Chapter 1: Escape

“I’m going to miss you too, Pumpkin, But don’t miss me yet, here you are and here I am, holding you in my arms.”

“I’m glad your arms are strong, Daddy.”

“Oh? Why are you glad I have strong arms?”

“Do you remember taking me on that ride at the carnival? And remember I slipped out from under the bar, and we held on to each other for dear life, until the ride finally stopped?”

“Yes, I remember all too well. That was a very stupid thing for me to do, taking you on that ride. A dangerous thing to do.”

“Did you know it was dangerous? Why did you take me on it?”

“Honestly, I didn’t expect you would slide out of the restraints. You already rode on all the other rides, except the bullet. Once before in my life, I rode the bullet, and it terrified me. I was fourteen at the time, and the girl I was with wanted to ride it, so we did, and miraculously survived. You are a thrill bug, always have been, and wanted to ride everything. So, against my better judgment and despite my reluctance, we did.”

“I was the girl who wanted to ride the bullet with you this time!”

“Now that you mention it, yep! Both times, it was the fault of a girl.”

We laugh about that and hug each other.

“I ‘m glad you were strong and didn’t let me slip out of your arms.”

“Me too! Here, choose. Which hand?”

After hiding my hands behind my back and rustling them about a bit, I present my clinched fists for her to choose one. My Pumpkin knows one hand always contains my pocket change. One of my fists is held back, farther away from her, about a foot to the rear, a discreet distance away. A sly expression crosses her impish face and she chooses the remote hand. She always does, for some reason.

“When will you learn, Pumpkin? What Daddy offers you has value, and what Daddy withholds is worthless, or perhaps even bad for you.”

Demonstrating, I open the empty hand, the remote one she chose. Then, opening the nearer hand to her, show the silver, and give it to her. The lesson is forgotten in her delight with the silvery coins. She rushes to add the coins to the gallon pickle jar, with the slot in the lid she uses for a bank.

“Why do you bribe her for affection?”

“I’m teaching her to save her money. Something you never learned. Instead, you learned to sell your affections, something she doesn’t do and I hope our daughter never learns. She gives her love freely.”

“Bastard!”

“My parents were married. Your intended insult has no sting.”

“I hate you!”

“Obviously. Now I want to spend time with my daughter. My opportunity is limited. Go away, woman. Leave us in peace.”

“No! You are going to have to pay attention to ME!”

“Come on, Pumpkin, let’s go someplace we can enjoy ourselves.”

“I want to live with you, Daddy. Don’t leave me. Take me with you.”

We went to a twenty-four hour breakfast joint. Had fun chatting.

Sad, but I simply can’t take her on the ship with me. And I have to go, have to leave her. Renting a storage unit and moving all my things into it, took most all the next day. Packing and loading my car, took the rest. The job interview I’m driving to, will land me a command. The pay and other particulars will be negotiated. Certainly, I will push my rewards package as hard as I dare, but I already know, I intend to accept the job. Under the best terms I can get, but whatever the terms, I’ll take it. I need to get away. A long, long voyage in a stout ship, with a fancy salary is the perfect escape.

“Here! Read and sign the damn thing.” She shoves the paper at me.

We just returned a minute ago. Pumpkin went promptly to bed. After reading the document, substantially unchanged, again using pen and straight edge, I ruled out a dozen unjust concessions. I won’t concede shit. Wifey keeps trying her luck, expects me to give up, but I will only agree on paper to what we originally agreed verbally.

“Initial the strike throughs next to my initials, as affirmation.”

‘Why should I? You can’t arbitrarily edit the agreement!”

“You can’t arbitrarily change the agreement nor can your attorney. You keep trying to add stuff in, and I’ll keep scratching them out”

“I refuse to add my initials.”

“Suit yourself then. I refuse to sign and my time is up. So is yours. By the way, a few days ago, I paid for the newspaper to publish a public announcement. I will no longer be responsible for you or your debts. Here is the first issue with the announcement. I’ve circled it, making it easier for you to read without needing to look for it.”

“You bastard.”

“Shut your filthy fly trap, and initial the damn lined-outs. I’m finished arguing with you. Leave the initialed document on the counter, with your signature affixed at the bottom, too. If all my instructions are complied with, I’ll sign it in the morning when I’m ready to leave. If not, you can wipe your shitty ass with it. Then eat it. Be forewarned, if you attempt to forge my name, I will sue you for all you’re worth, then press criminal charges and see you locked away. Forgery is a sentence of ten years I think. Don’t consider testing me, I would love to destroy you! Yeah, I hate you now too!”

While my “wife” screeches her ear-splitting and hysterical scream, I leave, slamming the door behind me. My mood is foul. The stress of denying myself the release of choking the life out of her, has me tied in knots. Where can I seek relief? Alcohol? Don’t drink poison.