. I didn't care. We had a good bit of equity in it and as far as I was concerned, she could keep it. I wasn't looking to punish her, just get away from her.
There comes a point in life where you have trouble mustering the energy to be angry and hurt. You just want to be left alone, get on with your life and put the past in the past. I was at that point. She wanted to talk to me and she wanted to talk to the girls. She was a deceitful bitch, but I knew she loved her daughters. She had at one point, anyway. Now that they weren't objects she could use to hurt me, I hoped they could have some kind of relationship. At first, they wanted nothing to do with her and no part of any plan to speak to her.
She wrote them long letters, forwarded to us by our attorney, and she wrote to me, too. I threw mine away, but I know the girls read theirs. It was very hard for me not to open those letters and read them. I guess I have a masochistic streak or something, but I dug the first one out of the trash a dozen times before I finally burnt it. You don't just watch a 17-year marriage go down in flames without wondering how it happened. I tortured myself with those letters the first four I got before I realized what I was doing. I got the girls to pick up the mail after that with instructions to just get rid of anything Amber sent to me and not tell me about it.
Life was good for me. I had my babies; they were doing well and more loving toward me than they'd ever been. They took care of me. I dated some and even found a few of those dusky maidens that were interested enough in me to become friends with benefits.
Amber wrote to the girls once a month for a while and then it became every week, and even several times a week. She wore them down and finally they sat me down and had a talk with me. They wanted to call her and talk to her. I encouraged them to do it. They wondered if I would listen to the conversation. I had absolutely no desire to do that, but they begged until I agreed. I made them promise not to include me or mention that I was there or listening. They also had to promise not to ask me again. This was a onetime thing, just to make sure everything was on the up and up, and she wasn't trying to manipulate them in any way.