A gleaming blade to greet my busted ass.

I came home at near dawn. When I quietly stepped through the door, I noticed no night light in the bedroom. Lynn always plugged it in when she went to bed just in case one of us needed to get up and take care of the baby, but no light was on and I knew she knew and was waiting for me. I didn’t think she was about to try what she did, but I knew she was lying in wait, like a viper.

I called her name softly as I headed for the refridgerator to get a beer. No answer. I opened the fridge and the light inside caught a speckle and glimmer from the  gleam of the blade in her hand. Without really hurting her, I took her to the wall and took the kitchen knife out of her hand. In the commotion, Britianny started crying, but she went un answered for a short bit as the accusations flied and I did not deny, what an idiot. The only thing I did deny was who she was, and that created another rotten but humorous story in a sick way.

The next morning, Lynn told me to never see or talk to or look at her again and never, ever bring this up again. In maturity, she is much like me in those matters now that I know how it feels and unfolds. Kudos to Lynn.

The mega sleeping pill just went down with about 7 other pills, 2 vallium and 5 hydrocodone so I’ll be gone soon, I apparently haven’t grown that much, other than my views against infidelity. And those are kind of loose in the right situation. Next, is when Lynn realized the knife didn’t scare me into faithfullness so she went bigger and then even bigger again. Kitchen knives are one thing but .45 caliber pistols are another.

Ill fated and wrong, but love no less.

Okay, so where was I before the introduction of my daughter here? Julie, that, oh so sexy, Osage home wrecking partner of mine for a while. By the time Julie started working there, Lynn had quit and was a stay at home mother and getting a wee bit on the psycho side.

Things were getting a little on the serious side with Julie and I. She was constantly urging me to leave Lynn and move from my shitty trailer in Stilwell and get a place in Tahlequah, where we could live together. It didn’t unfold as so though, luckily.

There were a couple of women who knew Lynn and had a distaste for Julie and I flaunting our infidelity and pure decadence together. One night, we were in the parking lot at work getting busy in Lynn’s Camaro, and one of Lynn’s two friends started pounding on the window and Kept saying, “you’re busted, you’re busted”. That, quite obviously spoiled the act, for that moment.

Later, after work, Julie grabbed Lynn’s friend’s hair from behind and started swinging, like a banshee. I was stunned, the security guard came out of nowhere and broke it up. I had no clue that woman could fight like that. Blood was flowing and that other woman’s nose was broken.

We both got into Lynn’s Camaro again, after all the commotion and headed off for our park. The Crown Royal was now flowing as well. As well as an apparent tough fighter and perfect lover, she liked to drink as well, whiskey and water.

We got to our spot by the train tracks and noticed some other people across the pond. Back then, the alcohol hit me fairly hard and I was easily F*-ed up. Hyped up from the fight and the booze, I allowed my impulsiveness to take over. We could hear the music from the other side of the pond, Bad Company, I believe. I hopped on the roof of Lynn’s car and started spouting twisted, Morrisonesque, dark poetry at them. Julie was fairly amused and I was having fun, until they drove around the pond and wanted to party with us.

After drinking a few of their beers, I told them it was a private party, what an ass, but again Julie was amused and our new redneck friends left. At least Julie didn’t beat the shit out of them.

The train never came that night, but we did lay together intimately below the stars, with a chilly breeze slowly sweeping. Our mutual body heat kept us warm enough though. Despite the other events of the night, it was pure beauty and an ecstasy like few others. I thought I was falling in love and she said the words. I was in love. Ill fated and wrong, but love no less.

It was nearly dawn when I got “home” to Lynn. She was awake, she had gotten a phone call from her broke nose friend. Not good, not good at all, but that is a story in itself for another time.

She’s my only daughter, Britianny

So now the whole Julie affair is in full swing. My daughter is crying at all hours in the night. One evening, we ran out of formula and I was broke, so I went to IGA with my leather coat, filled a basket full of shit I didn’t need and stuffed a can of Similac in my jacket. I went to the counter and acted as though I forgot my check book. The man ringing me up new something wasn’t right, but I gave a long look to him and he said “just go now”. I did.

Stealing was never something I planned on, but for my daughter, I will do anything. I still remember his face and know he knew I was stealing something, but I think he saw the desperation in me and as a good man, didn’t call me on it. I thank him in my heart to this day 16 years later.

Stealing smokes as a teen and getting nailed is one thing, but doing what is necessary for your child, when you have a shithole meat plant job, that is another. I never told Lynn what I did, she just thought I bought the formula. No one to this day has ever heard this, but I have no shame for it. It was for Britianny, my beautiful blond little girl. And she was hungry.

Now you may be seeing a different side to the scoundrel. Love for women comes and goes, but the love for a child is forever. She hasn’t spoke to me in months now, she’s angry and her mother, Lynn, has some nasty influence. She sounds just like her mom though, the same tone, the same inflections, she has a beautiful voice and she sings at school. She has my musical gene.

The last time we did talk, we talked for 3 hours on the phone. I just couldn’t quit listening to stories of her life. As I mentioned, she’s blond and she also looks much like my cousin Natalie, not too good for a teenage girl in a Cherokee boarding school. I wouldn’t have her there, but she was put there by the state.

While I was off living drunken rock and roll dreams, she was with her mother who abused her. Butch, her Grandfather, stepped in and called the law. The only good thing he ever did that I know of. He has custody now and the state of Oklahoma placed her in a boarding school in Tahlequah. A Cherokee school, even though she’s less than a quarter and white as can be. Sorry but full bloods have quite the distaste for us whiteys, or pinkys as some call us.

I think about her every day and keep in touch with her psychotic mother just for the chance that she may allow me to again speak to my only daughter. That is slim though, Lynn uses her as leverage against me and Butch is back to not giving a shit. I have faith though, I really screwed up bad, but one day she will forgive me and one day her mother will not be able to lock out my calls to her or her calls to me.

I’m going back down to Oklahoma next week, I think I’ll try to call her from a different number that her mother can’t block. One day soon, I’ll go for custody as well. Brit was wanting to move up here with me at one point, that’s when the shit hit the fan. Lynn saw it as an attack against her and spread some poison and blocked my number from Britianny’s phone.

God I miss that little girls voice, far more than any of my woman troubles. She’s my only daughter.

By the way, this wasn’t the planned focus of this post, but love of your child always comes first. I know that now, though it’s too late in so many missed ways.

One in a lifetime

When I first saw Julie, my hormones kicked into action. God, she was hot. But I was living with a woman and Julie was married. A little alcohol and none of that matters.

She was in a convinient store with her gay friend who was playing a video game, I was a wee bit tipsy and quite confident, the only real male asset, confidence, not tipsy, that is. Other than  skin tight jeans, it was 1992 in Oklahoma.  She was quite flattered by my approach and we went for a short walk.

That was the beginning. The next weekend, we both lied to our respective others and headed off to a motel in Fayetteville Arkansas. It was the best intimacy I’ve ever had. That woman knew just what to do and it went on for hours.

Monday when we showed up at work, she said she still was sore walking. I was sore all over, but didn’t tell her. Even my ribs somehow were overworked from her. I was a lucky man, at the time. Remember, this is a memoir of a scoundrel, I’ll keep the details somewhat honorable, but I am a scumbag. Who was the French writer who claimed he wrote not about the people at the bottom of the barrel, but those who reside beneath the barrel, that’s me. The lizard with a silver tongue when it’s necessary. I can’t isolate it, it just happens and the words, like the finest wine, flow from my soul to a willing other.

Anyway, that was our beginning, and my karma is paying me back now. Her middle name was an Osage word that means river, very different, yet very beautiful. Due the research, look it up, it’s a very pretty word. Our affair began hot and burned hot, unbelievable passion, a once in a lifetime. We would take off at lunch and go to a nearby park and manifest it. Once, afterwork, at 2:00 in the morning, a ranger interupted us in the act. He was quite amused and told us to park elsewhere where his dog wouldn’t bark at us, we ablidged from there on.

The park we chose as ours was near a pond and had train tracks by it. We always waited  ’till the train went by then followed our urges with it’s rumble in the background.  It worked really good that Soul Asylum’s song Runaway Train was getting a shit load of radio play at the time, as well as Creep, by Radio Head. I have nevr known a woman like her her and probably never will again. It was an affair of a lifetime.

Soon enough, word got out and her husband found out. He was a pussy though and wouldn’t stand up. So me and my friend Kyle, while drunk, defiled his truck. It was bad, any real man would have come after me with a shotgun, but as I stated, he was a pussy. He knew about us and he knew it was me who “defiled” his truck, but he didn’t do shit.

About a week later, he was hiding in the parking lot at work as we got off and he saw us kissing and saw my hands on that excellent Osage ass, and all he could do was call me a “maingy haired white son of a bitch”. Then later that night, I fucked his wife again. What a man he was. But what a woman she was, one in a lifetime.

Fate beckons

On one fated night, when our daughter was 5 months old, Lynn and I had our worst fight ever up to that point. I ended up leaving and picking up a friend at the time, Reese. Reese was a man with no shame. He had no problem telling people how he “entertained” himself with a mental image and a sock while he did a 3 year stint for drugs in the penn.

Anyway, Reese and I headed out for a night of drinking and whatever may come. Fate came. We went to a few bars in the Indian town of Tahlequah. Both of us got fairly hammered. On the way to drop Reese off, we had to stop for gas. I wasn’t looking for a woman otherwise, I would have done so in one of the bars we stopped in, but there she stood. A woman named Ray. Very cute, very drunk, with her friend, whose name I don’t recall. It happened very fast, the pick up, not the act.

This was the first time I had been disloyal to Lynn, and it felt good. Reese and Ray’s friend didn’t hit it off romantically, but I think they had fun anyway. We had gone back to Ray’s place, a tiny one bedroom apartment on the second floor, above a shithole bar. It was a one nighter and both of us knew it, but it was the change, the beginning of the end, with Lynn and I.

The next morning, I took Reese home and went home myself. She was furious, and rightfully so. We had a long drawn out argument, in which I confessed in spite, to my ill deeds, but later while rational, convinced her it was just a lie to hurt her, which in hind sight is probably worse. But we stayed together and I continued to father my daughter, who to this day is treated like a 1/2 member of the family. That is my biggest problem with my family. They see Lynn as a slut, which she isn’t, she just talks about her sex life, and they question if Britianny is mine, even though she looks just like me in many ways. I love that little girl. She’s almost sixteen now and won’t talk to me because I wasn’t there, but I still love her with all my heart, she’s my only daughter.

I live in Springfield Missouri, and I left work early one day, to haul ass down to Tahlequah Oklahoma, to see her in a school recital, then had to return that night. She’s beautiful and is the only true love of my life. And I so heartfully regret that I missed so much, she’s my daughter.

Anyway, back to the scoundrel. I had committed my first infidelity with Lynn, and as her anger grew, so did further my infidelity. Soon was to be the affair of a life time, with an Osage woman who would knock the socks off any man, mainly mine.

Lynn

I first saw Lynn while a Cherokee friend of mine and I were leaning on a second story railing at work. She was walking through with a tour of freshly hired people. When I first saw her, I felt a strange recognition, that I’ve only felt a few times and it’s always been right. I knew something special was about to unfold.

We both worked second shift, and one spring evening, two days after first seeing her, we met. I had and old hot rod Pontiac Ventura that, normally, could move like you wouldn’t believe. Not that night though. She was parked next to me and saw that I was broke down and offered me a ride.  She had a pretty hot car herself, a special edition Camaro Berlinetta. I gladly accepted the ride, and that was the beginning of another kind of very fast, very dangerous and life changing ride.

It was a 40 minute drive to my place in the back woods of Oklahoma. For two strangers we talked as though we’d know each other for years. Soon, I would learn that she had gone twenty minutes out of her way and then had to back track. When she dropped me off, it was somewhat awkward. I wanted to kiss her and she was sending out signals, but I shook her hand,which I did kiss and asked her out for the coming Saturday, and it all began.

That first Saturday evening went great and then the next and the next. Fairly quickly, I was living with her in a shitty little place in Westville (now known as Methville) Oklahoma. We ended up moving to another shithole, a trailer, so I was truly white trash by that point. And a few months later we bought a trailer together and put it on her dad’s land. That’s when it started turning on us and became very ugly. Oh and did I mention, by that time, we had a little girl.