B L A N K

Love no Purer

The baby was crying again. Its sweet face contorted in misery. His blonde locks were tussled and his pudgy cheeks still messy from dinner. He was running a fever and was shaking from head to toe. As his father, it was Chris’s job to take care of him. He gave the toddler his antibiotics and fed him. It was always pleasant to come home after driving across half the state to his child unchanged and neglected.
It was easy for his wife to forget about her children. She was lazy and fat with child. Her long brown hair streamed over her shoulders unbrushed. She constantly wore thin loose bathrobes in bright colors, never anything substantial even when Chris had guests. Heavy brown eyes were always glued to flashing images on the television. Bob Larson’s Spiritual Freedom Church ran on and on for hours. “Give us your money, god will save you!’ Chris could barely tolerate it. Her obsession with salvation drove him mad and tore what semblance of a family they once had apart.

Rosa had come to him with two children of her own, Nathan and Mary. Nathan was the younger of the two, severely affected by his mother’s behavior. At a very young age she was known to beat him, his tiny frail chest would be littered with bruised and when the teachers contacted her she blamed it on neighborhood bullies. Because of her fathers’ abusive behavior and her first husbands she hated men. When her little boy would talk back or giver her any kind of attitude all she could see were the men that hurt her, and she wouldn’t have another one have power over her. It was a wonder he passed each year of school; it seemed all he had ever been interested in was trouble.
Eventually Rosa was found out and was forced to parenting classes, the physical abuse ceased and Nathan no longer at to sport her fustrations. His sister took to petty theft and lies. Mary was never physically abused by her mother instead she was brushed off unless she was acting out. Rosa could not stand any kind of sass from her children, no rolling eye would go unpunished. She would scream and holler, at first the children feared her but after the repetitive nature of her punishment they felt no fear of her. If being scolded was all they had to Never disciplined, the children were more than enough to drive any adult off the wall.

Chris had three children of his own, who were by far older. His eldest, James had left the house already refusing contact. Chris’s middle child was his daughter whom he coveted. She was in college making a name for her self like no one in their family had done prior. It was Michelle who would always listen to him, the only one who would. But she was gone now, and he saw her rarely and when he could manage, he talked with her on the telephone. Trent was the youngest, seventeen and rebelling against his father in any way, shape, or form he could. Trent was too young to leave, and after years of Rosa’s act had grown bitter towards his father for letting her be in their lives, for chasing away his own siblings.

Chris’s children had hated Rosa from the very first moment she stepped into their lives and even more so after she had married their father. Rosa had a way of making people quite uncomfortable. Being close-minded she was predispositioned to ignorance; her statements and opinions would often offend. Mentally unstable, diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, the woman had seen padded walls many a time before. Beaten and put down all her life, she played the constant role of the victim though she was most often the bully. She could never see her faults and was perma-stuck in a world of her own self-delusion. To her, Chris’s children were always against her and her own, when in reality all they wanted was to have the family they once had. The one without her.
It wasn’t hard to see that Rosa was in need of help. When she took her medications she was more than functional. One could say social, even. Chris had loved her once, but over the years had grown to hate her. She had him incarcerated more times than he liked to remember-under false pretenses.

Rosa had hit him, fought with him, and hurt him physically more times than he liked to admit. She was violent and crazy to say the least. It was characteristic of her to take one comment, take it out of context so that it seemed an attack on her and then brood on it for days. Driving herself mad until she cracked and chewed someone out over that very small comment they had already forgotten. To Chris it seemed a weekly affair. Still, he gave her numerous chances. Every time she would go on her medication it was like heaven. He had a loving wife and a functional family. Though eventually, without fail she would turn to the Lord, asking him to cure her. She would stop taking the medication and in no time at all they would be back where they started.

For instance she had snapped little more than a year ago, it was absolute chaos. The weak bonds that held the façade of their family together were severed. Over nothing she lost it. She screamed and yelled at Chris until he could take no more. Rosa eventually got violent and Chris restrained her, telling her to calm down like he often would. After a tussle in the hall she fled from him. Destroying things in the house along the way, screaming that he had thrown her, choked her even. She called the police and had him arrested for false imprisonment and assault, and it was then Chris thought it was the end of their marriage. Hurt by her accusations he put it in his mind to never speak to her again. The charges were dropped and he returned to his home, which was three persons less. It was quiet, too quiet.

Whether it was out of desperation or loneliness he tried to contact Rosa again and eventually found her. His children at this point were off in their own worlds. Trent was on the computer almost constantly, and Michelle was driving which meant she was never around. He spent each night with Rosa at her new home, his children taking care of themselves at his house. Eventually he had gotten Rosa pregnant with their first child. Rosa then began to ignore him and push him away. She had even sought comforts of a new, younger lover.

Chris had been devastated and had lost his love for Rosa. It was one thing to be put in jail, to be ignored. But to be cheat on? That Chris could not take. He was absolutely heart broken. At that point all he wanted was his child. It was a battle and a half before he had his baby boy in his arms. He eventually lured Rosa back into his home. They lived together for a few months before Rosa lost it again. This time Chris’s children were around and they had called the police first. They watched their father be attacked by Rosa, and when the police apprehended her she even tried to be violent towards them, which ensured her arrest. Rosa was released and let back into the home, she was court ordered to take her medication if she wanted to keep her children. This is where they were now. Of course Rosa stopped taking her medication due to her new pregnancy and was on the fritz again.

Chris was miserable because of her, but it was all for his son. Caleb gave him reason. It had been almost thirteen years since he had a child that would depend on him. It gave him reason, purpose.
Caleb was a year and a quarter now, growing quickly with an attachment for his father much greater than his mother. When Chris left for work Caleb would cry, and each night he would wait by the door until his father came home. He’d greet him with sticky fingers and a big smile and would make everything seem so small in comparison.
Rosa was becoming unreasonable without her medication. Chris didn’t bother with asking her to do anything anymore.

Anytime he mentioned to her about cleaning the home, or making dinner she would piss and moan making excuses about her pregnancy getting in the way of doing simple tasks. He was fighting a battle he had already lost with her and eventually he resigned and took what she gave and asked for no more. He was already exhausted from work, long hours with meager pay that could barely sustain his ever-growing household.

Chris sat back now, nestled into the couch with his son in his arms. His eyes drifted around his unfinished living room. The memories of what had been in that home seemed too much to bear. He was growing old, and though he wanted more of life and he knew those desires were impossible to sate. Chris would never be rich, he would never have his cars and he would never know love again.

In his fifty years he had been known for fixing things. From cars to washing machines if it was before him chances were he could repair it. It was his job, his passion. Everyone had something for him to repair. He sought out their problems with intent to do his job, as it were. Chris had been married twice prior to Rosa. His eldest son James was the product of his first marriage, Michelle and Trent of his second. Each woman he had married had been broken and needed him to repair them. Though in the end he could not fix any of the three. Above it all he could not even fix himself.
All he had was this small boy who depended so entirely upon him. He sunk deeper in the cushions feeling sleep coming on. He hadn’t yet seen Rosa, she didn’t call him earlier either. It was strange since Rosa made habit to call four to six times daily to make sure he wasn’t cheating on her. It often resulted in an argument much like the following.

“Why haven’t you come home for lunch yet?”

“I’m working, Rosa. After I finish this call I’ll be home for lunch.”

“You said you’d be here at three. You’re out with some girl aren’t you? I can hear a woman in the background.”

“No, Rosa, that’s the Manager of this Hess station. You’re being ridiculous. I have to go.”

Chris couldn’t complain, it was relatively relaxing during the workday, not having to wait for her next call, to tell her just where he was located at that moment in time. She couldn’t understand work was work, and he had to do it. Her calls constantly were on the verge of getting him in trouble, and even though he tried to convey this to her she still would not listen. Some people would ask why he’d bother to pick up. Quite frankly all he could say was that if he didn’t once he got home he’d be too busy getting into arguments instead of taking care of his kids who went without food up until he would come home. Rosa refused to make them dinner, no matter how late it was. She was too concerned if he was involved in any sort of illicit behavior. Rosa didn’t care that if he got fired they would all go hungry and live without water or power. He was constantly struggling to make ends meet and the last thing he liked to worry about was getting fired after a couple hundred calls monthly on his work phone.
He and the baby had shut their eyes for no more than ten minutes when Rosa stormed out of her bedroom. She stood in front of Chris and told him firmly to wake up. After a couple shouts he roused.

“What, Rosa?” It was more than obvious he was disgruntled.

“What did you mean last night?” she demanded to know.

“What are you talking about?”
Conversations like this between them were frequent. One little phrase could be misinterpreted, and she would brood on it. It was a disaster when she was like this, anything that could go wrong would.

“Last night, you wouldn’t sleep with me in bed. You never do anymore! You never do, and I don’t get it. You hate me, don’t you? You hate me like your children hate me and you all want me gone.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Rosa. I don’t hate you. You blow your nose in the sheets and I can’t stand it. I roll over and stick my hand right in a glob of your snot and I can’t take it.”

“It’s your fault! You know I can’t breathe and then you’re smoking all the time and you smell like smoke and I choke, I choke on my own breath and I can’t breathe. I have asthma! Don’t you care about me? You wouldn’t smoke if you cared. But guess what? You don’t care.”

“I smoke outside! I don’t smoke inside anymore, I don’t do it. You can’t possibly be choking from the smell of cigarettes on me. That’s ridiculous.”

“You’re lying. You’re just sleeping with another woman and now you can’t stand to sleep in bed with your pregnant wife. You don’t appreciate what I do for you, none of it.”

“What you do for me? What do you do?” Chris was getting riled now.
“You don’t do anything around the house. You sit on your ass and you watch that Christian bullshit all day long. And you pray that Jesus will save us. But he ain’t saving me, and he definitely isn’t saving you. I save us, I work all day long and you should be thankful for me putting a roof over your head. “

“Jesus Christ is my lord and savior and he is more important than you. Don’t you ever say you’re more important. You always think you’re so smart and you’re so great. Always have to hang everything over my head and treat me like a child. I do so much here, and you don’t thank me. You’re an ungrateful bastard.”

By this time the baby was starting to cry, Mary had come out of her room and took Caleb into her room. She knew by now how these arguments usually wound up in this house and she didn’t want her little brother involved.
Chris stood up and marched to the counter to get his keys.

“Whatever, Rosa.”
She grabbed his arm.

“Don’t you walk out on me! Where are you going to go? Going to hang out with your deadbeat friends? Going to fuck one of your ex-wives?”
Chris ripped his arm free and headed out the door. Rosa followed, stopping in the doorway. It was too chilly for her to venture out onto the gravel driveway with no shoes on.

“Fuck you, Rosa. I’ve never cheated on you or anyone. You’re the one who cheated. You’re always guilty and you always try to make everyone else guilty. I’m not and you and I both know it.”
Chris watched as Rosa’s face flushed. He wasn’t sure if it was shame or anger. She ground her teeth trying to muster up the most spiteful thing she could offer.

“Yeah you’re right, I cheated. You’re worthless. That baby isn’t even yours. Caleb isn’t your kid, he never was. He’s Carlos’s.”

If there was ever anything she could say to destroy Chris anymore than he already was, that was it. Caleb was his rock and now the world beneath him had been ripped away. He wasn’t his? She had lied to him? Chris denied what she was and climbed into his truck. He was hit with nausea like a ton of bricks. His stomach sank and his lungs seized. The chime of his cellular phone kept him company as he drove. Rosa was calling repeatedly.

She wanted to reach him but he didn’t want to be reached. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to that nasty bitch. Rosa was lying, she had to be. There was no way. That kid had his eyes, his blond hair. There was no way that Caleb wasn’t his.
Before he knew it his face was hot and unwelcomed tears streamed down his cheeks. He knew she was right, she was evil but not evil enough to lie about something like that. She wanted to hurt him with the truth, and she had. It was all true, all of it. He wanted to go back and ignore that she had ever said those things, that she had ever told the truth.

Go home and resume things as usual. Pretend that Caleb was his, raise him under that knowledge. Try to make things perfect. He couldn’t as much as he wanted to. Chris clung to the steering wheel, crying as he wound through back road after back road. Everything seemed as though it were crashing down around him, the weight on his shoulder was pulling him to his knees. He could hear the rush of blood as his heart pumped quick with anxiety.

Then it stopped. He heard nothing, saw nothing. He was dead. Though he would wake to see another day, he was dead. Or so he thought. Again he could not admit that he truly felt dead, even if Caleb wasn’t his biologically, that boy was still his son and he would love him so. He couldn’t take her anymore. It was truly the end of their marriage. Chris slammed on the breaks and turned around. He rushed to the house, slamming up the steps. Rosa was sitting on the edge of the couch, her face screwed up and hot with anger.

“Get out of my house.”

“You can’t tell me to get out!” she roared.

Chris didn’t respond, instead he went into their bedroom and grabbed a bag. He stuffed it with Rosas clothing, yanking the drawers roughly. Rosa was behind him yelling trying to take her belongings out of the bag as quickly as he was putting them in. Chris yanked away the bag and pulled Rosa by the wrist to the door. She writhed, screaming for Nathan and Mary.

“You aren’t taking them, Rosa. You aren’t fit to be their mother.”

She became absolutely enraged at this point. With all the strength he could muster while still being gently he forced her through the door. He turned to grab her keys from the coffee table and she hit him square in the jaw. He caught her hand when she came in for a second hit, the wide eyed Mary just behind him witnessing this terrible scene with her crying brother wrapped in her arms. Chris threw her car keys into the driveway.

“Get out of here, Rosa. Or I’m calling the cops.” Chris’ mouth stung, blood pooled between his tongue and cheek.

She only grew more furious and Chris slammed the door behind him. He locked it and fell back against it, sliding in defeat to the floor. Rosa pounded on the door, screaming still. Chris, fed up, called the police. Mary stood in front of him, crying. She was scared she was going to go into foster care like her mother told her many a time.

“I just want to stay with you, Dad” she sobbed.
Chris took his daughter into his arms, the baby also wrapped in their embrace. He rubbed his children’s backs, trying to desperately comfort them.
“You will be, I promise. You aren’t going anywhere.”
He may not have carnal love ever again, he figured, but at least he had his children. That he treasured. It was all he needed, it was the conclusion it took him years to come to.