

40 Something

### A Novel About the X-Generation

40 Something

### A Novel About the X-Generation

## Shannon Peel

## 40 Something

A Novel About the X-Generation

Shannon Peel  
Copyright 2017

ISBN:  978-0-9917694-9-0

January 2017 Edition

40 Something – A Novel About the X-Generation is the sole property of Shannon Peel and cannot in any way be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including recording, photocopied, or any information storage and retrieval system. It may not be used without the expressed permission of the author

# Dedication

To my children

Carter & Kennedy

Thank you for all your love

To my parents, my family, and friends for all your love and support through these last few difficult years.

# Thank You

Thank you to my friends who shared their lives and their stories to enrich the pages of this book.

I wish to give a special thanks to a woman whose support has meant the world to me. My former high school Art teacher who continues to encourage, support, and help her students twenty years later.

Roxi Hermson

**Thank you to my Social Media followers** and those who continue to share my content with their friends. Without you I would not have the motivation to continue.

# About 40 Something

40 Something is a novel written as a series of short stories to inspire contemplation and discussion about life, your life. Think of it as a series of TV show episodes that are meant to be commuter reads, lunchtime reads, or just before bed.

People in their 40s are busy with lots of demands and this book is meant to fit into their lives by offering short thought provoking stories they can relate to. The series is a reflection of the lives of the X generation who were born at the beginnings of the information age and came to age at a time when western countries were transitioning from a manufacturing economy to a new technological one. They are a forgotten generation sandwiched between two colossal giants – the Baby Boomers and the Millennials.

The X generation is a generation of feminism, technology, and bubble economic growth. More of our marriages end up in divorce than those of earlier generations and our children are living in a world so different from our childhoods, we are faced with challenges never before seen. Our generation is one of fracture and constant change.

# Our story is an important one.

# Based on True Stories

## Not a True Story

The stories are based on true stories and I thank those people who were generous enough to share their stories with me. However, this is a work of fiction and in no way does it portray any one person, situation, place, or even story.

The stories have been fictionalized, altered, made up, and names changed to protect actual people. All character names are fictional. If any actual person or situation is portrayed in exact detail, this is not intentional.

There is an autobiographical nature to the book, however, not all the opinions of the characters are held by the author. Opinions held by characters are based on their own personalities and are meant to reflect society on a general macro scale and not individual people, even the author.

Sunday Dinner

#

#

#

# Justine

Was there ever a time when it was simple to be a 40 Something woman?

Was it easier back in the day when everyone knew their place? When men were men and women were women? Did that made it simpler. I hope not, because if life was easier, better, more productive back in the day, what was the point of struggling for feminism and equality?

It's just that, it doesn't always feel like our lives are better. There is more pressure, more stress, and more responsibility. It feels like something is missing. Like this can't be all there is to life? Like it's all one big revolving wheel that goes nowhere. For instance every morning at our house is exactly the same:

"Mom where are my shirts?" My daughter Emma asks.

"Shirts? In your closet?" I reply.

"No."

"Folded in a basket?"

"No."

"Damn. Are you sure?"

"Ya. Never mind I found them."

"Where?"

"Wet and stinky in the washing machine. When did you wash them?"

I try to think. I can't really remember when I did.

"Uhm. Do you have a dirty one that you can wear?"

Sending my daughter to school in dirty clothes, what would my mother say? Thing is I know exactly what she'd say, she told me just last week.

"You just need to do things during work breaks. You work from home, how hard can it be to stop, take a break, switch out the laundry, do a load of dishes, sweep the floor, then go back to work?"

It is a good question. I generally don't take breaks, and if I do, I'm surfing the net or checking social media. I don't really think to do the laundry. Hence my daughter yelling at me about how hard done by she is because she has to wear a shirt she already wore to school. Heaven help us, what will the kids think? What will her teachers think? Will they call social services if her shirt gets dirty enough?

My husband comes down to save the day. He does this a lot. He'd grabbed a couple of clean shirts, the ones she doesn't like, out of her dresser, walked into the kitchen and said,

"Your choice, the dirty one, one of these, a smelly one, or you could just go in your bra. Up to you."

I choke on my coffee. _'And if she'd chosen to go in her bra, then what?'_ She doesn't. She just says Daaaad in that oh you're so embarrassing way teen girls have and grabs a clean one out of his hand.

"I'll go run the load in the washer, pour me a cup of coffee for when I get back," he says and disappears into the laundry room.

My gawd, I can't even imagine what my great-grandmother did before washing machines were invented. I turn, pour my husband a cup of coffee, add two teaspoons of sugar, and pop a bagel into the toaster for his breakfast.

I've filled the dishwasher and am just turning it on, when I feel his strong arms wrap around me from behind kissing me on my neck. I lean into him. It feels so normal.

"Yuck."

Our ten-year-old son's voice interrupts us and I am twirled around to face my husband who kisses me, while our son makes fake gagging noises. The kiss is just a passionless peck, normal, boring. He did it to gross out our son more than to kiss me.

"Your coffee, kind sir."

"Sugar?"

I look at him, shake my head, and turn to butter his bagel.

"Gus and Rose's place Sunday afternoon?" He asks and I nod. "Girls' night after?" I nod again. "And I'm stuck babysitting?"

"Parenting dear. It's called parenting when the kids are yours."

"Are you sure they're mine."

"Positive."

That's a typical morning. Every day it's the same. A chore I forgot to do, my husband swooping in to fix things, my kids needing something or disapproving of something I did or didn't do. Each day is pretty much the same; chores, kids, work, bed. Always the same. Perfectly the same. Perfect. The perfect life.

I am forty years old. I have a wonderful, loving husband, two well-adjusted kids, a gorgeous home in a suburban neighbourhood, and a career. I have a good life and I feel like I am missing something, like I've forgotten something, did something wrong.

Did my mother feel this way? Did my grandmother? Did my great-grandmother?

Did my grandmother ever forget to switch over the wash and have to wash the load two more times before it made it into the dryer? Did she own a dryer? Did she have to run her kids around from one activity to the other, help them with homework more advanced than when she'd gone to school? Did she feel the pressure of friends, family and society to be perfect? Always feeling judged? Did she ever look at her life and wonder if she made the right choices?

Will it be different when my daughter is forty? By then everyone will probably just swallow a pill and say, "that's dinner." So, if women have more time because they don't have to cook, will life be any different? Or will my daughter be looking at forty saying I think I forgot to do something.

Will she have regrets?

#

#

#

# Rose

I love my children, I do. I swear I do.

It's just, well, who are these people who live in my house?

One minute they are my sweet amazing well behaved children, the next they became these things, these hormone driven crazy Teenagers who can drive a sane woman, insane. I'm on my way to the loony bin, I tell you.

Take my oldest, Alexis.

She has been a struggle since she was conceived. I had a very difficult pregnancy. I thought my stomach was going to come out my mouth I was retching so much. Ever have the stomach flu? Well this was that for months on end. I was sure I was going to die, so did the doctors, and I ended up in the hospital with tubes feeding me the nutrients she needed to grow. After nine months of vomiting it still took 26 hours of labour for her to grace us with her presence.

The day she turned 13, she became an absolute nightmare. It's been World War 3 in our house since, as she tries to get away with everything from, wearing too much make up and too little clothes, to staying out after curfew getting drunk. I swear if I'd known how hard headed she was going to be, I would have left her at the hospital, or maybe just named her donkey.

Next came Isabella and she was an easy pregnancy, well by then they'd invented these pills for morning sickness and I was popping them like gummy candies. They were a God send. I gained so much weight it looked like I was going to burst. At first, the labour was a struggle, then the monitors started going off because she was in distress, so I was wheeled into the O.R. for a c-section. Seriously, you should consider booking one of these the day you find out your pregnant. It's a much easier way to get that baby out of you and much less scary when you plan on it, rather than having to have an emergency one.

Isabella was a model child, until fourteen, when she met a boy and not just any boy. She had to fall for Johnny an eighteen-year-old rebel with long multi coloured hair, a tattoo and facial piercings, I counted seven. Can you imagine having someone punch seven holes into your face? Not to mention what that kid did to his ear lobes.

Well, I thought Gus was gonna shoot him the minute he saw the boy.

We don't own a gun, but Gus was ready to go out and buy one. From that moment on she's been a struggle with one outrageous request after another, which Gus and I have put a stop to. No way is my daughter walking around with a nose ring, or any part of her face pierced, her body tattooed or her hair any colour, except the rich brown God intended. For mercy's sake. Give that girl one inch and she'll be headed to hell.

Jessica is my third girl. She was always a quiet serious little girl, such an easy child. She never gave me any trouble as a toddler or preschooler. She brings home the best marks from school. She's perfect really. Quiet, studious, smart, and keeps to herself. Always reading or doing homework in her room, I rarely ever see her.

When she became a teenager, not much changed. Well, her moods became a little darker at times and she seems to mope more than I'd like, still, she is doing just fine.

Then came Aiden. Finally, a boy.

My pregnancy with him was perfect. Barely any morning sickness and I had lots of energy. Right from the minute that boy could move, he was into everything. I was forever running after him. It was exhausting. Busy, busy, busy, that boy. He's grown into a talented athlete, a natural Gus says. At 13 he's already on the school Football team. There isn't any sport he couldn't excel at.

He just turned 13 and I am beginning to see the teenager signs already. He stopped hugging me, I was quite upset the first time it happened, but he's becoming a man, you know, and a mother has to expect these things. He hangs out with friends after school somewhere, but I am not sure exactly where. I find it quite frustrating at times. I need to know where he is at all times, I tell him and of course he doesn't listen.

Such a boy, my Aiden.

I enjoyed my children's toddler years, preschool years, elementary years. They were always so sweet, so loving, and we'd have so much fun together. Now, oh my. God give me strength to make it through a day without wanting to strangle one of them, especially Alexis and Isabella.

Being a mother is wonderful, I'm just wondering, is there a place I can send them for their teen years, a place where I could visit on occasion and then when they are normal again, they can come home?

Just asking.

#

#

#

# Charlie

Just sign the offer.

I'm waiting with my client in the boardroom. We are waiting for her ex husband to sign the divorce papers and settlement offer. He's drawn this out too long and cost my client too much money. It should have been simple, easy, 50/50 split. No such thing as an easy divorce. People think the law is black and white, but its not, its full of loopholes, precedents, arguments, and procedures.

I like practicing law. I enjoy putting a case together and arguing to get the best deal for my client. It's like a game of chess. You figure out what you're client really wants and what they are willing to compromise, then you build a game plan.

In my opinion it's best when my client makes the first move, that way we can ask for everything they are legally entitled to and have more control over the chessboard at the start. Then it's just a matter of give and take. She'll give you the car in exchange for the home's contents. He'll give you the savings account balance and you waive rights to his pension plan

This case. Not so easy.

He decided to represent himself. He's cocky and believes he knows the law better than I do because he read some textbooks and got some free advice. He's using every trick he can come up with to draw this out and my client is left holding the bill. Thing is, I still have one ace up my sleeve and if we have to go to court, I'm using it, that is if my client doesn't chicken out.

"Maybe we should just give him what he wants. I don't want to do this anymore. I want it to be over." My client is pacing back and forth. "I mean I don't really use the vacation house. He can have it. I can't take the stress anymore."

"STOP." She stops pacing and looks at me. "I know you'll give away the farm just to have this over. You have to let me go at him with everything. We've been as nice as we can. If he's going to cost you more, you have no choice."

"I don't know. I just can't do this anymore. The stress is too much."

"I understand. I've been there. Right now, you're only fighting for what's fair, in fact less than fair. You've already given him more than he's legally entitled to. The judge is going over it with him now. Let's just wait and see what happens first."

Judges don't like it when someone wastes the courts time or plays games to punish the other party by using the system, that's what this guy is doing. He thinks he's pulling the wool over everyone's eyes, but he's not.

I hate men like him.

The door opens and the judge comes in.

"I am sorry, he won't listen to reason. I've tried explaining the laws to him and what will happen if he goes to court. He's determined to play lawyer, he wants his day in court." The judge says.

"No. No. No. We should just give him what he wants."

"Sherry, listen. I know this is hard." I say.

"It's expensive, that's what it is. And now you want me to pay for experts."

"I know. He wants it to be expensive for you. He's punishing you."

"I know. I just... Oh, I am tired."

"We've talked about the next step. Are you prepared to go ahead with it?"

"Do I have any other choice?"

"Do you want your kids living with you full time?"

"He said he'd give me the kids 75% of the time, if I gave him the vacation house, 60% of the home equity and didn't go after his business. I'd have the kids. That's all that matters to me. The money doesn't."

It's a typical mom response. The mother will take a hit financially just to have the kids with her and it's not fair. The kids deserve better and what the mother doesn't realize is once the kids are teenagers, they will go live with whichever parent gives them the better lifestyle with the fewest hassles. It's better in the long run to fight for what she's entitled to.

"Do you want to be able to afford the lifestyle they grew up with?"

"Yes."

"Then not really. This is for the best. I know court is scary and that you are scared about what a judge will say. I can't say for certain which way it will go, but if we do this, I believe you will come out better off. OK?"

"Are you sure it's going to cost that much?"

"I'm afraid so, but if I'm right then you'll have the money to cover it."

She nods and I open my briefcase to take out papers to give to the mediating judge.

"I have a petition for a full psychological assessment of both parents, the children, and everyone who lives in the homes. Names are there."

"Let's take a look." The Judge reads the paperwork. "It all looks in order." He signs one copy and hands it to me. He signs the second copy to present to the other party.

"I'm not done."

He cocks his head at me, curiosity in his eyes. I smile at him and hand him another set of papers.

"This is a letter stating my client rescinds all offers up to this point and requests copies of all financial documents again."

"Again? Why do you want those?" The judge asks.

"Because my office's forensic accountant believes he may have some money hidden. He'll go looking for it now. Don't tell him we are looking."

"They always think they can get away with it." He says.

"I know. He's not going to be happy when he gets these. If you want I'll get security up here before you present him with the papers. He has a temper."

I turn to my client. She's as white as a sheet, I'm scared she might faint. I grab her arm to guide her to the closest chair.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm gonna be sick." With that, she pukes all over my new suit.

#

# Sophie

Thankfully, the kids are at Rose's place and not here with me. I told her I had a doctor's appointment because I couldn't tell her I had to go apply at the welfare office and then coming here for a hand out too.

I couldn't.

I'm standing in line at the local food bank. You know, I used to drive by here every day and I had no idea it was here. Funny how that works.

It's humiliating. I... Sorry... I mean... I'm grateful.

People and stores give food to the bank so people like me can eat. Without their generosity we would starve. Every little bit helps.

When I check in, the nice lady gives me a card that says three and another that says two. This means I'm able to collect food for three people and two school lunches. I should be grateful, and I am in a way, but I mean, it's just, I'm not supposed to be here.

I'm supposed to be able to take care of my kids. I'm supposed to be living in a nice house in an upscale neighbourhood. I'm supposed to be married with 2.5 kids and two cars in the driveway. That's what adults are supposed to do, right?

You know, I had that, I did. Really. Before I had to leave. I lived in a five-bedroom house on a cul-de-sac, backing onto a quiet green belt. I lived there. I did, honest. I had four cars in the driveway. Well only one was mine, the oldest one, and the other three were my husband's...

Oh right, my ex husband, now. I have to remember that.

It's not fair. I did everything right. I did what I was supposed to do and here I am standing in line for food other people didn't want. I guess it's fitting somehow, because like this food, I am not wanted.

Craig, that's my ex, he still lives in our five-bedroom house. He still has three cars and a good job. He hates his job, but the pay is really good, it just makes him miserable. It was good enough to keep us in that house. Good enough to keep the kitchen stocked with food. Good enough to keep the kids in good quality clothes and lots of shiny toys for him.

It is a good paying job. He should be happy with it. He's not. He says he will be happy now that I'm gone. He'll be happy without me.

I moved into a small two-bedroom basement suite in an old house outside town with my two kids. We fit into it, somehow. I sleep on the couch because the nice lady at the courthouse said it was better for the kids to have separate rooms 'cause they're a boy and girl. The courts will be happier if they have separate rooms, she told me. It'll make it harder for Craig to take them, she said. I'm supposed to be giving them the same life they had before the separation, she said. I'm not. I can't. I don't make enough on welfare. Craig, when he feels like it, and I beg for it, gives me a few hundred dollars. I'd rather stand in this line than beg him for money.

I wonder if she likes the kitchen?

I miss my kitchen. The thought of her, Craig's girlfriend, in my kitchen, in my life, it makes me sick. The pain in my throat burns and my eyes have started watering, right here in this stupid line. I wipe the tears away quickly. I hope no one saw. I look down at my feet. I need new shoes.

"Tuna or ground beef?" The lady behind the counter asks me.

"Ground beef," I answer.

She gives me two frozen packages. I shuffle on to get a couple carrots and some potatoes. I am grateful for the food. I am. It's just that I'm used to roasts, steaks, and chicken. Ground beef? What am I supposed to do with that?

I receive boxes of mac n cheese made with toxic orange food colouring. Craig would beat me for feeding the kids this. They aren't allowed to eat this processed food. It's food though. I can't afford to say no to food.

Rose wants me to get a lawyer and take Craig to court to demand child support and my share. I can't. She doesn't understand. I'm not sure I understand. When Craig told me we were getting divorced, he told me no lawyers. He'd be fair, he said and we could do this without the courts, he said. We'd both be fair.

This doesn't feel fair.

He told me the courts mess everything up and cost a bunch of money, money we could use for the kids. The lawyers would take our kid's money. He said the courts would decide where the kids lived and we don't want that to happen. We could do this on our own, he said. He'd be fair, he said.

Can the courts make the kids live with him because he can afford them and I can't? He says they can. The court lady said she can't say what a judge would do. She said that the court would assess each situation and do what was best for the kids. What is best for the kids?

My neighbour Liz, she went to court and they took her kids away. She used to have them almost as much as I have mine, all the time, but now she has them only half of the time. Liz said the judge hated her and was unfair. Would a judge hate me? Would he force my kids to go live with Craig instead of always living with me? I can't lose my kids. I just can't.

I put the apples and oranges the lady gives me into my bag, a weak smile on my face.

"White or Brown?" Another woman asks.

"Brown please."

She hands me two loaves of day old bread and I'm grateful for it. I am. Without this, I would have nothing.

"Are your kids allergic to peanuts?" I shake my head. "Here, you look like you could use this." She passes me a large jar of peanut butter and another jar of honey. I can't even afford to buy my kids peanut butter and honey. The inside of my nose is burning. My eyes are blurring. I'm sobbing.

I feel someone's arms around me. It's one of the ladies from behind the counter. I feel her pushing against my shoulder moving me towards the back. Hide. Hide the broken woman whom no one wants.

"Here sit down. Here's a box of tissues. Are you ok?"

Her words sound absurd, but I nod. OK? Am I OK? Am I ever going to be OK again?

#

#

#

# Lindsay

Oh my head. The light's too fucking bright.

Fucking sun.

Hangovers are the worst.

I roll over and my hands connect with a hard body. Who is this?

I open my eyes. At least he's cute. Maybe twenty-five. Great, he'll wake up all hot to trot and my head feels like a freight train ran over it. I've got to get him out my condo. I roll over and my eyes begin to focus.

Where the hell am I?

It looks like a dorm room. Really, a dorm room? I'm at the University? This is the only way I'd ever get on campus.

Shit.

I slip quietly out of bed and try to locate my clothes, which seem to be everywhere. Thank God the room is a closet and he sleeps like the dead. I can't seem to find my panties. Was I wearing panties? I doubt it. Hell, if I was, he gets a souvenir.

Opening the door slowly, don't want to wake the young buck, I slip into a hallway filled with more half naked young bucks. Damn. So what, I look young enough to be a student and they'd be lucky to get an education from a woman who knows her stuff like I do.

I walk out of the building with my head held high.

Shit, there are kids all over the fucking place. I need a drink. Can someone please turn off the fucking sun already?

Fumbling in my purse I find my phone and call a cab. I have got to stop drinking so much. I try to piece together last night. There was dancing and of course drinking, lots and lots of drinking.

Who'd I start the night with? I check the calendar on my smart phone. Date with Brandon and a number. I text.

What the hell happened last night?

No response by the time the cab shows up. I feel too crappy to be angry. I call Charlie and tell her where I woke up.

"What about this Brandon guy? Where is he?" She asks.

"I don't know. I don't remember much about last night."

I like to party. I party all the time, but I never get so out of control I don't remember what happened. I've woken up in men's beds plenty of times and I always remember how I got there, eventually. Last night though is a complete blank. Damn, I don't even know if the kid was any good. Now that pisses me off.

"What's the last thing you remember? Think Lindsay."

"Drinks with Brandon at that new wine bar downtown, the one we went to last weekend."

"OK then what?"

"I don't know. He was kind of awkward, just kept staring at me while I talked. He barely said two words. Just asked me questions and stared at me like I was the best thing he'd ever seen, and damn it, I probably was."

"Where did you go after drinks? Did you eat anything?"

"I don't remember food, I remember wine, plenty of wine. The waiter kept filling my glass. I think we left to go dancing, 'cause I remember dancing. I don't know where. That's it. I don't remember anything else. I sure as hell don't remember hooking up with that kid."

"Write it down. Get some water into you, better yet, sports drinks, and write down what you remember. I'll be by your place in an hour. Get cleaned up"

That's Charlie. She's a lawyer. She's always telling me to write it down. God like writing it down is the most important thing In the world. I'm not a fucking writer.

"I'm fine."

"Good, 'cause you promised to come to dinner at my sister's today."

I stumble into my condo, paid for by my lovely jackass of a second husband, and drop into bed. Finally, someone turned off the fucking sun.

#

#

#

# Rose

House cleaned, check. The roast is in the oven, check. The potatoes on the stove, check. The cake is iced, the pudding's chilled, check. Buns. Oh no, I forgot the buns.

"Alexis... Alexis..." My voice gets louder as I scream up the stairs. "ALEXIS!"

"Ya what do you want? I'm busy."

"Doing what?"

"None of your business."

"It is my business. Forget it. I need you to go and pick up some dinner buns from the store. Everyone will be here soon."

"Why does everyone have to come every week?"

"Seriously? You've asked that question every week since you were fourteen and the answer has always been the same. Now get me the buns."

"Yes M'am." She salutes.

I hate it when she does that. I don't have time to discipline her, I'll just store it for later. Now where was I? Buns, house, roast, potatoes, buns, cake, and pudding, drinks.

"Alexis... get ginger ale." I yell at her back as she leaves the house.

"Moooom." Isabella comes bounding down the stairs. The girl truly does bound like a rabbit or some kind of stair-bounding kangaroo. Drives me nuts.

"Yes, Isabella?"

"Isa, Mom it's Isa."

"I named you. It's Isabella and I'm not having this conversation again. What?"

"Aiden is messing around in my room."

"Tell him to get out."

"He won't listen."

No surprise there. That boy has selective hearing.

"Tell him I have some cookies here for him." I say.

"Cookies? Can I have one?"

"And ruin your dinner and your figure?" She glares at me.

I know that was an unfair remark, still the girl would live on junk food if I let her. It's so hard to get her to eat a healthy meal. One day she told us she was going to be a vegetarian. More like a carbotarian. The girl ate only bread and cheese, mainly in the form of cheese pizza. That didn't last long before I sat her down with a good healthy meal of meat, potatoes, and vegetables. Wouldn't let her get up 'til she ate it all. A growing girl needs a healthy meal.

"Isa said you had cookies?"

"It's Isabella, Aiden, and yes, if you go help your father with the lawn."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes you have to. Next time don't bug your sister. Now out you go. Your father shouldn't have to do it all on his own anymore, you're thirteen, plenty old enough to help out. Hurry, everyone will be here soon."

"Is Davie coming?"

"Yes. I think so. He was at his father's last week, right? So he's here this week. Now off you go or you won't be playing with Davie or getting any cookies."

With that, he's out the door to help Gus with the yard work. Oh damn I should have given the boy a beer to take to his dad. Gus will be thirsty. Beer? Oh no. I rush to the garage where there is another fridge usually filled with beer and wine. I forgot to check our supplies.

"Hey honey, how's the dinner coming?"

"Gus."

He is pulling cases of beer and bottles of wine out of the car. He remembered.

"Let me help you."

He bends down kisses me on the cheek and then hands me a couple bottles of wine. I look up at him. My man. Tall. Solid. My heart floods with joy and I want to be in his arms. That will have to wait. It's Sunday and everyone will be here soon. So much to do. Always so much to do. No time to cuddle in his arms.

I love Sundays. Family days. It is a lot of work having everyone over to get caught up and reconnected. I love it. Since my sisters moved my parents into the city it's the only way I get to see them. Family is so important and the kids really need to spend time with their grandparents before they are gone. Not that it will be anytime soon, mind you.

#

#

#

# Sophie

I have the kids all ready to go. They've had baths and are in clean clothes. I've packed a bag for the day, including healthy snacks. Craig is late. I'm sure he will be here soon to pick them up. I don't know what I'm going to do without them. They are always with me.

I told Rose I'd meet her for a girl's night tonight, maybe I should go to her place for her family's dinner. When she asked me to, it sounded so overwhelming. Too many people I didn't know. It's painful to be around people. To be around families who are normal. To see what I so desperately want and will never have again. It hurts. I know I'm being jealous and petty. I can't help how I feel.

I look at the clock on the mantle, one of the few things I took with me from the house. He's half an hour late. The kids are restless. They are looking forward to seeing him. Where is he? How could he be late? Annoyance and anger twist around and I grab my cell and dial his number.

"Hello."

Craig's voice comes over the phone and all the anger flows out of me. I want to cry. His voice. I miss him, my heart clenches in my chest and I want to see him.

"Hello. Who is this?" he says again.

"Craig. It's Sophie."

"What do you want Soph?" Annoyance in his voice cuts me.

"You were supposed to be here half an hour ago to pick up the kids. They're waiting."

"Shit. Soph, I'm busy. I can't make it. Tell them I'll see them soon."

"Busy? Craig they are waiting for you. Why didn't you call? What are you so busy doing that you can't see your kids?"

"None of your God damn business, Soph. I'm busy, that's all you and the kids need to know. I'll come by and get them in a few days."

"What day? What time?"

"Does it matter? I'll pick them up when I can."

"What if we have plans? We might be out."

"No you won't. You have no plans. You have no life, Soph. Tell the kids I'll drop by soon. Bye. I got to run."

I hear his girlfriend's voice in the background, calling his name and the knife cuts.

"Craig, you can't do this." The anger is back. "You're their dad and they are waiting for you. Come pick them up now. What kind of father ditches his kids for some slut bitch? A deadbeat crappy one."

I've never talked to him like this, never. I can't believe it. My blood is boiling, my breathing is fast and I want to punch him. I'm shaking I'm so angry. I never get mad. I never talk to Craig like this. Never. To do so... Ice freezes in my veins as I realize what I've done. I turn and see my son. His face is covered in tears.

"You're son is crying now." I say.

"That's not my fault you stupid cow. You're the terrible mother yelling in front of the kids. You are the one who made them cry. It's your fault they are upset, not mine. Don't turn this on me. It's not my fault you are a lonely, miserable, bitter woman. That's your problem. Not mine. Get a grip, Soph, or I'll come take the kids. If you can't behave yourself in front of them, I'll have to raise them. I won't have you yelling in front of my kids. You're such a useless waste of skin. Don't fucking call me again. Get a life."

With that, he hangs up, and I'm standing in my small basement suite looking at my son, who is wiping his face and my daughter, who is beginning to sob. I kneel down. I can feel the tears. I can't stop them. All three of us are huddled on the floor, crying.

"I'm sorry. I never should have yelled. I'm such a bad mommy for doing that. I'm sorry."

"You're a good mommy." My daughter says and gives me a big hug.

"Mom. You are a good mom. I love you." My son hugs me.

My kids think I'm a good mom. So why do I feel like such a crappy one?

#

#

#

# Charlie

Dishes are piling up in the kitchen. The kids are already running around screaming. My sister, Rose, has told them to go upstairs to play and if they don't start listening soon, I may lose it. My son Davie comes running around the corner chasing his cousin Aiden, who is a spoiled brat. Who am I to say anything bad about the kid, I'm just the aunt?

"Davie." My stern voice, he stops. "What did Aunty Rose tell you?"

"To go upstairs."

"And? Why are you running around in here then? Do you boys want to do the dishes or something?" I look squarely at Aiden when I say this.

"No, Aunt Charlie."

"Then?"

"Going Mom."

I turn grab a piece of cake and shove it into my mouth. It's good. One thing I can say for my baby sister, she can bake. I look at the women in the kitchen, my sister, my mother and my friend Lindsay, who graciously agreed to come with me today. She is fun and knows how to have a good time. Right now, she's pouring me a glass of white wine with that sparkle in her eye.

"What?"

"Let's go out to the garage and see what the men are getting into." She winks.

"If we do, Rose will freak out, then she'll tell dad and he'll lecture me the whole way back into the city about how men need their time together and I need to help my sister. My mom will tsk-tsk or yell at me or something." I take the glass of gold coloured liquid and take a big gulp of it. "So grab a dish Lindsay, it's time to clean up."

"You do this every week?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

"It's family."

I haven't met her family, yet. She doesn't talk about them at all. If they are anything like her, I'm sure they go out to restaurants for family dinners and let others do the cooking and cleaning. I pull her over to a pile of dishes, throw her a towel, and smile. She looks horrified. I'm not sure if the girl has ever washed a dish in her life.

"Lindsay, it's wonderful to have you here today."

"Thanks. Rose? It's Rose right?"

"Yes. You'll have to come with Charlene every Sunday. You are staying for girls' night?" She looks right at me. "Right Charlene?" It's not a request. You'd think she was the big sister.

"Wouldn't miss it."

Why do you think I brought Lindsay? To liven up the night, dumb ass.

"Oh hey, Charlie." Rose's sister-in-law says.

"Hi Justine, how is everyone."

"Good. Really good."

I bet. This chick's life is just like Rose's, right out of a fucking Norman Rockwell painting. Gus' big brother's perfect wife, Justine is gorgeous, smart, successful, and has amazing tits. Perky, perfectly sized tits, unlike my huge watermelons. I take another large swig from my glass, empting it and hold it out to Lindsay who already has the bottle poised to fill it. Thank God for Lindsay.

"So, Charlie how's the practice?"

She means my law practice. I'm a divorce lawyer and a damn good one.

"Busy. I really should be working. I'm behind like always."

"Charlene, you wouldn't work on a Sunday? The Lord's day? It's for family." My sister's horrified, judgemental voice stabs at me.

"What's this about working on a Sunday, Charlene?" Oh shit. My dad. Fuckin' Rose.

"No dad. I'm here, aren't I? I just said I was behind at work is all. I didn't mean it literally."

"Good. God wouldn't want you working."

I notice that he didn't mention "on Sunday." My dad thinks I shouldn't be working. A teacher, a secretary, retail are all acceptable part-time jobs for women. What's not acceptable, is a career where I have to put in sixty to seventy hours a week. 'Cause that ruined my marriage according to him and is the reason I'm still single five years later.

"What do you need, Daddy?" Rose his perfect princess.

I finish the second glass with one gulp. I'm beginning to feel light headed and drunk. I put my hand over my glass and shake my head as Lindsay holds out the bottle to fill it up again. The last thing I need is to be drunk right now.

"Come on, I need a drink, and it isn't my family." Lindsay whispers in my ear. I nod and remove my hand. What can it hurt to have one more glass? I'll only sip it this time.

#

#

#

# Lindsay

Wow. In one way I envy Charlie. I mean she has so much family and they love her, they care about her, help her. She isn't alone. There is so much love in this room I can barely breathe. It's so normal. Perfect. I thought this only happened in the movies.

I'm very uncomfortable. I've been drinking wine, lots of wine, trying to calm my nerves. It isn't working. I hate them. I hate them for having such a wonderful, loving family. They've almost made me cry twice now by being so damn nice and including me. Interested in my week. Interested in each others' week. They aren't even pretending to care. They really do care.

Charlie doesn't seem to completely fit in and they love her anyway. Her sister Rose is a piece of work. I'm glad she's not my sister. She's quite the control freak and bosses everyone around. It doesn't make sense to me why the guys are out drinking in the Garage, relaxing and having fun while we are cleaning up. Haven't these people ever heard of caterers?

I've counted seven kids the oldest is nineteen and the youngest is ten. I can't help but wonder if my daughter Destiny was like them at their ages. Fuck. I need to get out of here before I start crying.

I walk through the back door just as Gary walks in, and of course, I'm not paying attention and walk right into the gorgeous brick wall. Gus and his brother, Gary, are sexy men. This guy's wife is gorgeous, I get why they are together, but what does Gus see in Rose?

"Lindsay, right?" Gary says.

"Yeah. Hi." I try to get around him.

"Hey. Are you OK? What's wrong?"

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not. You're about to cry. Come on let's take a walk."

All must not be good in their perfect suburban paradise. I flash him a sexy smile.

"Lead on hot stuff." I wink.

I'd follow his hot ass anywhere. Fuck, it's perfect. I imagine my fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt and slipping it from his shoulders. My lips gently caress his skin, my tongue tastes him as I kiss his chest, his neck. His bare arms wrapping around me and drawing me closer to his hard muscles, my breasts straining to touch flesh. I get a hot flash just thinking of his bare torso and me, playing with it, getting to know all his ticklish spots, his erotic spots, and then when he's busting with passion, I go for the gold.

"Hey Gus, just going for a walk with Lindsay. Can you let Justine know I'll be right back."

"You're letting your wife know? So, you have an open marriage." That could work.

"An open marriage?"

"Yeah, where you fuck other people but are still committed to each other. An open marriage."

"No." He's laughing. "I don't understand how people can think that is a marriage or even acceptable as a relationship. Each to their own, I guess if they are happy, who am I to judge."

"Why the walk then?"

"You looked like you needed a break and could use someone to talk to."

"Are you for real?"

"Yes."

This hot, sexy man only wants to talk to me? Nothing else? Yeah right.

"I can blow you if you want."

I'd love to see this man's package. His unit is probably huge and thick. My mouth is watering just thinking about it. In my mind I slowly undo his belt, his button, and unzip his zipper before fishing around in his underwear for my prize. He looks at me, cocks a sexy eyebrow and with a look of pity in his eyes, shakes his head. Pity? The asshole.

"No, I don't want you to blow me, Lindsay. Has a man ever just wanted to be your friend?"

"Friend?" Now it's my turn to laugh. "Not unless he's gay."

"Well consider me your first straight, male, friend. I'm Gary by the way."

"Hi Gary. It's nice to meet you."

Friend. Yeah we'll just see about that. I want benefits with that friendship baby. Full benefits.

"I know that the family can be a bit overwhelming."

"You're telling me."

"Be glad the rest of the Reed and Fischer clan isn't around. It's quite the large gathering at Christmas and Thanksgiving."

"There's more of you?"

"Yep, one more Reed girl and two more Fischer boys. And then there are my parents and Justine's mom."

"Are any of your brothers single?" He laughs.

"Yes, the youngest, Greg is. I have no idea which country he is in at the moment. He travels a lot for work."

"Sounds like a good life."

"He likes it. I prefer mine."

"What about your other brother?"

"The oldest, Grant, is in Chicago, with his wife and six kids. There are too many of them to travel all the way here, except for at Christmas. My parents are out there, visiting this week."

"Six kids?"

"Yes six. They'd have had more if Carol could've. The last one almost killed her and Grant insisted on going and getting snipped to ensure it wouldn't happen again. I think he was scared of being a single father of six kids, all a year apart."

"Oh my God. You're not kidding."

"You look a bit horrified."

"I am. The seven back there were loud and busy. I can't imagine that every day."

He's laughing again. I really like his laugh.

"Do you have kids?"

"Yes. Two. Two girls."

"How old are they?"

"Ah. Destiny is around thirty, I think and Evelyn is eight."

"That's quite the span and you don't look old enough to have a daughter that's thirty. What are you? Thirty-eight?"

"I love you. Add nine years to that."

"Wow you look good for thirty-eight plus nine." He winks. Oh my God when this man winks. Fuck. I just want to drop to my knees and worship him. Fuckin' hell, all the good guys are taken. "You should have brought them." He adds.

"It's complicated." I say.

I can imagine the phone call to Destiny.

"Hello Destiny, it's Lindsay"

"Who?"

"You're mother."

"My mother is Donna. You are just the egg donor."

With that, she'd hang up on me and that would be the end of it. Can't blame her.

"Divorces usually are." Gary was saying. "We only get Davie every other week, it's not easy on Charlie. I feel for her and Davie."

"We?"

"Well, yeah. Davie is a part of the family and we like to see him. You should bring Evelyn when you have her on a Sunday. I'm sure she'd like to play with Davie and Aiden."

I smile to hide the pain I feel. Sure, I'll just bring along the court appointed social worker while I'm at it. That won't be awkward. Not all families are perfect. Not all mothers are considered fit to be one, least of all me, according to my ex and the courts.

"Evelyn would love to, I'm sure. She doesn't get to play with kids very often, unless her nieces and nephews or her great nieces, come to visit their grandfather."

"Great nieces? At eight years old? Wow."

"She was born an aunt. My ex has kids a decade older than I am. I'm his fourth wife. They aren't like your family. They're all too busy running international businesses for my ex to get together for dinners, unless it's business related. Then it's usually only him, his kids, and adult grandchildren to discuss business. Not their wives or kids. They just don't have time to get together like you do."

"You said Evelyn doesn't get to play with kids her age. Doesn't she have school friends?"

"She doesn't go to school." He looks shocked, I smile. "My ex husband retired when she was five. A year later he divorced me and took Evelyn to travel the world with a nanny slash teacher."

Slash whore. Considering her age and looks, I am certain she is my replacement. He just didn't marry her. Would he have married me if I hadn't gotten pregnant with Evelyn? I wonder how long before the slut gets herself pregnant for a nice big ring.

"When do you get to see her?"

"I don't. I get twelve visits a year, three per quarter, at his discretion."

"Excuse me? How did that happen?"

"He had good lawyers, deep pockets and my other daughter, Destiny. Once they were done, I was declared unfit and that was it. Now I get one hour supervised visitations. It's what it is. Evelyn has a good life."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"How do you feel about not having your daughter?"

"Angry. I was a shit mom to Destiny, but I was a good mom to Evelyn. I was."

"I believe you."

I looked up at the kind man walking beside me and I break down in sobs. One minute I had it together, the next, a sharp pain went through my gut, up to my throat and a heat penetrated from it, burning me. I'm sobbing. His arms are around me bringing me into him and I feel safe - Safer than I've ever felt in my life.

"What's wrong?" Charlie's voice.

"We were talking about things and I think she just needs a good cry." Gary's voice.

I pull away from the man wiping my eyes.

"I'm fine. Really. I'll be fine."

My eyes clear of tears and begin to focus. I freeze in horror. Justine is here too. She just found me in her husband's arms, sobbing. This is not going to be good. I don't say anything, it's his wife after all.

"Are you sure?" Justine asks.

She steps towards me and I take a step back. I'm too vulnerable to win a fight. I can feel the pain still there ready to cut through to the surface again. I do nothing. Why isn't he doing something? Coming up with some dumb excuse? Anything. It's his wife and not my problem.

"Do you want to go for a coffee Lindsay?" Justine asks.

I look at her in total disbelief. Do I want to go for coffee? With her? Why? So she can yell at me and tell me to stay away from her husband? Hell no.

"Why don't you and Gary go back to the house." Charlie says. "Lindsay and I will be there shortly."

I nod. I do not want to face this woman right now or ever.

Gary. Sexy, kind, wonderful Gary, takes his wife's hand and they walk back to the house. I don't want to know what he's telling her, what awful things he's saying about me. I am such a fool. The pain claws at my throat and I can feel the tears coming again. I hate crying. I always look so old when I cry. I take a deep breath and calm myself. I force myself to smile. Happy. Be happy. It doesn't matter. It's over.

"What just happened?" I ask.

"Gary Fischer happened." Charlie says.

"But his wife. I mean..."

"I know. He's Mr. Wonderful and completely in love with his wife."

"I don't get it."

"It's Gary. He has some sort of emotional radar. The guy can get you to tell him anything. He turned me into a blubbering mess after I caught David cheating. I'll tell ya, I fell in love with Gary's big strong shoulder and soaked it with tears on more than one occasion."

"He's a god."

"Lindsay, word of advice, don't talk to Gary. He loves Justine and he's just a nice guy is all. He won't do anything with you. No matter how much you want him to. He'll never love you."

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience."

"I am. After my separation I fell in love with him and still get butterflies when I see him. It wasn't mutual. Don't take his concern for anything but what it is. He helps everyone. It's who he is. All the Fischer boys are like that. They learned it from their dad. I used to think they were all nice guys, nothing to get all ga ga over, until I grew up and realized how wonderful nice guys really are."

"All of them are like that?"

"The three I know are. I don't know the youngest all that well because he's hardly around. I kick myself for not marrying Grant, he had a crush on me in high school."

"Did you go out with him?"

"No. He was too much of a goody-goody. A nice guy. And I liked the bad boys. I wanted to get into all sorts of trouble and Grant never did anything wrong."

"Me too. Do you think there are any nice single guys out there our age?"

"Nope. We backed the wrong horse and we are now paying the price."

"Shit."

"You said it sister."

Sister. I like the sound of that. I always wanted a sister.

#

#

#

#

# Rose

Another Sunday dinner done.

I survey the damage. Not so bad. I putter away putting things in their place and tidying up. The kitchen's cleaned up. Leftovers are in the fridge in case the men get hungry while us girls are out. The kids are busy doing their thing. Everyone else went for a walk to find Gary and Charlene's new friend Lindsay.

Annoyance and anger swirl around my guts at the thought of Gary disappearing with that woman and Gus just letting him. I told Gus as much. He says I'm over reacting, but I don't trust that woman. I hope Justine gives Gary an earful. I don't understand why Charlene brought her.

The first time I met the woman I could see she was a slut, a complete whore, just by looking at her. In her short skirt and too tight top, with too much make up and fake everything. I have no idea why Charlene hangs out with her.

"Rose."

"Yes Mom?"

"Do you have any tea?"

"Sure come into the kitchen and I'll make you a cup. How are things at the new place?"

Charlene and Gwen moved mom and dad into one of those fancy independent retirement homes in the city.

"Oh lovely. It really is a nice place. Too nice I think."

"Well, you and Daddy can always move in here with us."

"Oh no, Rose. You have enough with the kids and Gus. You don't need your old mom and dad to take care of too."

"I'd love to take care of you."

"And bless your heart. Don't worry, the girls have set us up in a nice place."

I don't say anything. What can I say? Gus and I couldn't afford to contribute. Especially to something as expensive as the place Charlene picked. It is like a luxury hotel complete with pool, dining room, events planner, theatre, and exercise room. It isn't fair. They could have lived here with us. I breathe deep.

"As long as you like it. I'd just rather you were living here where I could take care of you."

"After your dad's heart attack I didn't feel comfortable living on our own. This way a nurse is right down the hall. It is nice to have our meals cooked for us and the staff nutritionist has been able to get your dad eating better for his heart. It really is the best option for us."

"But we can't afford –"

"Why are you feeling guilty Rose?"

It's eerie how she does that. She knows what I'm thinking, how I'm feeling. I'd be having a bad day and just when I need her to, she calls me.

"It's just that we can't afford to help. It's like Charlene and Grace swooped in with their money and took you and Daddy away from me."

"No one took us away from you."

"But if you'd just waited a few more years the girls would be gone and you could have moved in here."

"And been a burden to you? No."

I pour the hot water into the mugs and drop in the tea bags. I miss tea with Mom. I had planned on having tea everyday with her here in my kitchen, if it wasn't for my sisters and their money.

"Rose. Look at me."

I raise my eyes and look at her.

"You. Are. Blessed. Look at your life. You have a wonderful man who loves you, four beautiful children, a gorgeous home full of happiness and love. You are richer than your sisters. Charlene, for all her success is alone and only sees Davie half the time. She works so hard and misses out on so much of his life. Grace's life may sound amazing with all the nice things, the travel and exciting adventures she has, but it's empty. She has no children. No husband. It's just her. You have everything those two want. You are the rich one."

I walk around the island and give my mom a big hug. She always knows.

"Got a hug for your old Dad?"

"Oh Daddy. I've always got a hug for you."

I turn to hug my father who came in from the garage.

"Don't worry you'll always be my princess. Your mother is right, though, you've done it right. You've got a good life here. The city is too loud, too busy, too expensive."

"Now Howard. We are just fine in our place and we get to see Charlene and Davie more. Not to mention that nurse you keep flirting with."

"Daddy." I am a bit shocked.

"Daddy nothing. Your mother is drooling all over the personal trainer and the widower down the hall, right along with every other woman in the place."

"Mom." They are both laughing at me.

"Oh honey, by the time you're our age, you get your excitement where you can. It's harmless fun."

"Now where is everyone?" Dad asks.

"Ah. Gary went for a walk with Lindsay. When Charlene found out, she insisted her and Justine go find them."

"I should think so." Mom says. "Charlene shouldn't be hanging out with a woman like that. And to bring her here, I'll be talking to your sister."

"Leave her be. She's a grown woman." Dad says.

Gus walks in with Gary and Justine, ending my quality time with my parents and I can't help but feel resentful. I miss having them all to myself. With Charlene in the city and Grace in New York, I was the only one still in town to visit them regularly. I miss them.

Gus comes over and gives me a kiss on the cheek. I smile at him. He knows what I am feeling and is offering me his support. Justine makes herself a cup of tea and the guys grab beer. I sit back sipping on my tea, taking in the conversation, happy.

This is family. This is what it is all about.

#

#

#

# Justine

Rose does not like Charlie's friend Lindsay. She made that abundantly clear while we drink our tea in her kitchen. She even lectured Gary about how to be the perfect husband. He _is_ the perfect husband. That's the problem. I'm not jealous because I know that he wouldn't do anything beyond offer comfort and a shoulder to cry on. He loves me, perfectly.

So, why am I not happy about that? I should be thrilled that my husband loves me so much that he wouldn't cheat on me when a pretty woman hits on him. I should be possessive like Rose. I'm not. I didn't even care when they disappeared. The only reason I went after them wans because Charlie insisted we go.

Lindsay is an interesting woman. She's alive. She's expressive. She's passionate. She is everything I am not. Does that make her the epitome of evil to the married women of this world? I don't know, maybe. Does it matter?

What if Gary did stray? What if he was tempted enough to betray our wedding vows and have an affair with her? Would I care? He'd be flawed then. He'd no longer be perfect. I love my husband, I do. At least I think I do. I mean he's the perfect husband and every woman who knows him tells me how jealous she is of me. How much she'd like her husband to be more like mine because let's face it, my husband is perfect.

What is love anyway? Is it a feeling? If so what is it supposed to feel like? Is it a choice, like some believe? I've chosen to love my husband every day. To stand by him, support him, and care for him. Is that love though? What does love look like?

I watch my husband while sipping tea in Rose's kitchen. He's comfortable. He's like the old teddy bear that you had as a kid, the one who kept you safe at night. He's like a blanket that you wrap yourself in on a rainy day while you read and sip coffee. I know he'll always be there. Always be saving the day. Always fixing my mistakes. Always taking care of me. Always there like a safety net.

Isn't that what a husband is supposed to be? Isn't that what marriage is?

Charlie and Lindsay come in laughing, really laughing, their faces shining with the joy of it. When was the last time I laughed like that? When was the last time I cried for that matter? Lindsay feels so intensely. When she was crying in my husband's arms you could hear her sobs from down the street. When she laughs, it fills the room. She fills a room. I want to be around her to just feel the emotions coming off her, to be caught up in her joy, her sorrow.

Rose can't see that. She can't see past the tight sweater, the boob job, the short skirt, and the makeup. She doesn't see what I see. I wish she could. She's so full of fear and worry that everything that could possibly be a threat is as bad as a terrorist. It wasn't my marriage or my husband she was fearful for, it was her own. When Lindsay walked in the room Rose's eyes immediately went to Gus to see where his were. Of course they were on Lindsay, how could they not be?

That was enough to send Rose into a dither, cleaning an already clean kitchen, being short with the kids, mean to her sister, and rude to Lindsay. Gary caught it, of course he noticed, and nudged Gus to pay attention to his wife, which obediently, Gus did. Making a big scene of kissing her and then held onto her the rest of the afternoon bringing a possessive triumphant smile to her face, like she was the queen bee and had won.

Won what?

A man who has loved her since grade school? A man who wouldn't stray from her and risk losing everything he's built? A man so rock solid it is impossible for him to think of infidelity? Rose has nothing to worry about, ever. Neither do I. Gary is always there to fix my mistakes and be my knight in shining armour.

When Charlie came through the door, she did so quite loudly, Rose and her mother changed the subject mid sentence, as if that was what they'd been talking about recipes all along. As if they were never attacking Lindsay's character just a few words before.

"Any wine?" Charlie asks

"Haven't you had enough, dear?" Her mom asks.

"With the two of you spouting off like you do? Not really." Charlie grabs the bottle and two glasses. "Rose is driving to the pub."

"Remember you promised to help Sophie." Rose calls after them.

"If I can, I will."

The doorbell rings and we hear Isabella yell 'I'll get it.'

With that, Charlie leaves the room with the wine and I want to follow. I don't. To do so would inadvertently put me in Charlie's camp, in Rose's mind. Easier not to upset Rose.

"Mom, Sophie is here." Isabella yells and Rose hurries to the front door.

"Sarah, can I get you another cup of tea." I ask Rose's mom.

"Thank you dear. You are such a good girl."

"Sophie this is Justine." Rose introduces me to a tiny slip of a woman.

"Hello Sophie."

I smile and hold out my hand. She takes it gingerly. She looks so scared, fragile, like she'd break if you say the wrong thing. Rose has told me a bit about her and her situation, I don't think she knows much, otherwise I'd have the whole story. Rose can't keep a secret and loves a juicy piece of gossip.

Why do women gossip? Why do we feel the need to rip some poor unsuspecting person apart? Put each other down? Categorize and stereotype each other based on judgements of character that may or may not be true?

I think it must have to do with our need to be making the right decisions. To feel like we are doing the right thing. Take the whole breastfeed or bottle feed fight new mothers have and are very verbal about. Does it matter if a baby is breastfed or bottle fed? Whether a mother stays home or goes to work? Does it really matter? Meet a mother and they'll tell you that you are doing it wrong and they are doing it right.

By the time you've run into three women who do things differently, you feel inadequate as a mother. You feel like you are doing everything wrong and the guilt is a heavy weight. At least that's how I felt. Motherhood is hard enough without every mother you meet telling you that you're doing it wrong.

Why do we do this to each other? Why do we feel the need to tell someone that we are right and they are wrong? Why must we degrade, hurt, judge, and criticize others? Are we so insecure, competitive, and insensitive that we must make others feel they are wrong in order to feel we are right? These questions plague my mind and clutter it with thoughts, driving me crazy. There are no right answers. Why does my mind keep burdening me with these questions?

"Charlene hurry up it's time to go." Rose yells to her sister, who barks back something about calling a cab.

#

#

#

# Rose

We left the house as soon as the cab arrived. Why Charlene and Lindsay insisted on wasting money on a cab when I could have driven us is beyond me. The pub isn't too busy, which is nice. I don't like it when it is because it's so loud you can't hear the other person talking.

"Sophie, this is my sister Charlene. She's a divorce attorney she and will be able to help you." I say.

"Hi Sophie, we can talk later and see what I can do to help. For now, where is that hunk of a waiter I saw last week."

"Charlene, he's seventeen years younger than you. Your flirting with him last week was embarrassing." I say. She could focus on Sophie's problem instead of some young boy old enough to be her son.

"I wasn't going home with the kid, just having a bit of fun. Take a chill pill, Rose."

I don't want her making a fool of herself. Doesn't she know how desperate she looks flirting with a younger man? She needs to find a solid, good, older man, someone in his fifties with a good job, a man who can take care of her and Davie.

Charlene wrangles the cute thirty-year-old server from last week. He is flirting with both her and Lindsay as we order. It's embarrassing. I look at Justine, who only smiles and looks at the menu. She's never any help.

I order a cola.

"What's the most expensive wine you have?" Lindsay asks.

The server rattled off a couple and the price tag was over seventy dollars a bottle. Lindsay orders three bottles with glasses all around.

"Lindsay, I don't really drink, but thank you." I say.

"That's why we got a cab Rose, so we can all let loose. Oh, you have to try this. It's not terrible." Lindsay says.

She proceeds to pour some into my glass. I sip it and it is good, fruity and not too sweet, I take another sip, I can't put my finger on it. It's good. Before I know it, I've finished one glass and we haven't even ordered an appy yet.

We drink and eat and talk. I'm having fun, laughing. I know I'm drunk.

"Sophie, Rose says you're separated, how long?" Lindsay asks.

"About three months."

"Gone on any good dates yet?" Charlene asks.

"Oh no, I'm not dating."

"Why not?" Lindsay says.

"I have the kids, I can't leave them alone they are only ten and seven." Sophie says.

"So you get a babysitter. I'm sure Isa would babysit." Charlene says.

"Isabella." I correct.

"Or Jess."

"Jessica." I correct.

"I don't remember meeting a Jessica today." Lindsay says.

"She was there. Came in, grabbed her food and went back to her room to read a book or something. Jess is shy." Charlene says.

"I can't date." Sophie says. "I thought my ex was going to have the kids tonight when I agreed to come. I am not supposed to let others watch the kids. I only do it if I have a doctor's appointment I can't take them to. Then Rose is nice enough to watch them."

"Who says you can't?" Charlene asks

"Craig."

"He's the ex right?" Charlene asks and Sophie nods. "He didn't show up, right?" She nods again. "Then what does he expect you to do?"

"Stay home with the kids. I've never been away from them. This is the first time I've gone out on my own to do something fun since they were born."

"What? You must have been away from them sometimes?" Charlene says.

"Never, they are always with me, from the moment they wake 'til they go to sleep."

"What about school, you don't go into the classroom with them?" Charlene asks.

"I homeschool them."

"That is insane. How are you sane?" Lindsay asks.

"I love my children."

"I love Davie too, but I need my own life. Just like you do." Charlene says. "We'll figure out something, don't worry."

"Never. Like never?" Lindsay says and fills Sophie's glass to almost full.

Even I am flabbergasted. If I didn't have my time, girls' nights or school days, I'd have killed somebody, probably Alexis. Who would expect a mother to always be with her kids, without a break?

"We'll help you with the online dating profiles, won't we Charlene?" Lindsay says.

"That will be fun. Just don't be shocked by the guys online, some are complete jerks."

"You'll get asked for naked pics and you'll get plenty of unsolicited male email." Lindsay adds.

"Huh, What's that?" Sophie asks.

"You know cock shots. Some guys send women pics of their cock standing to attention and sometimes not at attention."

I spray the sip of wine I had in my mouth and start choking.

"Rose, you OK?" Justine asks.

I nod.

"You're kidding right?" I ask Lindsay. "Men don't just send you pictures of... Their... You know?"

"Yeah, all the time, even if you tell them not to." Charlene says.

"Charlie has the best online dating message stories. Tell them the craziest requests you've gotten." Lindsay says.

"Without even saying hello first, I've gotten asked if I'll breastfeed, if I like it up the ass, if they can cum all over my tits. And the piece de resistance, 'Miss will you use me as a foot stool and spit in my face.' "

"You're making that up." I say.

"I wish. It's like they think online dating is like ordering off an a la carte off a sex menu and I'm the main course. It's degrading and humiliating. If I'm bored I'll mess with them. Mostly, I just ignore the idiots." Charlene adds.

"Don't put up with the bad behaviour, Sophie. There are so many men out there that you don't have to take it. You just hit delete and move on." Lindsay says. "There's always another one. It's like catalogue shopping."

"You can't take any of it personally. If you do it'll rip you to pieces. No way should any woman online date by herself. Men are ruthless." Charlene says.

"They are not." Lindsay says. "They just don't think. They're fun. You figure out what you want from them, you fuck em and then find the next one, until you find one who knows what he can do with his cock. You keep him, even if it's just as an FWB." Lindsay winks.

"An FWB?" I ask.

"A friend with benefits. A guy you hang out with sometimes and fuck, but you aren't in a relationship with him. You don't even have to really like him as long as he gets you off." Lindsay explains.

"That's terrible. Why would she want to do that? Sex is supposed to be between two people who are committed, married to each other. It's a merging of souls." I say.

"This isn't high school, Rose. We all have needs, even if we're not married or in a relationship." Charlene says.

"I love sex. Can't get enough of it. Especially if he has a nice big, hard, thick cock."

"Lindsay." I am shocked.

I can't believe she just said that. In a pub. With people around. I look around and thank God, no one seems to have noticed.

"Come on, Rose," Lindsay says. "Gus must have a nice cock and after all these years, I'm sure he knows how to please you with it. You must know how to please him too, considering how he can't stop looking at you and touching you. You too, Justine."

"Gary's OK I guess. I mean it's nothing special." Justine says.

"You must have mad passionate sex with a man like that." Lindsay says.

"Not really. Just missionary and usually it's over quite quickly."

My jaw just hit the floor. How could Justine say that? About Gary? She rarely talks and when she does it's to tell Lindsay about her sex life? This isn't right.

"That's disappointing. Damn girl, you need to teach that boy how to get you off and how to do it right. If a man isn't good in bed, I'm not interested. No matter how great he is outside the bedroom. It's not worth it for bad sex." Lindsay says.

"Gary loves Justine and they are very happy together. This isn't appropriate conversation." I say.

"Oh Rose. Take a chill pill. Grow up. It's sex. We all have it. No one here is a virgin, no immaculate conception took place. You and Gus had sex at least four times." Charlene says.

"It's none of your business." I say.

"Shame on me. I have sex. Shame on me. I talk about it. I'm going straight to hell."

"Charlene, don't talk like that."

I'm quite upset. This isn't appropriate conversation. Good women do not talk about sex. Good women don't discuss sex with their husbands, let alone each other. This is wrong. None of my other friends talk about sex. We discuss kids, husbands, errands, the news, hobbies, God. Those are appropriate topics.

"Please excuse my sister, Sophie. She got married at the young age of sixteen and hasn't grown up yet. Sex is a shameful, guilty topic, just ask our parents."

I am about to say something when Lindsay speaks up.

"Charlie that's enough. We are supposed to be having fun, all of us, not making Rose uncomfortable. Let's talk about something else."

"Like what?" Charlene asks.

"I found a new recipe." I say.

"Rose. Come one. You're not eighty years old. You're forty." Charlene says.

"First I'm a teenager and now I'm 80. Make up your mind."

"I love this song." Lindsay yells and grabs my hands. "Come on Rose show us what cha got on the dance floor."

Lindsay keeps a firm grip of my hand and leads me out to the dance floor. I love dancing. Gus doesn't like to dance and I rarely get the chance to. I didn't know the pub had a dance floor. That's when I realize we're the only ones on it and Lindsay is motioning for the others to join us. Charlene has both Justine and Sophie up on the dance floor before I can escape off of it.

Soon I forget to be self-conscious with the five of us dancing in a circle. Another song comes on and we continue to dance. We even start singing along, shouting out the lyrics. I'm having fun. I can feel the wine's warmth moving through me. I don't care what others are thinking anymore. I don't care about what's proper, what's not. The room is beginning to move on its own a bit. The edges are getting blurry. I lean over to Lindsay and say.

"Gus has a big, thick cock and he knows how to use it."

"I knew it." She laughs.

#

#

#

# Sophie

I'm having so much fun. We're dancing. I forgot how much fun dancing was. I'm not in any pain, I'm happy, really happy. I don't want this to end. Even Rose looks like she's having fun. Actually, she looks drunk. Lindsay is jumping up and down doing the whole head banger thing with her hair. It's hilarious and I'm laughing so hard. I can't remember the last time I laughed this hard.

A hand grabs my arm, pulling me back and around. I can hear myself screaming, then I see Craig's angry face.

"What are you doing Soph? Where are the kids?"

I don't know what to say I'm stammering, pulling back. The fear is intense and I try to curl up into myself.

"The kids, Soph? Where are they?"

"At a friends." I stammer.

"You have no friends."

He's pulling me off the dance floor, towards the door, I can't keep up with him and stumble. He pulls at my arm harder. It hurts. I can see everyone looking, gawking, as we pass. Curious eyes, open mouths, and fingers pointing. I hang my head in shame. The cool air of the night hits my face, freezing the tears.

"Stop crying. Just tell me where the kids are and I'll go get them. If this is how you take care of them, I guess I'll have to do it."

I don't say anything. He's going to take the kids. Panic, fear, and regret overtake my emotions and I'm sobbing, begging him not to take them.

"Your kids are safe and having fun with my nieces and nephews." I hear Charlie's voice and cringe. _No. Don't you'll make it worse, Please don't say anything._

"Who are you?"

"I'm Sophie's lawyer, Charlie Reed-Reynolds. Now let go of my client before I call the police."

_Lawyer. Police! No_. Now the panic is really setting in. Craig will be furious and he won't only take the kids, I'll never see them again.

"Craig no. She's not. She's a friend." I say.

"Shut up, Sophie."

They both say to me and I do. I always do as I'm told. I'm a good girl. I follow the rules, do as I'm told, obey. I don't need to be punished. Don't take the kids.

"You heard her, she doesn't need a lawyer. We will sort this out for ourselves. It doesn't concern you." Craig says.

"Actually, it does. Sophie here is my friend and my friends are my concern." Charlie says.

The door opens and out comes Lindsay, Justine, and Rose with our coats and purses. I feel the panic rise in me again. I look at Charlie, she looks calm, in control, strong. I keep my eyes on her.

"What's your name again?" Craig asks.

"It's Charlie Reed-Reynolds. I am a divorce attorney and I am taking on Sophie as a client as of this very moment. So I suggest you let her go."

Craig doesn't say anything. He stands there staring Charlie down and then lets me go. His hand just opens up and drops my arm. That's when the whole area erupts in blue and red lights. Everyone turns to see a cop getting out of the car.

"Officer, thank God. You need to arrest that man." Rose is saying, pointing at Craig.

"What is the problem here ladies?"

"He assaulted our friend. Her arm. He man handled her." Rose is saying while Lindsay pulls her back.

"Rose, let's let Charlie and the nice officer here have a chat with Sophie and the man, OK? We'll wait over here."

"But... But..." Rose's face is flushed.

"OK, which of you is Charlie and which is Sophie? I take it this is the man." The officer says.

Charlie tells the officer what happened. Craig is arguing with him saying that we are lying and he didn't do anything. He's telling the officer I abandoned the kids somewhere and we were just having a chat. That's when Charlie takes my arm, very carefully, pulling up the sleeve.

I look at my arm. It has four long bruises. So? I don't understand? Since when is that a big deal? I've always got bruises.

That ends it.

The officer handcuffs Craig and puts him in the back of the police car. He's gone and we are getting into a cab. I hold on tight to Charlie's hand and for the first time in my life I don't feel alone.

#

#

# Charlie

That's one way to end a girls' night, in a cop shop making a statement. I call my assistant's number and leave a voicemail that I'll be late tomorrow, to push my schedule around, and schedule an emergency hearing with the court to request a restraining order.

It's after midnight when a cab deposits us onto Rose's doorstep. The guys are still up, all the kids and my parents are asleep. It's still going to be a long night. They'll let Craig out in the afternoon with a warning to stay away from his ex wife. He won't be charged, he'd pulled at her, but that is hardly a case for assault and battery justifying jail time. This is the system. Take them away, let them cool off, send them out with a warning and that's all the protection these women get.

Rose is puttering around the kitchen, making tea, getting snacks and settling everyone into the living room. I tell Gus and Gary everything that happened and their natural, 'protect the woman,' instinct instantly takes over.

"She can't go home. We need to find somewhere for her and the kids to go where he can't get a hold of them." I say.

"They can stay here, right Gus?"

"No question, we'll make room."

"Actually, it's probably best to find them a shelter somewhere away from town. You don't want him to run into her like he did tonight." I say.

"They aren't going to one of those shelters. They can stay with me until we can find them a better arrangement. No women's shelter." Lindsay says.

"We couldn't. We'll just go home. It'll be fine. We will be fine."

Typical abused woman response. They don't believe they are worth help. Don't believe they deserve better. They always just want everyone else to be happy and to keep the peace as much as possible, even though they know they never can. The idea of making someone else angry with them on purpose terrifies them. I've worked with abused women on many occasions and usually I can't do anything to help them because they have to help themselves first. Yet, they can't seem to. It's very frustrating.

"Sophie, just until everything blows over."

"I don't want to be in your way. Those city apartments are so small and the kids –"

"Small." Lindsay is laughing. "Sophie I own a three bedroom, 3000 square foot, two floor penthouse. I'd hardly call it small."

I can see Rose's eyes open, her mouth drops. Yep, she ain't trailer trash sis, she's penthouse trash. I chuckle to myself. My sister is so predictable.

"That would work." I add. "What do you think Sophie? A vacation into the city until Craig calms down and we can get everything settled. Then we will find you a place."

"You have no choice Sophie. You're coming, that's it, end of story. You don't have a choice." Lindsay says.

That really is the best way. Don't give her a choice. Make her go. Abused women aren't good at accepting help, they don't know how to ask for it. They don't know how to say yes when it's offered. They don't believe they deserve it. I've seen it so many times.

"Well I have to get the kids things."

"You're not going back to your place alone." Gus says.

"I was hoping you'd guys would take her to collect her things tomorrow. I don't think they'll release him until the afternoon. You never know. It might be sooner. I don't want her anywhere near her place by herself."

"We'll go with her." Gary agrees.

"Lindsay I'll leave you my car. Gus can you drop me off at the train in the morning. I have a full day tomorrow. Sophie I'm going to petition the court for a restraining order. It's only a piece of paper, but it's a start. It's something to protect you."

She nods.

"Give me your phone." Lindsay is holding her hand out and Sophie hands it over. "He has your number. We'll get you a new phone number tomorrow. For now. NO PHONE. Don't call him, don't text him, don't think about him. Got it?" Sophie nods.

I look at Lindsay. I didn't even think of the phone. I am liking the idea of Sophie staying with her more and more. She seems to know what to do.

With the plans made and the night's events calmed down, we settle back into regular chatter. Trying to calm our nerves enough to fall asleep. To remind ourselves that life is good, things are normal and everything is safe enough to close our eyes.

#

#

#

# Justine

I feel so bad for Sophie.

Craig's abusive behaviour explains her fragile nature.

There is no excuse for abuse of any kind. Our world is filled with it and it seems like everyone is a victim and everyone is an abuser. Bully's are everywhere, online and off. In the schools, the workplace, the home, on the roads, in the shopping malls, everywhere.

Were there always this many abusers, this many different kinds of abuse or is it all psychobabble and victimization? Did history's lack of reporting and overlooking of the abuser's behaviour in favour of status quo, hide widespread abuse or are we more abusive?

What is abuse?

Is someone abused when another person calls them a name? Makes them feel bad? Gets mad at them? Criticises them? According to some, the majority of women claim to have experienced abuse. Have they or are they, like some believe being overly dramatic entitled princesses who didn't get their way? Abuse is too serious of a topic to be dismissed.

A person can be abused physically, mentally, emotionally, verbally, financially, and sexually. Unless the abusive act is extreme, it's not always black and white. What is abuse to one person may not be abuse to another. Can abuse be quantified? Should it be?

Some people endure years of abuse and don't display victim behaviour due to a strong inner strength and others, just the hint of abusive behaviour offends and damages their sense of self and wellbeing. When is an action damaging abusive behaviour? And is it the act or the perception of the act that classifies the action as abuse?

Will my brain stop asking these questions and let me sleep?

The Past

#

#

#

# Charlie

I look like a pig.

Not a cute little piglet.

I mean a fat sow right before the slaughter. I'm wearing a shift dress that is too tight. I'm popping out of the top of it, which is par for the course, and I'd rip the seams if I sat down. I hate shopping because clothes never fit me right. If a dress or shirt fits my bust line it is too big everywhere else on me. If I buy something that fits the rest of me, it pulls tight across the bust. In this case, I swear the sizing is wrong. That's not even the worst part of shopping for clothes. I'm a Plus size. There I said it. I am a size eighteen, four sizes larger than what retail considers desirable.

Retail stores hate plus sized women.

Don't believe me? Walk into any store that sells both regular sizes and plus sizes. Where do they put the plus sizes? In the far back corner usually reserved for the clearance items no one wants, except at cut-rate prices. If that's not enough to convince you that plus size girls are despised by the fashion industry, take a look at the clothes.

I can walk into any store and find a cute dress displayed at the front on a perfect, perky, plastic mannequin. I know it will suit my hourglass figure, however, the largest size it comes in is 14. I head to the corner of shame, in the back, to see if I can find it in my size and I can't. Most of what's there is designed for someone in their seventies or a farmhouse wife from the fifties.

Nothing fashionable comes in my size. Sure, it's gotten better over the years and now there are clothes that are actually designed for younger, large, curvy, women. They aren't cute though, and the selection at any given time is a quarter of what there is at the front of the store. In fact, most fashion stores don't even carry a plus size section, cutting a plus sized woman's options down even further.

So, here I am, standing in the changing room, looking at myself in the mirror, wondering why the fashion industry hates me so much. It's like, if a woman has breasts and hips she is not sexually desirable, she's ugly.

Who designs this stuff anyway?

Why are cute clothes only designed for twigs and size zero women?

I start laughing. The answer is so simple I can't believe I didn't think of it before. Whether or not I am worthy of beautiful clothes, that suit my body, is determined by a very outspoken, judgemental, image crazed group of gay men and super thin skeletal women.

And whom do they find attractive? Young boys.

OK. This theory might be complete shit, still, it makes me feel better, as I stand in front of a three way mirror wearing an ill fitting dress designed for a mannequin and not a real women.

"What's so funny?"

I turn and see a gorgeous woman, who is probably ten years younger than me. She's leggy, with the right amount of curves and perfect sized boobs for the outfit she's wearing. My theory about gay men designing women's clothes for young boys, flies out of my head and I feel like a fat, ugly, sow again.

"Uhm nothing really." I say.

"You know that dress is all wrong for you."

"Ya. I kind of got that." I look down at myself and want to gag.

"You need something that comes in tighter here at the waist, is looser along the bust and then you'd be hot stuff." Oh, I like her.

"Hi. I'm Charlie."

"I'm Lindsay. You know there has to be something come on let's take a look shall we?"

"Lead the way."

She grabs a handful of dresses for me to try on and model for her. Each dress is more ill fitting than the last and I'm getting beyond frustrated. Standing beside this woman, I am ugly, fat, and worthless. I look in the mirror and wonder what man would even look at me, let alone want to get to know me? Only the desperate, depraved, and discarded. It feels so unfair. I am a smart, successful, amazing woman and I repulse every decent quality man I walk by.

"Who designs this crap?" She asks.

"Gay men who hate curvy women." I say.

We both break out laughing. Her laugh fills the store. I really like her.

#

#

#

#

# Lindsay

I'm nervous.

I'm Fucking shaking.

The butterflies flying around my guts are more like popcorn kernels in a hot air popper, striking my insides at full speed. I pace around the room glancing at the door waiting. The waiting is killing me. Doubt floods my mind. Will she be angry with me? Will she even remember me? Will she talk to me or just sit in that corner and cry?

I glance down at my dress, and smooth it out. It's matronly. Probably the only matronly thing I own. My lawyer insisted I dress modestly. I hope this is modest enough. I start pacing again, from the window to the door to the window. Waiting. I glance at the clock on the wall. She's late. Fear grips me by the throat and I can't breathe. She's not coming. The fucking asshole changed his mind, court order or not.

The door opens.

I close my eyes, too scared to see.

"Hello Momma."

I open my eyes and there is my baby. My sweet, beautiful, baby girl. I don't move. I'm frozen to the spot. Fear is gripping harder. Will she turn and run? I hold my breath.

"Baby." I can feel the smile on my face, its huge.

She walks in timid and unsure looking behind her at the social worker, who nods and with that expressed permission, my baby turns around and runs to me.

"Mommy."

I fall to my knees taking her in my arms, with tears streaming down my face. I don't care. I don't want to let her go. I hold her tighter to me. Trying to make her a part of me. I can feel her body shaking, as she sobs along with me. Three months is a long time to not see your daughter. Three fucking months and all I get is an hour with her. I can feel the anger at the injustice of it. Now isn't the time for anger.

I inhale the scent of my daughter's hair, trying to commit it to my long-term memory, again. I feel her body so close to mine. I hold her, mould her to me, I wish I could put her back, back inside my womb, to be with me all the time. I wish I'd treasured being pregnant instead of hating every second of it. I was so dumb.

"Mommy too tight."

"Oh sorry baby. Sorry. Mommy missed you so much."

I ease off. I don't let go. I can't look her in the face, yet. I am so ashamed. I tried to be a good mom with Evelyn. I spent time with her. I did things with her. I even read to her every night. We had tea parties and shopping trips. We had spa days. All the things I'd never done with Destiny.

"Mommy. I brought you a present."

"You did? I brought you a present too."

She hands me a gift box, I unwrap it to find a beautiful silver necklace, with an intricate pendant of a mother and child placed inside a heart. She puts it on my neck.

"I'll never take it off." I promise her.

"And I'll never take off mine." She pulls an identical necklace from her pocket and I put it on her. "Now we will always be together mommy. No matter where I go." I smile. She looks sad. "I'm sorry mommy."

"Sorry? What for baby?"

"I'm sorry that I go away on trips with father and leave you behind. I don't want to, but father says you can't come. You can't leave here, so you have to stay. I want to stay, I do. I don't want to go away all the time."

"Oh sweetie you have nothing to feel sorry about. You get to see the world. You get to see so much, things I never get to see. I want you to take lots of pictures and send them to me. I want to see what you are doing. That way I'll be there with you. I want you to have fun and see the world, OK? That's why your daddy takes you with him on his trips."

"You don't want me here with you?"

"Oh baby." The tears are falling again and my heart is breaking. "I want you here with me so bad it hurts me, here inside."

"Then why can't I stay with you?"

"Who would take care of daddy?"

"He has people."

"He needs his little girl. He needs his little girl to help him be happy and young, so he'll live a long time."

"Don't you need me?"

"I am young and strong. Stronger than your daddy. I love you so much. I wish you could be with me all the time. I love you. I love you. I love you to the Moon."

"I love you to the Moon and back."

"I love you to Mars."

We laugh and laugh, trying to out do each other with who loves whom more.

Then I give her my gift. It's a book made up of photos of us together from the day she was born until the last time I saw her. I've written little messages in the pages about how wonderful she is, stories and my memories of her. How much I love her. How I miss her. We open the book to share those memories together, her on my lap and me holding her as she turns each page of our lives together.

"Time's up."

I hadn't even noticed the social worker come in. I was so engrossed in my time with Evelyn.

"An hour already? She just got here a minute ago."

"It's been an hour. Come on Evelyn." The social worker says.

"I don't want to go." She grips my neck and I grip her in a hug. "I want to stay with mommy."

"Evelyn." A male voice.

We both look up at the man standing in the doorway, like he owns this whole place and everyone in it, expecting to be obeyed, without question.

"Father."

"Time to go. Your Mother has seen you."

Evelyn doesn't move. I can feel her body stiffen. Tears start falling down her face, big ones. Her bottom lip is huge and trembling.

"Evelyn. Please. Sweetheart. I have to be somewhere." He says.

"Another hour Father, please. Please. I just want to see Mother for a little while longer."

I've never seen my ex-husband falter in negotiations with anyone. Not his business rivals, not his associates, not his friends, not his children, not his grandchildren, not his great-grandchildren. It's his way or no way. You take what he gives you and you are to be grateful that he even noticed you. The man does not have a heart.

"Evelyn." He says.

"Daddy, please."

"Oh all right. I'll go run a few errands and when I come back, you'll be ready to go?"

"Yes daddy. I promise. Thank you daddy."

She jumps off my knee and runs to him hugging him and the man's eyes actually have tears in them. I'm astounded.

#

#

#

#

# Justine

Harper came home from school waiving an invitation to his best friend, Jack's, tenth birthday party. Every year, this kid's mom goes all out. The lady is Martha Stewart on steroids. My kid's are lucky if I remember to pick up the cake, when on my way to whatever venue I booked for the party. This woman, transforms her home into party central and makes the whole thing an experience.

For the kid's sixth birthday, she made these pop up pirate invitations. She made them. The kids were to dress up like pirates. That's right, a costume. It isn't good enough to just show up with a gift, I had to figure out a costume for the event. Worse, I'm expected to stay because it's a big person event too. I'm not one for socializing and thankfully costumes are optional for adults.

As soon as we get there, she hands Harper an old looking aged piece of paper. It's a letter written, in calligraphy, that says:

Blackbeard the Pirate has stolen Captain Jack's treasure and he needs your help to find it. Along the way you will need to collect a few items to help Captain Jack battle Blackbeard. Meet him on his ship. It is below the tavern where the world's best chili is made.

Great. A treasure hunt. No, correction. A scavenger hunt.

Harper drags me down the stairs to the basement, where a ship has been constructed out of large cardboard boxes. The floor is covered in blue tarps secured down with large stones and there is even a mermaid swimming in the water. To get onto the ship Harper must walk the plank. A balance beam made out of wood and about a foot off the ground.

This is not a birthday party. It's a theatre production.

"Wow. Can you believe this party?" Christine leans over and whispers in my ear. "I thought last years Thomas the Train party was over the top. Kathleen out did herself this time."

"I know. Harper is going to want something like this. Is the whole class here?"

"Yep. Along with a few more."

I can feel a headache coming on, just from the thought of all the work that has gone into this day. I don't understand how she does it or even why she does it, all this work for a party that lasts what, 3 hours? She must be exhausted by the end of the day.

"I don't know about you Justine, but I think this calls for a bowl of wine, coming?"

I follow Christine to the kitchen, which has been converted into a pirate's pub with a wench and bartender.

"Arr Matey what ye be wanting?"

"Two glasses of white wine." Christine orders and the bartender, Kathleen's brother, places two half full glasses on the kitchen island's eating bar. I take a few sips and smile conspiratorially at Christine. "Let's go outside."

The deck's decorated as an extension of the pirate's pub. This must cost them a fortune.

"How much do you think she spends on these things?" I ask Christine.

"A few hundred dollars and weeks of work. I saw Rose in the grocery store the other day, she seems to be doing well." I nod. "Any chance her and Gus are on the outs?"

I force a laugh while shaking my head. Every single woman, and even a few married ones, I know regularly ask me if there is any chance that Gus will be single. A few are even bold enough to ask how my marriage is holding up, in hopes that Gary will be a free agent soon. I bet a few of them have considered offering up a sacrifice to the gods in hopes of Gary becoming a grieving widow.

"A girl can always dream."

"How is the hunt for a new man coming?" I ask.

It's her turn to laugh and her laugh, unlike mine, is genuine.

"It's not. I swear there are no decent single men out there. You won the lotto when you snagged Gary. I went on this one date, if you can even call it that, and the guy shows up at the pub, he's twenty years older than his photos and the age entered on his profile."

"What? Why would he do that?"

"'Cause he can. Thinks that if younger women just meet him and see how charming he is, they will over look the lie. He even asked me what I thought of him. I told him that he didn't look anything like his photos and that I didn't appreciate the bait and switch because it makes him look like a liar."

"You didn't?"

"Yep, I did. He asked for the bill, threw it at me and said he'd buy dinner next time and walked out."

"What an ass. I can't believe he did that. What did he expect you to say?"

"Probably that he was great, even though he was twenty years older than I thought he was, and could we go back to his place for a hook up. The idiot."

"I thought only women lied about their age."

"So did I. Apparently, not. Men are just as delusional and vain."

"Christine, Justine, hello. I think there's a bad joke in there."

"Gwentine, have a seat." Christine says and I hold up my glass of wine to Gwen in a cheers motion. "Maybe we can start a trend."

"Or a band." I say.

"So, what do you two think of all this?" Gwen asks.

We go over our opinions of the lavish event as others join us. The consensus is that it sets the bar high, but the kids love it and Kathleen enjoys doing it, so it's all good. Yeah, until our kid's next birthday party, when they demand a big production too.

Kathleen's husband has led the little pirates on the scavenger hunt around the neighbourhood, to find clue after clue, hidden in the parks, neighbours yards, and even the local convenience store for a slushie in special take home pirate cups.

"Hey ladies can you give me a hand?" Kathleen asks.

"Sure." We all say together.

While the kids are out scavenging, we take all the gifts and hid them in the backyard play structure. We then use fabric to transform the structure into a pirate ship and hoist the pirate flag.

When the kid's get back, they have a second treasure hunt to find out what Blackbeard did with the presents. The kids have to go through an obstacle course in the backyard, play a game of throw the cannon ball (water balloons), buy swords with the items found in the scavenger hunt, and then have a sword fight with the adults to defeat Blackbeard, (the kid's dad in costume) in order to get the presents back.

By the end, I am exhausted from all the noise, talking, and kids hyped up on candy treasure, flavoured gelatine, and ice cream cake. Harper had so much fun, it was all he talked about for months. He begged me for something just as cool as Jack's birthday party. He got laser tag.

This year, the theme for Jack's party is Video Games. No costumes. Thank God. I guess the boys are getting too big for that. There are going to be multiple video game tournaments with lots of prizes. That's what Harper tells me. They even two or three big screen TVs so multiple games can be going on. It's enough to make my head hurt thinking about it. How much noise can 4 video game systems make? Maybe I should buy some earplugs.

#

#

#

#

# Sophie

Craig went away for a business trip.

It's heaven when he goes away, so peaceful. It's like we live in a different house. A calm house filled with laughter and fun.

When he's home, the kids and I are always trying not to upset him. Trying hard to do everything we are supposed to do. Keep the house clean, put the toys away, make sure dinner is prepared and ready for him. We watch the clock and hold our breath waiting to see what mood he'll be in.

Sometimes he's in a good mood and the evening is filled with laughter. Craig can be quite funny when he's in a good mood. He does these voices, with all these different accents, and the kids giggle and laugh. They all have the same sense of humour.

I watch.

Sometimes I laugh, and whenever I do, Craig makes a big deal of it and makes a note on the calendar \- _made Sophie laugh_. There aren't many days on the calendar that say that. I'm always waiting, watching, to see if his mood will change. I am on guard and tense. Not the best way to be if one is to enjoy a comedy act at the dinner table. That and I just don't find it funny.

On these rare occasions, I clean up dinner while the kids and him find something to watch on TV and it's always inappropriate comedy. Just because something is drawn in cartoon form, does not make it a kid's show.

Sometimes, I let him know what I think about his TV choices, about his always being busy on one project or another, about him never being part of the family, which usually results in a fight, tears, and a full blown, grown man, temper tantrum.

These fights used to be common, until my son witnessed one. I think he was 3. He'd just stood there with tears on his little chubby face and I'd felt like a terrible mother. I thought for sure I'd damaged him. After that, I stopped fighting back every time Craig attacked. Now, I only fight back if I feel backed into a corner and have to protect my children from his outbursts. I don't mind it when he directs his temper at me, but when he goes after my kids - I fight back, hard.

We had one of those fights the night before he left for his business trip.

Wyatt was just being a boy and wanted to build a fort or something. He'd gone into the garage and borrowed a hammer, some nails, and some boards from his dad. I was busy in the house, cleaning, organizing, and washing Olivia's long thick hair, a job that can take a good hour to wash, condition, dry, and brush out.

I wasn't paying attention to what Wyatt was doing.

After I was done with Olivia's hair, I started dinner. That's when I heard the yelling coming from the backyard and raced outside.

"What the fuck Wyatt? You didn't ask." Craig was mad and in full out tantrum mode. "You idiot, look what you did to the side of the house. What the fuck? Now I have to fix the siding. You stupid -."

That's when I walked around the corner

to the side of the house where Wyatt had nailed some boards to a wall that juts out from the house. Inside it holds a built in cabinet that is flush with the rest of the wall, outside it sticks out. I guess Wyatt thought it would be a good place to build his fort.

"Craig."

"And where the fuck were you Soph? You're supposed to be watching him."

"I was. I can't watch him every second. He's 8 years old."

"Busy with what? Sitting on your fat ass eating and watching soaps and exposing the kids to smut?"

"I don't watch TV. You're the one who lets them watch smut with those cartoons."

It goes back and forth like this. Then I remember Wyatt is there because he moves.

"Wyatt get back in the house and clean your room." I scream at him. His eyes go wide and he bolts for the house.

"He needs to clean this up first."

"I'll clean this up."

I move toward the board that is somewhat connected to the house.

"No, you'll just make a bigger mess of it and then I'll have more to fix. I'll do it. It has to be fixed before I go. Fuck Soph, I didn't need this bullshit. Why the fuck can't you just do what you're supposed to do. I have to do everything. I work hard for my money and you spend it like it's water."

"I don't spend all your money. I buy groceries and some stuff for the kids, that's it. Nothing that we don't need."

He buys whatever he wants, whenever he wants. The house and garage are filled with his tools, toys, and collectables.

"It's my money. You don't contribute anything. You're worthless Soph. A drain on my bank account."

I've heard this numerous times. I turn to leave him and get back to the dinner that I started. He grabs my arm pulling me back to face him.

"Don't walk away from me, I'm not finished talking to you."

I stand there empty. Not feeling. Numb. Not thinking. Not feeling. Nothing. Just an empty shell, because I'm not really here. It's like there's an invisible wall between us muffling his voice. I listen as he goes on about how I can't clean the house good enough, how I don't take care of the kids right, how I cause him more work and do nothing to make his life easier. I wait until his temper has subsided and he's sane again. Sane enough to let me go back in the house where dinner is probably burning.

"Mommy."

Wyatt comes into the kitchen. He's been crying. It's my fault he's crying. I yelled at him in a state of stress. The poor boy, I lead him to the reading chair and he sits in my lap. We cuddle and I kiss the top of his head. My poor, poor boy, you deserve better.

"Mommy. Can you divorce daddy? Please?"

My heart breaks. If only I could. I have no way of leaving. I have no way of taking care of the kids if I do. Craig won't leave. He'd never leave his house. Even if he did, I can't pay for it. I don't have a job. I can't get a job, what would I do with the kids? We have a good life for the most part. We live in a nice house. We have food. We have what we need here. Out there? Fear grabs me and holds on tight. I can't leave, I have no way of surviving if I left. I'd be alone. Broke. Poor. Alone.

"Oh honey. I wish. I can't afford to. We'd be poor. We'd have nothing and I can't."

I break off. I'm too scared to leave. Too scared of poverty. Too scared of being alone in this world. That's why I married Craig in the first place, fear of poverty, fear of being alone, fear of never finding love, fear that he was all I deserved.

#

#

#

#

#

# Rose

Drums.

We have the piano that the girls learned to play on. We have the violin that Alexis played for a year. We have the electric guitar that Isabella played for 4 months, if I'm lucky. We even have the flute that Jessica played in school band for a couple of years. That is four instruments that are collecting dust in our house and will the boy play any of these? No, of course not. Aiden wants to play the drums. I still don't know where we'll put them.

I don't want them in the living room where the noise will bother me. The family room is in the basement, but if we put them down there, the boy will never play them and they will probably get broken. I'm not sure how or if they will even fit in his room.

Drums.

It's always something.

We'll buy the drums, he'll play them for a period of time and then I'll be tripping over them or stuffing them into the storage room with everything else the kids have out grown and forgotten about.

Alexis begged me for months to get her violin lessons, because she was bored of the piano. I finally relented and it was a painful audio experience for the rest of the family, until she finally mastered the angle of the bow against the strings. At least she completed a year of lessons and can play the instrument, kind of.

Isabella, on the other hand, was a complete waste of money. She couldn't get a cheap electric guitar and amp. No, she needed an expensive one, because her and her friends were forming a rock band. That lasted for 4 months before there were creative differences and the band fell apart. I was hoping Jessica or Aiden would want to play it, but neither seemed all that fussed about guitar.

In grade seven and eight, Jessica played the flute in the school band, until she found art and computers and the flute was put aside. I can understand why Aiden wouldn't want to play the flute, and maybe the violin, but come on, isn't the electric guitar cool?

"Mom, Mom, come look at this set."

I let Aiden lead me to the drum section in the store.

"What about these electric ones Aiden. You can play them with earphones." I pull away from him to take a look, and gag, on the price tag, $2 999.99. That's a lot more than I want to spend. I guess this isn't an option. Though, it would be quieter.

"I don't want an electric one. I want this one over here."

"A thousand dollars? I was thinking more like a couple hundred."

"Moooom. This is the best one. It comes with everything and I need to rock. Pleeeease Mooom."

I know, I should say no. The most we spent on the girls' instruments was $600 and that was the electric guitar and amp. The other girls were at most, $300. The salesman shows Aiden a few things and his face lights up, as he tries to hit the drums the same way.

"What do you think Mom?" The salesman asks me.

"Do you have any cheaper options?"

"Well we have this starter kit here that's $200"

"What about this one Aiden?"

"It doesn't have all the drums and stuff, and its' small."

"Does he need all the drums? He's just starting out."

"No. This set is good for beginners."

"You hear that Aiden? This is the set for beginners, that's you."

"Moooom. I'll catch on really fast. This one has the snare drum and the floor Tom. That one's for little kids. Gerry would laugh at me if I played that one."

Laughed at. Would he get laughed at? I'd hate for that to happen. I want him to have the best options available, but a thousand dollars? I look at the cheaper set a bit closer. It is a lot smaller. It looks cheaply manufactured. It's probably a Chinese model.

"Aiden can you just sit here, so I can see."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes, you have to."

He sits at the drum set and he does look too big for it. He hasn't even hit his growing spurts yet. I take a deep breath. I want him to have lessons and a decent instrument to play. I always wanted to know how to play and instrument growing up, however, my parents couldn't afford it. We can't really afford it either, with all the other activities, still, it is important that they get to do everything that they want. It's up to us to make sure they get the best start in life, all the chances we never got, and that includes drum lessons with a decent kit.

"Yeah. That one won't work." I say.

My phone rings and I excuse myself.

"Hello."

"Hey Hun. How are things?"

"Well. I'm at the music store with Aiden."

"Yeah? Did you find a drum set?"

"Found a few, thing is we can't agree. He wants a $1,000 set."

"Ha. Good Luck. So, what are you doing after that?"

"He's got Football and then home."

"Any chance you can do me a solid?"

Right then, Aiden starts banging on the expensive drum kit.

"What? I can't hear you, just a minute." I move away from the drums. "OK, now, what did you say?"

"I need a favour. I have a client, who says he has a cheque to pay what's outstanding. I'm busy here on a job site and this guy's been a pain about making the last payment. Can you run out and get it?"

"Where?"

He gives me the address and it's in the next town over, it'll take me 45 minutes just to get there, too far to go while Aiden is at football practice.

"Hun. The guy might bail again, if I don't get the cheque cashed right away."

"OK. I'll go get it. How much is it?"

"Five grand. Deposit it into the bank account right away."

There goes my afternoon and I still have to get a drum kit. I look around some more trying to find other options.

"What about this one Aiden? It's nice. It has everything and is only $500"

"I want the other one."

"Look Aiden. It's this one or the beginner one. That's it. Unless you have $500."

"I do."

"No, you don't."

"In the bank account grandma has for me."

"Nice try. That's for University. Which drum set do you want?"

He sits down at the $500 set. It is the right size for him.

"It doesn't have the high hat cymbals"

"Do you sell those separately?"

"Yes, we do they are over here."

"I don't need to see them. Aiden, if you get this one, when your instructor says you need the high hat, I'll come back and get it. Deal?"

"I don't know. The other one is so cool."

"Why?"

"It's black."

"Does this come in black?"

"Yes. I have a set in the back."

"There it comes in black. We have to go. Do you want this one or the beginner kit?"

"I'll take this one."

What a way to take the fun out of spending $500 plus taxes. He's supposed to be excited, not disappointed. The salesman rings it up and Aiden helps load it into the van. Next stop, football, then to get the cheque from Gus' client. I should make it home by seven, at the latest.

What am I going to do about Dinner?

Safety

#

#

#

# Sophie

Lindsay's place is a palace in the sky.

I can't believe that we are going to be staying here.

The kid's eyes are huge, when we walk off the elevator right into her apartment. Yep. No hallway. You walk off the elevator and all you see is the bay straight ahead. Once you walk further in, through a wide and large entrance area you notice that to the right are neighbouring buildings, as well as to the left. The place is floor to ceiling windows.

"So what do you think?"

I try to take it all in. The décor is luxurious, the artwork, expensive, the kitchen, state of the art, and the view, breathtaking. What can I say about it? It's like nothing I've ever seen before, except in magazines.

"Wyatt, don't touch anything. I can't afford to replace it if you break it."

"Don't worry Sophie, it'll be fine. You'll be careful won't you Wyatt?"

"Yes M'am."

"See. Come on in. Me casa eh your casa or something like that. Are you hungry? We could order in some –"

"I'll make something." I say.

"Ah, I'm pretty sure I don't have much in the way of food."

I go to the kitchen and open the biggest stainless steel fridge I've ever seen. It's almost empty. There is some bottled water, some white wine, doggy bag restaurant boxes, and a jar of pickles. The cupboards aren't much better.

"I'll get some groceries later and make dinner. We are good for now."

"Well too late, I already ordered a couple large pizza's for lunch." Lindsay says. "We'll get you set up and then we'll figure out what to do from here."

What to do? Isn't that the question of the Century. What am I going to do now? I'm not sure this was a good idea. Disappearing like that, will only upset Craig and I can't have him upset. If he is upset, I'll never get child support or my share of the house equity. If he's mad, he won't be fair. I spent every day of our marriage trying to make him happy, and now? I do something that I know will make him mad? My stomach clenches and my body tenses at the thought of making him angry, on purpose.

"Let me show you the rooms and we can get what you brought unpacked. Charlie said she'd get the rest sorted for you."

"Is Charlie always so helpful?"

"From what I can tell, she likes a good fight and she has a good heart. I don't know her well enough to say more than that."

"You don't?"

"I met her a few months ago, we hit it off and now we're bffs. Here's the first room, what do you think?"

The room is a good size with windows looking down on the building next door. The other room is beside it and is identical. Both rooms have double beds, a dresser, and simple elegant furnishings.

"Mom. This is like a hotel." Wyatt says.

"I know."

"It even comes with weekly maid service." Lindsay says.

"I'll clean. You don't have to clean up after the kids and I."

"I don't clean. Are you insane? I have a cleaning service for that."

"I could do it for you, that way you don't have to pay them."

"Where's the fun in that? Come on Sophie, enjoy the labours of my ex and all his money."

"Well, the kids and I will do what we can to help. Won't we you two?"

"Yes, Mom."

"So, Wyatt and Olivia who gets which room?" Lindsay asks.

She's bent over to look them directly in the eye and is glowing with excitement. They are all excited. I only feel dread. What is this going to cost me?

"I want this one." Wyatt says.

They figure out who gets which room and help me to bring up the boxes and suitcases to put their stuff away.

"Sophie. Your room is upstairs, come see."

"My room? I can sleep on the couch, I'm fine."

"Hell no. You need your privacy young lady. Come on." I follow Lindsay up a glass staircase, I'm gonna have to crawl down it. "It's not really a bedroom, it's an office, but what do I need an office for? It's all yours."

Some office, it's gorgeous. A view of the bay, plush white carpets, ebony bookcases filled with books, chairs, and a large ebony desk with a computer. This is a dream.

"All this will be gone by tonight and you'll have a bed to sleep on. It's all been arranged."

"Why?"

"Hmm?"

"Why are you doing this? You don't know me. You don't know my kids. Why are you being so kind?"

"I don't know. You seemed like a nice person who just needed some help. I can help."

"It's only for a little while, until I can find somewhere. I'll start looking right away. We won't be here long."

"No hurry." Her phone rings. "Ah pizza is here."

#

#

#

# Rose

Gus and Gary are packing Sophie's couch into the moving van while mom, Justine and I pack up the boxes. Sophie doesn't have much, so we should be done in a few hours. If Charlene had taken a day off work to help, then Sophie would be here, and this would get done that much faster. At least Lindsay left, there are always blessings when you look hard enough.

It really doesn't make any sense, why can't Sophie stay at our house? We would have made things work. It would be easier for her to stay in town, instead of dragging her kids downtown, where it isn't safe. How can anyone think that the city is a place to raise kids. Poor Davie. He has to stay inside all the time because it's too dangerous for him to run around with friends. The city is not a place to raise a kid. It's not family friendly. As soon as things get settled here, I'll talk to Sophie and we'll get her settled into our place. Where it's safer. Why did we listen to Charlene last night? We should not have.

As usual, she took over, told everyone what to do. Then left early this morning before anyone woke up. Leaving me to do the work, making things harder for me, first, by taking mom and dad away from me, and now Sophie. That's my big sister for you, always telling everyone what to do and never helping out. Well, enough. Sophie is my friend and I can help her without Charlene.

"I don't understand. Why we are doing this." My mom says. "You shouldn't get involved in other peoples problems, it only causes you drama and trouble."

"Mom, Sophie needs help and she's a friend."

"Someone you've known for what? A couple of months? You have no idea what kind of woman she is. I'm just thankful that Lindsay woman took her. I can't believe you'd even entertained the idea of putting Sophie and her kids up. Nothing but trouble, if you ask me."

"I didn't ask you mom. It's the Christian thing to do."

"If you'd helped her find a shelter, it would have been enough for God. And she could have hired someone to do this."

"She has no money."

"The church has people for this. Trained people. For a donation they'd have moved her. You didn't need to take it upon yourself."

"No one made you come Mom. If you want, I'm sure Justine could drive you and dad back to the house."

"Your father better not be helping those boys with that couch. His heart."

"My heart is just fine. Stop worrying. You're always worrying."

"Of course I worry, what would I do with your body if you keeled over?"

"I'm sure you would think of something." He gives mom a little squeeze. "How's it going in here girls?"

"Good Daddy. We almost have the bedrooms emptied, then all that's left is the bathroom and the kitchen."

"Sounds like you have it all under control. The boys and I are going to go unload the truck."

"Howard. Your heart." My mom says.

"Stop your worrying. I'm the foreman. I just stand around and give orders." He winks at me.

We get the bathroom packed up in record time and it's 2:00 when we finally finish packing up the kitchen. She really doesn't have that much stuff.

"I have to run and get the kids from school. Will you be OK 'til I get back Rose?" Justine asks me.

"Of course."

Good dependable Justine. She should have been my sister, for real, instead of Charlene and Grace. I'm thankful Gary married her and they live so close. I don't know what I'd do without her.

"Justine, dear, can you give me a ride back to Rose's place?"

"You're abandoning me too, Mom?"

"You're pretty much done here."

"What the Fuck?" A male voice comes from the door. "Where is my wife?" It's Craig.

"Your wife?" I ask.

He assesses Justine and I, as if he's trying to remember how he knows us.

"Your wife is –" My mom starts and I pull at her, to stop her from saying anything.

"I remember you two. You were at the pub and the police station last night."

"Yes we were." I stand tall. As tall as I can.

"You were the one who told the cops to arrest me. Where do you get off, you fat bitch?"

I'm caught off guard by the remark. How dare he call me that? Now I'm angry.

"Listen here, you had no right to pull Sophie out like that, embarrassing her and bruising her arm."

He moves towards us. Anger is dripping off him. His fists are balled up and his eyes are full of raw rage. I step back. He steps forward.

"She's _my_ wife. I have every right. You stupid, fat bitch, whore. Where the fuck is Sophie? My wife. Where is she?"

He's vibrating he's so angry. I stand up straighter. Taller. Call me names? How dare he? Where does he get off? I can get angry too.

"Sophie is safe, safe from the likes of you. She's your ex-wife."

"She is still my wife. Mine. I want her and my kids here, now."

His hand goes up and I step back some more. Justine and my mom have stepped back too. He glares at me.

"You better leave or I'll call the police." I say.

"Call 'em. In fact I'm gonna call 'em and tell 'em you kidnapped my wife, my kids and are stealing all our things."

He pulls out his phone and starts to dial.

"I wouldn't do that." Gary is behind him. "Unless you want to go back to jail."

Craig whips around, shock and surprise evident on his face. It takes him a moment to recover before he starts to dial again.

"Rose, call Charlene and ask her if that restraining order has been issued yet." Gary says.

I pull out my phone and start dialling my sister.

"Who are –" Craig starts.

"Call the cops if you want. Why don't you come outside, with my brother and I, to wait for them?"

"Fine. I'm leaving. You tell my WIFE, to call me. I want to see my kids."

"Call her lawyer." Gary says, in a calm voice.

Craig leaves, staying as far away from Gary and Gus as he can. My man is standing there looking big and mean. I run to him and his arms wrap around me, protecting me. I love him so much. I don't want to let go. I didn't realize how scared I was, until I am safe in his arms, shaking.

"See what happens when you get involved." My mom says.

#

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#

#

# Charlie

I'm tired. My eyes are dry and itchy. I want to lie down, close them and never open them again. I have too much to do though. I didn't sleep very well at Rose's place, last night. I kept thinking about all the things I needed to do. In the end, I decided to get up extra early and grab a cab to the train station.

How do people commute every day? What a waste of time.

Getting Davie up and moving that early was nearly impossible. At one point I considered leaving him there. He was so slow, I was sure I'd be late. By the time we got into the cab, I was seething with frustration and ready to strangle the kid.

We made it, barely.

The motion of the train lulled me to slumber a couple of times, each time a shock of electricity ran through my head and jolted me awake. I really hate that. When you are so tired your body is desperate to sleep, but you can't, so you're brain shocks you awake. It fuckin' hurts.

People really do this, every day?

Get up extra early. Get on a train. And travel almost an hour into the downtown core. For what? A house? A plot of land that they have to mow? A place for their kids to run around in perceived safety? It's laughable. Their kids are in just as much danger out there as they are in the city. Drugs, gangs, and accidents are everywhere.

By the time I got home, got presentable, got Davie to school and me to the office, I'd been up for three hours. With very little coffee in my system, by the way.

I'm tired. So tired.

"Hey Charlie, looks like you had a fun time last night."

Doug, one of the lawyers at the firm I'm with, is standing in the coffee room talking with a couple of the young paralegals. He's always hitting on the paralegals. No one ever hits on me. I look down at myself. Men are such assholes. You have to be pretty and young for them to take notice of you. "Charlie, are you OK?"

He's standing closer to me now. I look at him. He's a good looking guy. About 50 years old, still has his blonde hair, which he keeps short in a mad men haircut. Well built. Looks great in a suit. Why is he still in a suit? My eyes wonder down his body as I try to imagine what he looks like beneath the dark blue material.

"Charlie."

I look up into his green eyes. I never noticed his green eyes before. He looks confused. Concerned? Why? What?

"Charlie. Here have a sit and let's get some coffee in you."

"Coffee. Yes, Coffee."

I sit down at the table. Cross my arms on it and put my head down, just for a minute. Just a minute.

"Charlie. Charlie. Wake up."

Fuck Doug. Screw off. I open my eyes. They focus. Shit it isn't Doug. It's my legal assistant Kari.

"What?"

"You fell asleep. You're 9:30 is here."

Nothing like instant panic to wake a girl up.

My day is a blur of meetings, law, letters, and email. The joys of being a lawyer, it's not all court rooms and arguments, mostly I write letters, fill out forms, and put together offers. A few times a week, I field calls from clients and put out fires. Divorces are messy and emotional. Managing my client's fears and protecting their interests is a big part of the job.

I drag my ass all day. There isn't enough coffee in the world to kick start my energy levels. I'm cursing my sister, her friend, and the train for my crappy day. I finally get time to go to the washroom, in the late afternoon. That's how busy my day is, I can't even take a piss.

Fuck.

I got my fucking period. No wonder, I'm pulling a ten tonne ball of lead around with me. Fuck. I hate this time of the month. Can't fucking stand it. I'm always so tired, irritable, and short tempered. Not to mention the cramps and the mess on heavy months. If I have to get this stupid curse of life, why can't it be only on the weekends, when I can sit around in my jammies with a hot water bottle, a book, and some tea all day?

I can't even take off early because I have Shelly Granger's divorce proceedings to prep for. Why God? Why? Haven't women suffered long enough for that damn apple?

"It's your son's school, on line 1." Kari says, as I walk into my office.

"Hello, Charlie speaking, how can I help you today?"

"Ms. Reed-Reynolds this is Mr. Bradshaw from –"

"Hello Mr. Bradshaw what can I do for you?"

"Well, Davie isn't feeling very well. Wondering if you can come get him?"

"I can't right at this moment. Can he lie down in the sick room until I can get someone to pick him up?"

"If you could let us know when he can be picked up."

"I'll call you, as soon as I can."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuckedy fuck fuck.

Mom and Dad are still at Rose's house. Shit. OK Charlie, take a breath. In and out. That's it. I look at the pile of work on my desk and sigh. Kid or work? I pick up the phone and dial the one number I hate to dial.

"Hello."

"David," My cheating asshole of an ex-husband. "it's Charlie."

"What do you want Charlie?"

"It's Davie. He's not feeling good. Are you busy right now?"

"Yes."

"Doing what?"

"It's not my week Charlie - it's yours. You figure it out. Here's an idea, put your kid before your work."

"I –"

He hung up.

That actually went better than I thought it would. When a man cheats on his divorce attorney wife, you'd think he'd expect to get hosed in the deal. He's mad because I screwed him over. He was the one who wanted to stick his little weenie in some bimbo's ass, because I refused. By the time I was done with him, he knew what it felt like to get it up the ass, all right. Fucking loser.

I am vibrating.

My skin feels tight and itchy.

I want to peel my skin off.

I hate feeling like this. I hate him. I hate my sister. I hate her friend. I hate my son. I hate my job. I hate life. I may be taking this whole hate thing a bit too far. Still. At the moment, I hate everything. I scream in frustration. It doesn't work. I scream again. Yeah nothing. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Charlie?" Kari pokes her head in, very reluctantly, by the looks of it.

"What?" I can hear the venom and I breath. "Sorry, what can I do for you?"

"Ah. Mr. Jenner wants to talk to you."

"Shut. The. Door." I say, through clenched teeth.

I walk to the couch in my office, grab a throw pillow, put it up to my face and scream as loud as possible.

"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK"

Mr. Jenner. The Big Boss. The Senior of all Senior Partners. The guy looks like he past retirement age 20 years ago. I sit down in the chair across the desk from him and feel very small. Insignificant. Paranoid. Why am I here? I'm too far down the ladder to matter to Mr. Jenner.

"Ms. Reed-Reynolds, how are you today?"

"Good sir."

"I heard you fell asleep in the coffee room this morning."

I grit my teeth. Doug, I'm certain of it. He would sell his first born to get ahead, if he had one. The guy's never been married and has no kids; that he knows of. Thank God, he'd be a terrible father.

"Uhm. Yes sir. I was with a new client at the police station last night and didn't get much sleep."

"A new client?"

"A potential new client. I just met her last night, had her husband arrested."

"There's a good start."

"I apologize for nodding off, it was only for a few minutes and I've drunk a pot of coffee and have been firing on all cylinders since."

"Yes, I find cat naps to be very refreshing. Makes one more productive."

I smile, kind of. What can he do? Slap my hand and make life a bit miserable for me for a short time?

"I nap every day on my couch there. Even keep a blanket in the closet. I wouldn't be able to get anything done without a good thirty-minute shuteye. Glad to see you are working hard. How is your son?"

"My son? Ah. Good. He's at school. I have him this week, but he's quite independent, takes care of himself, most of the time. Very good boy. Hardly needs anything from me."

"Good to hear. Must be tough, all your long hours, on the boy."

"No. No. He's good. We spend quality time together. It's about the quality of the time not the quantity. He understands that work is important, and that I have to work."

It's like I'm talking to my father, who mind you, is probably 15 years younger than Mr. Jenner. What is it with old men? Can't they see the world has changed? Women can have it all. Careers, children, relationships. We can have it all. The thought exhausts me.

"If you say so. Just want to make sure you can manage everything." He says.

"I can. I fell asleep once. In fourteen years with this firm, I have always been on time, ready to work, professional, and I bring in consistent billable hours. It was once and because I was with a prospective client 'til late at night. Most of the guys here, come in so hung over every week that they can barely function. It was 20 minutes. If you want me to leave the firm why don't you --"

"Charlie, Charlie, I am just concerned. Of course you are a valued member of our team, and we don't want you to go anywhere. You work more hours than any other lawyer here and your billable hours have always been impressive. It was unlike you is all, it was concern is all."

I bet you old coot. You want me out. Well, I'm not going anywhere. I brace my hands on the chair to rise and leave.

"Now, for the reason I called you in."

I let go of the chair and settle back in, there's more. Great.

"Yes, Sir."

"I had a meeting today with our forensic accountant about one of my cases and he filled me in on what he's been working on for us. The Granger file is yours correct?"

"Yes."

"He told me that he suspected there was a company account that Mr. Granger neglected to tell us about in discovery."

"Yes. Which is why my client hired him."

"Have you read the report?"

"No. Not yet. I received it maybe an hour ago and have set time aside this afternoon to review it and the psychological assessment."

"It seems that some money was syphoned off into a couple off shore shell companies and has been since day one. This is going to cause a major tax problem for your client."

"Why my client?"

"The shell companies are in her name. Are you sure it was him who was hiding money and not your client?"

"Why would she agree to the forensic audit, if she was the one?"

"The accountant did say, off the record of course, that he suspects those funds may not be on the up and up."

"Meaning?"

"Dirty money. You need to find out if your client signed anything or knew anything about where this money came from and how it was run through the company. There is a chance this money doesn't technically belong to Mr. Granger or Mrs. Granger."

"You're talking about laundering. That's beyond my expertise."

"I know. That's why I want you to work with Doug. This is his area of expertise."

"Doug." Oh great, the day just keeps getting worse. "Isn't there anyone else?"

"He's the best. Why is there a problem?"

"No. No. Of course not. I can work with Doug. I will talk to my client, review the accountant's report and then talk to Doug about the case."

"Good. There is nothing in writing at this point. It's all speculation and off the record, let's keep it that way, until we know what this money is about."

"Thank you."

"You may go now."

I make my way back to my office. Really. Doug? Fuck

#

#

#

#

# Rose

I'm home. Safe. Home is safe.

I never realized how safe I felt at home, until now.

I can hear the kids upstairs. They are safe inside these walls. If I could, I'd never let them outside. The world is filled with Craigs and worse, Mansons, Dalmers, and Bundys. They are out there waiting to strike on vulnerable girls, like my daughters.

The stats don't lie. Girls are vulnerable. They are harassed, raped, kidnapped, abused, exploited, and murdered. Why couldn't I have had all boys?

I love my girls. I love them all. This world is too dangerous for them.

I can't stand still. Energy pulses through me and I need to move. I clean. I tidy. I do the laundry. I work. I'm vibrating and an uncomfortable feeling is overwhelming me.

"Kids." I yell. "Kids." I want to see them to make sure they are safe. "Kids."

"Ya, Mom?" Aiden, my sweet boy, comes down.

"Go get your sisters. I want to talk to you guys."

"Are there cookies?"

"Yes. I'll give you all cookies." He obeys.

"What's up hun?" Gus asks me.

I hug him. I pull myself close into him. I feel safe. I am safe. We are safe.

"Seriously hun. What's wrong? You're shaking."

Gus pulls away to look down into my face. I can see his concern for me and I pull him close again. Wrapped in his arms, I am safe.

"Life. I guess. Today reminded me that the world isn't safe."

"It's safe."

"But –"

"Look. That guy's an asshole, plenty of those around, but he isn't dangerous. Just a bully."

"Charlie was right about Sophie not staying here." I say.

"Probably for the best. We don't need to be inviting trouble in."

"What's this about trouble?" My dad asks.

"Oh, we're talking about how Charlie was right about Sophie not staying here." I say.

"Charlie knows about these things. Do you have any iced tea?"

"Here dad I'll make you some."

I fill the kettle and put it to boil. Best to keep busy. Doing things takes my mind off my problems and helps to settle my nerves. I wipe the counters, re-organize the items that are displayed on it for easier access. I grab my favourite glass pitcher, a couple tea bags, ice from the freezer and a frozen concentrated lemonade container.

If something happened to one of my girls. I'd be devastated. The world is a scary place. There was that teenager in the next town over, who was raped. Did they ever catch the guy? I read somewhere that one in four women will be sexually assaulted in their lifetime, or is that three in four? Oh my. This world is getting so dangerous. It's not as safe as when I was a teenager. How can I keep my girls safe?

"Howard what time is it? Shouldn't we be getting home?" My mom asks.

"Mom. When we were teenagers did you worry about us?"

"Of course, dear. I still do. Every mother worries about their children."

"No. I mean. Was it dangerous out there in the world?"

"Yes. It seems to have gotten worse. But there were still bad things happening when you were a teenager and when I was. I remember a couple of girls I went to school with were raped and murdered. It was a scary time, until they finally caught the man, a drifter. Some thought he was innocent, but it never happened again."

"How did you keep us safe?" I ask her.

"Prayer. Lots of prayer. Even with it though, your sister was hurt."

"Charlie was never hurt."

"Not Charlie. Grace."

"Grace? Nothing happened to Grace."

"You remember?" I shake my head, I don't know what she's talking about. "In University. She was raped."

"No, she wasn't. I'd have known if she was."

"Sure you knew. I told you." My mom says.

"You never told me anything of the sort. Mom I think you need to go talk to your doctor about your memory. You seem to be mixing up fiction with reality."

"Rose." My dad says. "Your mother is telling the truth. We didn't talk about it. Didn't want to upset you or your sisters by talking about it. It happened and that was it. She got over it and moved on."

"I'd know if that happened to Grace."

I would. Wouldn't I? I was in high school when Grace was in University. I was home. Most of the time I was out with Gus or at the Fischers, but the rest of the time, I was home. I'd know if something like that happened to my sister.

"Hey Mom, what do you want?" Alexis asks.

Isabella and Aiden follow her into the kitchen.

"I just want to spend time with my kids. Is that so terrible?" Silence. "Where's Jessica?"

"She's not here." Aiden says.

"What do you mean, not here?"

No one says anything. I scramble to the phone and dial her number. No answer. I dial again and no answer. Panic raises it's ugly head, deep down inside me and is gripping at my heart with both hands. Where is she?

"Did she come home from school?" I ask.

"I don't know." Aiden says. I look at the girls, who shrug.

"Isabella, you go to school with her. You must have seen her."

"No. I haven't seen her for a couple days."

"Days? What? You would have seen her this morning."

I dial the phone again. No answer. I keep dialling.

"No. I think she left for school before I got up." Isabella says.

"Last night? Gus can you text her?" He nods.

"I don't think so." Isabella shrugs.

"I know I saw her last night. She came down, got some food and went back up to her room."

At least, I think she did. I was so busy with getting everything out and cleaned up. The boys kept getting in the way. I try to picture Jessica getting a plate. Suddenly, I'm not so sure I did see her.

"If you say so, Mom." Isabella said. "She probably just went to a friends house after school. I'll text her."

"Which friend? Joanna? Kariann? Jodie?"

"I don't think she's friends with them anymore." Isabella said. "I haven't seen her with them in school."

"What?" I have no idea what to say. "Whom is she hanging around with then?"

They all shrug. I grab the phone list and start calling all her friends. None have seen her and they confirm that they don't really hang out anymore. This doesn't make any sense. Where is my girl? Where is my sweet Jessica?

Suddenly, I see her, in my mind that is, she's scared, beaten, and half naked. She's being raped. No, she's locked in some crazy man's basement. No, she's dead lying in a ditch where no one can find her. Images, thoughts, and fears race through my mind. What kind of mother doesn't know where her kids are, every minute of every day?

I try calling her again.

"Mom." Alexis' voice stops me. "Get a grip. It's 5:00 she'll be home soon. Stop acting like a drama queen. Jeezus."

"Alexis." My mother's shocked voice. "Language young lady. Rose does she always swear like that?"

"Hun." Gus hugs me. "I'll go look for her. OK? Calm down. She's fine. She's probably at the library lost in a book. You know Jessica."

The library. Right. The library. That's probably where she is. Of course that's where my good, quiet, shy, bookish girl would be. I nod at Gus and, as he is getting his coat on, the back door opens and in walks Jessica. The whole room goes still. Everyone looks at her without a word.

She's alive. My girl is safe. Home. And alive. Relief sweeps over me and in two strides I've got her in my arms and I'm sobbing.

"What?" Jessica's voice is in my ear and I am filled with love.

#

#

#

#

# Sophie

A couple large men show up at six o'clock, along with a drop dead gorgeous woman. She is tall, classy, well dressed, and did I mention, drop dead gorgeous. I feel like a gargoyle next to her. Lindsay is beautiful. This woman, she is more than that, she is the kind of women powerful men have on their arms. A woman who possesses a combination of old fashion glamour and timeless grace. This woman is someone I'd never be within a hundred miles of, let alone in the same room as.

"Lindsay, darling. You're looking gorgeous."

"Marissa. You are impeccable as always. Thank you for coming on such short notice."

"It's what friends do. Where would we be if we didn't have each other's back?"

Somehow her voice has me visualizing her long, sculpted nails in Lindsay's back more than the two of them standing back-to-back protecting each other. I'm not sure why. The tone? Something underneath it doesn't sound sincere. Something in the way she talks to Lindsay makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, like they did before Craig would have a temper tantrum.

"This is Sophie."

"Yes. Hello. So what is it you need my dear Lindsay?"

She didn't look at me, like I am beneath her notice, like I'm the help and not an equal. I instinctively look down at my toes and step back, out of her way, out of her sight. I know I'm being silly. This is Lindsay's friend. I'm just paranoid and weird.

"Sophie, stop being silly."

I can hear my mother's voice saying the words in my head. She always told me I was just being silly whenever I tried to tell her how I felt. Here I am at forty and I still hear her voice admonishing me when I am feeling uncomfortable, upset, bad.

I wonder what voices my mother hears? Does she hear my grandmother's voice? Still?

"Sophie here is my new roommate." Lindsay says.

"Your roommate. Well, how quaint."

"Yes. I was getting a bit lonely. Sophie just moved here and is looking to buy a place. You know this market is so hot, it's hard to find anything decent. So until she does, she's going to stay here."

"Buy a place you say."

"Yes. She's looking for something bigger than my place, she has the two kids after all."

"Bigger?"

"Much."

"Well I will have to keep my eyes open for you Sophie."

The woman is extending her hand out to me and I take it, gingerly. I look to Lindsay in a bit of shock. What is she talking about? I'm about to contradict her, when she puts a finger to her lips in a shhhh sign and winks. Winks. Like, we have some secret. A game of some kind. I am confused. I don't like lying. I want to say something. Lindsay shakes her head and this gorgeous, classy, snob of a woman takes my arm and leads me to follow Lindsay towards the rooms the kids are in.

"What do you think Marissa? Olivia is seven years old. Too old for the cartoony stuff and princesses are out. This girl is not a girly girl. I don't want little girl."

"Pre-tween. Some bold colours, vibrant, and girl punk. Cutesy skulls that type of thing."

"Perfect. I knew you'd know what to do."

Marissa tells us what she plans on doing with the room Olivia is using. I look from Lindsay to Marissa back to Lindsay. I don't understand.

"Ah Lindsay. What are you doing?" I ask.

"Now, Wyatt is ten. He's a star wars fan and likes to skateboard."

"Hmmmmm. I know. Urban. Graffiti, brick, and wire fencing, that kind of thing. Make it feel like a skate park."

"Lindsay, we aren't staying here that long." I say.

Lindsay just shrugs and keeps making plans to redecorate the rooms. This doesn't make any sense to me. We're not staying here long enough to have the rooms decorated. Plus, my kids don't need girly punk and urban skater bedrooms. They just need a bed. That's it. We aren't staying here long enough.

"For Sophie's room. I'll need the office furniture out right away and a bed brought in."

"Of course darling." She walks out of the bedroom Wyatt is borrowing, snaps her fingers and the two large men follower her up the stairs. "So we'll need to pack up all the books, empty the desk, and then take it all out."

"You can just move the desk over and I can sleep on the floor." I say.

"Oooh my dear. Heavens no. We can't have that. This room will be your sanctuary. Filled with –"Marissa says.

"I really don't need you to move the books or most of this. I like books. It would be nice to read these ones."

"Oh, I guess we could leave the books and shelves. The desk has got to go. I have a gorgeous bedroom suite in the truck and it should fit in here quite nicely. Even with the books." Marissa says.

She smiles at me. I feel trapped. Like, I'm going to owe Lindsay and this witch woman an arm, a leg, a lung, or Wyatt.

#

#

#

#

# Justine

The kids are in bed.

The house is quiet.

I'm trying to get some work done. No not house work, though I have a lot of that to do. I'm sitting on my computer working on a marketing campaign for a client. Trying to figure out what will catch people's eye, make them engage with my client's business and by doing so, spread the word about the business organically. This isn't easy.

Gary is watching TV in the other room. Some zombie apocalypse TV show that he can't miss an episode of, which is fine. I'm busy working. I don't feel much like talking. I'm getting tired though, my eyes are blurring, making it hard to read the screen. It's getting harder and harder to keep my eyes focused on the words. Everything on the screen is blurry.

I rub at my eyes trying to clear them. They're probably just tired. They get blurry almost every night now. I've never had a problem with my eyesight before. I shut off my laptop and rub my eyes again. They feel dry. They are tired. I look at the clock. - Time for bed.

"Gary."

"Mmmhmm"

"About today, you know with that Craig guy."

"Mmmhmm"

"Thanks for coming in when you did."

"He wouldn't have done anything. Guys like him are all hot air."

"I know, it was scary though."

Rose had run into Gus' arms and he held her while she started shaking, falling apart. He held her the whole way back to their car. Gary had gone to make arrangements with the landlord. Howard helped Anna to my car, as she complained, and demanded, that we all get alarm systems. I walked by myself to the car to drive Anna and Howard to Rose's place. Then I left. The rest of the day was normal. I picked up the kids, came home, made dinner. Gary got the kids to bed, while I got caught up on work. Normal.

"You were fine. Nothing happened. Rose over reacted as usual."

"Yeah. I guess."

"We can talk about it later 'kay. Show's almost over."

"I'm off to bed."

"Night."

I lie in bed staring up at the ceiling. I'm not tired. My eyes are, I'm not. My thoughts drift to today's excitement. I'm glad Sophie wasn't there. After meeting Craig again, I am certain that we have done the right thing. She needed help to get away from him. She needed a safe place. Craig is a bully. I've met a few like him in business. Trying to get ahead by pushing their way through everyone. The world is filled with men, and women, like Craig, who use intimidation and manipulation to get what they want.

My mind takes me back to the suite, where I can see an angry Craig coming for us, demanding to know where his wife is. I can see the anger in his eyes. I can hear the force of it in his voice. Then my mind wonders down a different path, a path leading away from reality to the world fantasy.

I imagine I am alone in the suite. Cleaning up when Craig bursts in through the door, crazed anger on his face. He screams in my face asking where Sophie is.

"I don't know." I say.

He grabs me by the throat shoves me against the wall. I try to pry his fingers from my throat. I can feel them now, tightening, stopping my airway. Panic. I want to scream. I can't there is no air. I feel his other hand ripping at my shirt feeling for my breast and when he finds it he twists it hard, leans in and whispers in my ear.

"Where is my wife, you fucking whore."

I shake my head. I pull at his fingers on my neck. I'm going to die here alone.

"I'll show you what I do to whores, who don't tell me what I want to know."

His free hand is ripping off my skirt. I hear the material give and can feel it fall to the floor. He's going to rape me. I know this with every part of my being. Fear swells deep inside me bringing panic along with it. I'm pulling desperately at his fingers at my throat, kicking him and trying to squirm out of his grip. I'm failing and his grip on my neck tightens.

"Unhand my wife." I can hear Gary's voice.

Craig turns and I see Gary standing there his fists balled up, his eyes full of rage. I'm saved. Gary grabs the man, pulls him off of me and then punches him in the face.

"I'm going to kill you for touching my wife. She's my woman. Mine."

His voice is filled with anger and hatred. He's beating the man. I am balled up on the floor crying and trying to cover myself with what's left of my clothes. I watch, as Gary defends my honour, before he throws the broken man out the door, locking it and Craig outside.

Gary has grabbed a blanket from somewhere, it doesn't matter where, he wraps me in it, covering my nakedness. I gaze into his eyes and see only concern, tenderness and heat inside those orbs. He lifts me up, bringing my face to his and I kiss him. I can feel the rage bubbling inside him, below the surface, making his kisses hard. He bites my lip. I scream out and he kisses me harder. I return his kisses with desperation and a strong desire for my man pushes the fear out of me. I want him.

He throws me on the bed, pulls at what is left of my clothes.

"The only one who is going to rape you, is me." He says.

"You can't rape the willing." I reply.

He puts his hand on my head and lightly pushes to expose my neck.

"That man will pay for these marks on your neck."

He kisses my neck with such tenderness I shutter. The force of his hand on my head, exposing my neck to him and the gentleness of his lips on my skin, fuels a fire so deep inside me, I am hot to the touch. I can't breathe, this time passion has me by the throat and I want it to suffocate me. I need it. I crave it.

"You're mine. No one else's." His voice is full of power, command.

"Yes. I'm yours. Only yours."

The fingers of his other hand lightly caress my body, finding their way expertly to the sensitive, ticklish spots driving the waves of desire up, up, up, until they crash over me and I'm screaming for him to take me, to touch me. I am desperate for him to touch the furnace that rages inside me.

My nipples are hard when his lips find them and his tongue flips around them sending shivers of desire through me. I arch my body towards his mouth, my hands entwine deep in his dark hair, and a moan escapes me when his teeth nip the rose coloured skin. I need more. The desire building inside demands it.

His hands are firm on my hips, unmoving as he kisses my breasts goodbye with a wink and a sly smile. He tastes the flesh of my stretch scared abdomen, taking extra time on the sensitive spots that leave me writhing under him. My hips rising to his body, my eyes closed and head back, aching for him. My hips have a mind of their own as they find a rhythm to get his attention. He ignores my hips, my ache, my need to be filled by him, because he has other ideas.

Footsteps.

Door opens.

I freeze and then remove my fingers from my wet heat. Shame washes over me and I pull the covers up over my neck to my chin, to hide what I was doing just seconds before.

"Hey hun. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." He says.

"Ah. Not asleep."

"I can't believe Sophie was with that guy. I'm glad we could help her."

"Mmmm hmmm."

"I don't understand how men can treat women like possessions. It's not right."

"Uh huh."

"I can't imagine treating you like I own you. I don't own you, you are your own person. You can take care of yourself."

I watch him get undressed. His body is softer and a bit chubbier than it was ten years ago. The hairs on his chest are beginning to go grey, like the hairs at his temples.

"I know."

I wish he would objectify me sometimes and be a bit more possessive. It wouldn't hurt to know that he wants to protect me, to know that I am his in every sense of the word. That he wants all of me, that he desires me, needs me, thinks I'm beautiful, sexy.

"You know that Lindsay is a tough lady. Her exes have taken her kids away from her. Can you imagine? Having the kids taken away from you?"

"No. You'd never do that."

"Never."

He is handsome and I can see why so many women want to get their hands on him. Suddenly, I can't wait to get my hands on him. Some primal need has surged up from my fantasy and I spring up from underneath the covers to pull him close, kissing his chest, touching his back.

"Wow. Ah. What's got you so worked up? Wait a sec OK. Just wait. I'll be right back. Keep that thought though."

He goes into the bathroom and I lie down on the bed trying to look as sexy as possible. He comes out after what seems forever, but the alarm clock says only fifteen minutes have gone by. What the hell does a guy do in the bathroom for fifteen minutes? Especially, when his wife is in the bed all hot to trot.

I wait, as his body moves towards mine. He kisses me. I kiss him back, trying to put all my feeling into it. He kisses me. A normal kiss. Nothing passionate about it. His hands wonder down my body, missing every hot spot. He's not really touching me. It feels more like he's just going through the motions to get the spot between my legs with his rough fingers. He isn't interested in touching me, exploring me, building up my need.

Then he's on top of me. Inside me. Moving, breathing in my ear, heavier breaths, he's getting hornier. The sound of it makes my skin crawl and I want him to finish up. He moves his hips up and down until it's over and he rolls off.

"Thanks hun I needed that." He says.

I roll over onto my side, thinking yeah I needed something too. I lie here, hoping that he will hold me, bring me to him, protect me, and make me feel safe. That sounds wrong, I feel safe. I am safe in bed next to my husband, who would never hurt me. It's not that kind of safe.

I've read in a few novels where the character feels safe in her man's arms. Safe enough to open up to him and give all of herself to him. Safe from judgement. Safe to tell him what she needs, wants, desires, fantasises about. Even the dark secrets and pain she carries inside. I want to feel that. I want to feel something, some kind of spark.

"Gary, what if Craig had hurt me today?"

His answer, is a snore. I roll over. He's fallen asleep on his back. I can't sleep with his snoring in my ear. I get up. I'll go sleep in the guest room. I jump into the shower. I get dressed into some pajamas, light on, not even trying to be quiet.

He sleeps through it all, snoring.

Glad I could be of service.

#

#

#

# Charlie

I pour a cup of coffee and put some bread in the toaster.

At least today is starting off better than yesterday.

After I'd left Mr. Jenner's office yesterday, I collected the Granger files, asked Kari to make an appointment with Mrs. Granger, and to call me when Sophie's restraining order was served to her piece of crap ex. I then rushed to the school and picked up Davie.

He just needed some sleep. Once he'd had a couple hours, he was bouncing off the walls driving me nuts with demands and requests to go do something. I couldn't get anything done. Why don't kids understand that work is important. I want Davie to get that. To know that working hard and staying focused on a goal will make him successful in life. I want him to understand that women work and men need to step up and help out on the home front.

It's not like when I was a kid and my mom stayed home taking care of us while my dad was at work. She took care of the house and he took care of the money. She was responsible for the kids and the housework. He was responsible for filling the bank account and the yard work. They had a system, one that generations before them had put into place and defined.

We don't.

We are the ones who ended up having to figure out what it meant to have it all, a career, a marriage, and children. We are a generation that doesn't know what it means to be a woman or a man. Gender roles changed from the time I was born 'til I got married and they've evolved since. Now, we are trying to teach are kids and everyone has a different definition.

Before we got married, David told me he was all for equality and women's rights. Yeah, until he had to do housework and change diapers, then he was suddenly old fashioned. He wanted a wife with an amazing career bringing in the big bucks, who took care of the kids, took care of the house, and took care of him. I couldn't do it all.

I was too tired.

I hired help, a nanny, a house cleaning service, and a lot of take out, which had David complaining about not having any real meals, like his mother used to make. So, when I could, I made dinner, cleaned it up while he played with Davie, then I got Davie ready for bed. I was too tired for anything else.

I'd fall asleep before David got his pants off.

Justine has it good. Gary does stuff with the kids. Cleans the house. Cooks. He helps out. They work together. Thinking of Gary makes my stomach flip. I can't help it. I know I can never have him. I know he will never love me. I know in my head that it's impossible. Still, in my heart, I hold onto some insane hope. Hope that he'll leave Justine and fall madly in love with me.

I fucking hate hope. It only brings disappointment in its wake.

"Mom. You're out of milk."

With that voice I'm brought out of la la land and into the reality that is my morning.

"Right. Sorry Davie. I meant to pick some up yesterday on the way home from aunty Rose's."

"What's for breakfast?"

"Toast. Oatmeal. Coffee."

"Toast I guess."

Right then my toast pops.

"You can have mine. There should be some peanut butter in the cupboard."

I sip on my coffee, while making a list of things that I need to do today. The Granger case needs my immediate attention. The meeting with Doug can wait until I figure out what Shelly knows and I've met with the forensic accountant.

Doug. What am I going to do about him? I really don't want to work with that ambitious, womanizing jerk. Just being around him reminds me that I'm not pretty. I mean, it doesn't matter because I don't like Doug and I don't want to date him. He is a player. Shallow. It's just. Damn. Good-looking men never notice me. God. What's wrong with me? A hollow pain, deep inside, grows. The pain of loneliness is my constant companion, and it hurts.

"Hey Mom. What about my lunch?"

Shit. I don't have anything to make for lunch. The kid can't take peanut butter to class because one of his classmates will fall dead. I open the fridge, not much there. I pull out a pudding cup, an applesauce cup and a bell pepper. I find a protein bar in the cupboard and a couple chocolate chip cookies. I can't believe I left two cookies uneaten in the bag. I put it all in a plastic grocery bag.

"Mom, you know that I get in trouble for all the packaging and junk food."

"Bell peppers are healthy and we're reusing the bag, should be points for that."

His teacher decided that the class needed a smaller environmental footprint or some such bullshit. She even made a game of it. The kids get points for bringing lunches that have zero garbage packaging and points if it's healthy. They lose points when they bring a lunch like the one I just packed for him. She's even gone so far as to send me a few notes to inform me that Davie needs healthier lunches and what packaging is appropriate.

How about she makes the kid's lunch, if it's so damn important.

"You're supposed to use reusable grocery bags when you shop, not plastic ones." Davie tells me.

Like I can ever remember to bring the countless fabric bags I've bought, when I go shopping. Isn't that a great sales gimmick, sell us fabric bags and if we forget to bring them, they charge us for the plastic ones. There is no value added anymore. Not even in grocery bags.

"Who's the one who forgot his lunch bag and containers at school, and still hasn't brought them home?"

"Me."

"Exactly. We'll get healthy food tonight and another lunch bag with plastic re-useable containers. That way if you forget it, we have a spare. Does that work?" He nods.

I sit back down and my coffee is cold. Great. I dump it and pour myself another mug. Back to my list, now where was I?

Sophie.

Should probably check up with Lindsay to find out how the two of them are getting along. We need to figure out where Sophie will go from here. We need a plan. I need to light a fire under the server and find out what the hold up is. Craig should have had the restraining order served to him before he was released. I knew he'd bee line it for Sophie once he was out.

I got an earful last night from my mother about how I dragged my sister into this mess I tried to remind her that Sophie was Rose's friend and I was the one being dragged into help. She didn't buy that argument. Nope, it's all my fault, that Rose feels unsafe. Of course it is.

"I forgot my science project at dad's can we stop by there before school?" My son asks.

"We don't have time."

"It's due today."

"Why didn't you tell me this last night?"

"I forgot 'til now."

"Well you'll have to go get it after school or text your dad and see if he can drop it off."

If I was Rose, I'd be driving to get it. If I was my mom, I'd have had it all set out ready to go the next day. If I was a perfect mother, I'd have know he had a science project and that it was due today. I'm not Rose. I'm not my mother. I'm not a perfect mom, not even close. How can I be? How can any career woman be both successful at work, and the perfect mother? How do other women do it?

"Maybe Debbie will drop it off."

"DAVIE. What did I tell you about saying that woman's name in my house?"

I can feel the sudden anger take control of me. Her name is like a knife, cutting at my very soul. It isn't fair. She took everything from me. I hate her. I hate everything about that woman.

"Ah. Sorry Mom. Didn't think."

"Of course you didn't. How could you? I'm just the Mom after all. I mean, what do my feelings matter?"

"Mom. I'm sorry."

I look at my son. I know he didn't do it on purpose, it had slipped, how could it not? He lives with her half the time. She's been his other mom for five years. She gets his lunches right every day, she knows when his projects are due, she would drive by and drop it off at the school. She is a perfect mom. Something sharp cuts me deeper and a hot pain radiates from it. I know it's not Davie's fault. It just hurts so damn much, knowing that my son has another mother, a woman who stole my husband's affections and moved into my life, seamlessly. A woman who seems to be able to do a better job of it than I ever did. It's not Davie's fault. It's hers and that cheating piece of crap I call an ex-husband.

"No Davie. I'm sorry."

"I don't like her."

I smile. I know he's lying. At least he tries.

#

#

#

#

# Rose

I am getting an alarm installed in my house.

I should have done it years ago and I can't believe I was so irresponsible, as to not have one. Gus says we don't need one because there is always someone home, but that's why we need one. What if a crazy mad man broke into the house and Gus wasn't there to protect us?

The Banners had their place robbed a few years ago, while they were away on vacation. The guy broke a back window, gained access to the garage and had a moving truck come and take everything. Don Maynard said he saw a moving truck late in the evening when he was out walking his dog. He didn't think it was something to call the cops about. It didn't look suspicious. He thought the people who lived there were moving, or something. No, he had no idea that they were on vacation in Florida that week.

He should have called the police. The Banners weren't home. Why would they have a moving truck come if they weren't home? I knew they weren't home. I just wasn't outside when the truck was there.

If they had a working alarm system, then they wouldn't have lost everything. It won't happen to us. We'll have an alarm system. If we ever go away I'll tell Don Maynard that we are gone and no, we are not expecting a moving van to be at our house.

The newspaper is filled with terrible stories of rapists breaking in and assaulting a poor, vulnerable woman, before stealing all her valuables. If some weirdo broke in here and harmed the girls, I'd never forgive myself. We'll figure out how to pay for it.

Good he's here.

I open the door and a young man in a golf shirt and slacks, with a clip board an id tag, is standing there with a big smile on his face.

"Hello Mrs. Fischer, I'm Adam."

"Come in Adam. Come in. Please. Call me Rose. Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, iced tea, juice, water?"

"I'm fine, thank you. How 'bout you tell me what you'd like and then I'll take a look around for vulnerable security areas in your home, afterwards we can sit and have a chat."

"I want my home to be secured. To make sure that my children are protected when they are home alone."

"Sounds like what most people want. Do you mind if I take a look to assess the potential spots someone can get in?"

"Please, please, go ahead. I'll just be in the kitchen."

I pour myself a cup of tea and the phone rings.

"Hello."

"Hi. It's Sophie."

"Sophie, how are you?"

"Good. I guess. It's a bit overwhelming. Lindsay's nice and her place is well, I feel like I'm in a very expensive hotel."

"It's nice?"

I'm curious about where Lindsay lives.

"Nice? Rose I wake up to a view of the bay, an uninterrupted view. It's huge and gorgeous. She even had an interior designer come over last night to set up my room."

"An interior designer?"

"Yeah. She is a snob. She transformed the office into a luxurious bedroom. I've never had anything this nice, ever."

"Well you deserve it."

"No, I don't. I mean. I was fine where I was and all. I think maybe I should just go back and –"

"NO." Panic. "No. You can't. Stay there. You're safe there. Sophie, I had no idea. I'm so sorry."

"For what? What?"

"Craig showed up while we were finishing up." Silence. "He's not right, Sophie, he's a bully and abusive. You can't go back there."

"No. No. No. I knew this would happen. I should have just stayed home. I never should have gone out. I never should have left my suite. He's going to be mad. Furious. No. No. No. I have to call him –"

"Why would you do that?"

"Cause he's mad. I have to make it better."

"No you don't. You need to stay there with the kids."

"He's gonna be so mad at me."

I can hear the pain in her voice, she's on the verge of tears. If Gary and Gus hadn't been there to save us, I'd hate to think what would have happened. Sophie will be helpless if she goes back. I don't know what to do?

"Look. Sophie. Stay there. Just for a week. Think of it as a vacation. I'm sure Charlene will have everything in place to protect you by then and Craig will have calmed down. How are the kids liking it there?"

"They love it. Lindsay has been so good to them. She wants to decorate their rooms up for them. Paint an everything. I mean themed rooms Rose. How can I let them have that? We aren't going to be here long enough for thatIt's too much. We have to go back. How will they adjust to having nothing after living here?

"Tell them it's just a vacation. Ask Lindsay not to."

"I did. She won't listen."

"I'll get Charlene to talk to her. She's her friend. I'm sure she'll be able to make it work out. You can't come back here, Sophie. You can't. It's not safe here for you. Not yet. Charlene will let you know what to do. Until then, what's wrong with enjoying a luxurious place?"

"I don't know. It feels like too much. I was struggling to make ends meet two days ago. Now? Lindsay had the grocery store deliver food. Did you know grocery stores even did that? There is everything here. She won't let me pay her anything or do anything. I feel so bad."

"You feel bad?"

"Yeah. I don't deserve any of this. It makes me uncomfortable. What will she want from me? I don't know what she wants from me."

"I don't know her. I'll talk to Charlene. Until then, enjoy it Sophie. You need a break from life. You need this."

I saw what she had for food and where she was living. How she was living. I don't know how she did it. I couldn't. I think of how much Gus does for me. How he's always here for me and the kids. Our house. Our life. We can afford a kitchen full of food. We have everything we need. How did she do it? Alone. How does any single mother do it all? That's not my problem. I have enough to worry about without worrying about other people. My mom is right, don't invite trouble in.

"Rose. Thank you."

"No problem, I'll call Charlene right now. She'll sort it out."

I call Charlene. Voicemail. That woman never picks up a phone. Or is it only my calls she doesn't answer?

"Charlene, it's Rose. Sophie just called. You need to do something about Lindsay. I guess she's moving them in permanently. It's making Sophie uncomfortable. She wants to move back to the suite. After meeting Craig there, she can't it isn't safe for her there. Call her and figure out something."

There that's done. I'm sure they will sort it all out. As long as Craig can't find Sophie, she's safe.

"Mrs. Fischer, I'm done my assessment."

"Adam, come have a cup of tea and tell me how you are going to make my family safe."

#

#

#

#

# Justine

The house is a mess.

I'm not exaggerating.

There are piles of dirt up against the walls on the floor, food, dust, dirt. The kitchen is piled up with dishes and there is no food in the kitchen. I have laundry in various stages piled around me. It's been weeks since I really cleaned.

I look at the piles of crap on the counter, on the desk, in the living room, family room and do you know what, I don't care. I just don't.

Instead of cleaning and sorting through the mess I'm working. I create content. I market my client's businesses to increase the traffic to their websites. I am a lead generator. It challenges me. It uses my mind. I have to analyze data. Figure out how people interact with content. I have to virtually engage others on my client's behalf. This all takes time. Lots and lots of time.

I get lost in the work.

You know how people have junk drawers? Well I have a junk room. When someone is coming over for a visit I'll run around the house at full speed, completely stressed out, in a panic of epic proportions. I'll grab everything that's lying around and throw it into the junk room, then, I'll shut the door. Once that's done I'll do a quick superficial clean, so the house looks perfect, it's not. If someone looked close enough they'd see the dust, the dirt, the grim.

My mother looks close and tells me about everything I've missed. I've stopped even trying to get the house perfect for her visits, she is coming over tomorrow and will yell at me. How could I live like this?

"This is how your aunt Meridith started out, with a house cluttered and messy like yours. Now her place is so bad that she has stuff piled everywhere, there is no room in her house, no one will visit."

My aunt Meridith is a first class hoarder, I don't think she's ever thrown out anything. I don't know how she got so bad, mom seems to think she's just lazy because there is no reason for it. I'm not so sure. There has to be more to why people end up like that. A deep sadness? Loneliness? Self hatred? A hole so deep that only stuff can fill it?

I don't have stuff. I don't shop. I work.

My mom will come tomorrow, muttering about this and that. She will start cleaning and I'll start feeling guilty, because I didn't get it done. I will feel inadequate, because I chose to work instead of clean the house. I will feel like a bad wife, a bad mother, a bad daughter.

I will feel like the failure that I am. All because I couldn't keep the place clean.

How does one keep a house perfect with a family running it amuck? When I do clean up, two minutes later the kids have gone through it and the place is a disaster again. What was the point? Where is the data that shows me I'm doing something right? The proof showing me that I'm getting somewhere? That each brick I put into place is building something?

I have two kids. Do you think they can help out? Clean their rooms? Change over the dishwasher? Pick up their toys? Nope. No way. No how. They just add to the mess. When they make a mess after I clean, why bother?

I give them a list of chores. When I raise my head up out of my work I yell at them to get it done. They never do. The place stays a disaster and somehow, I don't care enough to make them do it. How does one make a preteen and teenager do anything? When they were little I'd say do this, they'd either do it or went on time out. Now what?

Friends and family tell me to take their phones away, their video games, anything they value. I just don't care enough to do it. I mean really, is having a clean house so important that I have to punish them for not doing it?

I go back to work.

My husband, Gary, he does what he can. He either cooks dinner or brings home take out. He helps the kids with their homework and gets them settled, while I work. I work all the time. I start first thing in the morning and I don't look up until it's time for bed. I work everyday

I'm not looking forward to my mother's visit. She'll lecture me on how I have to have dinner ready for Gary when he gets home and how I need to focus more on keeping a clean house, an organized house, a perfect house. I know that I'm supposed to. I know that. I just can't seem to care.

I tried cleaning up this morning. I started in the living room and all I could do was think of work. How to get more traffic to the contractor's website. What should my next blog post be about and exactly how do I motivate someone to stop looking and buy. When the ideas came to me, I stopped cleaning and I started working.

You'd think Gary would get mad. He doesn't. He brings me coffee in the morning. He asks me how my latest campaign is going. He tidies up on the weekends. Once, he offered to hire a cleaning lady. The thought of it loaded me down with guilt and I cleaned for a week. The house was perfect and I barely slept, as I still had to work.

After a week, I got tired, so tired, I couldn't get out of bed for two days. I was sick. Not sick as in cough, cough, puke, puke, but sick in a different way. I didn't care about anything. Not even work. Every muscle in my body ached and my brain was shutting down. I couldn't hold a thought, I couldn't string a sentence together, without loosing words and going blank. I couldn't focus. I just couldn't move.

Two days later, I woke up and went back to work. Sitting on my ass, at my computer, never moving. I should be the size of Rose by now. I'm not. Thank you mom for a fabulous metabolism. I am completely out of shape, you just can't tell that from looking at me.

One day, I'll get it together. One day, I'll be able to do everything. One day. Just not today. I don't care enough to.

Dating

#

#

#

# Lindsay

I can't get enough sex.

I love sex. My body craves it, needs it, demands it. I love men. I love everything about them. The way they smell. The way they feel wrapped around me. The way they sound. The way they taste. I can't get enough of them.

Most of the men I meet online are not boyfriend material. They are emotionally closed off. They have demanding careers. They are looking for a specific woman and I'm not it. I'm seeking a certain kind of man and they aren't it. There are so many reasons why he isn't the one.

That doesn't mean we can't have some fun.

Some men are studs some are duds.

I'd rather have sex right away and find out if he's a dud or a stud. No use getting all emotionally entangled to find out he isn't any good in the sac.

The young boys are too inexperienced and insecure to know how to please a woman, however, they are teachable and when you teach them they are like rabbits. I don't mind being their Mrs. Robinson. I just don't want to be teaching a young buck long term. What can a boy give me besides a never ending fuck? Not much.

The guys in their mid life crisis phase are too selfish to be good lovers. They don't care if you're having fun. They just want get off and give their egos a stroke. A selfish lover is the worst kind and if I come across one, it's never a repeat engagement, no matter how much he calls me the next day.

Older men, now they know how to please a woman, they just don't have the stamina to keep up. That might be why they spend so much time on foreplay and using their fingers to do mind blowing things. Mind blowing. They are creative, and with the aid of a little blue pill, they can keep it hard. I like a large, thick, hard... Well you know.

When I find a guy who knows what he's doing in the bedroom, one who can blow my mind, I keep him around, even if he isn't boyfriend material outside it.

That's why I have more than one FWB. You know, friend with benefits. A guy you call up and go over to his place to hang out and get fucked right. A guy whom when you leave, your not expecting him to call the next day, because quite frankly, you don't want him to.

Take Mark, my favourite FWB.

He's about 56 years old and owns some kind of business, don't ask, I don't care what he does. He lives down the street from me in a beautiful condo overlooking the bay. He has great taste in art and an interior decorator to die for. In fact, I stole her to give my place a much needed, facelift.

Marc isn't interested in falling in love. He doesn't want a girlfriend. He definitely does not want a wife. He likes his place and his life just the way it is, drama and problem free.

I love his cock.

I'm not too crazy about him. He only talks about himself and doesn't much care about my life or making sure I'm happy. Satisfied yes, happy, no. His number one rule – Keep your problems at the door, which suits me fine. I go there to forget my problems not talk about them.

Why do I bother hanging out with Mark? He's hot, he's sexy and when I leave his place, I can barely walk. I'm intoxicated from the amount of released chemicals pumping through my system.

I don't love Mark, don't even like him much, but I sure love getting fucked by him.

I have a few guys like him, each one fucks me a different way. Some are better than others. Each one fulfills a different fantasy.

What's wrong with that?

#

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#

#

# Sophie

I am unwanted.

I am unworthy.

I will never be loved.

These words keep going around and around in my head. Repeating themselves over and over. It's like there is a demon talking inside my mind and it won't shut up. It won't stop. It's incessant. I just want it to be silent so I can think, so I can sleep, so I can move on. How can I move on when I feel so alone? The pain inside is palpable. Every word stabs at me. Every realization rips me apart.

I am going to be alone.

Forever alone.

Craig isn't alone.

I'm alone.

I'm damaged goods.

Craig found someone to love him. He found love, so, he must have been right when he said that I was the reason our marriage didn't work, that I'm not good enough to love. He treats her with respect. He cares about her wants and needs. He never cared about mine because I didn't matter. I am nothing more to him than the mother of his kids.

My kids need me.

I need to focus all my energy and attention on them. I'm a mother. Mothers don't date. Mothers don't go to bars. Mothers don't have sex with men that aren't their kid's fathers. Mothers are good. I'm only a mother.

I'm a single mother.

Single mother.

Single.

Alone.

My mother couldn't love me. My husband couldn't love me. I am unworthy of love, I know that, every guy can see that. They'll know. I'll just get rejected. I don't want to date. I don't want to be thrown away again.

 Lindsay and Charlie keep dragging me out to pubs and bars. Men don't talk to me. Men talk to Lindsay because she's gorgeous, fun, and happy. She doesn't have all the problems I have. Men talk to Charlie because she is smart, successful and interesting. She doesn't have all the insecurities I have. Men see them. Men don't see me.

Unwanted.

Invisible.

Worthless.

Lindsay wants me to go to some shin dig with her tonight. I don't want to go. Maybe I should tell her I'm sick. Who am I kidding? I'll go. Even though I don't want to. I'll go because she asked me to. I never say no. I never do what I want. I don't know. I'll go. I don't want to stay home. I don't want to go. I just. Oh, I don't know. I don't know what I want.

Maybe I should ask Craig what I should do. He always told me what to do. I'm lost without him.

I better get ready. Lindsay will be ready to go soon. She won't let me stay home. Damn. Why don't I know what I want?

I am unlovable.

I am unwanted.

I am alone.

The pain is sharp and it cuts into my soul, shredding it to pieces.

#

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#

#

# Charlie

Some call dating a game. Some call it a dance. I call it a complete waste of time.

Let's throw out all the bullshit, shall we. No one is guaranteed to find someone to love them in this world. Some people just don't get a match, that's the harsh reality folks. All those positive thinking sayings people say to help you feel better, they're all fuckin' lies.

Dating Guru's. I've read their positive thinking crap. I even tried it, when I started this dating process over 5 years ago. Know what I got? A kick in the ass, while the door was still closed, thank you very much. People don't know jack shit. Let's take a look at their so called advice, shall we.

He's out there looking for you too.

You'll find love when you stop looking for it. Or Don't give up he's looking for you too.

Really? I'm right here. If he's looking for me he'd have found me already. I'm not hiding. In fact, I have look at me ads on almost every online dating site. I go to bars. I've paid matchmakers. I told people I know, that I'm looking. Trust me, no man is looking for me. Men are looking for the best looking piece of ass they can bang. That's what guys want. A nice piece of tail, a chick who will look good beside them and make their friends jealous.

My ass is too big to love and sure as hell too big to be seen in public with. They don't want to take me out and do stuff like go to a movie or dinner. I'm not pretty enough or young enough to be seen with.

Then there's the whole Love Yourself Bullshit

He can't love you if you don't love yourself first.

I love myself just fine, thank you very much. I rock and am better than any of those Barbie doll princesses they are all bowing down to. Men don't want to get to know a woman, they just want to fuck 'em. Well fuck them, if they are too stupid to take the time to figure out how wonderful I am, then it's there loss, not mine.

Besides, I'm living just fine without him. If he didn't want me when my life was upside down chaos and I needed him to lean on, then I sure as hell don't want him now that my life is good and I don't need anyone.

YOU HEAR THAT, I DON'T NEED A MAN, I DON'T NEED ANYONE.

Be open to the Love in Front of You.

Be vulnerable

Vulnerable? What the fuck kind of advice is that? Yeah let's all wear our hearts on our sleeves so men can grab them and jump all over them before kicking you out.

Don't be picky, be open to possibilities

Why the fuck would I want to love just any man who happens to come along and love me? I make six figures and am pretty damn awesome in a courtroom. I drive a high-end sports car. I go on tropical vacations all the time. I have a great life that lots of losers want. That doesn't mean they deserve me. They have to earn it. They have to show me that they are worthy of me, not the other way around.

Law of Attraction can eat me

You are what you attract.

Seriously? Are you saying I don't deserve a great man because some cosmic energy out in the world decided I am unworthy? I'm pretty. I'm smart. I'm independent. I got a lot going for me, thank you very much. I have a lot to offer a man. They just can't be bothered to look beyond the shell and discover how wonderful I am. Is that my fault?

I know what I'm worth.

Know what your worth and a man will treat you better.

Yeah right. A guy says he wants to meet, I say, "great where?" He says his place, my place, his car, or his hotel room. Like that's all I am, some free escort service. Well I'm not and when I say I'm not and will only meet at a coffee shop, he disappears.

It's OK. He's just being a man, that's who they are. He just wasn't the one, move on.

I'm supposed to be OK with men's behaviour because he's just looking to get laid and not a relationship. I'm supposed to be OK with all the men in my message box only wanting to hook up with me? I'm supposed to be OK with the fact that all I am to men is a set of tits? I'm supposed to be OK with some asshole talking to me like I'm a prostitute? Really?

What the fuck kind of advice is that? If you know your worth and don't put up with bad behaviour, you'll be alone, because let's face it, the single forty something men out there either want the thirty something tart or sex from any woman willing to show up. They don't care how much it hurts a woman to be talked to like that. They don't give a crap how it eats away at her soul, when he just wants to hook up and she isn't good enough to date or love.

Men only care about themselves. They don't care about how it feels to know that you are only good enough to fuck. They lie to get what they want, they just fuck 'em and fling 'em because they have needs, which need to be met, and I am not good enough to love, my needs don't matter.

Well fuck that shit. I'm good enough to love. They don't deserve me, not the other way around. I am good enough damn it. You can all go screw yourselves for thinking differently and treating me like I don't deserve love.

Men Suck, I hate them all.

#

#

#

#

# Rose

I pull into the driveway and park the van. My head is throbbing with the beginnings of a headache. I lean back on the seat's headrest and close my eyes. Just for a minute. Only a minute.

Bang

"Moooom!"

My eyes shoot open. An electric shock jolts me awake, my heart pounds in my chest, and I am breathing rapidly. I feel a wave of blood moving through my body. I'm getting light headed and dizzy. What the...? I turn and my son's face is looking at me through the driver's side window. I put my hand to my chest, breath deep and push the button to open the window.

Nothing happens.

Right.

I turn the key in the ignition and put the window down.

"Aiden. You scared me. What?"

"Aren't you coming in? You've been out here for almost an hour."

An hour? I look at the time on the dash. It's been almost an hour since I parked. The groceries! I panic. Meat, frozen pizzas, milk, cheese. I flick the switch unlocking all the locks on the van and the back door rises up.

"Grab some groceries and take them into the house. Where are your sisters?"

"Awwwwe, do I have to?"

"Yes. Your sisters?"

"I don't know. Inside."

I grab a few bags and yell for my three daughters to unload the van and put the groceries away because I'm running late. They whine while doing it. I don't care.

"If you hadn't fallen asleep..." Aiden starts and I just glare at him, daring him to continue. The boy's not dumb, I'll give him that.

I have to get ready. Gus will be home soon.

I run upstairs to jump in the shower, shave, wash my hair, the whole nine yards. I have less than an hour to look gorgeous. Not an easy feat at forty. After twenty-two years, four kids and an extra hundred pounds, I am not the slim beautiful eighteen-year-old girl my husband married. I know Gus still loves me. He says my curves and stretch marks make me that much more real and attractive to him. More cushin for the pushin he teases me and I try to believe him, I do.

My husband doesn't have an ounce of fat on him, thanks to good genes and a physical labour job as a contractor. He even still has most of his hair. I see the women lingering around him, flirting with their eyes, trying to get my husband's attention. He claims never to notice because he only has eyes for me. Ha. I just bet he didn't notice when Melissa Rempkin walked right into him at church and then looked up with puppy dog eyes.

"Ooops sorry Gus. You sure are a solid one, aren't you?"

I could have ripped her eyes out and I would have too if the pastor hadn't walked by at that very moment. I mean, I can't have him thinking I'm a jealous, violent, irrational woman, now can I?

I get out of the shower, look at my naked body in the mirror and cringe. I'm plump. Round. No, not rounded, round. My waist is larger than my hips and my hips are round. Remember in the _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_ movie, when the girl eats the gum and becomes a big fat round blue berry and needs to be rolled out by the umpa loompas. No, not the Johnny Depp one, the original one, the one made before, before I was born. The one with, what was his name? It's been so long since I saw it. Gene Something... Simmons? Hackman? Oh I don't know.

"Mooooom." My son's voice coming through the door.

"Whaaat?"

"You forgot the nacho cheese dip. How are we supposed to have a movie night without the nacho cheese dip?"

"I don't know. You have to make do. Now leave me alone or give me your game system."

I start getting dressed. Nothing fits the way I want and I hate how I look. After trying on four dresses and a pantsuit I settle on a black sac of a dress. It might as well be a tent. My hair at least is cooperating. I wished I'd had time to go to the hairdressers this afternoon and get it done up really nice, but with driving the kids around, the groceries, getting the house cleaned up, laundry... the list is endless.

There, that should do it.

I dig in the bathroom closet for my makeup box. I hardly ever wear any, there is little to no point. I rarely go out and when I do, no one cares what I look like. Lack of daily practice is making a mess of things and I feel like a clown. Too much eye shadow and the lipstick is too bright.

"Mom. Aiden is being a little shit. You have to get him under control."

"Language, Alexis, watch your language."

I turn to see my eldest daughter looking gorgeous and dressed to the nines in a blue patterned skirt with a matching blouse and her hair cascading over her shoulders. She's nineteen and looks a lot like I did when I married Gus. I look at my slim daughter with her indented waist, perky breasts, and sigh.

Just wait I think, twenty years and you'll look like me.

"And where do you think your going tonight?" I ask.

"Out with Cameron."

"Which one is Cameron?"

"The blonde with the pickup truck. You know, he goes to the University, he's studying to be a lawyer one day."

"Oh right him. What happened to the one who's going to be an electrician or something? I like him."

"Dan? I'm seeing him tomorrow, and before you ask, I went out with Richard last night."

"How do you keep them all straight? I can't even imagine dating more than one man. You're not sleeping with them all are you? Don't forget you can catch diseases and worse they'll think you're a whore and no man has ever fallen in love with a whore. You really should just pick one or else people will think you're a slut or something."

She has heard me say these things a hundred times already and I can see from the glazed over look in her eyes, that she isn't listening. Why do I bother? I just want her to be happy. Not like her Aunt Charlene or worse Charlene's new friend, Lindsay. I wouldn't worry so much if she'd just find a nice boy who is like Gus and will take care of her, protect her. It's a dangerous world for girls. It just is.

"Mom. Enough. Aiden. That little spoiled shit you call a favourite -."

"I do not."

She rolls her eyes. I hate it when she rolls her eyes.

"Everyone knows he's your precious little boy and that he's an entitled pain in the ass who at this very moment, is trying to make nacho cheese sauce in your kitchen, with your favourite pot. Thought you might want to know."

With that, she turns on her heel, and walks out the door.

Trying to make nacho cheese sauce? Oh no, what does that mean?

I hurry downstairs. There is my son, with cheese all over the counter and a pot of burning cheese on the stove.

"Oh Aiden."

"I wanted nacho cheese sauce. Gerry likes nacho cheese sauce and I told him there would be some."

I grab the pot off the red-hot stove element. Right then, the smoke detector goes off and Gus walks into the kitchen.

"Ready to go on our date honey?"

#

#

#

# Justine

When I met Gary, he changed my life.

He'd pick me up for real, old-fashioned, dates. We'd go to a movie, out for dinner, do something fun and then go back to his place to cuddle and talk. I'm serious, he'd take me to his apartment to cuddle and talk, nothing else. That was all we'd do. He'd grown up in a strict Christian home believing sex before marriage was wrong.

I wasn't a virgin when we met, so, I found it very frustrating when at the end of the night, all I'd get was some heavy kissing.

Some days, I swear I married him just to get laid.

I still don't understand how he was able to wait 'til thirty to have sex. He was smoking hot back then, with women hanging off him. He could have slept with anyone he wanted, still, he swears he didn't because having only one sexual partner in life, just as God intended, was so important to him.

I felt so embarrassed about my promiscuity that, I lied.

Yes, I lied to my fiancé and I've never told him the truth. I wasn't a virgin when we got married, far, far, from it. By the time I was 25, I'd had more partners than I care to admit to. Gary was different than every other guy I'd come across, he was sweet, kind, and innocent. He wanted to get to know me, not get me naked, and I craved his attention. I'd been used by all kinds of men, young and old, I was looking for love, for a man who would see me, and want to know me. Gary was everything those other men were not, giving up sex until marriage seemed like a small sacrifice to make.

Oh gawd, I miss good sex.

Hot, passionate sex, the kind of sex where you can't get your clothes off fast enough, and you have bruises the next morning, sex.

That isn't Gary's style, he's old fashion vanilla all the way. I needed that when I met him. I needed a change. I needed to be good and worthy of love. I needed to get away from the revolving door of bed warmers.

I gave up great sex for love and it changed my life.

We got married, had kids, and built a good life for ourselves. A life television told us we should want. I know that if I'd continued down the path of my youth, I would have ended up alone and used up. Considering some of the guys I fell into bed with, life would have been very different, very dark. I got lucky, I met Gary and he changed everything.

Gary loves me unconditionally. I wish I deserved it.

I wish I could love him back the way he loves me. I can't feel anything. It's not just him. I have problems loving my kids. I can't believe I just admitted that. That's my deepest, darkest, secret. When they were babies I took care of them, I did everything for them, I tried so hard to be a good mom. To be perfect. I was far from it.

Other's told me I was perfect, the best mom, did everything I was supposed to do. My kids were healthy, clean, well behaved. What they didn't know, was I struggled every day to feel love for them, to feel anything for them. I was far from perfect. I went through the motions and did what I was supposed to do, it was frustrating, it was hard work.

Gary was the perfect one. He was the one who gave the kids love, showed them how to laugh, read stories to them, taught them how to ride a bike. He was the one who made life worth living, not me. I only played lip service. Pretended to listen, pretended to care, pretended to feel love.

I am a fraud.

#

#

#

#

# Lindsay

Sophie needs to get out more.

She's glued to those kids of hers and if she doesn't start letting loose, she'll end up snapping. It's like she is scared to be away from them, she always looks scared. Every time I come into a room she jumps up, starts tidying an already perfect room, and looks terrified of getting into trouble for something. I am beginning to feel like I'm walking on eggshells, trying not to scare her, and it's my house.

She needs some self-confidence. What better way to gain a shot of juice to the old ego than to bask in the attention of men?

I fill three wine glasses with a deep amber coloured wine, one for me, one for Charlie, and one for Sophie. The kids are asleep and the three of us are lounging in my living room looking out on the lights surrounding the bay.

I love my condo.

"To us." I toast.

"I so needed this, it's been a such a stressful week." Charlie says.

"You say that about every week." I say.

"Well, this one was even more so. It's always harder when I have Davie. Don't get me wrong, I love him more than anything, but it is so nice when he goes back to his dad's and I get my life back for a little while."

"I can't imagine not having my kids with me. I wouldn't know what to do with myself." Sophie is never away from her kids, her whole life revolves around them.

"What you are going to do without your kids is date, meet men, have some fun, Sophie. It's time you let loose and found out who you are without the kids."

"I couldn't."

"Yes, you can and you will." I open my laptop. "Time to get you a date."

I watch her shrink into herself in a defensive reaction. This girl needs a man who will treat her like a princess.

"Come on Sophie, it's easy." Charlie says.

"I've heard so many bad things about online dating." Sophie says

"It's not all that bad, you just have to be smart about it. Have some rules, boundaries, and stick to them. Those things you won't do." Charlie says.

"Like what?"

"Never send a man money." I say.

"Don't waste your time," Charlie says. "If they aren't in the area, if they are out of country on business, or on a military mission, chances are they are scammers. If they really are on business or in the military, they can contact you when they get home. And don't send naked photos of yourself, you don't know what they'll do with them."

"Unless, you want to."

"Lindsay, you know I don't like it when you send men naked photos, and trust me, Sophie doesn't need the backlash, if he ends up being the wrong kind of guy. She needs to be more careful."

"I don't have my face in the pics."

"Still. Best not to. I wouldn't tell them too many details about where you live, don't add them on facebook, and always meet them in a public place." Charlie adds.

"Unless you just want to get laid."

"Lindsay, you're not helping."

I shrug.

"I don't know. I wouldn't know what to say." Sophie says.

"Lindsay, give me the computer. We'll log into my account and we can chat up some men."

"Why not mine?"

"Because, Sophie's mind is innocent and your conversations would make Hugh Hefner blush."

True. Hef doesn't have any imagination.

"Here's a good guy." Charlie clicks on a message.

"He's hot. Look at those muscles." I say.

"I know, right."

I read the guy's last message. I'm at the gym working these arms for you. Chat later? The guy really does have amazing arms. Charlie's last message back said, I could get lost in those arms as is, look forward to chatting later.

"What should I say?" Charlie asks.

"So baby, when are those arms gonna wrap around my naked body and make it sing?"

"Lindsay, not helping. Sophie, what do you think?"

"How 'bout, How was the gym?" Sophie suggests.

"Good. Hey babe, how was the gym? Did you work those amazing arms of yours? Now let's check out this guy's message."

This guy's photo has him sitting in a car. He's cute. Very cute. I'd do him in a heartbeat.

Him: Hello Charlie. I'm Sam. How are you?

"What should I type? Sophie." Charlie gives me a look like don't you dare. What? I try to look innocent. She knows what I think she should type - Hey hot stuff, when can I see you without all those pesky clothes and nibble on that great bod of yours?

"Tell him you're good."

"OK. What else? If you want the conversation to keep going, you have to ask him a question, one that will force him to answer with more than one or two words."

"Oh. Ask him what he wants."

"Good. That will help us know if I'm a good match or not. His profile didn't say much beyond looking for a relationship. Let's ask him what kind of woman he would like to attract."

"Sounds good." She types in the words.

"Charlie who is that? Oh my gawd he's hot. Like wet my panties hot." I say.

I read their conversation.

Him: Women are so aggressive on here, it's kind of scary.

Her: What do you mean?

Him: They want to hook up and get mad if I say I want to meet for a coffee first. If we do meet for coffee and I don't invite them back to my place with a bottle of wine, they get pissed. They just want to fuck me.

Her: That's usually how I feel about men. I can't believe women are like that.

Him: I feel like a piece of meat.

Her: You love it.

Him: Well. I can't complain.

Her: LOL

Him: So what about you? Looking to use an innocent man like me?

Her: Sorry, I'm not that kind of girl.

Him: Good. I'm looking for a woman who wants to get to know me and build a relationship.

Her: Yeah right. Relationship, wink.

Him: So are we going to have coffee?

Her: Are you asking?

Him: Not sure.

Her: When you know tell me where and when, then we'll see.

Him: OK I'll let you know. Got to run. Work calls.

Her: Work always calls. Chat later.

"He sounds nice." Sophie says.

"You really should hit that." I say.

"He sounds manipulative. Think about it. Why tell me that all these women just want him for his body?"

"Because they do." I say.

"He could also be baiting me, planting the idea that he's all that and I should get me a piece of it. He's telling me it's OK for me to use him for just sex."

"He said he wants a relationship." I say.

"He can lie."

"How do you know?" Sophie asks.

"He's a man. What I like about online dating is that it opens a door to a man's mind and gives you time to analyse their words without all the distractions of voice, body language, and normal communication. It's like the social filters that guys have, fall away once they are typing and you find out what they really think. What they really are like behind that façade."

"I see." Sophie says.

"Charlie. Come one. Just screw him, you know you want to, he's probably a lot of fun."

"I don't want to be just one more notch on his bedpost. Plus that's not his photo."

"How do you know?" Sophie asks.

"Watch this." Charlie saves a copy of the photo before opening her web browser. "Google can search by photo, see here." She goes to images and drops the photo into the search bar and the same photo is showing in the search results. Charlie clicks on the results pic, which goes to a stock photo site. "See it's a pic of a model. He stole the photo."

"That's terrible." Sophie says.

"I hate it when they don't look anything like their photos." I say.

"Chances are he would never have made a date to meet in the real world."

"Damn, cause you could have had one hot hook up with that guy." I say.

"I want more than once or even an fwb. I want real."

"FWB?" Sophie asks.

"Friend with benefits." I answer. "A guy you use for sex and that's it."

"There really is no friend about it." Charlie pipes in. "The guy rarely ever wants to know anything about you and never wants to do anything beyond fucking. It's just a booty call partner, nothing more."

"Even women have needs, and if he's a good fuck, why not? You need to meet Mark Sophie, he'll satisfy you."

"She isn't ready for Mark, hell, I'm not ready for Mark." Charlie says.

"You've fucked Mark."

"I know and I can't see him more than once every three or four months, otherwise I'd fall in love with the guy, and he only wants sex."

"He cares about me." I say. "He's there for me, when I need him."

"Not like he would be, if you really were friends or even truly dating."

"Yes, he is."

"Let me ask you this. If he died right now, how would you know?"

"I... Someone would call me."

"Who?"

"I'm in his phone."

"So is every other woman, business associate, service company, and professional. Your number is one of hundreds, for all anyone else knows, you're his plumber."

"Well. I'd know."

"How."

I can't answer. How would I know if Mark died. It's not like I make a habit of reading obituaries and would there even be one? Who would write it? Would there be a funeral? How would I know? I don't know his family. I have no idea who his next of kin emergency person is. Who are his friends? I don't know his assistant, his business associates, I don't even know his plumber.

I suddenly feel like I don't matter to Mark.

I don't like that feeling.

#

#

#

#

# Sophie

I step out of the shower and put on Lindsay's bathrobe. Her and Charlie are insisting on a full makeover so they can take photos of me for an online dating profile, I am so not sure about this. What guy would want to date me?

I look at myself in the mirror.

I am short and too thin, I look like a child with an adult head. I don't have any curves, no tits, and I have flat, thin, mousey brown, hair with some grey strands running through it. My nose is crooked from when I broke it. My brown eyes are too close together and too big for my long face. I am not pretty. I am ugly.

Craig is right. No man will want to love me.

Knock! Knock!

"Hey Sophie come on, hurry up."

It's Lindsay. I don't know why she's being so nice to me. I don't deserve it. I open the door and she descends on me, pulling me towards a chair that is facing the wall of windows overlooking the bay.

"Charlie, can you hand me that bag?"

Lindsay stops combing out my hair, as she grabs the bag of large Velcro rollers, and then proceeds to wrap them into my hair. I can see my reflection in the glass and I look like something from a Sci-Fi movie, with the rollers on my head.

"Here Sophie."

Charlie hands me a glass of wine and I sip it, while listening to the two women chatter on about dating and men. The horror stories about men behaving badly are not helping my nerves. If anything, these tales make me want to curl up into a ball and hide.

"There are very few decent single men and the competition is fierce." Charlie says.

"What are you talking about? There are lots of good men out there, you are just jaded and don't give any man a chance."

"Really? Remember Red Flag Guy." Charlie says.

"Well, you don't have to answer all their questions honestly, especially on the first date. You have to keep the bad stuff to yourself. You have to get them to see the good stuff first, then you can let them know about the bad stuff. I'm sure he is a decent guy, you scared him away is all."

"Red flag guy?" I ask.

"He's this guy I went on date with." Charlie says. "It was a good date, started with coffee, moved to dinner and then a walk. He asked me a million questions about my life, my past, and my family. The date went really well, at least I thought it had, the next day he messages me telling me that he isn't interested because I set off too many red flags."

"You did?" I ask.

I wonder what red flags she could set off. Who would think she has any red flags? I am a pile of red flags. I have no job, no money, no things, and, as Craig says, I'm useless. I have nothing to offer a man. I'm not intelligent like Charlie. I'm not beautiful like Lindsay. If these two women can't find love, how am I ever going to?

"According to him, I did. I asked him what he meant and all he said was I was too much to take because I had too many issues."

"What issues could you have?"

"We all have our issues Sophie and men judge us within two seconds of seeing us. I'm too fat, too angry, too jaded, too unforgiving. According to some."

She looks directly at Lindsay as she says the last words.

"I never said you're too fat, some men love curves."

"Yeah, the perverted ones and the jerks like, the stomach ache guy." Charlie takes a long sip of her wine. "That guy was the crème de la crème of rudeness, the only thing I could do when he left was laugh. It was that, or cry."

"What did he do?" I ask.

"He was this really hot Australian cyclist athlete. He said he was here coaching a team of cyclists who competed in international races. He was fit and hot."

"You only cared about what he looked like, so why give him such a hard time?" Lindsay asks.

"His looks might have got me to the coffee shop, but he was enough to turn me off Australian men for life. He wasn't there to date me. He'd made a date with my boobs and wasn't too happy that I'd come along with them."

"Your boobs?" I ask.

"I swear, I could have mugged the guy at gunpoint and the only description he could have given the police was the roundness of my size Hs. He even had to put on his sunglasses, so that he didn't feel obvious about staring. At one point, he had the audacity to tell me that the only reason he wanted to meet me, was to see what Hs looked like. What a waste of skin."

"Why do you call him the stomach guy?" I ask.

"Because, he started fidgeting, like he was uncomfortable and then told me he had a stomach ache. I offered him some antacids, but he said they wouldn't work, and bolted for the door to his car. That's one way to flee from a bad date. I looked around the room and saw the people sitting there, staring, I had to laugh, it's all I could do."

"That's terrible. How mean of him." I say.

"He probably had a huge heart on and needed to deal with it." Lindsay says.

"That's typical. Be grateful that you don't have huge watermelon tits, like me Sophie. I tell you, all men want is sex when they look at me. They don't respect me. They talk to me like I'm some kind of porn star, and then get their shirts in a knot when I call them on it. Men don't like a flashlight being shined on their shameful behaviours."

"So what if they want sex? Have fun. Use them to get what you need from them and move on until you find the one you can have mind blowing sex with, then fuck him until you get bored." Lindsay says and I shutter.

"Why would you want to tell her that? Sophie, you are in charge of this game called dating. It is what you want it to be. If you want to go wild, go wild, lots of men are searching for women like Lindsay here, who can have sex without mixing in emotions. I can't. I'm not built that way. I need to matter, I need to be cherished, and I need to be the only one."

"You need to stop dragging what happened with David behind you. You won't find a love until you let what happened go. Cut the baggage free, move on and have fun. Have lots of partners until you find the one you want." Lindsay says.

"And end up with some STD, no thanks." Charlie takes a sip. "I have enough issues when I break down, and sleep with one of the idiots, thank you very much, I don't need to add more heartache and embarrassment by sleeping with whatever guy says 'hey sexy.'

"I didn't say you should sleep with every guy who wants to, just those you want to fuck."

"What about your men? Like Tony." Charlie says.

"Which Tony?" Lindsay asks.

"Exactly."

"There's more than one Tony?" I ask.

"There's three." Charlie says. "Old Tony, Truck Tony, and New Tony. Each of them has hurt Lindsay and she keeps going back. No matter what they do to her, she forgives them, makes excuses for them and goes back."

"They care about me."

"Caring has nothing to do with it. Truck Tony. You always give him what he wants and then he hurts you on purpose, so you'll go away, until he wants you again. You're always in tears because of the things he says to you afterwards, and he's cruel. Telling you shit like you're just some slut and that he's had better sex with his hand."

"It's part of a game we play. He doesn't mean any of it."

"Lindsay, you deserve better. You have to stop calling him and texting him, you have to delete his number. He is using you and he doesn't care about you."

"He does. He doesn't really want to hurt me. It's just a game. He says mean things, I send him a sad face, and then he asks me over. We're friends. He knows that I'm there for him."

_Some game._ If a man treats me like that, I'll be devastated.

"But he's not there for you. The only times he does show up when you need him is if he doesn't have someone better to do at the time. I'm constantly yelling at him after he's hurt you. He doesn't deserve you."

"He does. He just needs to realize it."

I can see the frustration on Charlie's face and I can feel it in myself. If what Charlie is saying is true, why would Lindsay defend the man? If he hurts her feelings on purpose, what kind of man is he?

"What about Old Tony." I ask to change the subject.

"Oh yes, Old Tony. How long have you known him?"

"I don't know twenty or so years?"

"He's her playmate, whenever they are both single. He doesn't take her out, won't be seen in public with her, won't love her. Isn't that his rule, don't fall in love with me?"

"That's a rule most of my men have. He'd take me out, if I asked him, I don't want to go out with him, I only want to play with him."

"Yet, he's looking for love. He wants to find someone to marry and be with him, just not Lindsay. She's good enough to fuck, but not good enough to love."

I cringe. I felt the slap that Charlie just gave her.

"Hey, that's not fair. He loves me. We're friends. He cares about me."

"I know he cares about you and wants you to be happy. He told me that much, and I believe him. Still, you are worth more than a 'fun time' with him. You are standing right there in front of him, this wonderful, loving, beautiful woman, and he won't love you."

"I'm not what he wants. We are friends. That's it. I don't love him that way. He's there for me whenever I need him. I call and he tells me to come over. He takes my mind off my troubles."

"You deserve better. If you're upset, he should take you out to dinner and talk to you."

"We talk, he gives me advice, and we order in or he cooks for me. We have fun. Why can't you understand that?"

"I think you deserve to be loved."

"Well, it won't ever be Old Tony, maybe Truck Tony will let down his defences and let me in. He is too scared to love me. I just need to be patient with him."

"You'd be better off with New Tony."

"He made his choice."

"Choice?" I ask.

"He liked someone else more than me. That's all. No big deal."

"No big deal? You were hurt."

"He didn't want to hurt me. He cared about me. I just wasn't the one he wanted."

"That's a big deal Lindsay. He was an idiot not to see what I see in you. They all are."

I am beginning to wonder why they want me to start dating, considering their experiences. How can I get out of it? It doesn't sound like fun, if anything it sounds awful. Men are so heartless, hurtful, and unkind.

Why am I doing this?

I look at my reflection. Lindsay has begun blow drying my hair. If someone as beautiful, fun, and rich as Lindsay and someone as smart, strong, and confident as Charlie, can't find men to love them, what chance do I have?

I won't survive getting rejected.

I won't survive being hurt.

I have nothing to offer a man.

#

#

#

#

# Charlie

Sophie looks great.

Lindsay did her hair and make up. She doesn't have much in the way of clothes, we need to take her shopping for something nice. For the photos we pinned the dress to make it more flattering on her and Lindsay accessorized it with a pink scarf, which made Sophie's skin glow. I saw the amazement in her eyes when she was finally allowed to look in the mirror, at the final product.

"Is that me?"

"You are so cute." I say. "I wish I was tiny like you. You're like a china doll."

"Remind me to call my hairdresser tomorrow, your hair needs a good cut to set off your face a bit better." Lindsay says.

"And we need to go shopping for some clothes that fit you and aren't WalMart clearance items." I say.

"I can't afford to do any of that." Sophie says.

"Who said you're paying? My ex is gonna pay."

"I can't take anymore of your money. You've been so generous already."

Why can't men see how generous and kind Lindsay is? All they see is the 'fun party girl' who likes to get naked. She is so much more than that, and if they'd take the time to talk to her they'd see it. She is beautiful, rich, kind, generous, and sexually adventurous. What more could they want? If Lindsay can't find love, how will I ever find it?

What do single men want?

"Let's get some pics taken. Stand against this wall. Loosen up Sophie. This isn't a mug shot. Lindsay give her a glass of wine or maybe a couple shots of something stronger."

"I'm already drunk." Sophie says.

"Not drunk enough. Smile. That's it." I say.

I take some photos with my phone. The ones we take in the kitchen, as she makes a snack, are the best. She is happy, relaxed, and confident in these photos. In the others, she was awkward and stiff. Photos matter because men hardly ever look beyond them. It's all about the way you look and Sophie is adorable. Lindsay is right, with the right haircut, and some decent fitting clothes, she'll be a different woman.

"I got a couple good shots."

Back on the couch, we sit drinking more wine, and creating a new online dating profile for Sophie. I pick the photo of her laughing at something Lindsay said while she was cutting up some cheese, for the main photo. Her whole face is alight with joy, if men don't respond to it, then they are dumb. I add a couple of full body shots of her as she moves around the kitchen.

I can't get over the change in her.

The Sophie I know is like a cowering dog, fragile, and always on the edge of tears. The photos show a woman in her element, confident, happy, and fun. I never look fun. I'm not fun. Men like fun. Sophie will find love quickly, I'd bet money on it.

"Now for the write up. What are your strongest points?" I ask.

"I don't have any." Sophie says.

"Of course you do, everyone does."

"I don't. I have nothing a man would want."

"You have a pussy." Lindsay says and I glower at her. "You have so much going for you. Men want a woman who can cook and you're a great cook. You are a good homemaker, an amazing mother, and a gentle soul. Men like those things."

"You think so?"

"I know so." Lindsay says. "Not all men, but the good ones do. That's what you want, a good one. Charlie don't say it, there are good single men out there."

I keep my mouth shut.

That elusive 'good man.'

They all think they are a good man.

What is a good man anyway?

My dad, he's a good man. He's always been there for mom and us girls. He loves my mom and has always made sure she's gotten everything she wanted out of life, that she was happy. After forty-nine years together, he still looks at her like she's his whole world. Oh, right, it's going to be their fiftieth wedding anniversary this year. Mental note, talk to Rose and Gwen about organizing a party.

My sister married a good guy. Gus, and his brothers, would die to protect their wives, they give them what they want, provide for their families, and they'd bend over backwards to make sure their women are happy. None of them would ever do anything to purposely hurt them, unlike David.

David.

I married a selfish, cheating, lying, asshole.

"What do you think Charlie?" Lindsay asks.

"Hmmm?" I wasn't paying attention and I hide behind my glass of wine, as I take another sip.

"How does this sound for a headline? Cute, single mom seeks a great guy."

"I like it."

"Now for the write up. What are you looking for in a man?" Lindsay says.

"I really don't know."

"Do you want to have casual fun, do you want a relationship?" I ask.

"Neither."

We look at Sophie, expecting a better answer than that.

"How 'bout we say you are looking to find the right man for you." I suggest.

"That sounds good." Sophie shrugs with an embarrassed smile.

"What does the right man look like?" I ask.

"I don't know."

This is not going to be easy. What kind of man would be good for her? She needs a Gary, a Gus, not a David. I really don't know her well enough to know what she is like beyond, shy, scared, and fragile. Maybe this isn't the best idea.

"Let's forget what you want in a man and write a few sentences about you." Lindsay says.

"Single mother of two, divorced –"

"I'm not divorced yet though."

"- Separated and ready to start the next chapter in my life. I enjoy... What do you enjoy?"

"Reading. Cooking. Taking care of the kids. Taking them to the park –"

"Not what you like doing with your kids. What do you like to do?" I ask.

"I don't know."

"Lindsay, maybe this isn't such a good idea. She needs to find herself first."

"Dating will help her find herself."

"Will it? I'm not so sure." I say.

"It will force her to get out into the world, take risks, and figure out what she wants. Can't know what you like until you get out there and experience life."

Lindsay is right. The only way Sophie is going to find out what she likes and doesn't like, in a man, is to meet them. Maybe, just maybe, she'll attract men who will take her out and experience things, not the jerks looking for easy pickings. Mental note, check with Sarah about what resources and classes are available for Sophie through social services and non-profits. She needs help finding herself.

"Let's put enjoys walks in the park and exploring bookstores. I am a kind person who is loyal to her children, friends, and family."

"Can we not put family?"

"Sure. I'm with you there." Lindsay says. "How about, I am currently exploring my options and expanding my interests by experiencing all life has to offer. There that should do it. What do you think Charlie?"

"Add. I would like to date a man who can show me new things and have fun dating in the real world. Not interested in hook ups or casual fun."

Lindsay adds the last couple of sentences.

"It should end with something more positive, like... If you are looking for a woman who is lots of fun, send me a note."

"Sounds good."

I read the write up.

Single mother of two, separated and ready to start the next chapter in my life. I enjoy walks and exploring bookstores. I am loyal to my children and friends. I am currently exploring my options and expanding my interests by experiencing what life has to offer. I would like to date a man who can show me new things and have fun dating in the real world. Not interested in hook ups or casual fun. If you are looking for a woman who is lots of fun, send me a note.

"Sounds good. We'll rewrite it as you go and figure out more about what you want."

"I still don't know about this." Sophie says.

"Let's take a look at the single men. Here, this tool lets you look at their profile pic and swipe left for no and right for yes."

"What about their profile write up, interests, etc."

"You'll get to that. Let's start with this, it lets the site know what kind of guys you think are cute."

"OK."

Lindsay fills her glass with more wine and we sit back letting Sophie go through the catalogue of faces. It is so impersonal and shallow. Unless you are cute, gorgeous, or pretty, you don't end up with a lot of options. It's all about looks. I guess it's always been about looks, even in the bars, the grocery stores, the classes, and all the other places people meet. It was about looks in high school and the sad part is, middle-aged men are like teenagers when it comes to dating.

I don't know how Lindsay does it, she always has someone asking her out and making plans with her. She has men bending over backwards to get her attention and my social calendar is quiet. On a Friday night, I'm usually sitting home alone drinking wine. Even when a guy looks promising, he changes his mind because something better came along.

Take Mr. Muscles, the guy with the great arms at the gym. I originally started chatting with him a few months back. He's a good looking guy, built. A body builder type who looks fabulous in a suit. Mr. Muscles all the way. I complimented him, a lot. I went all out on the compliments to stroke that ego. We flirted and I didn't mention any of my crappitty-crap-crap. He was flirty, nice, smart, and respectful. He was a gentleman. A decent guy. I thought we were hitting it off. Thing is, you never can tell with online instant messaging.

His last words to me back then were, _can we meet this week? I'll come downtown._ I messaged back.

_Perfect, let me know what works best for you._

His response, _I'll message you later this week._

I never heard from him. Not one message. Not one word. Nothing. Weeks pass and I didn't think anymore of it, he obviously changed his mind. OK so, I was a bit disappointed. It's rejection. Another guy who is kinda into me, but not really.

The kind of guy who messages me when he's bored and there is no one prettier to talk to. I'm the fall back chick. I really hate that. It hurts to know that I'm good enough to pass the time with online, but not good enough to get excited about meeting. I'm getting used to it. I mean I'm no beauty.

Don't get me wrong I like myself. I'm a great person with a lot to offer a man and the list is endless. But these are men we're talking about. Men who are looking at an online catalogue with countless options available. Men are visual and they are searching for the best looking thing they can score. I'm not that on the outside.

Lindsay is. Lindsay is drop dead gorgeous and the men flood her inbox with requests for dinner, movies, and fun activities. They don't ask her if they can give it to her up the, well let's just say I get a lot of odd requests online.

Three days ago, Mr. Muscles puts up a new sexy hot pic and dumb ass me messages him.

_Me:_ _Nice pic, I'm drooling._

_And the conversation starts up again. I know that if I don't want to be treated this way I need to cut men like him loose. Move on._

_I'm an idiot._

_I take a sip of wine and my phone beeps letting me know I have a new online dating message. I tap on the icon, might as well see what loser has messaged me this time. It's Mr. Muscles._

_Mr. Muscles_ _: Hey. Gym was good. Worked these arms for you._

_Me:_ _Nice. Can't wait to feel them wrapped around me._

_Mr. Muscles:_ _What are you doing Wednesday night?_

_Me:_ _I'm not sure, I don't think I've got plans, my son is at his dad's this week._

_Mr. Muscles:_ _Want to meet?_

_Me:_ _Sure_

_Mr. Muscles:_ _You like Sushi?_

_Me:_ _Love Sushi._

_Mr. Muscles:_ _OK then let's meet at my favourite Sushi place at 7._

_Me:_ _Perfect._

_I sit here staring at my phone. Did he just ask me out on a date? A real dinner date? Not a, let's meet at my house, his bedroom, his hotel room or his car? A real world, actual, respectful, date._

_"What's wrong Charlie?" Lindsay asks._

_"Mr. Muscles just asked me out for Sushi."_

_"That's great."_

_Is it?_

#

#

#

#

# Sophie

I have an online dating profile.

The photos look nothing like me. The woman in the photos is cute and the write up even makes her sound interesting. Lindsay's makeover had me speechless, when I was finally allowed to look in a mirror. I didn't look like me. My hair had body, a bit of curl, and softly, framed my face. I feel weird looking at myself. I couldn't stop staring at the stranger that was staring back.

I looked and felt pretty.

Will a guy think I'm pretty? What am I doing? No one is going to want me. I know that, and yet, I let Lindsay and Charlie push me into this. This is nuts. I'm nuts. Why do I let others push me into things?

"Do you want more wine?"

I shake my head.

"Sophie. You look freaked out, are you OK?"

I shrug.

"What's on your mind girlfriend?"

"Well." I'm not sure what to say, they've been so nice to me, and I know they mean well. I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. Discomfort shifts my body and I look down. "I'm just nervous, I mean, what if no one messages me."

"Sophie. You already have three messages." Lindsay says.

I look at her, my eyes wide and mouth open. Did she say three messages? Three men have messaged me? What do I do now?

"Check it out. These guys are the hovering ones, waiting to strike at the newbies while they are fresh, not worth an answer. You'll get some quality ones soon enough though."

I take a look, there really are three messages. Two of them don't have photos and the third is a muscle head with a shaved head, looks a lot like Mr. Clean. I click on each message.

Takeuout: Hey sexy, what you doing?

Hotdude69: You want to come over for a good time?

Mr. Clean: Hello. You are very pretty.

I look to Charlie and Lindsay. I don't know what to do.

"Don't message them, the idiots with no pic are either married, ugly, or trolls, all of which you don't need to bother with. The third. I don't know. You're choice. If you think he's cute then chat with him. Otherwise just ignore it and wait for something better."

I am unsure about what to do. I don't want to do the wrong thing.

"What are the rules?" I ask.

"Rules? There are none." Lindsay says.

No rules? How does anyone know what to do? How to act? What is OK and what is wrong? I don't want to offend anyone. I don't want to hurt anyone. And I definitely don't want to get hurt. There must be rules. There must be a code of conduct.

"It's whatever you want it to be. You want to have lots of sex, have lots of sex. You want a man to treat you right then you tell him to. You want a relationship, you wait to find a relationship. Don't do what you don't want, that's all." Lindsay says.

What I don't want? I don't know what I want, let alone what I don't want.

"Take this new message from Wantmore: Hey sexy lady are you lonely tonight? What do you think he is saying he wants?"

"He's asking if I'm lonely." I say.

"He wants sex. He's asking you if you want to come over to his place for a booty call. Do you?" Charlie says.

"NO." Oh my God, what have I gotten myself into? "Why doesn't he just say that?"

"Because he knows he'll get virtually slapped down for it." Lindsay says.

"Give you a compliment, some innuendo, enough to start a conversation." Charlie adds.

"Let's have some fun with this one."

"Lindsay." Charlie says.

"He's hot and we need something to do."

Lindsay leans over the computer and types, hey hot stuff, I'm very lonely tonight, what about you? I look at her, she lied, why would she do that? His response comes immediately.

Wantmore: Want some company?

Lindsay: What are you thinking?

Wantmore: Some kissing. Cuddling. My tongue tasting your body. I am very good with my tongue.

Lindsay: Mmmmm. I like a good licking, ;)

Wantmore: I'll lick you good baby.

Lindsay starts to laugh and Charlie rolls her eyes, I'm at a loss.

"This is dating?" I ask.

"A part of it. There are lots of guys on here who want to get off on dirty talk, while jerking off. A large majority of them want casual sex with no strings. Nothing else. Just come over, pleasure me, and go home." Charlie says.

"Sounds like they should call a prosititute or call girl." I say.

"They should, they don't want to pay or take a hit to their egos by paying for sex. Though I'm not sure why that would be a hit to their egos. Those girls need to make a living too." Charlie says. "And if they did, they would be probably be less rude when dating. The funny thing is they don't realize that the woman on here looking for quick sex, are sleeping with a lot of them and they are all sharing the same girls, which is how STDs get spread, because these guys don't want to use a condom."

"What?" I am horrified.

Charlie continues, "lots of them were married and are used to sex without a condom, so they don't want to use one. They are dumb enough to believe that they have chosen someone who is clean, and doesn't sleep around with other guys, at least not without a condom. They believe the woman is telling them the truth, when she wants to get laid as much as he does. They lie to each other to get what they want."

"Hey. We always make sure we get tested and are clean." Lindsay says.

"Yeah, up until your next fuck. I keep telling you to be more careful."

"I don't want to do this anymore."

"Sophie. They aren't all dumb pigs, just the majority of them. There are decent ones out there who are relationship guys." Charlie says.

"They all have their uses and are worth exploring. It's about having fun and some guys are only fun in the sack." Lindsay adds.

"One of these days you're going to find one who is worth so much more than a roll in the hay and then what are you going to do if he asks how many men you've been with?" Charlie asks Lindsay.

"Tell him. He won't care."

"Right. 'Cause men are such liberal minded creatures who don't think in double standards. What about, loves his ex guy. He admitted that he wanted to get back together with his wife, but because she'd been with other men he couldn't. When I pointed out he slept with other women his comment was, that's different, you're not a man, you don't understand. I understood alright, he held one set of standards for him and another set for his ex-wife."

"You're too hard on them. They are flawed, sure, but if you are good in bed they'll keep you."

"No they won't. They will fuck ya, but that's it."

"You are way too jaded."

"And you are way too forgiving."

"I thought you two said this was supposed to be fun."

The two of them start laughing.

"Sorry Sophie. It's just that we have different opinions about what is acceptable and what isn't, when it comes to how men behave. It's a running debate between us, it is part of the fun. You'll find your own opinions about men, what you will accept as acceptable, and what you won't."

"Charlie's just a stick in the mud who hates men." Lindsay sticks her tongue out at Charlie.

"You bet I hate men. All the good ones are married and I'm sick of being treated badly."

These two are kidding right? Why in the world do they think that it's a good idea for me to do this? I'm not sure I can survive being rejected by a man. Craig threw me away and the pain of it still cuts at me daily. Do I want to add to it by having other guys using me for sex or rejecting me because I won't put out? This is not for me. I am not meant to be with anyone except Craig and he doesn't want me.

I can't do this.

#

#

#

# Charlie

Sophie's profile looks top notch. She will get lots of messages from men, most of them horny little boys, but hopefully she'll find a few decent guys to go out with. I'm a bit torn on whether or not she should be dating yet. If she finds the right guys to meet it will help her to build her confidence and figure out who she is and what she wants. However, if she meets the wrong kind it could destroy her. She's so fragile and most single men are selfish, callous, people who don't care about how their actions affect others.

Lindsay is showing her all the different tools the site has. Like the swipe feature where based on one pic she will swipe right to say she likes him and left to say she doesn't. The profile pic is so important, yet men don't seem to understand this and put up the worst photos of themselves. One guy put up a pic of him brushing his teeth, white sudsy slobber and all. Real attractive. The guys who post pics upside down or sideways just look technologically challenged and stupid. The faux-pas are endless.

"What about him?" Sophie asks.

"He's posing with three fit women in bikinis, what does that say about what he wants?" I ask.

"I don't know."

"It is also a manipulative move. He's trying to tell women that he is good looking enough to attract hot women. If he's so popular with those girls, why aren't they dating him?" I say.

"Do you want to date a guy who has women draped over him to stroke his ego?" Lindsay says. "He wants a trophy on his arm, he only cares about what you look like."

"I am not interested then." Sophie swipes left and another pic pops up. "These guys are cute."

"Yeah. But which one is looking for a date?" Lindsay says.

"You're not looking to date a group of men. You want a guy who is confident in himself and doesn't feel the need to show off his good looking friends to entice you to date him." I say. "Swipe left."

"This one?" Sophie asks.

"Do you think he's cute?"

"Not really."

"Than swipe left."

"But I don't want to hurt his feelings."

"He won't know you swiped left. It only tells them who swiped right and then only if they are a paying customer. This is more for you to make a list for yourself of the guys you want to check out in more detail. See here." I point at the screen. "That tab will take you to the list of all the ones you chose by swiping right. From there you can go directly to their profile to read more about them."

"Oh OK." She swipes left and a real cutie comes up. Professional, nice smile, sweet looking, the perfect choice for her. "Why did you swipe left? He was cute."

"I didn't think he was. He wasn't my type?"

"Leave her to it." Lindsay says and I sip some wine while Sophie goes through the photos.

After twenty minutes I say, "I think you have a few on your list of 'likes.' Let's go check out profiles and dig deeper."

"Click on this one." Lindsay says. "He's really cute."

She clicks on the photo and it takes her to his profile. Doesn't smoke, 5'8", 42 years old, divorced, has kids, works in the medical field. Looking for a woman for a relationship. He has only one photo of his face, so we can't tell if it's him, recent, or what the rest of him looks like.

"Oh my god. Look at his headline, _Rub me and I'll grant you three wishes_. Seriously?"

"He wants to get laid." Lindsay says.

"Ya think. His profile write up isn't much better." I say

_I'm looking for a relationship that includes passion, sensuality, honesty, openness, and lots and lots of great se....you know what i mean._ _Random texts saying, "I love you" "I'm crazy about you" "Wanna meet for lunch" are greatly appreciated and wanted. Will you take a picture of you sticking your head out of the shower, showing some sexy shoulder or your smooth leg, and text me "can you get me a towel?" or "bath time would be so much more fun with you ...." My job can be stressful and long at times. It really makes me long for time away and doing the things I want to do and desire to do._

"This guy is looking for a virtual sexual arrangement. He's not interested in anything real and you don't want anything to do with him." I say.

"Next." Lindsay adds.

The next profile she clicks on has a few photos. Doesn't smoke, 5'11" He's 54, never married, no kids, and profession says ask me. Casual dating.

"There is no write up." Sophie says.

"This guy isn't serious about finding a relationship. He's looking for hook ups."

"What do you think, want to fuck him?" Lindsay asks.

"No." Sophie says.

"Then next." I say.

The next guy has some decent photos of himself, he's doing some fun activities in a few of them, looks fit and tall. He doesn't smoke, is 6'2", he's 45, divorced, has kids, and is a cop. Looking for a relationship. His headline is _Looking for my soul mate_ , which makes me want to barf, but maybe Sophie believes in that soul mate stuff.

"His profile write up is not bad."

Looking for my soul mate, are you out there?

I enjoy my work. I am a person that can be counted on, loyal, trustworthy, sincere and I don't play head games. I'm a jack-of-all-trades and I'm always the first to lend a hand when my friends need one. I own my own home. I have 2 great kids who are becoming more independent and I'm finding myself with more time on my hands.

I'm looking for that special someone who likes to get out and try new things. Somebody to accompany me on my life's adventures and allow me to accompany them on there's. I like anything to do with the great outdoors and try to stay active. I love passion and romance, Cuddling up in front of a fire or a good movie is always fun. I'm not into the bar scene but going out for a pint and playing pool or darts occasionally is fun. I own a ski boat and a camper so I hope you like camping and exploring new places.  
If you want to learn more drop me a line.

"What do you think Sophie? If you aren't interested I'll date him." I say.

"I think he sounds pretty great." Sophie says.

"Send him a note." Lindsay suggests and Sophie goes as white as a sheet.

"I can't do that."

"You don't have to. Let's see if he'll be interested in you. He will see that you viewed his profile, but lets make it clearer by adding him as a favourite. Click here, there you go. Now he's on your favourite's list. Click here to find him again."

She clicks on the favourites tab and it shows one profile.

"Next." Lindsay says before downing the rest of her glass of wine.

The next guy's profile pic is very different from the rest of his pics. In his profile pic he was clean cut, wearing a dress shirt, and his hair was neat. The rest of the pics show a very different side to this guy. In some he's wearing a gangster type ball cap sideways or backwards. His whole body is one big tattoo. The guy looks like an overgrown teenager. He smokes, is 5'7", 39 years old, and his profession says _yep_. Not sure what profession yep is. Nice headline. Dumbass. It says - _No drama._ In other words he's looking for someone with no problems, good luck there buddy. His profile is not as funny as he thinks it is.

I think I'm kinda funny, like in a Russell Peters, Russel Brand, mixed up with a can of Fred Flintstone kinda way. I'm a hard worker, but I know how to have a good time. Whether it's having drinks with friends or just getting outside and finding something fun to do.  
I'm loyal.... As a dog. Did I tell you I love dogs?!

I love being active and travelling. Playing and watching sports are also a big part of my life. I am looking for someone who can make me laugh, and pretends to think I'm funny.  
Someone who loves life and sees the glass as half full. A killer smile always help too.

So whats next? Shoot me a message.

"Do you want to date a teenager in a man's body?" I ask.

"I don't know. He's cute and funny. He likes dogs so he can't be that bad."

"If you like him add him to favourites and let's find the next one." I say and cringe as I say it. If that is what she likes, that's what she likes.

#

#

#

#

# Lindsay

My head is pounding. Too much wine last night and no sex.

At least Sophie is getting out there and Charlie made a date with Mr. Muscles. She really needs to cut these guys some slack. Dating is supposed to be fun and she makes it so difficult. She won't even give a man a chance. She kicks them to the curb so fast, that they have no chance to get to know her.

She'll text Mr. Muscles all this pressure crap and he'll bail before even meeting her, or she'll find something to upset her and kick him to the curb the day after meeting him. I'm going to favourite Mr. Muscles then contact him after she self-destructs. He's probably got a great cock to go with that bod.

Sophie's timid knock at my door

"Lindsay."

"Come in."

"Here's breakfast."

I sit up and she places a tray of fruit, toast, coffee, and a couple eggs on it. I am getting really used to having her around.

"Go get your coffee and come back up to chat. Oh and sweetie could you grab me a huge glass of water with some Advil?"

"Sure."

I pop a strawberry in my mouth and melt as the flavour explodes on my tongue. These aren't the bland tasting grocery store kind. These are the grown in a garden, ripened on the plant kind. These are good. The coffee is hot and perfect.

I've never gotten such wonderful treatment, not even from my ex's servants, but they hated me. I take a sip of the hot, black, liquid and am in bliss. Except for this damn headache. I close my eyes to shut out the light and find a bit of relief. I really need to stop drinking so much. I seem to say that more often lately. Getting old sucks.

"Here you go."

I open my eyes and Sophie is standing there with a large glass of water and two Advil ready for me to down. She is a saviour. I down the pills and the water before resuming my breakfast. It's such a treat to get breakfast in bed. The only thing...

"Sophie, I don't eat bread." I say.

"It's gluten-free. I made it this morning."

"It's homemade gluten-free? You just whipped it up?"

She nods without any pride in her face, like it's normal to do make specialized bread, like it's expected. I take a bite and it's good. The best gluten free bread I've ever tried and I've tried them all. It's like real bread.

"Is it OK? I had to try a few recipes and called some specialty bakeries for advice, I can try again, if it's not right. Just tell me what you don't like about it and –"

"I love it. This is the best ever. You could make a fortune baking this stuff."

"It costs a fortune to make. I couldn't believe how expensive the ingredients are, I was able to get deals on other things to make up for the cost though, so I'm still under budget."

"Budget? Sophie I don't have a budget. Buy whatever groceries you want and spend as much as you want. With all the cooking you've been doing I've been saving a fortune. Eating out is expensive, especially with all my dietary restrictions. I haven't eaten so well in ages, in fact, I'm beginning to gain weight."

I noticed yesterday that my jeans were too tight. I've got to get into the gym today and get Jock to step up my exercise regime to compensate the added caloric intake.

"Are you sure?"

"That butternut soup you made from scratch the other day was the best I've ever tasted and the salads you've been keeping stocked in the fridge are fabulous. I'm eating way too much, I can't help it, your cooking is too good not to eat up."

"Thanks."

She's blushing and it's so cute. She is really cute. I like having her here.

"I'm going to go for a hike after breakfast, want to come?" I ask.

"Sounds good, can I bring the kids?"

Oh right, the kids. It is great having them here. Except, I forgot how restricting kids can be. I mean, she can't just go do whatever she wants, whenever she wants. She has to think of those kids first. A nanny. That's what she needs. A nanny and to get those two enrolled in school. We'll walk over to the school and get them registered on our hike.

"Of course."

#

#

#

#

# Sophie

The kids are enjoying living in the city. There is always so much to see, do and explore.

Lindsay suggested we go for a walk and it is such a beautiful day for it. She's led us around the neighbourhood to a school.

"Let's go in and check out the school." Lindsay says and walks straight for the doors, kids trailing behind her, before I can object. School is not allowed. Craig will be angry if they go to school.

I follow her in. What else can I do? The kids are inside, with her, after all.

"Mom. Mom. Come see." Wyatt starts pulling at my arm. "Look at all the trophies." His sweet face is filled with excitement.

"There are a lot of them. Where's Lindsay & Olivia?"

"They're in there" He points at a door that says office and leads me through the doors.

"There you are. We are going to get a tour of the school, aren't we, Olivia?"

My daughter is beaming. I feel sick.

"Hello, My name is Mrs. Flagg, I'm the Vice Principal here. I understand you just moved into the area."

"Yes." Lindsay says.

"Let's take a look at the classes your children will be in along with the rest of the school shall we?"

I mutely follow. I don't know what else to do.

"This is our grade five class. Hello Mr. Kramer, please excuse the interruption. This here is Wyatt and he's going to be a new addition to your class."

"Hello Wyatt. What is your favourite subject?"

"Subject?" Wyatt says.

"Socials, math, language arts, PE?"

"I don't have subjects."

"What did you do in school before."

"Mr. Kramer. Wyatt and Olivia went to a different kind of school. Wyatt is really good at math and learning about science." I quickly say.

"We look forward to getting to know you. Say hello class."

A loud hello fills the room and the excitement in Wyatt's eyes rises.

"You can take that desk there at the end of the second row behind Jody."

"Mom." Wyatt looks at me. I say nothing letting my eyes take in the excitement, which I've never seen on his face. "Can I go? I'll be all right. Please." I nod.

We then follow Mrs. Flagg out of the class down the hall to another class.

"This is Ms. Yee she teaches grade two. Ms Yee this is Olivia she'll be in your class. They just moved into the city."

Olivia sticks close to my leg. She's always been shier than her brother and my hand goes to her back to offer her comfort. She needs me. She won't be able to go to school.

"Hello Olivia " Ms. Yee bends down to her height so they are eye to eye. "Do you like your new home?"

"Oh yes. Lindsay's place is like a hotel, it's so big. Much bigger than where we were. Nicer than where we lived with daddy."

"A hotel. That sounds like a nice place to live. Would you like to see where your desk is?"

I feel Olivia's hand release my leg before taking Ms. Yee's hand. A part of me is ripped away with her and I feel abandoned, unwanted, discarded. She looks up to me, a huge smile on her face, a smile I never seen on it. My eyes scan the room taking in all the little heads. Children can be so cruel. I can feel the worry and anxiety twist in my stomach.

I watch my daughter interacting with the teacher and the children near her desk. She is happy and so is Wyatt. Maybe this will be a good thing. If they don't like it then, they can always stay home again.

"Let's go and get the paperwork done, shall we." Mrs. Flagg smiles an easy smile and we follow her back to the office. "Fill in this form and I'll need some Identification and a bill with your name on it."

"I don't have a bill with my name on it." I look at Lindsay.

"I'm Lindsay. They are living with me, will a bill in my name do?"

"Yes." She smiles, a queer smile, at both of us. "Modern families are welcome here."

"Ah. We're not –" I start to say and Lindsay puts her arm around me before leaning her head onto mine. Squeezing me she said,

"See honey, nothing to worry about."

"Is there anyone who has permission to pick up the kids, like their father?"

My stomach tightens and I break out in a sweat. If Craig finds us and figures out the kids are in school, he could take them away. He could just walk in and take them.

"No. In fact we have a court order that forbids him from contacting the kids. I will make sure Sophie's lawyer gets you a copy."

"That will be helpful. I'll just put a note here that they are not to leave with anyone except one of their two moms." She winks, a conspiratory wink, at us.

My head is spinning. I'm trying to get my bearings. They won't let the kids go, even if Craig shows up. They think Lindsay and I are a lesbian couple. The kids want to be here, but what if the kids are mean to them? What if something happens to them? What if they need me?

"Sophie, are you OK? Breathe. Breathe. That's it. Everything will be all right, you'll see. The kids will make new friends and you'll have time for you."

"Now, their previous school, we need to request their files." Carol says.

"They were homeschooled. There are no files." Lindsay says.

"Oh. Well don't worry. We will have our learning teacher give them some assessment tests and make sure they get caught up with the curriculum." She pats my hand.

"I follow the governments online requirements. I've taught them properly." I say.

"I'm sure they will be up and running right away. They look like bright kids."

"They are. They are very smart."

What am I doing? Everything is changing so fast. I'm not sure this is the right choice. Lindsay seems to think it is and I don't want to upset her. She's been so good to us.

"Do you need anything else?" Lindsay asks.

"No. That should be it. You can meet the kids at the outside door of the classrooms at 2:30." Mrs. Flagg smiles and we walk away.

This is surreal. I look at Lindsay and say, "Now what am I supposed to do?"

"Whatever you want."

I have no idea what that is.

#

#

#

#

# Lindsay

I have a date tonight.

He's a new one. He's tall, balding, and kind of cute. He's probably a six, which is low for me. I usually date eights and up. I'm a nine. As a woman, you want to date up not down. Is he good looking, does he have money, drive a nice car, have a good job, a good address. All these things matter and increase a man's rating, by the end of the night, he may go from a six to an eight.

I so need to get out of the fucking house, I haven't had sex in a couple of weeks, since Sophie and the kids moved in. I am so fucking horny I'm going to burst. This is the longest I've ever gone without sex. I haven't even stepped over to Mark's for a quick romp. I'm looking very forward to tonight. I've primped and polished myself. I look great.

"Wow."

I turn to Sophie who is looking at me dumb struck. Good that's the exact reaction I want. I look hot. He won't be able to keep his eyes off me and neither will any of the men in the room. He won't know what hit him.

"I look good?"

"You look fabulous. I wish I could look that good, next to you I look twelve and homely."

I smile as pride flows into me. Damn, I still got it at forty-seven.

The restaurant he chose to meet is a nice one, not upscale, not a dive either. It's one of those upper-mid chain places where creativity happens in a test kitchen and then the process and ingredients are rolled out to various locations. So, he not a foodie because they would not be caught dead in a place like this.

I watch him follow the hostess to our table, he's much better looking than his photos, there's a plus. He's tall, another plus. Things are looking up. I stand and smile at him. His eyes go huge, like saucers, and his mouth opens just enough to be called jaw dropping. Power surges through me and I know I got him. I'm confident and I love it.

"Lindsay?"

"Hi Joe."

I give him a hug. He's strong, solid, fit, more pluses.

"Can I bring you anything to drink?" The hostess asks and we both order a cocktail.

"Wow. You're gorgeous."

I want to say I know right, but I politely thank him and give him a compliment back.

"How was your day?" I start off with.

"Good. Work went well. You really are beautiful."

Fuck yeah. I smile.

Small talk, leads to more about his family, kids, and work. He's a good dad, a hard worker, and close with his parents. All good things in the traditional sense. He won't ever be rich. He has the kids half the time and the bulk of his income goes to them. Not the worst thing. He's a good dad, that's a plus for most women.

I've done the rich thing. It was empty, cold, and left me with a decent lifestyle. So, I'm not complaining. This time though, I think I want a connection, a real connection. So far, Joe is fitting that bill, a nice surprise.

"How are things between you and your ex?" I ask.

"As amicable as they can be. We won't be friends any time soon, but we have to parent the kids together."

"Easy divorce then?"

"She's taken care of and I got my share, it was less than fair, I'm sure everyone says that about their divorce though, what about yours?"

"I came out smelling like roses. There was a pre-nup, so no surprises."

"That takes the romance out of getting married."

"I'm pretty sure love and romance were not important to either of us at the time. I got pregnant and he made an honest woman of me."

"So you have kids?"

Shit. Fuck. How could I be so stupid as to mention Evelyn. Well, so much for a relationship with the guy.

"Yes. It's complicated."

"It always is. How old is she?"

"You know I'd much rather talk about something else, if you don't mind."

"Oh. Sorry. I understand. I'm so sorry."

Got to love men for their assumptions.

"Tell me more about Joe, do you have any siblings?"

The conversation stays focused on Joe, lifestyle, things we enjoy and the light stays off my past, my daughters, my wreck of a love life. He doesn't pry.

Dinner was decent for a chain restaurant. He walks me to my car and I stand there, waiting for him to kiss me and invite me over to his place. He looks shy and uncomfortable. It's really kind of cute.

"I'd invite you over to my place but I have guests staying there right now." I say.

"I wasn't... I mean... I'd never assume... You are beautiful."

"Are you going to kiss me?"

"Can I?" Oh he's adorable.

"Please."

He bends down, puts an arm around me, and kisses me. I almost pass out. It is the perfect kiss. I can feel myself melting into his body and I want more, need more, fuck me. He pulls back.

"How was that?" He asks.

I'm breathless and can barely get the word 'again' out of my mouth.

He kisses me again and all thought flees from me. I want more of him.

"Are you going to invite me to your house now?" I ask.

"No."

I'm shocked back into reality. He said no.

"Hotel then?"

"God no."

I'm offended. How can he say no after that kiss? I can feel that he wants me, his desire for me is pushed up against my stomach. I don't understand.

"I don't usually do it in a car, but –"

"No. No. I'd never ask you."

"I don't understand?" My hand finds his cock and he flinches back. "I can feel that you want to."

"Oh I want to. Badly. Trust me. I really want to."

"Then what's the problem?"

"We just met."

"So?"

"I like you. I want you. Trust me on that. I respect you too."

He respects me? What the fuck. I'm not getting laid tonight because this guy respects me? Wants to be old fashioned? I thought it was just the coy prudish girls who didn't put out.

Who is this guy?

"Can I see you again?" He asks.

"Yes. I'd love to see you again." In about ten minutes naked in a bed. "When?"

"I have my kid's for a week starting tomorrow, but the following week I'll be available. I'd love to see you again."

"In a week. Sure."

"I'll text you to set something up."

"OK."

A week.

I can wait a week right?

#

#

#

#

# Charlie

Mr. Muscles actually asked me out on a real date. A real date. Not a hook up. Not a let's hang and watch TV. Not a coffee meet. It's an actual date.

I am so excited.

I want to look hot, really smokin hot, so I made an appointment to get my hair done later today. In fact I cleared my whole day and made plans to go shopping for something extra sexy to wear. I make a list of all the things I need to do to look FAB U LOUS.

A dinner date is a big deal to me. Most of the time, guys just want to play with my huge chest so, when it comes time to meet, I ask where and they say:

_Let's meet in my bedroom, car or hotel room._

That's when I disappear.

However, Mr. Muscles asked me on a real date.

Three days ago. He asked me to go out for sushi. I'm over the moon. I'm nervous as hell because I know I'm overweight, I know I'm in my 40s, I know I'm not all that on the outside. A few times I thought, I should message him and tell him that I'm not thin. That I'm overweight. That it's OK if he doesn't want to meet me because I'm fat. I don't. I stay strong. I want to meet him.

I say nothing.

I don't message him. I wait for him to message me. I don't want to come across as needy. I don't want to push him away. He doesn't message me and I don't message him for 3 days. Better to talk over dinner. I always screw it up by messaging some stupid ass remark anyway.

We're supposed to meet tonight and I still haven't heard a word. I need to confirm plans for later today. I need to. I don't want to be stood up. I really hate when that happens. I spend all day getting ready to get to the restaurant, and sit there, alone, embarrassed, and rejected.

I text him a message: _Are we still on for today?_

**His Response:** _Call me_

This doesn't sound promising. I call.

"Hey it's Charlie."

"Hi Charlie, how are you?"

"Good. How about you?"

"Busy. My day got really busy and I have a lot of meetings so, I don't think I can meet at 5."

I'm disappointed.

I try to keep it out of my voice. He's in finance at some bank downtown, so I get it, these things happen. They do. I'm a busy professional, so I understand. I've had to rebook dates at times because of court and clients. Professionals are busy people. That's how it goes. I get that. I do.

I keep telling myself this.

"Oh OK."

"We could meet later today." He says.

"How about this. You call me when you know what time you can meet, and if you can't today, then we'll meet tomorrow, sound good?"

"I'll text you when I know. Thanks Charlie."

"No problem, see you later."

The way I figure it, a girl has to be flexible if she's going to get a date, and not be classified as some princess or drama queen. Besides, he didn't cancel, he just pushed it out.

I go to get my hair done and buy a new dress. I even splurged for a facial. I get home at about three, and me being me, I check my work emails and my inbox is full, as usual. I'll just answer a couple, the most urgent ones, I think. For me, work is like a bag of chips, I can't just stop at one and before I know it, a couple of hours have gone by and it's five pm.

Shit.

Panic and stress pull me in two different directions, egging me on to get ready.

Hold your horses my brain says.

Now, I have a very strong willed brain and it controls my emotions for the most part, so, my horses stop and I think. Hmmm. It's five o'clock. He hasn't texted me with a new time. He's obviously too busy and probably too tired to meet up tonight. I take a deep breath and then let it and all the stress out. No use getting ready if he can't make it.

Just wait.

Wait.

I've never been very good at waiting for a boy to call and an hour passes at a snails pace. This is what really ticks me off about time. When I am working and want it to slow down, so I can get everything done, it speeds up. Then when I want it to speed up, it slows down. I hate that about time.

I babble when I'm nervous. I babble when I feel like I'm being judged. I babble when I'm stressed. I'm feeling nervous, stressed, and it's a date, so I know I'm going to be judged. Triple whammy. I am turning into a babbling idiot.

6:00

Finally, he texts.

**Him:** _Just finishing up_

**Me:** OK

**Him:** _Going to the Gym_

**Me:** _OK_

Now when a guy says we'll see each other later, then later comes and he texts, _going to the gym_ , what is the right response? I could ask what about our date? But that would come off as too needy. I really want to tell him what I think about him going to the gym instead of meeting me, but that would come off as too bitchy. I don't want him thinking I'm demanding and will make him feel bad every time he does something wrong. I am an independent woman. I don't need a man, at least that's what I want him to think.

I leave it at OK, cause they're is always tomorrow. My phone beeps.

**Him:** _Got to focus chat with you later._

**Me:** _OK chat later_

I go back to my computer, work some more, go to bed, then to work all the next day. I stay busy. I don't text him. Texting him is bad, it signals that I'm desperate, waiting beside the phone for him. I'm not pathetic. Well, I am, I just don't want him to know it.

Another day starts, it goes by, and it ends. No texts. No date tonight either.

Now what? What am I supposed to do now?

Text him how much of an asshole he is for doing this to me?

Forget him and move on?

Text him and ask why he didn't want to meet me?

Block him?

I hate dating. I hate the game. I hate the dance. I hate it because I'm always on the loosing end. Five years. Five long fucking years and I haven't met one guy who stuck past two dates. Not one.

Why can some women find boyfriends and others can't?

The Past

#

#

# Lindsay

I'm fucking broke.

Shit, if my rent cheque bounces again my roommate will kick my ass out onto the curb or worse. Minimum wage is a Fucking joke. Rent. Bus tickets. Food. The money is gone before the month ends and I'm left holding a big bag of nothing.

I need to get drunk.

"Joy fill up my glass."

I hold my glass out to my BFF. That's how the cool kids say it, thanks to this new thing called texting and Paris Hilton's new reality TV show. Those two infamous BFFs make a shitload of money showing the world how spoiled they are and looking fabulous while doing it. Put two socialite princesses onto a farm in the middle of nowhere - Instant comedy because they can't even boil a pot of water. There is no way they'd survive on my income, hell, I can't survive on my income, now that would be a funny show. She couldn't do it.

Joy tips the bottle of cheap vodka and a clear river mixes with the glass' remnants. I top it up with a splash of cranberry juice, just for colour.

"Don't get sloshed, it's still early." Joy says.

"I can't afford the price of drinks at the bar." I say.

"Like you'll have to pay for a drink." Stacey scoffs.

True, I never buy drinks. I flirt and men ply me with liquor, until I chose which one I'll go home with. If I'm lucky, he'll feed me breakfast and make a dinner date for later in the week. That's how I get most of my meals, food bought by men trying to get into my pants and there is no shortage of men trying to get me naked. Thank God.

"Where did you get this dress?"

Stacey is going through the contents of my closet, half of which are hand me downs from her. The bitch is wearing another new designer dress her rich daddy bought her and will end up in my closet next week. Fuck I'm too old for hand me downs, especially from some rich bitch who is five years younger than me.

"Some boutique shop downtown, I think. I found it in the back of my closet the other day." I say.

I lied. I bought it last week from some charity thrift store down the street. I'm a charity case, not some rich spoiled princess, like she is.

"Hey Lindsay." My roommate, Cory, stands in my bedroom doorway with a creepy smile on his fat, round, acne scared face with dark little pig eyes. "Where's the rent?"

Lazy fucking asshole. Those freaky, small, eyes are always looking at my tits, the perv.

He doesn't care about the rent. He's just trying to gawk at my friends. He makes me sick. He is practically drooling.

Stacey fingers him.

"You'll get it tomorrow. Get lost." I say.

Last month, when the rent cheque bounced, he told me I could get on my knees a couple times a week instead of giving him cash. Like I'd put his disgusting cock in my mouth. I'm not that broke. Well, I am, but still, a girl has to have standards.

Joy stands up and slams the door in his face.

"Why do you live with him, he's a creep." Stacey's voice drips with disgust.

"The rent's cheap. We can't all have rich daddy's like you." I say.

"Yeah you can." She says.

I want to punch her.

My so-called sperm donor, otherwise known as my father, ran off with some blonde with big tits a few years after I was born. Told my mom he wasn't cut out for fatherhood, after all, and disappeared.

Mom found out the hard way that you have to know where the bum is to get the courts to force him to pay child support and when you have no money, you can't afford a lawyer or private eye. She tried to go to court without a shark and the judge sent her packing until she got herself some counsel. Then a social worker showed up at our trailer door threatening to take me into foster care. Mom stayed away from the courts after that and we stayed in a run down trailer trying to make ends meet.

"Unlike you, I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth." I say.

"I don't mean a real daddy. You need a sugar daddy." Stacey says.

"I'm broke, but not broke enough to be a prostitute."

What does the rich bitch take me for? Some whore?

"It's not prostitution, it's a relationship." She says.

"A relationship? Stacey its sex for money." Joy says.

"It's an arrangement. The sugar daddy needs a fun time without any problems or drama and the sugar baby needs to be taken care of. That's all."

"So, you're suggesting I become a private prostitute." I say.

"It's more than just sex. You go out for dinners, travel, and talk. You just don't talk about your problems. He has a wife to nag and drive him nuts. You are his fun time girl."

"His mistress." Joy says.

"I guess you could call it that. He'll buy you all sorts of expensive stuff."

Life would be so much easier if I had money or a man with money to pay my bills. Stress begins to melt away as I imagine a life with no bills, no money problems, and lots of spending cash. That would be the life.

"I don't know where to find one." I say.

"It's easy. Ads are on this new website called Craigslist, in newspaper personals or you can hang out at the high-end expensive bars downtown."

"What about love?" Joy asks.

Love? What the fuck does love matter? What's love got to do with it? What's love but a second hand emotion... Get that Tina Turner song out of my head. Fuck. Got to say one thing for the leggy, huge hair, chick, she understood the dark side of love.

My mom was in love with my dad and look at where that got her. She was in love with all her boyfriends and the only thing she got in return was a black eye and the odd broken bone.

Love.

Fuck love.

Love won't pay the rent.

"You can always find love later, until then you enjoy the wealth." Stacey says.

"No guy would love you once they found out you had sex for money." Joy says.

"Why tell him? What he doesn't know won't hurt him. There's your sugar daddy and then there is the man you love." Stacey says.

"What would people say? It's a bad idea." Joy says.

Who the fuck cares what people think?

No one would have to know some old guy was paying my bills. The only way anyone would know is if I told them, and why would I do that?

My only question is, can I have sex with some old dude?

#

#

#

#

# Rose

I can't wait for this kid to come out of me. I'm due in two weeks and I can't stand another minute of being pregnant.

"Hun do you need anything?" Gus asks for the hundredth time.

He is so sweet. He's going to make a great father. He really is. I love him so much.

"No. I'm good. I just want to lie down and maybe have a bit of a nap."

"OK. I'll be working on the nursery."

I smile. I feel so warm and happy. He has been working so hard to get the room ready for our first baby. He painted the walls, put down new carpet, and built some shelves for the toys and books. He wants everything to be perfect.

Perfect is expensive.

The other day we went out to buy the stroller and car seat, three hundred dollars. I almost had the kid right there in the store from the shock of it. That is a lot of money. Gus doesn't make a lot as an apprentice carpenter and I quit my job a month ago.

I won't be going back to work.

We decided we want to raise our children, not pay some stranger. My girlfriend Cindy told me how much she pays for daycare - it's highway robbery, eight hundred dollars a month. I only made a little less than fifteen hundred a month at the store I worked at. It just isn't worth the cost, the effort, and the potential damage to our baby.

Children need their mother at home with them. Society and companies really should understand how important it is for mothers to stay home with their children. When I gave my notice my boss gave me a 'talking to.' She wanted me to understand how leaving the workforce would effect my future job prospects and make it harder for me to enter back into a serious career path. I told her I wasn't interested in a career path, she only stared at me as if I had three heads. I get it. I'm supposed to want it all, career, marriage, kids.

Kids. I read in a parenting magazine that a child will cost over $100 000 over their lifetime and that's not including expensive activities or post secondary. I do worry about the cost and how we'll manage on one income. Everything is so expensive. I think the cost of diapers alone will put us in the poor house.

My nerves start to tighten as I think about the cost of this baby.

It kicks me a couple of times reminding me that it's in there, inside me, and worth every penny we will spend on it. I curl up on the bed wrap my arms around my belly and smile.

Hurry up little one.

#

#

#

#

# Justine

There is an alarm clock going off and I can't find it. I keep turning off clocks, but it's not the one that is going off. I keep looking for it. It's annoying me. No, not that one. Where is it? It needs to shut up or else it will wake the baby. If Emma wakes up I'll kill someone, I'll kill the alarm clock.

"Hey babe. Time to wake up."

Gary is shaking me and the alarm clock, beside my head, is still going off. I slam my hand down on the snooze button and groan. It's morning already?

"You can have the shower first." Gary says like it's some prize to get out of bed first.

I'm so tired. Emma woke me up twice last night to feed. Am I ever going to get a full nights sleep again?

I roll out of bed and stumble to the shower. Cold water. I know, sounds insane, but it wakes me up faster than Emma's cries do. In, wash, out, dry, dress, hair, make up, and done. Well, I'm done. Now I have to wake up Emma, get her dressed and fed.

I swear she gets more of this glue like pabulum on her than in her. I can't get mad. She is so cute with white goo stuck on the end of her button nose, her hands drumming on the chair's large tray in excitement, laughing. I smile. She fills me with so much happiness.

"Here's a coffee."

Gary sets a hot mug of coffee down on the high chair tray and Emma's little hands make for it lightening fast. I drop the pabulum and grab the mug before she burns herself on it.

"That was stupid. She almost knocked it over and burned herself. What were you thinking? Now look at me. I've got white shit all over my suit. You feed her. I need to go get changed."

I swear he does it on purpose. No man can be that dense.

I run upstairs change into a clean suit and run back down to the kitchen to find Emma covered in pabulum because Gary gave her the spoon to feed herself. The daycare will have to clean her up. I'm running late and I can't be late for work - again.

"Aren't you going to clean her up first?" Gary asks.

"I don't have time. I have to get to work. Look at the clock, you're going to be late too."

I wiggle my precious little bundle into her snowsuit, put her into her car seat and grab the diaper bag. She is laughing. I smile. I am filled with warmth and happiness. This is what love feels like.

She is so precious.

I buckle her into the back and drive to the daycare listening to her talking to herself behind me. Since I went back to work, and she started daycare, she has been developing in leaps and bounds. Her eyes light up when we arrive and she watches the bigger kids who bring her toys to play with. She's like their little doll.

"Bye sweetie."

It is hard to leave. I want to stay and watch her play with these children that surround her. My heart is here.

"We will have lots of fun." Ms. Hart is placating me, like every morning.

"I know. It's always so hard to say goodbye."

She gives me a knowing smile. I am going to miss Emma and am so curious about what her day is like. I do miss so much. But. It's for the best.

"I'm going to be late. See you in a bit baby."

We really lucked out with our daycare. It is worth every penny we give them. It's expensive, the best doesn't come cheap and at the end of the month I sometimes wonder if I'm working to pay for daycare instead of helping us to get ahead. By the time I add in the cost of working, daycare, and the extras I am left with a few hundred dollars to go out on family outings on the weekends.

It's worth it. I know it is. The staff is professional, helpful, and loving with all the children. They have every toy she could want to play with, along with educational programs and exercise programs. They do so much with the kids, so much more than I would do.

Socialization is so important for a child's development and it really does take a village to raise a child. How can one person be enough for any child? The things these children learn from these wonderful women and each other are things Emma would never learn with me. I'm not built to sit and play patty cake all day or sing silly songs. The kids inspire each other to learn more, expand themselves, and be better. She has already learned so much.

At the end of the day I am excited to pick her up and I enjoy my time with her in the evening. We make an effort to ensure our time together is quality time.

I know this is the best solution for our family.

I've read all the studies on the topic and the pros definitely out weigh the cons. Not to mention my career and how an absence would destroy it.

#

#

#

#

# Sophie.

Craig is sitting there, his head down, going over the grocery list. I can see his shoulders tensing.

"Do we really need yogurt tubes?"

We have this conversation every week. I hate it. I don't know why he bothers asking me to make a list when he is just going to change it.

"The kids like them."

"They're junk food and they don't need it. Didn't I just buy them a box?"

"Two weeks ago."

"They should make them last longer. We should have salmon for dinner tonight."

"It's too expensive."

"I want salmon."

The pen moves along the paper as he adds salmon to the grocery list and crosses out yogurt tubes. My body deflates into itself, my shoulders curling towards my chest and my head bowing into my neck.

"How much money do you think you'll need?"

He hands me the amended list. Crossed out is; the yogurt tubes, cereal, crackers, cookies, chocolate chips and bananas. Craig hates bananas and this week he is not in a generous mood to let the kids and I have some. He's added salmon, steak, beef jerky, baby potatoes, tortilla chips, salsa, deli pizza, and beer.

"About three hundred dollars?"

"Three hundred dollars, Sophie, are you fucking insane? Here's two hundred. That should cover it."

"Maybe, if I don't buy salmon and steak, it might." I say.

He looks at me, his eyes are cold. I can feel his temper rising. I say nothing. I feel nothing. I shrink into nothingness. I do not want to upset him. Keep the peace in the house.

"Make it work."

#

#

#

#

# Charlie

Oh man this couch is comfortable.

The warm, rich coloured walnut reception desk hides the pretty young woman behind it. She's blonde. Of course she's blonde. Why would she be anything but blonde? Why is it always a pretty young woman at these desks greeting clients? Why not some hot young stud?

She flashes a pretty smile at me.

"Mr. Burgess will be a few more minutes. Can I get you anything Ms. Reed-Reynolds, coffee, water?"

"A coffee, black, thanks."

The pretty young thing leaves me alone to appreciate the expensive art adorning the room. There is a new black stone statue of an African woman's head. I can't help but stare at it, she seems so sad. She isn't frowning or crying, but there is something about those black blank orbs, along with the set of her mouth.

"Isn't she beautiful?" A deep voice says.

I turn to see a gorgeous man dressed in a perfect fitting suit, his dark hair falls over his brow and matches the scruff that is beginning to grow along his chin. I want to rip his clothes off and taste him.

"She is exquisite. Why do you think she is sad?" I ask.

"Perhaps, she is thinking about all that women endure in this world. All the disappointment, pain, and misfortune her daughters will see, that she has seen."

My head nods. What an insightful answer.

"Perhaps."

My fingers touch her stone cold face, feeling the texture left by the tools of the sculptor. Her face is perfectly smooth, her lips have a grooved softness, her hair a rough mess of deep marks defining its wiry style. She is more than a décor piece, she is a work of art.

"Let's talk about your future, Shelly will bring your coffee into the office."

I follow his sexy ass into his very expensive looking office. For the next hour I have his undivided attention, and that, is worth the fees I pay him.

"How have you been?" He asks.

I can't tell him the truth. No one ever wants the truth when they ask this question. They don't care how you're doing. It's polite to ask is all, a way to make conversation, a question that only ever has one answer.

"Good. Everything is great."

"What have you been up to?"

Small talk. At least he doesn't charge by the hour like I do.

"Busy with work and Davie. In fact I only have a small window of time."

"Understand. Let's take a look at your portfolio shall we?"

A large screen shows photos of his kids and wife. The lucky bitch. The lucky, lanky, blonde, bitch. Why do some women attract men, like this successful god of a man, to love them, while the rest of us only attract the selfish idiots?

His strong hands click along the keys of his computer and the photos are replaced with numbers.

My numbers.

My worth.

"Don, I need a thousand dollars a month. Will I still be on track if I start allocating a thousand dollars a month elsewhere?"

"Let's see. Your total portfolio is down four point six percent year over date. Considering the market, I'd say you aren't doing too badly. I don't think it's a good time to sell some of these stocks because they will come back. They are good companies with decent financials. There are a few stocks here where you are still in a profitable position and with markets being as turbulent as they are, it might be a good time to lock in what profits are left and buy an interest bearing product. How long do you need this income?"

"Until my parents are gone. It's to pay my share of their living costs at the retirement home. I want to make sure they will be able to stay there and I'll still be able to retire at some point in my life."

"You have a good paying career and retirement can cost less than your lifestyle now, depending on what you plan to do. Your current retirement plan calls for two million in investments to draw enough interest for a monthly income. You may have to relook at this arrangement in a few years, but for now, I'd say you are on track, provided you have your condo paid off before you retire. Worst case, you work an extra year or two."

We discuss the details and I try not to drool.

Money

#

#

# Rose

To Do List

  * Coffee with the girls at 11

  * School meeting at 1

  * Grocery shopping

  * Pick up Aiden and Jessica at 3

  * Make Spaghetti for dinner

  * Put on a load of towels

  * Pay the bills

I bite on the end of the pen and twirl it along my lips. I know I'm forgetting something. I take a look at the oversized calendar, which is filled with words; pink one's for Alexis, red ones for Isabella, blue ones for Aiden and the odd purple word for Jessica.

I find today's date and... why I don't check the calendar before making my daily to do list is beyond me. Isabella has a dentist appointment after school and Aiden has a football game at a school in the next town over. I scratch out picking him up at 3 and text Jessica to tell her I can't pick her up from school. I add pick up Isabella and take her to the dentist for 3:30 onto the list, then, pick Aiden up at 6 from the school.

If I throw the sauce together now and dump it in the slow cooker, I'll only need to boil the pasta when I get home. I text all the kids and Gus; _Dinner @ 7_. Having dinner as a family, every day, is important. Still, there is always one child or the other who doesn't show up, usually Alexis or Isabella. Those two never respect my wishes.

As if on cue Alexis texts, _I have a class tonight._ I slam my thumbs onto the letters as I text back, _why isn't it on the calendar_? She answers back with a quick, _why does it matter_? I respond with _It just does_.

I don't expect her to respond, and she doesn't.

I reach for a pile of different coloured pads of paper. A different colour for each of the children and Gus' Honey Do List. I divide up the various chores between the children and make notes about those things that need to be brought to their attention, like Isabella not picking up her clothes off the bathroom floor – again - or Aiden leaving his skateboard at the bottom of the stairs. One day these messages will get through those thick skulls.

I look at the items on the lists. All the mundane chores that I know I'll end up having to do it. The excuses are endless; Too tired. Have too much homework. Have to be somewhere else. Forgot to do it.

I've tried different incentive and punishment ideas to get the kids to do their chores. Each one lasted for all of a week, and then it was back to me doing everything again. When I think about the planning, keeping track, and money I've spent on each failed idea, I cringe. It's so much easier to do the work myself, than to try to get them to do any of it. A lot cheaper too.

Anger descends and I clench my teeth.

There is so much to do and no matter how much I run around cleaning up after everyone, when I turn around, it looks like I've done nothing. Absolutely nothing. The mess is bigger than before.

I look at the pads of paper, every task yelling to be completed first. Why do I even bother? I know I'm going to end up doing every chore on those lists. Still, maybe one day, hell will freeze over and God willing, they will complete every item written out.

I keep hoping.

Maybe I should go on strike.

An image of garbage overflowing out of the windows and doors flashes in my mind's eye. If I didn't do anything, the piles of laundry, dirty dishes, and stuff strewn around the place would be the stuff of horror movies. I feel overwhelmed by the thought and all energy drains away leaving a deep tiredness behind.

I don't have time to be tired.

I get up. Best to keep moving. Must deal with the pile of dirty dishes on the counter. Who was supposed to empty and fill the dishwasher last night? I glance at yesterday's chore lists as I open the dishwasher and proceed to empty it of clean dishes to make way for the dirty ones. Aiden. I don't think that boy knows how to empty the dishwasher, let alone fill it.

My phone's alarm starts beeping, interrupting me. It's ten thirty and I need to be leaving the house in 10 minutes. I quickly finish up and start the dishwasher before heading out the door.

Always so much to do and nothing ever gets done.

#

#

#

#

# Justine

Gary left for work and dropped the kids off at school, leaving me home alone. It's quiet.

My daily task list pops up on my computer and it's a light day work wise, analysis. I like analysing the data of campaigns to see what's working and what's not. That's the great thing about online marketing – complete data. By analysing what works and what doesn't I am able to allocate my client's efforts and dollars with a higher efficiency than their offline marketing campaigns.

I reserve Mondays and Tuesdays for content creation and then schedule auto delivery times for the various social media sites. Wednesdays are for analysing last week's results, so that on Thursday, I can plan next week's content. Fridays are for research to stay on top of all the changes and new ideas. There is so much information it can take all day to read it, analyze it, and decide what is relevant and what is complete BS. Most of it is BS.

The noise online is deafening at times. Everyone screaming look at me at the same time, it's easy to miss relevant information and hard to get a message in front of eyes. People share the dumbest things and ignore the most intelligent information. The amount of fear based posts and articles going viral, shows just how stupid the populous is. Most of the facts in these articles are made up, rumours, gossip, and lies. Still gullible people believe it and pass it around as if it's gospel, just because someone wrote it on the Internet.

My least favourite social media viral posts are the ones about celebrities and their stupid lives. They are just people and they can't even get a cup of coffee without someone making up some meaning about it.

A-list celebrity was seen alone buying a cup of coffee, does this mean splitsville for this Hollywood powerhouse couple?

God, who cares?

I guess the majority of those wasting time on social media.

Sites capitalizing on high traffic don't offer up good content. They offer up sensationalized content, most of which is complete garbage. It makes my job harder.

I had one client actually suggest we attach a celebrity to his product by photo shopping the product onto a pic of the celebrity, which he stole off the web.

"Think of the hits we'll get and the sales."

"We can't do that."

"Why not? Just take this pic, paste the product in and viola, instant celebrity endorsement."

"The photo is copyrighted, you can't use any photo you find online. It has to be a photo you either took or bought."

"Buy one."

"It's not that easy or cheap. Sure I could buy a stock photo for ten bucks, but a celebrity photo, that'll cost thousands."

"No one is going to care."

"The celebrity will because they will want a fee for using their image and the photographer will sue you for use of his property. That's two law suits."

"The publicity will be great."

My head is beginning to hurt.

"It's illegal, unethical, and bad taste. I'm not going to do it. And if you do, it's time we rethink our arrangement."

"What? You thought I was serious? I was just kidding, Justine. I know we can't do it, but can you imagine the traffic if we did?"

He wasn't kidding. I finally cut ties with him over another hair-brained scheme to use cat photos. His product has nothing to do with cats.

Clients like him, end up finding someone who will bend the rules, find the loopholes, and, for the short term, it works. Thing is, in six months to a year later, these same clients are calling me crying about how their website and profiles are blacklisted by search engines and the social media companies. They beg me to take them back, but by then, the damage is done and it will cost way too much to fix.

It's like authenticity and integrity got lost on its way down the information highway. Everyone wants quick overnight success and my clients expect me to get it for them. They don't look beyond the last week to see the years of work that it took to get overnight success. Not to mention, the foresight and luck.

Phone Rings.

"Hello, Justine here, how may I help you?"

"Mom, I forgot my Math book and I need it for next period. Can you bring it?"

"I can, I'm totally able to get up, find the book, get in the car and drive it to you. The question is, will I?"

"Mooooom. You know what I mean. I need the book for class or I'm gonna get a detention."

"Maybe you'll remember it next time."

"You know, other moms bring their kid's their books."

"Do they now?"

"Pleeeeeeease?"

Why do I go through this farce? I know I'll end up taking him his math book. It's what good moms do. We save our children from the evils of detention. We save them from their mistakes, just like Gary saves me from mine.

"What time?"

"In an hour. I'll clean my room when I get home."

"Riiiiiiiiiight."

"No really. I will. Cause I won't be in detention."

"Alright. Meet me out front in an hour."

"Thanks mom."

"So where is it?"

"Where's what?"

"The book."

"I don't know. I think it's in my room somewhere."

"Be out front."

I download the analytic data onto my computer. I'll head over to the closest coffee shop and work from there today for a change of scenery and then I can pick the kids up after school.

Harper's room is a disaster area.

I don't even know where to look for the damn book. I put the dirty clothes, which are acting as carpeting, into the empty basket. I put the books on the shelf and carry all the dirty dishes into the kitchen. Where I discover that I need to empty the dishwasher, before I can put the dishes in it.

Always something.

Fifteen minutes have gone by and I still have to find the book and drive to the school. I rush back up to his room and look under the bed, on the desk, in the desk, and behind the desk. I find lots of things I'd rather not, like the science experiment behind the desk that once might have resembled an apple or maybe a pear?

I make a quick trip to the bathroom to get some paper towel and cleaner, it takes me all of five minutes to clean up the mess. The carpet will have to be cleaned properly, another thing to put on my to do list.

I have to find that book.

The room is tiny. They build kid's bedrooms so small these days that there isn't any room in here to loose anything. OK, if I was a math book, better yet, if I was Harper's math book, where would I be? I strip his bed and then remake it. There are plenty of items that don't belong in a bed, like video games and crumbs, but no math book.

Where the hell is it?

I've got fifteen minutes left to get the book and get it to the school. Maybe Gary knows where it is. I dial his number.

"Hey hun what's up?" Gary's chipper voice.

"Do you have any idea where Harper's math book might be?"

"Math book? We were doing his math homework last night in the family room. Did you check there?"

"No. He told me it was in his room."

"It should be in the family room, on the right side of the computer screen, on the corner desk. There might be a notepad on top of it and if he forgot his math book, his socials books might be there too."

"Thanks, I really appr--."

He hangs up before I finish my sentence.

I run down to the family room in the basement and there, on the right hand side of the computer screen, is a pile of textbooks. Math, socials, and science. I have ten minutes to get to the school.

#

#

#

#

# Charlie

"Charlie do you have a moment?"

I look up from the brief on my desk to see Doug. Of all the people in the office, I don't want to deal with this one today. Give me anyone but this gorgeous, well put together, sexy as hell, womanizer. I sit up straighter and smooth out my blouse as best I can. No matter what I wear, I look frumpy and not successful. How does he do it? How does he always look so put together? Not even a hair out of place.

"What do you want?" I ask.

He sits his perfect ass into the chair across from my desk, as if he owns the place. I wish I could wipe that sexy, cocky, smirk off that superstar face and feed it to him with some crow. Everything is so easy for him. He just has to smile, and like magic, everything works out.

"Thought we should talk about the file." He says.

"What about it?" I ask.

"Well. Have you talked to the client?"

"Yes. Of course I have, she's my client."

He must think I'm inefficient and can't do my job, the jerk.

"Did she know about the money? Where it came from?"

"No. She had no idea."

"What does she want to do next?"

"I advised her to move the money into a new account at a different bank in the same country. I wired the instructions with proof of identity to the bank yesterday. The money should be in her control by the end of the week."

"Why didn't you discuss this with me first? We need the records to determine if there is any criminal activity associated with the account and to what extent the client is liable."

Did I screw up?

"I am not stupid Doug. I had the bank send me all the documentation before we transferred the money out. I'll forward you the file."

"You could have done that sooner. We are supposed to be working as a team on this. Depending on how the account was set up will determine her culpability. Now that she has taken control of the money, she has acknowledged that she is the owner of these funds and I will not be able to argue that she did not know anything about them."

"Doug. You know that we needed to ensure that her husband could not access the funds and that they were secure. Regardless of my client's knowledge, her name was the one on file and no court will believe she did not know about the funds. Best that they are in her control and not his. This way we control the board and not him."

Silence.

He leans forward and looks me right in the eye with those green gems of his. I cringe from the discomfort of his analytical gaze. What does he see? The fat woman down the hall who should be home raising her son and not here with the big boys? I've fought hard to get where I am, I sacrificed everything to make it this far and if he thinks...

"What did I do to piss you off?" He says.

I feel like a fly caught in a spider web with a big ugly spider bearing down on me for his next meal. What can I say? You don't flirt with me like you do the other girls? You make me look bad to the partners? You have it easy and I don't? Men like you won't love me?

Shit no.

What did you do to piss me off? You exist.

"Nothing. I'm not pissed off at you." I say.

"You sure act like you are."

"Well I'm not."

"Can we start to work together on this then?"

"We are working on this together. You are here aren't you?"

"I've asked around the office and everyone says you are easy to work with, cooperative, communicative, and professional."

"And?"

"I don't find you to be any of those things. In fact, I think you are the opposite." He stands up. "Please forward me the records."

Before I can say, I will, he has closes the door behind him.

Typical man. How dare he say that to me. He doesn't know me. The nerve of him.

I want a smoke. I need a smoke. Fuck I don't even smoke. Haven't for years.

I try to focus on the brief I was working on, but I can't. I want to scream, punch something, rip it apart. I want to cry.

How could he be so callous?

So hurtful?

#

#

#

#

# Lindsay

Where did these bags under my eyes come from?

I pull at the skin trying to tighten it up. Damn, I look old and worn. Reaching for the bottle of expensive moisturizer, I study my face in the mirror. It's going to take more than this to turn back time. I'm not looking so vibrant this morning because I didn't get enough beauty sleep last night. I was too busy getting something better.

Don. Or was it Jon?

We met online yesterday and he's so worth the lack of sleep. Man, he knows how to kiss a woman. Sigh. Like Oh my God can that man kiss. Let me tell you, he starts with a mind blowing kiss and moves smoothly into bliss. It was so hot I can't describe it. It was romance novel hot. After a couple hours of online messages, some photo exchanges, we arranged to meet last night at his apartment.

<The air shimmers and Lindsay is transported into the world of the Romance Novel>

He was hot, tall, dark, rugged, hot, so I took extra time to look my best. I'd left my hair down, long golden strands falling over my shoulders, I wore a red dress that dipped low over my breasts and high on my thigh. I chose a black lace bra, matching thong, and finished it with black lace stockings that stopped just above the hem of my dress. Every detail was seen to, even my lipstick and nail polish matched the colour of my dress. He was one lucky man to get with this sexy, hot, thing. I was going to blow his mind.

The minute I stepped inside his apartment, he moved towards me, as close to me as he could without actually touching. The energy between our bodies was palpable. He stood over me and his power caused my head to bow. I wanted to look into his eyes, but couldn't. I felt weak. I felt warm. I felt his power surrounding me. His finger gently raised my chin, forcing mine to gaze into his gorgeous brown eyes. I got lost in the power of his eyes. He didn't say a word. His fingers traced my face, as he took in every detail of it. Slowly memorizing it, analyzing it, seeing if it was acceptable to him.

I bit my lower lip wanting him to kiss me, to wrap his strong arms around me and pull me even closer. Anticipation so strong, it felt like I'd die without his touch, came over me. I tried to communicate my desire with my eyes and still, he only gazed at me like he was analyzing me.

My lips parted, letting a sigh escape from them.

Then his head deliberately bowed, inching down to meet mine, the tension inside me pulled to the breaking point. Before I could breath, his lips were on mine. They were strong, warm, and soft all at once. His tongue found mine and lightly took possession of my mouth. I melted into him. I needed him. With each kiss my desire rose, until I could no longer think. I was a primal creature of pure need.

His magic mouth took me to a world of pleasure only a few women know about.

His lips found my neck, his hands found my waist pulling me into him, so I could feel the hard bulge I wanted so desperately inside me. My dress loosened, as he drew the zipper on my dress down until it fell to the floor exposing my body to him. The cool air of the room flowed lightly around me, teasing me, giving me a taste of the awaiting sensations.

My eyes closed, as his mouth explored, tasting my neck, the soft touch electrifying my skin with complete need. My breasts ached for his suckling. My stomach filled with butterflies. I became weak from the need, losing strength in my legs, and when my knees started to buckle, his arm smoothly wrapped itself around my waist to hold me up and press my bare skin to his clothed, hard, body.

He turned me around to find support against the wall and continued to feast. My bra released its hold on me before falling to meet my dress. His hands cupped my breasts and his mouth explored the back of my neck, my shoulders, my ear, lightly. A pinch of my nipples and just a nip, a light graze of his teeth on my ear lobe set off an electric shock that ran through me deep into my core, stoking a fire that was already hot to the touch.

I was putty in his hands. He slipped down to his knees and when his mouth tickled my ass, oh fuck, I thought I was going to burst if I didn't get his cock inside me. My hips moved on their own demanding he share their rhythm. My pussy hot with moisture pushed towards him, searching out his fingers and his cock. The need to be touched took control of my senses and unlocked the primal need to give myself over to his demands.

He played my body like a finely tuned instrument. I was lost in the sensations of his fingers, tongue, and lips. My vision blurred softening everything around me. My legs were suddenly forced to spread before electric shocks of pure pleasure went off along the inside of my thighs. I needed him to touch me. To touch the one spot between my legs begging for attention, vibrating with need. His hot breath flowed over it but no more. He'd ignored it and moved slowly back up my back, tickling, licking, and kissing as he went.

His fingers slipped through my hair and closed tight. A quick pull and I was staring at the ceiling, his breath burned against my neck, a nip and then pulled away from the wall to face him.

His lips were on mine. Savagely consuming them and I struggled to keep up with the intensity of his kiss. My body responded with heat melting itself into his to find the strength to stand. When he broke off the kiss I felt lost, like he'd bored a hole deep into my soul and then left it gapping.

I felt more than saw his body lower before mine. My vision so compromised with desire there was nothing to focus on beyond the sensations of my body. His mouth was sucking on my breast, biting down on the nipple and rolling it around with his tongue. The blend of pleasure, pain, and pressure had my core a twisting mess of desire. Frustration due to the pulsing between my legs was beginning to build to an angry need to take, instead of passively await him.

My hands found his shoulders pushed on them trying to force him down, down to where I needed his attention desperately. He pushed up instead. His fingers were twisting in my hair, forcing my eyes to the ceiling and my ass was shocked by a surprise. One, two, three, smacks leaving a stinging, hot, remembrance.

Tears stung my eyes. Not from the pain of the spanking but from the pain of the desire. I needed release and he withheld it. The spanking only created more need as the sensation mixed with what he'd already created inside me. It hurt. I'd do anything for him. Be anything. I was whatever he wanted me to be.

He feasted on my breasts again and this time I let him without interruption. My fingers lost in his thick dark hair, only brought him closer to me and did not rush him, though they ached to.

Slowly, he explored my stomach, my hips, and thighs. His strong hands forced my legs wide apart and I willingly moved them. My clit was pulsing with need. My fingers wrapped around his strands of dark hair, as he buried his face between my legs. Muscles stiffened as his tongue licked. Nothing else existed beyond his mouth. The pleasure it brought me, filling my core with energy. I felt his fingers enter me when his mouth suck the clit in and heaven broke lose inside me. My whole body lit up, fireworks exploded behind my eyes, and my body convulsed as liquid spilled from inside. I slipped down to the floor. I was so satisfied I couldn't move. My clit still pulsed but this time with after shocks that kept the warm feeling going long after the main event. The whole time Don held me while his fingers lightly danced along my stomach, breasts, nipples, and neck. He let me bask in the glow until it was fading then he started all over again.

I could barely walk when I left his place my legs were so weak.

He's taking me out for dinner tonight before round two and I look like hell's breakfast. I almost look my age. He won't want to touch me looking like this. I pull at my face tightening up sagging skin and cringe when it settles back.

My neck is the worst.

The skin on the neck started to slack when I turn 40. I'll be scheduling a neck lift in a few years to fix the waddle that is beginning to develop beneath my chin. I can't let him see me like this. The sun has damaged my upper chest leaving the skin dry and scaly like some old dried up lizard.

It's a spa day.

A full overhaul is in order.

Maybe I'll pick up a new outfit too.

A girl has got to look her best.

#

#

#

#

# Sophie

Dating.

It is so weird to be dating again.

I haven't dated since the early 90s.

It's so different now.

Before a guy would pick you up in a bar, coffee shop or at school. My friends tell me that is not how things work now. Charlie says that no matter where you go, men don't come up and talk to women. Go to a bar and no one says boo. Go to a coffee shop and all you get is coffee. Go to the park and nothing. I'm not sure if Charlie is right, but I haven't met a man in the by going outside.

It's all online now.

This online dating thing is a bit addictive. I spend so much time going through profiles to find the ones I like that I hardly get anything done. I read the guy's message. I think about what to say. I type mine. Then I wait for his response. You'd think I'd get stuff done while I wait, but no, I don't. I look at other profiles. I have conversations with other men. It's kinda cool actually. I mean, I get to chat with guys I'd never dare talk to in the real world.

They have interesting jobs and travelled to amazing places. There are pictures of them in Paris, New York, London, and all sorts of cities I've only ever dreamed of seeing. They do exciting things like mountain climbing, skiing, and activities I've never heard of like kiteboarding. Why would they be interested in me? My life is so boring compared to theirs. I can't afford to do any of the exciting things they do. I haven't done anything interesting.

Once they get to know me and my situation they aren't too interested in anything real. They send me a message and we spend hours chatting with our fingers, the words coming out of each other so much freer than if we'd met in person. Still, it feels like a waste of time because we never make any plans to meet in the real world, we just message back and forth until they disappear. They almost always disappear.

I can't blame them. I'm on welfare. My ex didn't want me. I don't have much to offer a man. I'm pretty useless, not very lovable, and don't make friends easily. I am a mom, in my 40s and broke. What guy would want to take me on? It seems like a waste of energy to spend all this time messaging, only for them to find out, I'm not good enough to date.

Yesterday Looking4U sent me a message and we had a nice chat.

**Looking4U** : Hello pretty lady.

**Me:** Hello

**Looking4U:** I think you are very cute and I'd like to get to know you.

**Me:** You are a nice looking guy. What do you want to know?

**Looking4U:** Are you available to go for dinner tomorrow night?

**Me:** Yes. I am.

**Looking4U:** Then let's make a date of it and get to know each other. My name is Al.

**Me:** I'm Sophie.

**Al:** Send me your number and we can text.

I sent him my number and we texted a bit and firmed up our plans. It's my first date. The first man I'll have met in the real world and I'm nervous. I am not sure how to do this. Not sure if I can. It's been so long since I've even looked at another man, let alone talked to one over dinner. I'm excited and scared all at once.

What if he expects more than dinner?

Charlie said I should cancel the dinner and suggest we meet for coffee instead because he might be a bore and I'll want to escape. Lindsay thinks she's just jealous because I got a dinner date and Charlie doesn't get asked out for dinner.

I feel bad for Charlie. She's amazing. I wish I was more like her. I don't understand why she's single. She is much prettier than me. Her face is striking. She is overweight but if she'd exercise, she'd be a knock out. Her body has a nice hourglass shape with really big boobs. I've got none and she's like, huge. Men love boobs. She's so smart. Has a good job and is confident about everything. I don't know why she can't find a man who loves her.

My phone pings, I have a text message.

It's from Al. He's the one I'm meeting for dinner tonight.

**Al:** _Hey we still on for tonight?_

**Me:** _Yes. I can't wait._

**Al:** _I'm getting off earlier so we can meet at 6._

**Me:** _Sure_.

**Al:** _Great. What are you going to wear? Something sexy?_

**Me:** _I don't know yet._

I have a cute dress that I picked up from a thrift store yesterday after he made the date. It cost me $25. I really shouldn't have bought it, I shouldn't be wasting money on dresses and stuff.

**Al:** _I like a woman in a dress._

**Me:** _Oh_

**Al:** _And high heels_

**Me:** _OK_

**Al:** _I love the colour red._

**Me:** _Oh_

**Al:** _Are you going to want to kiss me?_

**Me:** _I don't know. Maybe._

**Al:** _Maybe? Ah come on hun. You'll kiss me._

**Me:** _Maybe. I have to go. I have things to do._

**Al:** _Ok babe. I'll kiss you lots tonight._

**Me:** _See you tonight._

I don't know him. I don't know if I'm going to want to kiss him. But I guess. I mean he is buying me dinner. Maybe I will want to kiss him. I don't know. I wish he didn't go on like that. It makes me uncomfortable. What's one kiss?

I guess I'll find out tonight. I better get going, I have a lot to do before tonight.

My phone beeps with a text message. It's from Al and there is a pic.

Oh my god.

I drop my phone.

What the hell?

The phone whistles with a text again. I'm scared to look. It might be another pic. What if my kids had my phone? I cringe. It whistles again. I pick it up and check the messages from Al.

It's another pic and message. I'm freaking out. I don't know what to do.

**Al:** _What do you think hun? You like?_

**Me:** _Why did you send that?_

**Al:** _It's fun. Send me a couple of you spread open for me._

**Me:** _No. NO. no._

**Al:** _Hun it's all good. It's just flirting. We're adults._

**Me:** _I don't think so and I'm not sure I want to meet._

**Al:** _I was just testing you. Seeing what kind of gal you are. I like that you won't._

**Me:** _OK?_

**Al:** _You a good girl and I like that. I'll see you tonight. Can't wait._

**Me:** _Ok._

I delete the photos of his naked, standing to attention thingy. I can't believe he sent that to me. I don't even know the guy and he sends me that. Why the hell did he send me that?

#

#

#

#

# Charlie

Davie is at his dad's place.

I enjoy the mornings on my own. I miss him when he's not here. I do. It's just that mornings are so much easier when he isn't here, I can't feel bad about that, can I? It's quieter with less rushing around. I get to sit and enjoy my cup of coffee while scanning the news headlines on my tablet, a treat I have to forgo when he's here.

The evenings are lonely when he's not here. When I come home to an empty apartment. That's when I miss his noise, his running around annoying the hell out of me. To combat the loneliness I work late, hang out with friends, and if I am lucky, like tonight, I go on a date.

Tonight I'm meeting Sean for drinks.

I met him online a couple days ago. He is average looking and can't spell worth a damn. Who needs an educated man though? I'd like to be with an intelligent man, however, smart, interesting, quality men with good jobs and their shit together, like pretty, fit, smaller women. I get the leftovers, the rude boys and the horny idiots.

Sean is a construction worker with a construction worker's body, not overweight and not body builder cut. He looks strong with a soft layer of fat covering the muscle mass. His profile isn't my ideal choice in a man, but beggars can't be choosers. It's stay home alone again, or meet the guys who want to meet me, even if they aren't what I want.

At least Sean isn't a complete pig and asked me a few questions about my experiences online dating and what kind of man I want to find, before he started in on the sexting crap.

**Sean:** _What do you like?_

**Me:** _I like to read and hang out with friends._

**Sean:** _I mean in bed._

**Me:** _Oh. Shouldn't we at least meet before talking about sex?_

**Sean:** _Sorry I can't help it. Your pics give me notty thoghts._

**Me:** _OK._

**Sean:** _How big are your tits?_

Fuck. I hate this question and I get it a lot. It's not like I can hide the fact I have bloody watermelons on my chest. These guys are always so crude, I don't ask them the size of their package. If I thought it would bother them I would, but guys seem to like getting that question and are proud of the answer. I'll have some fun with this shit and make the idiot work for the answer. Guys like games, right?

**Me:** _Guess_

**Sean:** _idk_

**Me** _: Guess or nothing._

**Sean:** _DD_

**Me:** _No bigger_

**Sean:** _DDD_

**Me:** _No bigger_

**Sean:** _No shit. Bigger than ddd. Fuck._

**Me:** _I hate them_

**Sean:** _Why? I love em_

**Me:** _Because men can't see past them and only want to date them._

**Sean:** _Come on babe. That's not true._

**Me:** _Really. Seems to be all you care about._

**Sean:** _No. I respect you. I want more than just sex._

**Me:** _Riiiiiight._

**Sean:** _No really. How 'bout you come over and I'll show you._

**Me:** _I'm not coming over to your place. I don't know you._

**Sean:** _Come on. You can trust me. I'm a good guy._

**Me:** _I'm sure Charles Manson says the same thing._

**Sean:** _Ouch that was uncalled for. Just come over and I'll show you how good I am._

**Me:** _No. Meet me for a coffee or a drink._

**Sean:** _I don't do coffee meets_.

**Me:** _I don't do meets at stranger's houses. Either meet me in public or not at all._

**Sean:** _OK babe. Tomorrow night. Drinks at 8._

**Me:** _Great where._

That probably means we'll go back to his place in his dictionary of dating. How long has it been since I got fucked? Too long. Damn. I really should get myself an FWB to scratch the itch until I meet the guy who deserves more. Maybe this guy will be that, a good roll in the hay kind of guy. Lindsay swears by them and I haven't had any luck in five years finding anything real. Might as well try fake. Men want to pretend they have a girlfriend without all the responsibility of love and commitment.

I hate fake. I hate giving guys a sex only arrangement. I don't get more than a quick, wham-bam-thank-you-mam, out of it. The worst guys are the ones who make me feel like a free prostitute. Those are the ones who want to meet only in private, fuck you, and tell you to go home. These are the guys I regret getting naked with. The ones that have me hating myself so much the next day I swear off men and delete my dating profile.

I hate those guys.

Sean is probably one of those guys.

Still, it's better than bring home alone.

#

#

#

#

# Rose

I look forward to my weekly 'coffee with the girls.'

It is my time to connect and have an adult conversation with other women, so I don't go insane. What would I do without my friends? I love almost all of them. Sharon is the only one I can't stand.

"Nathan and I are kid free next week, so we are going to take an impromptu trip to Mexico." Sharon announces, like it's the biggest news story of the year and they don't go somewhere every time their custody schedules leave them kid free. They take more trips than I make to the grocery store. OK, maybe not that many.

"What's so special about this week?" Wendy asks.

"He booked it. Said he wants to go somewhere warm and why not?"

"What did Gordon say when you told him?" I ask.

"I didn't tell him. He doesn't need to know what I'm doing when it's his turn with the kids. I divorced the guy and don't have to check in with him."

"You didn't even tell the kids?" I am shocked. How could she go away without telling the kids? What if something happens and they need her?

"Nope. Why tell them?"

"You two are always doing something crazy." Chelse says.

"We haven't gone anywhere outside the country, lately." Sharon says.

Lately? Gus and I haven't been anywhere in years. We can't afford a trip for six to Mexico or even Florida. Forget just the two of us going on vacation, who'd take care of the kids? I'd feel guilty if we left them behind. We are a family and vacations should include the whole family, not just the parents. I'd love to go away, just Gus and I. It would be romantic. But that's for after the kids have grown up and moved out, then Gus and I can go places.

"We should all do a Vegas trip, just us girls." Sharon says.

"That sounds like fun." Wendy says.

"We could pick a weekend where Joan, Kathy, and I don't have our kids. The rest of you have you're husbands, so you can go any weekend." Sharon adds.

Right, like having Gus means I can go gallivanting around the country.

"I'm up for it. It'll give Ron an idea of what I do all day. If I hear him ask me one more time, what I did all day, I'll kill him. Let him find out what it's like to have two preschoolers and a toddler to run after." Wendy says. "I'm exhausted. I need some fun."

"If Roger's in town, I'm up for it. He's always away on business trips, I think I'd like my own trip. Even if he isn't in town I'll go. The kids can go to their grandparents for the weekend." Chelse adds.

"I can't go away on a girls weekend. It wouldn't be fair of me to go away without Gus and the kids." I say.

"Wouldn't be fair? Who cares? Gus won't care if you go away, the man is a saint." Sharon says.

"Exactly. He's a saint and it wouldn't be fair. We can't afford for me to go running off to Vegas." I respond.

Why are they bugging me to go? I said no and they should respect that. I'm beginning to feel backed into a corner, frustrated, and pushed into something I don't want.

I can't spend money I don't have. Who wants to go to Vegas anyway? Not me. I'd rather spend our money a million other ways.

"Put it on your credit card or line of credit. You deserve it." Joan says.

"I'm not borrowing for a vacation." I say.

That is just an impractical waste of money. It's stupid. They are making me feel like I'm poor and I don't like it. Can't they see how dumb it is to borrow money to go on a vacation? What about the future? Retirement? Children's education? Girl's weekends to Vegas are not a practical way to spend money.

"Why not? We do it all the time." Sharon admits.

"Come on Rose. You need the break." Joan encourages.

"I don't care if we can afford it or not." Wendy says. "Let Ron figure out how to pay the bill, I deserve to get away. I never get time to myself and if I don't get some me time, I'm going to kill someone, probably Ron when he looks sideways at me again because dinner wasn't made."

Dinner. Oh no.

What am I going to make for dinner? I forgot to put the spaghetti sauce on. My stomach is buzzing with the energy of regret? Fear? Frustration? It's stress. That's all. Maybe I'll pick up a cooked chicken from the grocery store with some salad. No, that's what we had the other night. Pizza? Yes pizza. I'll grab a couple pizzas from the Deli section.

"Rose, earth to Rose. Are you with us?" Kathy is waving a hand in front of my face.

"Hmm?"

"You have to come to Vegas." Sharon says.

"I don't have to go anywhere. I can't go and that's all there is to it."

The outside glass door opens and Justine walks in to stand in line for a coffee. What is she doing here? She told me she couldn't come for coffee with the girls because she had to work today. I get up and walk over to her, leaving my girlfriends planning and scheming. I need back up and another voice of reason.

"Justine, what are you doing here?"

"Oh. Hi Rose. Stopped in for a coffee. Thought I'd get some work done here before I have to pick the kids up from school."

"Come over and join us for a bit."

"I really can't."

"Yes you can.

"I have to work."

"You always have work. A break from it will do you good. It'll only be for a bit, then you can work on whatever it is you are doing. I'll get you a chair. Get your coffee."

I walk away, find a free chair and place it next to mine. Justine will back me, she'll be a second voice of reason in this craziness.

"Justine. How are you?" Wendy asks, as Justine sits next to me.

"Good. Busy. I really should be working."

"We're planning a girls weekend to Vegas, want to come?" Sharon says.

"I'd love a weekend away. Let me know when you have the details and I'll see if I can swing it."

My stomach drops. She is supposed to say no. She's supposed to say she can't go without Gary and the kids. She's supposed to have my back.

"Tell Rose she has to come." Joan says.

"Rose." Justine looks at me. "You should go."

"I can't." I feel betrayed.

"You can. Sharon get her a ticket and send the bill to Gus. He'll pay for it."

I can't believe Justine just said that. She knows we don't have money for trips. She also knows that Gus would pay the bill without saying a word. It's not fair. They have the money for her to go to Vegas and she knows we don't. What is she thinking? I glare at her.

She ignores me.

#

#

#

#

# Justine

Rose was right.

It kind of kills me to admit it.

I may have just thrown up a bit.

But, she's right. Let's mark that on the calendar shall we?

I did need the break from working to relax and enjoy companionship. I am so focused on what I need to get done that I don't take the time to interact with others in the real world. I chat with people online every day. It's not the same though. There is a connection one has when conversing with people in the real world. I feel renewed and energized.

"I'm not sure who loves preschool more, me or the twins. It wears them out and I get a break from the constant noise and motion." Wendy says.

"Where is your youngest?" I ask.

"My mom takes MacKenna for some one on one time with grandma. Her brothers demand so much attention that she doesn't get her fair share. At least that's what my mother's reasoning is. I'm just grateful to have two mornings a week to myself."

"You're lucky. After Eric left us, I didn't get a moment to myself until Josh was in Kindergarten. I thought I was going to go insane." Kathy adds.

"You didn't have babysitters?" Sharon asks.

"My parents died when I was a teenager and after Eric left without any support. I cut his whole family out of our lives. Too much drama." Kathy says.

"There are laws to force him to pay child support." Sharon says.

"Fifteen years ago the court process was a bit harder than it is today. I didn't have any money for lawyers, court was hard to navigate, and Eric had disappeared so, I couldn't serve him if I'd wanted to."

"Disappeared? Like missing persons disappeared?" Joan asks.

"No. He's alive and well. At least I think he is, I don't really care either way." Kathy admits. "At first he was living with his parents, then he moved without forwarding an address and his parents wouldn't tell me where he went. I'm not sure he's even still in the country. His best friend told me once that he'd moved to Thailand, but I'm not sure I can trust him. In the end it was for the best. I'm very close with my boys because it's just the three of us. Kyle graduates next year and will be going off to University. I'm dreading the day he leaves. I'll be all alone at home while both boys will away at school."

I wonder why Kathy never got remarried. She's done it all on her own with those two boys. She's done a great job with them, putting them first all the time and they're great kids, unlike Sharon's.

"Maybe he'll go to a local college like Alexis did. Though since she started college, she does whatever she wants and stays out too late. She never listens. Sometimes, I wish she went to an out of town school. We can't afford for her to go anywhere else though, so she's still with us."

"She is an adult, Rose." I say.

"She is not. Not until she is out on her own and with a family of her own. As long as she lives with us, she has to abide by our rules and she refuses to."

"Rose you're going to push her away further than you already have." I say.

"It's my job as her mom to make sure that she behaves and doesn't ruin her life with bad decisions. The amount of times I've had to rescue her from one bad decision or another is enough to make me go batty. Last week she tells me that she couldn't get into one of her classes next semester because she was too late registering. I'm still battling the Dean to get her enrolled. They don't seem to care if it means she graduates later. I do."

"Isn't that her problem though? Why isn't she asking the Dean? Why are you?" Kathy asks.

"Why wouldn't I? She won't do it. I have to or else she will miss out."

"What if she does?" I ask.

"It'll take longer for her to graduate. She's so upset about it. The stress of school is more than she should have to deal with."

"What happens if she doesn't get the job she wants? Are you going to rush in and insist they hire her anyway?" I ask.

"Of course not."

I chuckle. Of course she will. She has fought her kid's battles since day one. Every time there was an issue with the school, a friend, a coach, a teammate, anyone, she was right there to make sure the kids didn't get shafted. That everything was always fair. Well, what she considered fair. Most times she was demanding special treatment and consideration to get her kids, which is exactly what she believes they deserved.

I'm pretty sure she does their homework too.

Who am I to criticize?

I just delivered my son all his textbooks after cleaning his room. I'm turning into Rose. I cringe at the thought. It's time my kids learned to take responsibility for their own choices. If they forget their books, they need to suffer the consequences.

In a perfect world at least.

If I actually make them suffer consequences, I'll be seen as a terrible mother. I'll be a bad influence on everyone else's children. My kids will be judged and forever punished for their bad decisions.

What is the right thing to do?

"I let my kids learn the hard way." Sharon says.

"How's that working out for you?" Rose asks with a sarcastic tone.

I know the real answer to this question. Sharon's kids are hellions on wheels, the oldest has quite the reputation in school, and it's not a good one. He's the kind of boy mothers warn their daughters to stay away from.

"Fine. Ricky is a handful, but he tells me everything he's doing. We talk and he says he is happy with the choices he's made, even the bad ones. He says that he feels no shame and doesn't care what others think of him. He enjoys life and has a plan, unlike most kids his age."

"He has to finish high school. That isn't an option." Rose's voice is filled with an angry accusatory tone. I cringe.

"He will, a little later than he should have, but he'll come out with his grade 12 and first year apprenticeship all paid for. He'll be back on track, employed, and working toward a ticket in a well paying job." Sharon says.

"What's he going to do?" I ask.

"He's trying to choose between electrician, plumber, and welder. The school has him shadowing all three careers to help him chose. What University does that?"

"I'm sure there are programs." Rose says.

"Ricky won't have a student loan to pay off because he'll be working as an apprentice and that will help pay for college. Can your kids say that Rose?"

"You're not going to pay for his education?" Rose says.

I cringe and hope Rose won't tell Sharon how much of a failure she is as a parent again. They hate each other and I'm not sure why they constantly keep meeting like this. It's like they want to antagonize each other just to prove who the best mom is.

"I will if he needs me to. He's determined to do it himself though. He wants to be independent, do it on his own. He doesn't want to start out with debt."

"What about his dad?"

"Gordon will pay what he can. He doesn't have an unlimited amount of money. By the time he pays child support, his mortgage and his family's living expenses, there isn't much left. I'm not going to put them in the poor house by demanding he cough up more money."

After the divorce Gordon got remarried and had two more kids, ten years younger than his two with Sharon. He'll be over sixty when his youngest graduates high school. No wonder he doesn't have any money for post secondary. I wonder if he'll even have enough extra to save for retirement.

How do they all afford to live?

Gordon lives down the street from us, drives a nice new truck, his wife has a new minivan, and they go on plenty of family vacations. Sharon isn't suffering financially either. Nice house, car, and the boys play sports, which aren't cheap.

Gary and I do better than most, however, without my income we'd be hooped.

"How is Jessica enjoying her new job?" Sharon asks.

"New job? Jessica doesn't have a job, you must be thinking of Alexis, she's got a part time job." Rose says.

"No, I mean Jessica. I mean it's great that Alexis is working too. How do they like their jobs?" Sharon amends.

"Jessica doesn't work." Rose says.

"Rose, I saw her. She took my order at McBurger yesterday." Sharon says.

Rose doesn't say anything. She looks shocked. I'm not. Jessica barely says two words to anyone, it's not like she'd feel compelled to tell Rose she'd gotten a job. I wonder what she needs the money for.

#

#

#

#

# Sophie

Is there anything worse than Welfare Wednesday?

I feel like such a failure. What kind of mother cannot provide for her children?

It matters where your money comes from. A hand out is a hand out. I know exactly what my mother thinks of women who leech off the taxpayers, she told me my whole life.

"Women on welfare are lazy and having kids just so they can get more money. No wonder they can't find a man to love them, they are disgusting."

After daddy died, my mom married Bruce because he was rich. No welfare for her. She was too good for a hand out and too pretty to be without the love of a man to support us. Bruce paid the bills, gave us a big beautiful house, expensive vacations, and every material thing we could want. The price was too high and I was the one to pay it.

Guess my mom was right - I'm useless.

I need to get a job.

There has to be a job out there I can do while the kids are in school, now that they will be in school. I hope Craig doesn't find out. My body tenses at the thought and fear runs through me. If anything happens to the kids...

Don't.

Breathe.

Lindsay and Charlie are right. They need to go to school. They will be OK. God, I hope they are right.

Lindsay bought the kids a whole new wardrobe. When I protested she said,

"Soph, they are going to school and have to make a good impression. You don't want them looking like welfare rejects now do you?"

I shook my head, but in my mind I was thinking, that's exactly what they are.

I mean... I am grateful to Lindsay. I don't want to sound ungrateful. She's done so much for us. It's just that... Oh I don't know. I hate that I need her money and I can't take care of my own kids needs.

I can't even afford all the supplies the school wants me to buy for them. They'll have to get by with what I can afford now and I'll get them more later.

What kind of mother can't buy her children their school supplies?

#

#

#

#

# Lindsay

My feet are soaking in a warm tub of water filled with skin softening additives, while my hands are getting the full treatment. My nails are a mess. I've needed a manicure for weeks. My hands are getting so old looking, they are covered in age spots. Disgusting. The skin is beginning to wrinkle and thin. I haven't been giving them enough attention lately.

Before I leave, I'll buy a good moisturizer for them. Something expensive.

My whole body has been breaking out in age spots. They look like dull brown freckles with dry skin building up on them constantly. There has to be some product that can get rid of these ugly brown splotches.

"What colour do you want?" The manicurist asks.

I look through the case of nail polish colours and choose a deep, dark, red colour. Sexy.

"This one."

"You want shellac? It $20 more."

"Why not."

The news channel is on and I read the closed captioning while the girl works her magic. Always the same thing on the news, war, war, and war. War on drugs, gang wars, actual war. If it bleeds it leads they say and the world is bleeding big time.

I push a button and the chair starts rolling against my back, giving me a machine's version of massage and it does feel good. Not as good as the real thing but it is putting pressure on those points that ache deep in the muscles. I'm just shutting my eyes when an image of a face comes on the screen that snaps them open again.

I know that guy.

I've dated that guy.

I've had sex with that guy.

In fact we had an affair for a year before he disappeared. One day he just stopped communicating with me, wouldn't answer any of my calls, messages, or texts. I assumed his wife found out and he was doing some penance before crawling back to me for a good time. I guess not.

The headline says, _Local Business Exec Arrested for Solicitation of a Minor._

I read the words moving across the screen trying to keep up.

Stanton Boremann has been charged with solicitation of a minor in court today. It is alleged that Mr. Boremann offered to pay a 15 year old $300 for sexual services during an online instant message communication.

An officer comes on the screen and is asked about the charges, her response is,

"The two met on an online dating site when the young girl messaged him to ask if he'd have sex with a younger woman. At first she claimed to be in her early twenties, but soon admitted that she was still in high school. The online conversation between the two continued for a couple of weeks before the young lady mentioned she needed money and Mr. Boemann made the offer of money for sex. His messages were quite detailed and he expressed certain sexual requests be performed in exchange for the money."

The reporter comes on the screen.

"Mr. Boemann was not available for comment."

The Anchor came back on the screen and a new story came onto the screen.

Stanton. A pedophile. I never would have suspected.

Sure he liked role-play. I'd dress up like the naughty schoolgirl and he pretended to be the principal. That was just fantasy role-play, lots of men like to pretend to be the teacher, the principal, the boss, the daddy, or whomever while the woman pretends to be younger. That doesn't mean they want sex with a minor, it's more about the power imbalance than the actual age. This doesn't make any sense. He wouldn't have sex with a minor and he definitely wouldn't pay one. He doesn't need to pay for sex.

What is this world coming to?

I'm sure his wife will divorce him over the scandal.

#

#

#

#

# Rose

The nerve of Sharon suggesting that I don't know what Jessica is up to.

I was so embarrassed.

Jessica isn't allowed to have a job. Her job is school and that is what she has to focus on. She doesn't have time for a job - job.

What would she need to have a job for?

We give the kids an allowance. We buy them clothes. We feed them. What else could they want money for? They have their whole lives to work. Childhood is such a short time and they should enjoy it, not waste it working.

I'll get to the bottom of it after my appointment with the vice principal. I can't believe Sharon. She is always trying to make me out to be a bad mother.

"Mrs. Fischer, Mr. Chen is ready to see you, please follow me." The nice school secretary, Ms. Marriot, says. I like her. She's always so polite and cheerful.

"Mrs. Fischer, how are you?" The Vice Principal asks.

I shake his hand and sit down in the chair across the desk from him.

"Very good."

Being summand to the Vice Principal's office is a new experience for me. Usually, I'm the one requesting a meeting to discuss the kid's education or advocating for them. Some of these teachers have their head's up their butts and don't do their job properly.

"I asked you here to talk to you about Jessica."

"OK."

She probably made the honour roll again.

"She's been skipping classes. Her grades are still good, however, I can't have her not showing up."

My stomach drops. He can't mean Jessica. Isabella, now she skipped class a couple times. I was never asked to come in to discuss it though. I'd get a recorded phone call telling me that she hadn't been in class and I grounded her for a month and warned her that, if she did it again, I'd follow her around the school to make sure she went to class. One teacher conveniently kept marking her as absent. The problem got so bad I had to get her transferred into a different class. I was never called into the office to discuss it. I was the one calling the school to get the problem fixed. I mean, they can't have teachers picking on kids because they don't like them and there is no way I'd let Isabella get away with skipping.

"What do you mean skipping?" I ask.

"More like she's not coming to school at all. She has missed more than 60% of her classes so far this semester. It's very unlike her. I've talked to her about it, warned her that she will be expelled and still the behaviour has continued. Is there anything going on at home that we should know about? Has she been sick?"

"Sick? At home? Everything is perfect at home. There is no reason for her not to be in class. Are you certain she is skipping, maybe the teacher didn't mark her as present."

"That would be all her teachers and they all assured me that she has not been showing up for school and she's beginning to fall behind. Her grades are slipping."

"Why haven't I been getting any phone calls? I got phone calls when Isabella skipped."

"The system has been sending notifications. I've been calling you trying to set up an appointment, I finally sent you the letter by mail to request this meeting."

"I haven't been getting any phone calls. I'd know if I was getting phone calls."

I'm getting very angry now. I can't believe their incompetence to allow this to occur and then passing the blame on to me. How dare they.

"Mrs. Fischer, I assure you I have left you numerous voice mail messages."

"I haven't gotten one message from you or your recording machine."

He opens the folder on his desk.

"Is your number 777 555 8321?"

"No. That's not my number."

"I have a note here, signed by you, with a new number for our records. Do you know whose number this is?"

I check my phone's contacts and my heart stops. It's Jessica's cell number. All those calls have been going to her phone number. Her voice mail.

"It's Jessica's number. How did you not realize when you called?"

"We use a computerized system. The times I called the number, it was a standard recording asking me to leave a message."

"She said she didn't want a stranger to realize it was a female's phone. For safety."

"That is a good idea. It also explains what the problem is. Jessica has not only been skipping school, she's made sure you wouldn't know about it."

"Now I do and I assure you I will be doing something about it."

"This semester is almost over and she is passing all her courses at the moment. As long as she attends the rest of the semester she should move on with her class."

"I assure you, she will be here. And change your records back, this is my number and unless I personally stand here to tell you differently, it will remain my number."

Where has Jessica been going?

What has she been doing?

"Can you please call her down to the office so that I can have a talk with her." I ask.

"I would if she was here, she isn't. I already asked that she come to the office before you arrived."

I can feel the heat coming off my face. I'm not sure if it's because I'm angry or embarrassed. I can't believe Jessica would do this. What was she thinking and what is going on that she wouldn't come to school?

A bully?

That must be it. My poor Jessica is probably getting bullied and I don't know anything about it. Maybe Aiden will know.

"Has there been any bullying?"

"Not that we are aware of. Jessica didn't say there was. The teachers haven't noticed anything."

"What reason did she give?"

"None. She doesn't say much of anything when we talk to her. She gives vague excuses and promises it won't happen again, then she leaves the school."

"I send her here and you don't know where she is? You're supposed to be taking care of her. Making sure she's safe and you allow her to walk away. Go who knows where. You are responsible for her."

"We can't make her stay. We can't make her attend. We offer her the opportunity to get an education and if she continues to not show up, we will have to stop giving her that opportunity."

"You can't. You have to give her an education."

"She's not getting one. If she choses not to be here, we can't continue to hold a place for her. There are other schools, other programs that may work better for her. It's up to her."

"Up to her? She's fifteen. She's too young to make those kinds of decisions. She doesn't know the consequences of making those kinds of decisions. You can't do this. I won't let you. I'll talk to the superintendent."

"Mrs. Fischer, I understand you're upset. I would be too if I were you. We are not expelling her – Yet. If she chooses to attend class she will not be expelled. If she continues to chose to not be here, we will explain the consequences again and talk about the other options available for her to chose from."

"She doesn't get to chose. She is coming here."

With that I get up and leave his office. I'm too angry to stay and too scared to find out more. This doesn't make any sense. Where is she and why isn't she coming to school. I call her number and keep calling it. I'll keep calling it until she picks up.

#

#

#

#

# Justine

I've lost three hours of work time.

Good thing it's an easy day.

I bring up the analytics to see how last week's campaigns have been going. Some are strong and a few are weak. I'm going to lose a client if he doesn't get leads soon.

Once, a client swore to me that his competition was clicking on his paid search engine ads to make him pay for them and push him off the adwords space. He believed it was my fault and there must be something I could do to stop it. He cancelled our contract and moved on when I informed him that there was no way for me to know if his statement was even true, let alone do something about it.

I'm beginning to hate the job.

I'm frustrated by it, by the fickleness of the consumer, the followers, and the noise. Every client is demanding to be in the top spot of every search and for as low a price as possible. Everyone wants instant results and don't want to pay for them. They're all strapped for cash, all trying to negotiate more for less, preferably for free.

I want to do my job well. Perfectly well. I want to do the best for my clients, so they'll be happy and too busy working to bother me with dumb questions and unbelievable requests because of some bad advice they read online.

Happy clients pay bills. Unhappy ones don't.

Can I help it if their competition is willing to pay more per click for an ad? Can I trust what my clients tell me when they claim they aren't getting leads, when my analytics say my efforts are sending traffic to their website and call tracking says they are getting calls from that traffic?

I work hard. I do my best. And it's not good enough most days. So, I work harder, put in more hours than I bill for and it's still not good enough. Self-employment was supposed to give me more time with my family, not less. It was supposed to mean more flexibility not make more demands of my time.

What was I thinking? Maybe it's time to look for a position with a company and go back to being a working stiff.

"Justine. How are you, what are you up to these days?" Darlene Fitzpatrick. Of all the people to run into, she's the worst.

"Not much, just working, you?"

"You're still working from home?"

"Yes. I thought I'd get some work done from here today. Change of scenery."

"You're lucky. I'm just on my lunch break then it's back to the office. I wish I could work from home. You must love it."

"It has its moments."

"I would love to be able to work in PJs and have a nap when I needed one."

Though it is nice to have those days where I can take a nap because I'm tired, it's not all PJ's and naps. Hardly ever. If I do end up spending the day in my PJs, it's because my phone rang before I got out of bed and I didn't have any time to get dressed.

"It's not all –" I start but she interrupts me. Don't know why I bother trying to say anything, she never listens to anyone but herself.

"I think you've got the best of both worlds. You're home for the kids and you have a career that helps pay the bills. What I wouldn't do to be in your shoes."

"If you wanted to work from home there are --."

"No. I'm not disciplined enough. I'd never stay focused on work. Rick thinks it's a bad idea, I just wish I could is all."

Lots of people think working from home is the answer to the work – life balance problem. That being self-employed means you have flexibility and can do whatever you want. Right. Not sure who came up with that line of bull, still some of us have bought it hook, line, and sinker.

I work more than Gary does and he gets paid more than I do. Sure I get to work from home, living the dream of being self-employed, which means I'm working long hours, wearing many hats, and not getting paid very much per hour.

Some days I think it would be easier if I found a job in an office. Go to work, do the work, leave the work at work, go home. I remind myself of the reasons I decided to strike out on my own: The constant office politics, the interruptions, the employee reviews, and the managers constantly shifting blame and pointing fingers. No one wanted to make a decision and nothing got done, all for the sake of protecting one's butt, that and the mistake.

I'm better off working from home. Where it's quiet. Where I can focus. Where I'm not losing at the political corporate ladder climbing game and getting passed over for promotions.

"I should really get back to work." I say.

"Of course, don't let me stop you."

I smile.

I don't feel like smiling.

I smile because I'm supposed to. I smile because that is what you do when talking with someone, whether you feel like it or not. It's the polite thing to do. Show your true emotions or lack thereof and you'll be the topic of gossip. Ridiculed and ostracized because heaven forbid you are honest with people. So, I force a smile onto my face to show that I'm happy she stopped by to say hi.

A grotesque looking mask.

A façade.

Fake.

My phone rings and I answer without looking. The great thing about a cell phone is that it's like a wall that goes up between you and the rest of the world. You don't even have to talk on it, only look at it, search up an article, post on social media, play a video game, anything and it signals to those around you – 'Don't talk to me I'm busy.'

"Hello, Justine here, how may I help you?"

My standard professional greeting in a cheery tone, which I do not truly feel.

"Hey what happened to the money in the bank account?"

It's Gary and he sounds stressed.

"What do you mean?"

"I went to buy lunch and my card was denied, insufficient funds. Why is that?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"Can't you check? I'm sitting in a restaurant and I can't pay the bill. Transfer some cash or something. Anything."

"What about the credit cards?"

"Mine is maxed."

Again?

"Give me a minute."

I remove the phone from my ear and find the bank app. Gary isn't technology friendly and is forever calling me whenever a computer needs to be accessed or fixed. I don't know how anyone our age can survive without using computers on a daily basis. The guy doesn't even have a social media account. It's sacrilege in today's world. How does he expect to survive in ten years from now when everything is going to be connected by the Internet, and I mean everything. Smart phones, smart houses, smart cars, smart everything, Internet glasses and watches are only the start.

I type in the password, go to accounts, and sure enough the bank account is at -$1001. Our cash spent, our overdraft limit used up. There is some room on my credit card and the line of credit has a few thousand dollars available. I transfer a $2000 from the line of credit to the chequeing account. I log out.

"OK I transferred some cash into the chequeing account."

"Where is all the money going?"

"I don't know."

"Neither do I. Maybe you can go through the account and find out. Make sure no one is taking anything."

"I don't have time right now. I'll put it on my list for tomorrow."

We go through this at the end of every month and when I find the time to check, it's always correct. The money just goes like water through a strainer. I'm not sure what he expects me to do about it.

"Great the payment went through. See you tonight."

With that he hangs up.

The alarm on my phone goes off.

It's time to pick up the kids from school. I pack up my laptop frustrated with my lack of productivity today.

Well, there's always tomorrow.

#

#

#

# Lindsay

I look great.

I stocked up on some expensive creams and serums to reverse the aging process. Manicure. Pedicure. Hair colour and cut. Facial. Brow threading. And Make up. The aesthetician found a couple whiskers on my chin. Whiskers. Like a man. I couldn't believe it, two wirey, black, whiskers, growing out of my chin. I almost had a heart attack.

I tell you, aging is not pretty.

Nor is it cheap to stay young looking. I already spent four hundred dollars to look like a million and I still need to pick up a new dress and shoes to complete the whole effect. Men don't appreciate all the expense and effort I put into looking my best for them. They think I roll out of bed looking like a million bucks and they are the ones putting out all the cash because they pay for dinner. Dinner costs a fraction of what I spend to look younger than my years.

Looking this good doesn't just happen. It takes effort. It takes money. Daily workouts at the gym with the personal trainer, the Botox injections, the spa, the hair dresser, the creams, the dyes, and the clothes. It will be worth it because Don won't be able to keep his hands off me.

Hmmm, I haven't heard from Don yet. It's getting late.

I texted him an hour ago asking where I should meet him and nothing.

Should I call?

Should I message him again?

Or just wait until he replies to me?

He's probably busy at work.

I'd like some idea of where to go and what time to expect him.

What's a call going to hurt? I dial his number.

It rings once

Twice

Three times

Four

"You've reached the voice mail of Jon Wilman. Leave your name and number and I'll call you back." Ooops it's Jon not Don. Doesn't really matter, I was close enough.

"Hi Jon. It's Lindsay. I was just wondering what time we are meeting tonight and where. Please call me."

I text the same message to his phone.

#

#

#

#

# Rose

It takes forever for Isabella to come out of the school, we are going to be late for her dentist appointment. Finally, she comes out of the building and gets into the car.

"Did you know Jessica had a job?" I ask her.

"Why is she allowed to get a job? You never let me." Instant defensiveness. Typical.

"I didn't let her either. I just found out about it. It's not like she asked."

"She didn't tell me anything. She never says anything to me. Can I get a job?" She whines. I hate it when the girls whine, it sounds so bad.

"No. You have enough with school and activities. You don't need a job. Your job is school."

Kids. Give them an inch and they'll take a mile. They do not know what is good for them and they don't understand. They just don't. If I let them do what they wanted they would get into trouble and then where would they be? Reputations. They are so important and heaven forbid my girls ever make a bad decision. I won't let them ruin their lives. I will make sure they get all the opportunities necessary to succeed in this world. That includes good grades in school and a post secondary education so they can have good careers.

"Well it's not fair. Jessica gets to do whatever she wants and you are always telling me what to do."

"I do not."

"You do too. Yesterday you told me I couldn't go out with Jordon on Friday night and now you tell me I can't get a job. It's not fair."

"You can't go out with Jordon because he is not the kind of boy you should be dating. I heard he does drugs and drinks."

"Who told you that?"

"I don't know. I just heard it. Reputations Isabella, I've told you how important they are and you have to protect yours. If you ever want a husband you have to have a good reputation. No man wants to marry a girl with a bad reputation."

"I don't want to get married."

"You will. One day. Get out and I'll meet you in the Dentist office."

"You know I can go to the Dentist by myself."

"No you can't. I have some questions for him. Now off you go."

"Joanne goes to these things by herself without her mom hovering over her."

"I'm not Joanne's mom and I don't see how that has anything to do with you. Now hurry up or you'll be late."

Joanne is hardly an example to aspire to. Her mother lets her run around town without any limitations getting into all sorts of trouble. Kids need to be busy, especially after school to keep themselves out of trouble.

Why can't my girls understand that I'm only protecting them?

#

#

#

#

# Sophie

Am I crazy?

I am dressed and ready to meet Al. He texted to make sure I was coming and kind of apologized for sending those pictures.

**Al:** _Can't wait to see you._

**Me:** _I'm not sure about this._

**Al:** _Why not hun?_

**Me:** _The pics._

**Al:** _I was only teasing you. Testing to see what kind of girl you are. Alls good babe._

**Me:** _I didn't like getting them_

**Al:** _I won't send you anymore if you don't want me to_

**Me:** _Thanks._

**Al:** _See you in a bit. It'll all be good you'll see. I'm a nice guy._

**Me:** _OK._

He did say he was a test and I passed. He still wants to meet me. I am sure he will be normal once we see each other and I explain that I'm not that kind of girl. I said I'd go. I gave him my word. I told him I'd be there. It will all be good. He's a nice guy and it's just dinner.

I don't have to do anything I don't want to. Charlie and Lindsay promised I didn't.

#

#

#

#

# Charlie

"Will that be all?"

I need chocolate and a bottle of wine.

"Just the bill."

"Was everything to your liking?"

The waitress is eyeing up my half eaten chicken and the uneaten potatoes.

"Yes. The meal was good. I'm just not that hungry. Pack it up please."

Another takeout container to add to my collection of rotting leftovers.

My day would have been good if Dan hadn't come in and ruined it with his accusations. Me, uncooperative? Unprofessional? How dare he say I made a mistake by having the funds transferred into an account Shelley has control over? Doesn't he understand I had to protect my client's interests? I couldn't trust the offshore bank to adhere to a court order. We had to secure her interest.

This can't go wrong.

I have to make sure my client is protected. It won't cause any problems. How could it? The original account was set up in her name. She was already compromised. Dan is just messing with my head. Making me feel inadequate. Making me feel like I don't know how to do my job. He is covering his ass and that way, I take the fall if the case goes south.

My nerves are on fire.

I have another hour before I meet Sean for drinks.

I need to go for a walk.

I stop off the convenience store on the corner to buy a shitload of chocolate. Thick milky chocolate. Nothing works better on my nerves than chocolate, wine, and a walk. Well maybe sex.

Phone rings. It's Davie.

"Hey buddy what's up?"

"Mom I need five hundred dollars tomorrow."

"What for?"

Five hundred dollars? What the fuck does the kid want this time?

"The band trip. The second payment is due."

"I made the first one. Your dad should cough up the second."

"He says he doesn't have it and to ask you for it."

"Of course he does."

I already pay the man five hundred dollars a month for child support and spousal support. He works. He's married. Well, living with the skank at least. Yet, I'm the one who has to cough up more money for the extras. This is bullshit. I should take his ass back into court.

Fuck.

I can't let Davie suffer because his father is a cheap asshole.

Why are divorces all about the money? It's always the money. Not the kids. They say it's the kids, but the minute they have more custody than the other they are demanding more in child support. The payer always thinks they pay too much and the receiver thinks they are entitled to more. Each situation is different and it isn't always the mom receiving payments, some, like me, make more money and have to pay support. Equal co-parenting is on the rise, so neither parent pays child support, and the kids are shuffled between two homes. I don't know what the right answer is. The courts try to rule for what's in the child's best interest, however that could mean the best lawyer instead of the best parent. The system isn't perfect. The only consistent is the rising divorce rate.

At least it keeps me employed.

"OK. I'll have it couriered over tomorrow."

"Thanks mom."

"Hey."

"What. That's it? You aren't going to chat with your mother?"

"Ah. Sorry mom. I've got to finish my homework. I love you."

"Love you too."

He hangs up on me before I can get the words out. I doubt he even heard me.

God that hurts.

#

#

#

#

# Justine

Pizza for dinner – again. I swear the delivery boy is part of the family. I see him more than I do my own mother and she's always here.

"Pizza's here." I yell, as I put the brown boxes down on the counter.

Harper runs in and stacks four pieces on his plate before going into the family room to sit down in front of the TV and play videogames. I text Emma and she might come out of her room for a couple of slices sometime tonight. I look at the clock. 7:00. Gary is still not home. He probably stopped off at the gym or went for drinks. Either way, I doubt he'll be hungry when he gets in. I grab a slice, turn on the TV in the kitchen and sit at the counter with a glass of wine. Not sure if this can even be called dinner.

An hour later I hear the garage door opening and Emma comes bounding down the stairs.

"Daddy's home." She says with a huge smile. I wish she was that happy when I came home. Then again, I don't ever really leave home.

"Sounds that way. Pizza is cold."

"I'll nuke a piece and eat with dad."

Of course she will. I get up, remove two clean plates from the dishwasher, and grab a bottle of beer and a can of soda out of the fridge. Emma pops a couple of pieces of pizza into the microwave.

What did we ever do before microwaves?

I can still remember when mom got one of the first microwaves on the market. The thing was a big brown box with dials. It cost dad eight hundred dollars at the time. Eight hundred dollars in the 80s was a lot of money. At least, I think it was. I type a keyword search onto Google – How much was a car in 1980s – Well according to the all wise Google machine, a car at that time was just over seven thousand dollars and today it would cost... I type in another search... $22 000.

Wow. So mom's microwave cost a ninth of what a car cost, which would mean a microwave should cost about two thousand and four hundred or so dollars today. My microwave cost all of one hundred and fifty dollars.

And mom says that I spend too much money on material possessions? Ha. Wait 'til she tells me that again.

"Hey hun. How was your day?" Gary comes in and Emma is already giving him a huge hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"School was boring. Nicole got a new iPhone and Kristy has another new boyfriend. Mandy and I sat together in math and made plans for Friday night. I'm going to stay over at her place." Emma says.

"Oh. Sounds like a plan." Gary says.

"Here daddy, I warmed you up some pizza."

I put a beer down on the table in front of him and listen as Emma tells him about school, friends and her plans for the weekend. I wish she wanted to tell me all about her life. She never wants to tell me about her life. She is one hundred percent a daddy's girl and why wouldn't she be? Gary is the perfect dad. He listens. He buys her things. He shows up to everything she does. He doesn't say no.

"Harper. Your dad is home." I yell into the family room and he comes barrelling in to tell him all about his day.

I listen, as Harper talks about his friends, sports, and school. Gary asks them more questions and I listen. This is how I get to know my children, by watching them connect with their father. They sit and chat while I empty the dishwasher and fill it with glasses and dishes. I listen until I feel like an interloper, an eavesdropper, an uninvited stranger, then I go into my office to get caught up on the work I didn't get to earlier.

#

#

#

#

# Sophie

Al is funny. He makes me laugh. I'm having a good time.

"What are your kids like?"

"They are really good kids. It hasn't been easy on them because of the separation and starting school. They seem to like school though."

"They like school? They must be smart then."

"It's new still. They just started going to school."

"What?"

"I homeschooled them. Craig didn't want them to be corrupted by the schools and teachers. He said that it was the mother's job to educate the kids."

"You homeschooled them? Are they weird?"

"No. Why would you say that?"

"Well, homeschooled kids are kind of weird."

"They are normal kids who get along just fine with other kids. There is a close nit homeschooling community to socialize with and to get support from. It really isn't what you think."

"If you say so."

"What about you? Do you have kids?"

"A fifteen year old girl and a seventeen year old boy."

"Do they live with you?"

"No. With their mother. She poisoned them against me and they don't want too much to do with me. It sucks, but not much I can do about it. She told the Judge a bunch of lies and they took her side. I see them the odd time, when they want money or something. She's ruined them."

"What do you mean?"

"They are spoiled, rude, entitled brats. The courts sided with her. She told them all these lies about me. How I abused them and shit. I didn't but what you gonna do? The judge believed her bullshit. Her lawyer was a real shark and he found some psychiatrist to give his opinion. She paid the guy to tell the courts that they'd be better off with her. They aren't, but I can't afford to get my own guy to fix it."

"That's not good. Why would she lie?"

"Money. She wanted me to pay her child support. I have to support her. She doesn't really want the kids all the time. She just wanted the money. It's not fair, but that's the system."

"My ex doesn't pay support and doesn't want the kids. He found a girlfriend and needs all his money for her."

"That isn't right. You need to get a lawyer and get him to pay child support. It's the law. If you have the kids than he has to pay."

"He said he'll be fair."

"Riiight. Like my ex was fair."

"My friend is a lawyer and she's helping me out with the court stuff. I don't want her to do too much though because I can't afford to pay her. Maybe if Craig sells the house and gives me my share I'll be able to afford for her to do more. Until then I'm kind of screwed. I don't want to upset him."

I can feel the tears pushing behind my eyeballs, as I talk about all that I've lost, my husband, my house, my life. I have the kids though and Al doesn't have that, so I'm better off than he is. The poor guy. I can't imagine turning my kids against Craig. I mean I really can't. It wouldn't be fair to the kids. They need their dad and they want a relationship with him. If he'd just show up, they would have one.

"Is the house up for sale?" Al asks.

"No. He lives in it with his girlfriend. He says he'll sell it when he's finished doing some work on it."

It is hard when I drive by the place. Seeing my house and knowing that I no longer live there. Knocking on the door of my own home because I can't just walk in tears me apart. I feel left out in the cold standing there waiting for him to open the door. It is such an odd feeling to not belong somewhere you once did. It's my house and yet it's no longer my home. I am no longer welcome inside it, not without his permission. The thought of it rips me apart.

"Where do you live?" He asks me and I cringe.

"With a friend. I have to find a new place, but it's so expensive. I don't have a lot of money. Maybe once I find a job."

Rents in the city are double what I receive from welfare. I don't know how I'll be able to get a place here, we'll have to move to the furthest suburb to be able to afford a two bedroom place. The news is always going on about the higher costs of housing one minute and then reporting on how cost of living hasn't gone up the next. Not sure about inflation. All I know is the price of food and shelter is always going up. The prices of the things we need to live have skyrocketed, making it harder and harder to survive.

"You don't have a job?"

"Not yet. I stayed home with the kids. Craig didn't want them to be in daycare. My job was to take care of the kids."

"So what kind of skills do you have?"

"Not sure. Charlie, she's my lawyer friend, she tried to help me write a resume, but I don't really have any marketable skills. I've applied at some of the fast food places."

"Shit."

"It sounds worse than it is. What do you do for a living?"

"I have a job. Women always want to know how much a guy makes and if he has any money. Are you one of those kinds of women?" His voice is full of accusation.

"No. Not at all."

I shrink down into my seat. I'm not a gold digger. I don't want to date a man for his money. How can I tell him this? That's not what I meant. I think I need to change the topic of conversation. I realize I'm beginning to sound like a loser who doesn't have anything to offer a man and now he thinks I'm some gold digger. I've upset him and I don't want to do that.

"How is your steak?"

"It's good. How's the pasta?"

"Good."

It was the cheapest thing on the menu. I tried to order just a side salad, but Al insisted I get a real meal. I didn't want him thinking I was some expensive date, so I got the next cheapest thing I could find. Craig was always after me to get the cheapest thing. I'm sure Al appreciates that I don't cost too much as a date, well except the wine he keeps ordering for me. The food is good and I am beginning to relax a bit, that might be due to the two glasses of wine I've already drank.

He orders me another glass. I feel drunk.

"So babe, what do you think? Do you like me?"

"Yeah."

I do. He's funny. Kind of cute in his own way and he's been so nice to buy me dinner. I'd like to see him again, get to know him, maybe even be his girlfriend.

"You want to go back to my place and get naked?"

Panic flares up hot inside me. That is more than I bargained for on a first date. I'm not ready to go to his place for sex? The pictures of his naked maleness come to mind and I feel the blush in my face. Maybe that's just the wine.

"I'd rather date a bit more first. I mean, we just met and I've never been with anyone but my ex. I need more time

"Come on babe. It's all good. You and me. Some fun?"

I feel pressure. Like I need to do what he wants, so he'll like me. So he'll be happy with me. I think of the kids. I'm a mom. Mom's don't jump into beds with complete strangers. They don't. Right? I guess some do, but I'm not that kind of mom. I want to be good. I want to be loveable. I don't want to make a mistake.

Maybe this is just another test to see if I'm a good girl or not.

"I need more time." I say.

"So you don't like me?"

"I like you."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I don't want to sleep with a guy on the first date."

"Oh come on we're adults. Those stupid dating rules don't matter."

"Please don't. I just can't yet."

Oh no. He's going to be mad at me. I don't want him to be mad at me. I feel uncomfortable, like a light is being shone on me, everyone is looking at me and I can't get away from their gaze.

"Really?" He asks.

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"No. No. It's all good. I have to use the bathroom, be right back."

He leaves the table to go to the back of the restaurant where the bathrooms are. I feel bad. I do. I mean he did buy me this nice dinner. He is right we are adults. I don't know what dating as an adult means. I'm not sure what is acceptable and what isn't. Did I do the wrong thing?

I really haven't been with anyone but Craig. I don't know if I can be with anyone else. The idea of it is scary. I mean what if I can't. I quickly send off a text to both Lindsay and Charlie asking them what they'd do.

**Lindsay:** _Is he hot?_

**Me:** _He's OK._

**Lindsay:** _Do you want to fuck him?_

**Me:** _I'm not ready._

**Lindsay:** _Then don't. It's whatever you want to do._

**Charlie:** _Don't have sex with him. You don't have to do anything you don't want to._

OK. I'm good. I haven't broken some dating rule. I feel better about it. I don't want to have sex yet. I want to get to know more about him first. Date him more and maybe have a relationship with him, then sex. A huge weight lifts off me and I feel lighter, more at peace. All is good.

When he comes back from the washroom, we can talk a bit more then he'll go to his house and I'll go back to Lindsay's place. All will be good because I haven't broken some rule. I haven't made a mistake.

"Do you want anything else?" The waitress asks me.

"No, I'm good. I don't know if my date will want anything else. You'll have to ask him when he gets back."

"OK."

I wait.

#

#

#

#

# Rose

I grabbed a couple of jars of already made pasta sauce at the grocery store on the way home. It's cheating. I feel bad about not making it from scratch for my family, but I just don't have time.

Everyone, except Alexa who has a class, sits around the table. I bring out the garlic toast, which I cheated again and bought a loaf already slathered in garlic butter and packaged in a foil bag to bake in. To top it off, I even broke down and bought salad in a bag instead of making it myself. The convenience of this processed food is handy, but not as nutritious or good as when I make it all from scratch.

I feel a bit guilty. Still, it's better than ordering a pizza or eating out.

"How was school today?" I ask

"Good." Aiden and Isabella say at once.

"Aiden. How did the football game go?" I ask.

"We lost."

"That's too bad. Did you make any plays?"

"No."

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it. Isabella had a Dentist appointment and no cavities. Though, the wisdom tooth may still need to be pulled, nothing definitive yet. Fingers crossed it comes in without any issues."

"Like anyone cares about my teeth mom. What about Jessica's job?" Isabella says.

"I will talk to Jessica about her job after dinner." I say.

"Why not now?" Isabella says.

"What job?" Gus asks and I realize I forgot to tell him about my shock of the day.

"Sharon told me that she was served at McBurger by Jessica who seems to have a job there."

"Jessica is this true?" Gus asks.

She only nods and keeps eating.

"She's been skipping school too." Isabella says in a tattling tone.

Jessica's head comes up and she looks at me with shock on her face before indifference comes over it and she just shrugs then goes back to eating.

"What do you mean she's skipping?" Gus asks.

"This is hardly dinner table conversation and none of your business Isabella. Your father and I will talk to Jessica about this later." I say.

"Wait. I want to know now, what do you mean she has been skipping?" Gus says.

"The Vice Principal called me into his office to tell me Jessica has not been attending classes and all phone calls to inform us about this have been going to her cell phone and not the home phone. She will be expelled if she continues."

"Jessica is this true?" Gus asks.

She just shrugs and keeps eating.

"We can talk about this after dinner. Right now I want to have a pleasant meal and get caught up on everyone else's day." I say.

No one else says anything and an uncomfortable silence descends on the table. Isabella is chomping at the bit to find out what we are going to do about her sister's behaviour. Jessica only sits picking at her food like she does every day and Aiden is shovelling as much into his mouth as humanly possible.

After everyone is done I ask Aiden and Isabella to clear the table while their father and I go into the other room to talk to their sister. Both groaned loudly.

"Why are we having to do the work when we weren't the ones skipping school?" Isabella pushes. She always pushes.

"Because I told you to. Now unless you want to be grounded too, I suggest you get clearing the table."

Jessica, Gus and I sit down in the living room. She curls up into the chair, doesn't look at us and says nothing. Frustration is swirling around my gut. She should be freaked out, scared, and begging for forgiveness, not this cold detached act.

"Why aren't you going to school?" I ask.

She shrugs.

"Answer your mother." Gus says.

"I don't feel like going." Jessica says.

"Why not?" I say.

"It's boring."

"It's supposed to be." I say.

"What are you doing instead?" Gus asks.

She shrugs and we both look at her. Gus asks again.

"Nothing. Hanging out." She says.

"Nothing? Well you can do nothing in class." Gus says.

She shrugs.

"And what's this about you having a job? You aren't going to class, yet you go to work?" I say.

"It's no big deal. Sadie works there and got me on."

"No big deal? It is a big deal. Your job is school. That's enough. You have a lifetime to work." I say. "And who is Sadie?"

"What do you care?"

I'm stunned. What do I care? Like I'm some stranger instead of her mother. It feels like a knife has cut into my guts and left me bleeding. Of course I care. It's her future I care about.

"It's my job to care. I'm your mother. I'm supposed to care."

"Not all mothers care about their kids." Her eyes bore into me.

"Well I do care. Your future is at stake here Jessica and if you don't go to school you won't get an education and without one of those you won't be able to get a good job."

"I have a job."

"I said a good job. That one will not pay the bills when you are older. You need a better job than a minimum wage one."

No way are we going to be supporting her. We will help her get her education, a good start in life, then she will need to go out into the world and support herself. Just like we had to.

"Why did you get a job?" Gus asks.

"Something to do."

"Do you need money for something?" He asks.

"Not really. I like working there it's fun."

"Well you have to focus on school. You will have to quit your job and you are grounded for a month. I want you home after school everyday and no going out on the weekends." I say.

"I'm not quitting my job. I'll go to class. OK?" She says.

"No. Not OK. Definitely not OK. You will do as you are told or else..." I threaten.

"What? You'll do what?" She challenges.

"You'll be grounded." I say.

"And no allowance." Gus says.

I can't even tell if she is listening. I can feel the anger growing. What else can I do to her? I am getting pissed. She is not acting like she should and it's making me mad.

"And I'll take away your phone." I say.

"My phone. You'll take away my phone? Really?"

"Yes really. In fact. Give it here now." I say.

"No."

"Jessica Charlene Fischer give your mother your phone now." Gus says.

She throws it at me and I see hatred in her eyes. She hates me. I've never been so wounded. Tears sting my eyes. My baby girl hates me. I want to give her the phone back so she'll be happy, but I know to give into her would be the worst thing in the world.

I'm her parent, not her friend.

Oh how much easier it would be to be her friend. To give into her every whim and be that cool parent whom all the kids love. My kids deserve better than that. My kids deserve a parent who will make sure they make it through these years without ruining their lives.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

Jessica has stood up and is leaving the room. We're not done. She hasn't taken responsibility, accepted her punishment, or promised to do as we say.

"Out." She says.

"You can't go out, you're grounded." I say.

"Really? Watch me."

With that she opens the door and leaves. I look at her phone in my hand. She's left the house and I can't call her.

#

#

#

#

# Charlie

Drinks.

I like going for drinks. The alcohol calms the nerves.

So far, Sean seems like a decent enough guy. Nothing to write home about and I can't see this becoming anything too serious. Still he is nice. Nicer than I was expecting.

"You must have a thick skin to be a divorce lawyer, I mean I hated both mine and my ex's lawyer."

"It isn't a popularity contest that's for sure. I feel bad when I don't get a fair settlement for my clients and feel great when I do. Though even when I do get what's fair, my clients don't see it that way and hate me. It's about the law and emotion isn't supposed to factor into it, yet it does."

"You make good money?"

"I do alright. I have to work hard, if I want to be taken seriously. I can't let up for a minute. It's hard work. Long hours."

"My lawyer took me for almost everything my ex didn't take. Didn't have much in the end. I still have to pay child support, which takes a good chunk."

"Divorce is expensive. I have clients who stayed married longer than they should have because divorce was too expensive. Once divorced though, they wondered why they didn't bite the bullet sooner."

"I never wanted a divorce." He says.

"Do you want her back?"

"No. No. Not at all. She has a boyfriend, so no, not possible."

"You've been sleeping with other women."

"That's different."

"No it's not."

Great another one, this macho, hypocritical, sexism crap pisses me off. What an ass to think that way. I didn't think any man thought that old fashion shit anymore. I want to say more, but getting into an argument this early in the game never won me any brownie points with men. I've ruined more chances at a relationship by getting my back up and being the argumentative lawyer than I care to admit. Breathe Charlie and keep your mouth shut. He doesn't need to hear your opinions on the matter, he's probably heard them a hundred times already.

"She loves her boyfriend. I haven't found a woman to love, sure I've slept with a few but there was no love there, just sex. We all have needs, no harm done."

"Do you still love her?"

"I'll always love her, she's the mother of my kids."

"So fight for her."

"That ship has sailed. She's happier with Duncan and I only want her to be happy."

"I see. How many kids?"

"Two boys. Great kids. I spend as much time with them as I can. They are my life."

"Shared custody?"

"Fifty-fifty. I get them every other week. I go to their games and school events, whether or not it's my week. My ex and I seem to have figured part out at least. We co-parent well."

"That's good. Lots of couples can't co-parent and the kids are the ones who suffer. I wish I had my son all the time, but you're right about having the time for myself. The time when I can work late and go out with nice men, such as yourself."

"You think I'm nice now do you?" I nod in response to his question. "You didn't think that before."

"That's because you wanted to meet in your bedroom. I deserve to be treated better than some hooker."

"I wouldn't of paid you."

I laugh.

"OK. Better than some free ass hooker." My phone rings before I can ask another question and it's Sophie. "This is a friend, I have to take it." I say.

"Yeah sure. I've got to go to the little boys room anyway."

"Hello."

"Charlie. It's Sophie."

"Hey Sophie. Is your dinner date over already?"

Sure she gets a dinner date and I get the bedroom requests. Anger at the unfairness of it begins to boil under the surface. She is pretty, so men bring their A game when talking to her online by taking her out for dinner and wanting to get to know her. They treat her with respect. She won't have to put up with all the crap I do. I can't be upset with her though, it's men not her. I only wish I looked like her, then men would want to bend over backwards to impress me. They never want to impress me.

"He's disappeared. I don't know what to do."

"What do you mean disappeared? What happened?"

"Al, my date, he went to the washroom and never came back. The bar tender went to check on him, but he wasn't inside. He's not here. I don't know what to do. Should I call the police?"

"No. Hold off on the 911 call. Did you try calling him?" I tell her.

"Yes, but no answer."

"Were you finished dinner when he left for the washroom or just starting?"

"We were almost done."

"How did the dinner go?" I ask.

"It went well."

"The bill, was it paid?"

"No. I have it here."

Oh shit.

"Give me his number, let me try calling him."

She gives me his number and I call. One ring. Two rings and a man answers.

"Hello."

"Hi."

"Who is this?"

"Charlie. I'm looking for Sean."

Sean has just returned from the washroom and looks at me funny. I put my finger up to my lips, urging him to be silent. I shrug and give him an impish grin to let him in on the joke.

"No Sean here." The voice on the phone says.

"Oh, who is this?" I ask, like I don't know already.

"I'm Al."

"Al? The man who just stiffed Sophie with the dinner bill?"

He hangs up. The coward. I take back everything I thought about her getting the A game treatment, she just got taken by some asshole looking for a free meal. I fuckin hate men like him. How dare he. How can anyone be so mean? I ask Sean to give me a minute and I call Sophie back.

"Hun. He is fine. He ran out on you and the bill. He is a jerk." I tell her.

"What? I don't understand."

"Just pay the bill and go home. I'll call you later."

"Pay the bill? I don't have enough money to pay the bill. Oh my god. What am I going to do?"

I can hear the panicked tears in her voice and I feel bad. Well, like Sean said, I make a lot of money and I know Sophie has none.

"Hun where are you?" I ask her.

She tells me the name of the restaurant. It's not too far from where I am.

"Sit tight. Order yourself a couple of drinks and a huge desert. I'll be there shortly. Make sure you order desert, you deserve it."

I hang up and look at Sean.

"What's going on Charlie?"

"Some guy stiffed my friend for the dinner bill and she's broke. She doesn't have any money. I need to go pay her bill and get her home. I'm so sorry."

"Why don't I come with you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I don't want tonight to end yet."

He winks and I smile.

I really don't want tonight to end either.

#

#

#

#

# Lindsay

It's ten.

The kids went to bed an hour ago. I sent the babysitter home. It took hours for me to convince Sophie that they'd be all right with a sitter and I then never even left the apartment.

I haven't heard from Jon.

I tried calling again and it goes straight to voice mail, no rings.

It's too late to go for dinner now. I'm disappointed and feel pain of it below my ribs. I'm tired. A heavy sadness has replaced all the anticipation and excitement I had earlier today.

I wish I knew what happened to him.

Well. There are others. I scroll through my phone. Who do I want to see again? Joe. I haven't heard from him since our date and that amazing kiss we shared. I wonder what he's up to and quickly text him. It doesn't take long for him to get back to me.

**Joe:** Hey Lindsay how are you?

**Me:** Good

**Joe:** Sorry I haven't messaged you. I've been busy. We should get together again soon.

**Me:** What are you up to now?

**Joe:** I have my kids tonight.

**Me:** OK

**Joe:** I'll have some time next week.

**Me:** Perfect I miss you

Joe: Miss you too.

I take a selfie of a kissy face and send it to him.

**Me:** Kisses.

**Joe:** xoxoxoxox You are gorgeous. I can't wait to kiss those lips again.

**Me:** I love your kisses

**Joe:** Next week OK? I'll text you later this week.

**Me:** OK

That sucks. He could at least text with me and flirt or talk on the phone. I'm bored. There has to be someone around to have some fun with. I text a few of my regular sexting buddies and only one gets back to me – Freddy.

**Freddy:** Send me a pic slut

**Me:** What you want

**Freddy:** Your tits

I take a photo of my tits and send it to him

**Freddy:** mmmmm nice babe.

**Me:** You like?

**Freddy:** Fuck yeah.

**Me:** What are you doing?

**Freddy:** Stroking myself while looking at your tits. Send me more.

I take a few more and send them.

**Freddy:** Great tits. I want to stick my cock between them.

**Me:** You want to titty fuck me?

**Freddy** : oh ya.

We spend the rest of the evening swapping pics and fantasies by text.

**Freddy:** Are you touching yourself?

**Me:** Yes.

**Freddy:** Finger fuck pussy you whore. Are you wet slut?

I wish it was his cock filling me up. I need my vibrator. I roll over and pull it out from the side table drawer.

**Me:** Very wet

**Freddy:** You want me?

**Me:** Yes

**Freddy:** Your a cum whore aren't you?

**Me:** Yes

Freddy: You want my friends to fill you will cum don't you whore?

**Me:** Yes

**Me:** Good.

Freddy: Stick it in your ass.

**Me:** Ok.

That's a good idea. I take a butt plug out of the drawer and spread some lube on it then push the vibrator back into my pussy, until I'm really hot. Then I shove the butt plug into my asshole. I almost cum.

**Freddy:** You gonna cum?

**Me:** Yes

**Freddy:** Call me you fucking slut, I want to hear you cum.

He loves to hear me cum. I'm really loud. I call him and turn my vibrator up and listen to him tell me what he wants to stick his cock in my ass. Then he says, "Cum you fucking slut" and I scream as the wave crashes over me.

We cum together before hanging up the phone and falling asleep.

#

#

#

#

# Justine

The words on the screen blur as I type. My eyes are itchy, dry, and tired. The older I get the weaker they get. I am probably going to need reading glasses soon. Reading glasses. I massage the orbs with my fingers trying to get some moisture into them, sometimes putting a bit of pressure on balls works to ease the discomfort.

"You look tired." Gary's voice breaks into my silence.

"A bit." I stretch.

"What happened to the money in the account?" He asks.

"I haven't checked yet."

"Don't you think you should? I mean where did all the money go?"

"Probably the same place it always goes, out the window."

"I need to know where the money is going."

"Here you can update Quickbooks and find out." I stand up and hand him my laptop.

"I'm going to watch a bit of TV before bed. You do it and let me know. I had a long day at work."

"And I didn't."

"You work from home. All you do is sit at that computer, it's easier for you to figure out the money. The bank might have made an error, someone might have hacked or account or stolen our identity somehow."

I look at him.

"Seriously? Every time you start freaking out about where the money goes and I give you the software's reports, it's never stolen."

"You need to find it. This is bullshit Justine. Why don't we have any money in the account? We both work."

"I don't know. It just goes. It gets spent."

"We need a budget."

I laugh.

"A budget? Us? Every time we try to budget, you start freaking out and can never stay on it. I don't have the energy for this right now. The money was spent. You want to find out how? Here's my computer. You want a budget? You make one, maybe you'll stick to it if you make it. You never stay on the ones I make. I'm going to bed."

"Justine. What the hell? We have no money and you're acting like it's no big deal. Are you for real?" His voice is getting loud.

"Be quiet or the kids will hear you."

"Look. This is serious. You should care where the money goes. I work hard and it's gone. Do you know how embarrassing it is to go to pay for something and have no cash to pay for it?"

"Not really. There's always cash. Maybe if you knew how to do the banking from your phone you wouldn't be embarrassed because you'd be able to transfer funds without calling me."

"I think we need separate accounts."

"Separate accounts? This crap again? We're married. Everything is joint for a reason. You spend more than I do, so how in the world do you think separate accounts is going to be better?"

"I do not. I work to keep you living in the lap of luxury and there is nothing left for me at the end of the month."

"I work too."

"You call this work? You sit on your ass all day. I have to clean up the house, take care of the kids, and work a physically exhausting job. You just sit there doing who knows what."

He is right there. I can't take care of the kids or clean the house. I do spend most of my time on the computer. My eyes can attest to that fact. I'm useless. I'm a failure. I'm a terrible mother. I'm a worse wife.

"Fine I'll up date Quickbooks and print off the reports. Get out of my office and go watch TV."

I push him out the door and slam it in his face before turning and leaning my back against it. I am hurt. A deep cut penetrates my calmness and opens something deep inside. I can feel the tears burning at the backs of my eyes. They aren't dry anymore. My body is tired and weak. I slide down the door to sit, my knees curled up into my chest.

I hold my breath.

I hold the pain.

I push it down.

Tears slip over the bottom lids and fall down my face. I want to scream out in agony, but I can't. I don't want anyone to know how much pain I'm in. No one cares if I hurt and as long as they don't know, they won't reject me, they won't be able to prove that they don't care about me. They won't be able to let me down.

I don't matter.

My feelings don't matter.

I'm here. I exist. I am nothing.

Gary tolerates me. He'd never leave or cheat because he's perfect.

He'd be happier if I wasn't here. If I'd leave. If I was dead. They'd all be happier without me. I am nothing. I am a burden. I am in the way. No one wants me around. No one cares if I'm here or gone. I'm no good. I can't get anything right. I'm not good enough.

They deserve a better mother. A better wife.

I pull the pain in tighter.

My throat is burning with it.

I can't let one sob escape.

I will not cry.

I will not cry.

I will not cry.

#

#

#

#

# Charlie

We walk into the restaurant and find Sophie sitting alone in a booth. She's been crying, her eyes are red and puffy. Anger flares deep in my core. How could he do this to her? Doesn't he understand how fragile she is?

"Sophie."

"Oh Charlie."

The tears start falling again and I want to punch someone. It's not fair. Men can't treat women like this and get away with it. They need to be held accountable and yet they aren't. What kind of person would do this? What kind of man?

"Do you want me to find out where he lives and egg his house?"

"No."

"I know. I'll set up a fake online profile and mess with him like he did you. Let him know what it feels like to be treated like this."

"You couldn't."

I know I couldn't. That's not the point of this wishful thinking exercise. The point is to get her to laugh, to feel better planning the revenge rather than actually going through with any of it.

"Did you order desert?"

"No. I couldn't eat anything."

I sit and move over so Sean can sit beside me.

"This is Sean. Sean, Sophie."

"Hello. I'm not usually this much of a mess."

"Hi. You look fine. The guy is an idiot."

"Why do men do that?" She asks Sean.

"I don't know. All men are dogs, some are worse than others. You can do better than him."

"Can I?" She asks.

I wonder the same thing. Not about her. I know she can do better than this Al, asshole. I mean me. Can I do better than Sean? Or is this the best I can attract? Nothing wrong with the guy, it's just that he's not what I want in a man. I want a suit with a good professional job and cultural tastes. Sean is the opposite of that. Are my standards too high? Should I just settle for a man like Sean? I am discovering that what I want and what I can have are two different things and I don't like that at all.

I signal to the young waitress.

"Can I help you?" She asks.

"A desert menu and a bottle of Pinot Noir please."

"I've had enough to drink." Sophie says.

"Well. I haven't." I say. "We need to get stinking drunk and plan our revenge on this Al."

"Charlie."

"It'll be fun."

"I can't blame him. I mean look at me." She says.

"What? You are wonderful. He didn't give you a chance and then sealed his fate when he walked out. Now it's time to get drunk eat fattening deserts and have a laugh at his expense. You are a great girl Sophie. These things happen because all that's left in the dating pool is crap."

"Hey. That's not fair." Sean says.

"Oh. Right. Present company excluded of course." I say.

The waitress comes back with the bottle of wine, three glasses and a desert menu. I order one of everything on it and pour the wine.

"I was hoping he'd be the one and then I wouldn't need to do this anymore." Sophie says.

"Well that's your first mistake, hoping. Hoping only brings disappointment." I say.

"That's not true. Hope is a good thing." Sean says.

"Really? All hope ever got me was a visit from disappointment. Nothing ever works out the way you want it to."

"That's a negative thing to say. If you have that attitude of course nothing will work out the way you want it to. You need to think positive more." Sean says.

"Think positive?" I reply. "I tried that once. It didn't work. All I got for all my positive thinking was a cheating husband, a divorce, and a broken heart."

"You can't give up." He insists.

"I haven't given up. I went out with you tonight didn't I? I'm still open to dating. I just don't hope I'll find happily ever after. Better to take things one date at a time."

"I think a life without hope isn't worth living." Sophie says.

I look at her sitting there, small and crushed. She had a crappier marriage than I did and she has nothing financially to show for it. Her life is a daily struggle, yet she still has hope? We are going to have to have a long talk about life.

"Keep dating and you'll see what I mean about hope." I say.

"What about love?" Sean asks. "Don't you want to find someone to love?"

"Love?" I scoff. "Sure I'd love to find love. I'm not dumb enough to think it will happen though. I know all men want is sex."

"That's not true. I want more than sex." He says.

"You do not. You wanted to meet me in your bedroom. Your intention was clear."

"Sure I want sex, it's important, but I also want to get to know you, and I want to find a woman to love."

"I'm just not good enough to be that woman though, right? I'm only good enough to fuck."

"I didn't say that."

"Yes you did, when you asked me to meet you in your bedroom. That told me that all you wanted from me was sex."

"And to get to know you. See if it could be something else."

"Yeah right. I wasn't born yesterday. You can't start something real when all you care about is sex. You need to get to know someone first. Build a foundation based on friendship, trust, and respect. You can't do that when your main focus is sex."

"Is it all about sex?" Sophie asks quietly.

"No." Sean says. "I want to get to know a woman. Connect with her and enjoy her company. If it was just sex I'd get a hooker."

"Then why focus on sex right away?" Sophie asks.

"Because they're men. They can't think about getting to know a woman until after they have cum. Once their small head is satisfied the one on their shoulder's kicks in and then they start finding out if the person beside them is who they want to spend time with." I say.

"You make us sound like dogs." Sean says.

"That's about right." I say.

"Then why bother with us at all?" Sean asks.

"I ask myself that question every day. Women are different to men. We want to get to know the man first. Problem is, by the time the guy has found out that he doesn't want to be around you outside the bedroom, you've already decided you want to be with him." I take a sip of wine. "Unless it's just sex. Then it's just sex."

"I don't think I could do just sex." Sophie says and I have to agree, I don't think she can. She's not tough enough. "All men aren't as bad as you make them out to be. Some are good."

"Yeah they are already married." I say.

"Hey. I'm sitting right here." Sean says.

"You are hardly the Prince Charming type. You want sex and don't want to put any effort into getting it."

"I've dated plenty of women without having sex with them right away."

"Really? So what, you see me as some whore? What makes me not worthy of dating?"

"Nothing. I took you out for drinks didn't I?"

"Only because I made you. You wanted to meet me in your bedroom."

"You're the only woman I asked to meet that way. You should be flattered that I wanted you right away."

"Flattered that you see me as a whore? A cheap slut? Something to fuck n fling."

"Who said anything about fucking and flinging?"

"Please. Stop." Sophie almost yells the words. She's shaking and looks scared.

"Look I'm sorry if you felt that way, that's not what I meant." Sean says.

"Let's talk about it later. Are you OK Sophie?"

"What's wrong with me?" She asks.

"What do you mean?" Sean asks.

"Why don't men treat me nicely? Why are they always so mean?"

"Oh Sophie. It's not all men. Not everyone is Craig or even Al. There are decent men out there. You'll find a man who will treat you good. You have to go through a lot of frogs to find a prince." I say.

"The guy who stiffed you with the bill." Sean adds. "He would have done that to any woman who went out with him tonight. He's a jerk. Nothing you can do about it. Move on and don't let them treat you this way."

"How?" She asks.

"Just don't." He says. Like that's helpful.

"Kick 'em to the curb right away. That's what I do. As soon as they make me feel bad, they're gone. No second chance." I say.

"That's not very fair." Sean says. "Guys are gonna fuck it up. It's what we do."

"If by the time a man hits his forties, he doesn't know how to treat a woman right, then I don't want him. I'm not about to teach him how to be a decent human being." I say.

"You are jaded." Sean says.

"Well. If I am it's because men have made me that way."

"I want to go home." Sophie says. "I'm tired and I want to see my kids."

"OK. Let me get the bill."

"I'm going to go home too." Sean says. "Alone."

Dinner

#

#

# Charlie

I can't fit everyone in my BMW to go to Rose's and since we are all in the city it makes more sense for Rose and her brood to come here for once. After all, they have the minivan. I said I'd host this week and the suggestion was not well received, to say it mildly. I don't understand why we have to go out there every week. It really is unnecessary. Rose insists we have to because its tradition.

Hardly a tradition. It all started after I moved out on my own and went home every Sunday to do laundry and eat a home cooked meal. However, as the family grew it got to be an obligation for me, and too much work for mom. Instead of having family dinner like normal folks, once in a while, Rose was right there to step in and take over. She insisted it continue and immediately doubled the size by including Gus' family. It's become a circus of kids, parents, and food.

On holidays, when Gwen, Greg, and Grant come home the whole house is bursting at the seams and still, Rose insists on hosting, five seniors, ten adults and thirteen children. Of course Rose always complains that the odd number of kids is an inconvenience for her plans and the reason it's an odd number of kids is my fault because everyone else was smart enough to have an even number.

Rose will always find something to blame me for.

I should have moved away like Gwen did. Why the hell didn't I?

Rose insists that Sophie and the kids come, and if they're coming, Lindsay is coming. That's five adults and two kids to fit in my BMW, which seats five, four comfortably. I could tie the kids to the roof. I could take the kids and Lindsay could drive her and Sophie in her sports car, which only seats two. Not sure if Sophie's kids would feel comfortable riding in the back with my mom.

The phone rings, its mom.

"Hey mom."

"Rose called and suggested that Gary drive in and get us for the weekend."

"She did huh. Do you want to go there for the weekend?" That would work.

"We are thinking we'll drive out on our own and we can take Davie with us."

"Davie's with David. Mom you don't have a car."

"We will use one of the co-op cars."

"You're kidding."

"All the young kids use them."

"You're hipsters now, huh."

"It really is simple, the lady here at the home helped us get a membership. We borrow a car whenever we need one."

Great, they're driving, something else for me to worry about.

"You've done this before?"

"All the time. It makes the most sense. And if Davie isn't coming we'll borrow a Smart Car."

"Mom those are go carts. Are you sure you'll feel safe in one?"

"They are so much fun to drive."

Somehow I can't see my dad fitting inside one or wanting to get into one.

"And this way we can leave when we are ready to go, instead of waiting for you to get back from your girls night."

"I didn't realize it was an inconvenience."

"Your dad gets tired so early and the late night is hard on him."

"Why didn't you say so? I don't need to go out for a stupid girls night. In fact I'd rather not, I always get home way too late."

"It's not stupid and it is important to your sister that you go."

And if it's important to Rose you know we all have to hop to. I am really getting tired of all the pressure to tow Rose's line.

"Are you and Dad managing OK?"

"Of course we are, though now that you mention it. The doctor did change your dad's heart meds and scheduled some kind of test. I can't remember what it is called. I wrote it down, give me a minute."

There is always some test and if his meds have been altered I'll need to talk to the nurse at the home to make sure they are aware of the changes. I wonder if this means he's getting worse or better.

"It's a Cardiac Catherization."

"Why are they doing that? Does he have to go in for surgery?"

"I'm not all that sure. The doctor said there were some questions about the flow of blood and wanted to measure pressure or something. It's all a bit confusing."

"I thought you said his blood pressure was going down. What changed?"

"Nothing. I don't think."

"If nothing changed then why the test?"

"I don't know dear, the doctor just wants to do one is all."

"Is dad getting worse?"

"He says he isn't."

"Since when has dad ever admitted to not being in peak health?"

"Well, that's true."

"When is his next appointment with the heart specialist? I'll go with you."

I need to find out what is going on and make sure everything is being done. Find out if things are getting worse and why this test is being done. I thought he was getting healthier, not worse. I massage my left temple where a headache is beginning to form. Another thing I need to worry about fixing. I'll Google this Cardiac Catherization test and try to figure out what is going on with dad's heart.

"On the 25th at 2."

"Ok. I'll mark it in my calendar and I'll pick the two of you up at noon. We'll have lunch." She couldn't schedule it later in the day. She has to book it right in the middle of the afternoon, which means half my day is shot. I just bet Doug will be in telling all the partners that I'm taking too much time off and he can handle the case without me. My headache is getting worse.

"That will be lovely dear. I'll tell your father."

#

#

#

#

# Justine

It's time to get to Rose's. I group text Gary, Emma, and Harper. _Let's go. Get into the car._

**Emma** _: Do I have to go?_

**Me** _: Yes_

**Emma** _: Nicole said I could go to her house._

**Harper** _: Can I go to Jack's house?_

**Me** _: No I think Wyatt's coming_

**Harper:** _Is Davie?_

**Me:** _I don't know_

**Emma** _: I don't want to go._

**Gary:** _Your aunt and uncle are expecting you._

**Me:** _It's family._

**Gary:** _Your grandparents are going to be there._

**Me:** _When are your parents getting there?_

**Gary:** _They are already there. Do we need to pick your mom up?_

**Me:** _No. She's going to walk over to Rose's_

**Emma:** _Mom you don't want to go._

**Me:** _I'm still going and if I have to so do you._

**Gary:** _I'm gonna warm up the car. Hurry up_

**Harper** _: Can I take my DS_

**Emma** _: If he takes that I'm taking my iPhone_

**Me:** _Sure. I'm taking my iPad_

**Gary:** _No one is taking anything you've got cousins to play with_

**Me:** _And they will be playing with their devices and gaming too_

**Gary:** _The car is warm are you guys coming?_

**Harper:** _5 minutes._

**Emma:** _10 minutes_

**Me:** _Give me a minute_

When I was a kid time with cousins was spent outside running around and getting dirty. Watching TV or a movie, if we ever could agree on a video to rent. There were some pretty good brawls in the isles of the video rental store, if I remember correctly even a bloody nose or two.

I used to love going to my cousin Janice's because they had horses and we would go for rides up in the mountains, while the boys rode their dirt bikes. We'd always show up back at her house in time for food, no one had to call us or text us, we just knew when it was time for dinner.

The kids will cherish the memories they from dinner at Rose's every week. I know mine are younger than Rose's crew and no longer the cute kids tagging along behind the big kids, still they will remember the fun moments. It's family after all.

#

#

#

#

# Sophie

Lindsay and I got the kids ready and we're just waiting for Charlie to get here.

"Do you think Harper will be there?" Wyatt asks.

"I am sure he will be." I say.

"He's funny."

I smile. He is so excited to be going there, I wish I was. I'm still feeling embarrassed about what happened last time. They were so kind. Lindsay and Rose's family have been so wonderful. I don't know what I'd do if they hadn't given me so much help. I want to do something to show them my appreciation, but I don't have any idea what to do.

I don't deserve all this kindness. Just the thought of their generosity stabs me with pain and brings tears to my eyes because I know that am not worthy of it. I don't deserve it and I can never pay it back. I never received such support before, not like other people do. Other people deserve support. Others are loved, not me. It feels wrong. I'm not used to people being so helpful, so kind, so generous. It makes me nervous. It makes me want to cry.

I want to stay in my room and never come out.

It is so different from what I'm used to that it makes me uncomfortable and wary. I am scared to find out what they are going to want from me. What I will have to do to pay them back. Worse, I am terrified that they will see that I am nothing. That they will realize, I don't matter and don't deserve any of this. Then I'll be right back where I started. Alone.

Will I be able to survive when they toss me aside?

'Stop it Sophie.' A voice deep inside me yells, startling me. 'Friends. That is what real friends do, get over yourself.' Friends. I have to do something to show them I deserve to be their friend, that I deserve all their kindness. What can I do? How can I repay them?

#

#

#

#

# Rose

I am thrilled that Sophie is coming. It's been weeks since I saw her and the kids.

"Mom."

"Yes Aiden."

"Can Ethan come over?"

"As long as you include Harper and Wyatt he can. Have you seen your dad?"

"No."

"Can you round up the girls and your father? I need to see them here in the kitchen."

"Do I get a cookie?"

"Sure, you can have one once everyone is here. Now go."

I pull the ham out of the fridge along with produce to make a salad. Isabella is the first to arrive and I send her to the basement to grab the ten pound bag of potatoes. I turn the oven on to preheat and prep the ham with a nice glaze and whole cloves.

"Aiden said you wanted to see me."

"Alexis you can start by making the salad."

"Steve will be here soon and I haven't finished getting ready."

"Who is Steve? And why is he coming to dinner?"

I'm so excited. Maybe she has finally met a nice boy and is going to settle into a relationship. It would be so nice to have another boy around the house.

"He's not coming to dinner. He's taking me to the football game at the University this afternoon."

"It's family day. You'll have to call and cancel."

I guess a boyfriend was too much to hope for. Why can't she just settle down?

"Mom. I'm nineteen. I'm an adult and I've got other plans for this one time. It's just one dinner out of hundreds."

"I don't care. You can't go. Everyone will be wanting to see you and visit."

"Mom. I see them every week. I'm sure they aren't going to mind."

"Who's not going to mind?" Gus says as he comes into the kitchen.

"Alexis seems to think that she is going to a football game with some boy instead of staying home for dinner."

"Who is this boy?" He asks.

"Steve. He's an Economics major at the University."

"How did you meet him?" He asks.

"At a frat party last weekend."

"Rose. She is an adult and can make her own choices now. If she wants to go she should go." I look at Gus, what alien snatched my Gus and left this imposter in his place? He knows how important Sundays are. I shake my head. "You promise to stay for dinner next week and not make a habit of skipping Sunday dinner?"

"Yes I promise." Alexis says.

"Help your mom first and then you can go."

"But." I start.

"Rose, it's just one day. The world won't end, trust me."

"Why don't you both have dinner with us before you go?"

"The game starts at one. We want to get there by eleven for some of the tailgate party."

Tailgate party? All she does is party.

"Well. If it's OK with your father than I guess you can go. But make the salad first and help your sister peel the potatoes."

I am disappointed and upset that Gus is allowing her to go even though he knows family time is important to me. Now is not the time to discuss it with him, but we will be discussing it.

"Alexis gets to skip family dinner and I have to stay? That's not fair." Isabella drops the bag of potatoes on the counter.

"When you're nineteen, we will discuss your options. Until then, grab a peeler and get working on those potatoes. Now where is Aiden?"

"Can I have my cookie now?"

"Yes. Yes. Have a cookie. You need to help your dad with the yard work this morning."

"Do I have to?"

Why does he keep asking? It's not like the answer ever changes. He grabs two cookies out of the jar and I give him a look to say, 'what do you think you're doing young man?'

"What? One for helping dad and the other for getting the girls."

"Fine. I guess. Just do a good job out there."

"He always does a good job, don't cha son." Gus tosses his hair and bends over the jar to get a cookie for himself. I wonder if there are any left or do I need to bake a couple dozen? It warms my heart to see the two of them, father and son, bonding, even if it's over a cookie jar. The girls and I have our bonding time too, here in the kitchen. I hand a knife to Alexis so she can cut the vegetables for the salad. Isabella has started in on the potatoes with a sour look on her face.

"Wait a minute, where's Jessica?"

"In the bathroom. She'll be here soon." Aiden says.

"She better hurry up there is a lot to do before everyone gets here. Alexis help me get the ham into the oven."

Alexis opens the oven door and there is no heat coming from the oven. It should have preheated by now. I shut the door and fiddle with the knobs. Nothing happens. I smack it with the flat of my hand and the lights do not come on. Great, just what I needed today.

"Gus the oven isn't working."

Thank God for Gus, he can fix anything.

I like to watch him work, something about a man at work, physical work, using his muscles to fixing something for me. I always feel so loved when he is doing stuff around the house to make our life easier, smoother, and better. It feels like we are working together to build this wonderful life. He takes such good care of me. I step beside him and give him a hug as he takes the oven apart and I peek over his shoulder. I didn't even know that part could come off. What would I do without this handy man of mine?

"What's the hug for?" He asks.

"Being my big strong man and fixing my oven."

"I haven't fixed it yet. Don't know if I can fix it."

"You will. You always do." I smile and kiss him on the cheek. "We can get the rest of dinner started while you get it working."

Jessica finally comes in and the four of us, Alexis, Isabella, Jessica, and I, cut vegetables, peel potatoes and put them into a pot to boil on the stove. I try to engage the girls in chit chat, but they only complain about having to peel potatoes while Aiden gets to mow the lawn. Can they ever be content?

"It looks like I need to get a new fuse. I'll have to run to town and maybe into the city to find one."

"That will take too long. I have to get the ham in so it will be ready."

"Can you Bar B Que it?" Gus asks.

"Maybe. I don't know, never tried."

"I'll start up the Bar B Que and try. I bet it'll be delicious."

"Girls wrap the potatoes in foil for the Bar B Que."

If I'd known we'd end up Bar B Quing I would have bought hamburgers and hotdogs instead of a ham. Hopefully the rest of the day will go smoothly.

#

#

#

#

# Lindsay

Surprisingly, this second round with Charlie's family is working out better than the first round. I'm having fun, but that might be the wine talking. I brought extra bottles to keep everyone's glasses full. Rose is a lot more fun with a couple glasses in her and Justine even opens up a bit more with a glass in her hand.

Charlie and I set up a wine bar and I pour everyone a drink. Sophie is in the kitchen with Rose chatting and fussing over dinner. I hand them each a glass. Charlie makes sure her mom and the other moms have full glasses before we go looking for Justine.

We find Justine sitting in the corner reading a book looking so sad and alone. When I'm around no one is allowed to be sad, alone, or without a glass of wine. I plop into the seat beside her and ply her with a nice Merlot.

"Thank you." She takes the glass with a quiet smile.

"What are you reading Justine?" Charlie asks.

"One of Rose's novels."

"A fairy tale romance then. My sister is so blind to what men and relationships are really like. All she knows is Gus and what those stupid books tell her about love and men."

"I take it you're not a Romance fan." Justine says.

"No way. That smut feeds on the hopes of little girls and gives them unrealistic expectations of men and relationships. Men don't act like that."

"Is there lots of sex in that one?" I ask.

The really erotic books filled with sex are the best ones. It seems like everyone has read the latest mild BDSM trilogy. Not many will admit to reading it, but it sure sold a shitload of copies and made its author a millionaire. I loved them and the movies.

"The usual sort, lots of heaving breasts and large phallic objects." Justine says. "Nothing real. A lot of wishful thinking. But it's something to read and Rose doesn't have much else to choose from."

"I love a good romance novel." I say. "The steamier the better."

"Let me guess the popular BDSM trilogy?" Justine asks.

"They were tame. I've read kinkier, I still loved the books though. Great story."

"You enjoy any book with sex in it." Charlie says. "Even hyped up –"

"You secretly read the books and loved 'em." I say.

"The marketing and the fact it started out as fan fiction of a highly popular teen series, is why it made so much money." Charlie starts in. "Which, besides the writing, is the main problem I have with it. Now there are all these young innocent girls running around thinking that story is a romantic loving relationship."

"It is." I say.

"It isn't, it's abusive."

"It is not. He loves her and wants to take care of her. He protects her and gives her whatever she needs."

"If she does as she's told like a child, lets him do things to her, and makes him happy. He wants to dominate her by controlling her and he doesn't care about her happiness or her wants. As soon as she stops making him happy he'd toss her for another one without a thought."

"He loves her, he wouldn't hurt her. He only wants to take care of her. It's not abuse, he's so powerful and knows what he wants. He gives her everything including mind blowing sex. Men like him are hot. His love is so intense."

"What about the broken girl from his past that shows up? He destroyed her and when he was done threw her away with no thought for her mental well being."

"She was probably already like that. Besides, he didn't love her."

"So it's OK for a man to abuse a woman for sex he doesn't love? That proves men don't care about the harm they do to the women they sleep with."

"If a woman is emotionally unstable that's hardly the man's fault. Charlie you think every guy is an abusive, cheating, liar. Fuck it's only a story."

"Look. Rose has the series right here." Justine says and Charlie groans.

Well, what do you know Rose has a secret naughty side, way to go Rose. I wonder what other erotica books she has in her personal library. Now I understand why Gus is still around, kinky sex.

"What do you read Charlie?"

"Give me a dark fantasy story any day, lots of swords, blood, and killing off heroes. A murder mystery, a good spy story, horror books."

"I think there might be something psychologically wrong with you." I say.

"I prefer non-fiction myself." Justine says.

"You don't believe in romance?" I ask.

"No." Justine says. "I'm sure it exists, but it's not my thing. Romantic gestures are lost on me and make me uncomfortable."

"Why would you feel uncomfortable?" I ask.

That is silly. Who'd feel uncomfortable being swept off their feet by a romantic man? I love romantic gestures. Flowers, dinner, candle light. A romantic weekend get away is my favourite. Some cabin in the woods, with a roaring fire, just the two of us naked on a rug with wine and soft music. Sigh. Is there any better way to spend a weekend?

"I don't know. I'm weird that way. Romance feels like a manipulative lie to me."

"Gary didn't make Romantic gestures when you met?" I ask, disappointed.

"He did. Flowers, dinners, romantic weekends away. Each time I told him to be real and not to bother."

"I'm with you Justine." Charlie says.

"How did you two meet?" I ask.

"He was dating the older sister of a friend of mine. My friend invited me over for Thanksgiving dinner and Gary was there with his girlfriend. We both hung out there occasionally and got to know each other. When his girlfriend dumped him, he looked me up. I believe he found me in the phone book."

"Do they even have phone books anymore?" Charlie asks.

"Was it love at first sight?" I ask.

"Hardly. How did you meet your ex husband?"

"The first one, I met in high school, I got pregnant and we got married, I was sixteen. It didn't last. I met my second husband at some society party a girlfriend took me to. She'd taken me with her to look for a rich man and he was the richest I found."

"Married rich. How was that?"

"Lonely and profitable. He worked and travelled so much I barely saw him and I was more of a guest in his life than his wife. I'd get whatever crumbs of attention and love that he'd throw my way. I didn't marry him for his attention."

"There is more to life than money." Charlie says. "Though money does make life a lot easier."

"True and my pre-nup made my life very easy."

"Why are you always defending romance then?" Charlie asks. "You of all people should know men are not romantic and don't love women."

"Men are great." I say. "I had plenty of lovers over the years to be romantic with and since my divorce, I've had one hell of a lot of romance. Give me hot take me now, fuck my face sex with candles, wine, and flowers any day."

"That's just hot sex, not love or romance. You're kind of proving Justine's point about it being manipulative."

"Not all men are terrible." Justine says.

"Would you say that your marriage is the stuff of Romance novels?" Charlie says.

"Far from it. But I'm not romantic. Gary was romantic at first, and Gus must be because Rose needs romance obviously." Justine says and holds up the book she was reading as evidence.

"I bet he is and from these novels I'd say he must also be one hell of a good lover. Rose is one lucky lady to share a bed with him." I say.

"I don't know. Never asked, never really cared to know about my sister's sex life."

"I understand that." Justine says. "Just the thought of it feels like a sacrilege."

"My sex life is hardly up for discussion, but dinner is." Rose says "I can't believe you're talking about my love life."

How do Rose and her parents do it? They always seem to enter a room as if on cue. It's spooky. Maybe they stand around the corner and eavesdrop until that moment they want to step in and shut down the conversation.

"We are talking about how we don't want to know about your sex life and how you are dumb enough to believe these romance novels. You have no idea what men are really like." Charlie spits back.

"I know what men are like and I'll have you know Gus is romantic, just like the men in those books and he makes me very happy."

"I knew it." I say.

"Now can we eat dinner?" Rose turns and walks out of the room.

#

#

#

#

# Justine

I thought Rose was gonna flip out about the whole sex thing, but she didn't, I'm impressed. Having Lindsay around may be loosening her puritan morals. She needs to let loose a bit and stop being such a prude all the time, she might be more fun to hang around.

Dinner was good. Never had a Bar B Qued ham before. Gus did a good job on the Bar B Que, not so much with the cleaning up. The men left that to us women, like usual. Rose, Charlie, Sophie and the three grandmothers are moving like a beautifully choreographed unit. Lindsay and I seem to be the comedy relief in this dance, always bumping into something and breaking things.

Rose finally delegated Lindsay to bar tender, keeping everyone's glasses full of wine and I've been pushed to the outskirts of this little scene, more as an observer than a participant. My mother-in-law sends a glare my way. What did I do this time? Mrs. Barbara Fisher, my mother-in-law, is a lioness and I'm always her prey, never good enough for her son. Rose is her favourite daughter-in-law and I can't begrudge her that. Rose fits in with her value system, her traditional attitudes, I do not.

Funny thing about this is that she trained her boys to be supportive, loving, and helpful. Gary just took her teaching further than she'd intended and became a modern man of feminist equality. More out of necessity than desire. Harper is fortunate that Gary does so much around the house and there aren't blatant gender roles at home. He'll grow up knowing that he has to step up and help out in the home and with the kids. That it's a real partnership. Aiden on the other hand, his role model is firmly rooted in old-fashioned gender roles. It will be tougher for him to be an equal partner or to find a woman who is like Rose and will wipe his ass.

Then again, what do I know? Maybe Harper will be a total Neanderthal and Aiden will be the modern man. Only time will tell.

Is it fair to expect genders to be the same? Women and men are biologically different. We are emotionally different and our brains work very differently. Yet, equality has resulted in the genders striving to be the same, not just equal. Women have taken on more masculine behaviours and men are being emasculated all for the sake of equality.

If most of the marriages end in divorce because we can't figure out how to get along, how to be equal, and how to communicate, how will our children find successful relationships? Are they doomed to the world of divorce? Or will they choose to never marry and go from relationship to relationship with little concern for their responsibilities?

I wish my mind would stop asking these questions. Would stop thinking about these things that have no right answer. I need to focus my mind. Reading and working are the best ways to distract my mind, so that it is too busy to waste time and energy on philosophical questions.

The dishes and clean up is monotonous and my mind won't quit. As soon as the kitchen is clean I'll go back to reading that book. It is pure fiction, but where is the harm in losing oneself in a story. A fantasy. A dream. A world where things make sense and everything ends with neat knots and bows? Even if it isn't anywhere close to reality.

"More wine?"

Lindsay says as she pours the dark red liquid into my glass. I'm glad she came this week. Her energy fills the room and keeps everyone in good spirits, even Rose seems happy to have her around today. Will wonders never cease?

"Thanks." I say.

"Rose your man can cook. I've never tasted such a delicious ham." Lindsay says.

"I never would have thought to Bar B Que the ham if the oven hadn't decided to stop working today. Gus says it's probably a fuse and he'll fix it tomorrow."

"A man who cooks and fixes things. Rose you hit the jackpot with that one. Hold tight to him because girlfriend, he's a keeper." Lindsay says as she fills Rose's glass with wine.

"Yes he is and he's mine, hands off."

"I'd never even consider it. The man's too smitten with you to stray. I know cheating husbands and he's not the type." Lindsay says and Rose blushes with pride. "Next time though, how about the guys do the dishes."

"They don't know how." Rose says.

"Gary does." I say.

"Gary shouldn't have to be doing dishes." My mother-in-law says. The lady hates me. "He works hard and then comes home to do more work and take care of the kids. It really is too much to expect from a man."

I don't say anything. It's pointless to say anything because she won't listen and we'll end up fighting. She doesn't agree with anything I do and can be quite cruel with her words. I've taken the bait a few times when anger overtakes my senses and strike out without thinking. It never accomplishes anything except to upset Gary. He is a momma's boy, all the Fisher boys are. Rose and Carol are the perfect wives for her boys, me, I'm the devil incarnate who needs to be eradicated from the family. OK maybe not that extreme, but pretty close.

"We're almost done and then we can relax." Rose says.

I wonder if that woman knows how to relax. She's constantly moving, tidying, cleaning, and doing tasks I did not know needed to be done.

#

#

#

#

# Sophie

I am happy.

Today has been wonderful.

I forgot about all my struggles and problems.

Life is good.

The house is filled with laughter and warmth. You know everyone here is loved, cherished, and wanted. Knowing this cuts into me because it reminds me how unwanted, uncared for, unloved I am. The pain of this thought rips through my happiness and claws at my eyes.

No.

Not now.

These thoughts will not invade me now. I'll welcome them at night in my bed.

For now. I will enjoy myself. I will pretend I belong. I will try to fit in.

#

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# Rose

Dinner was a success.

Gus was beaming with pride with every compliment he got and I am so proud of him. He did an amazing job with that ham. I couldn't have done it without him. Lindsay was gushing about how wonderful his is and he is. I'm so proud to be his wife. I've had so much wine my mind is swimming in it.

"Coffee is on." Justine announces.

"Thank you. I need some." I say.

"Why don't us girls go into the living room for coffee and tea?" My mom suggests.

Good idea. The men are out in the garage, probably watching the football game and drinking beer. That's their weekly ritual. Beer and football. The kids are either in their rooms or in the family room down in the basement. The house is full and I love it.

Mom, Barbara, and Betty set out the coffee, tea, and plates of baked goods. Lindsay adds more wine and glasses filled with the red and yellow liquids. Soon all the women have forgotten the coffee and tea in favour of the wine.

"Getting old sucks. My dry hair has turned oily and my oily skin is so dry. I've had to change all my beauty products." Justine says. "Anyone else find this?"

"My body is one big change. I swear I'm going through early menopause." Charlie says. "It's like I don't know my own body anymore."

"Just wait 'til you hit menopause for real. Crappy time but life is so much better after." My mom says. "It's like life began at 60."

"I thought life was supposed to begin at 40." Sophie says. "At least that's what my mom is always saying."

"40 is the new 20." Charlene says.

"In my twenties it was all weddings and babies, and not necessarily in that order." Barbara says.

"Mine too." Mom says.

"I was working as a secretary in my twenties." Justine's mom says. "It wasn't until my thirties the babies came along."

"In my twenties I was busy with University and then starting my career." Charlene says.

"I was in University, started my career, met Gary and started a family." Justine says. "Man, I was busy back then."

"I worked in retail and partied until I met my second husband. Then I was a trophy wife, my job was to look good and make my husband look better." Lindsay says. "Rose?"

"I was pregnant the whole time."

"That was my thirties" Sophie says.

"In my thirties I was raising four teenaged boys." Barbara says.

"I was raising the girls and trying to keep them from either getting pregnant, contracting AIDS, or throwing their lives away on drugs." My mom says.

"We weren't that bad." Charlene and I say at the same time.

"All three of you were always trying to get away with something and I'm sure you did. Gwen was the wildest one. Never could keep her reigned in."

"Oh my gawd. AIDS. I don't even think of that anymore," Justine says, "in high school it was all anyone talked about. Every celebrity was wearing a red ribbon and now there is a ribbon colour for every cause on the planet."

"I prayed every night my boys would be safe." Barbara says. "AIDS was a terrible thing and everyone who got it was ostracized. It was gay disease at the beginning and gay men were being beat to death. I remember being so scared that one of the boys would tell me he was gay. I didn't have to be, thankfully, all four are good, healthy, Christian men."

"You know Barbara, there is nothing wrong with being gay." Justine says.

"Maybe not now, but back then there was. Gay bashing was an acceptable extra curricular activity. Now. God, now if anyone dare says anything bad about them, they take their lives into their own hands. Political correctness has made being a white, straight male a bad thing. My boys weren't able to get the jobs they wanted because of Affirmative action."

"By the late 90s Affirmative action was basically done away with." Justine says.

"Glen wanted to be a cop, but they weren't taking white men because there were no spots available for them." Barbara points out. "Women and minorities got the positions."

"That was because there weren't many new positions opening up. Baby boomers weren't retiring yet, that's why Gary didn't become a pilot, there was too much competition for so few positions." Justine says.

"Gary would have been a wonderful pilot. We spent a fortune on his degree in aviation and he didn't get a job." Barbara says.

"I know. It wasn't his fault there were so few jobs in that field." Justine adds.

"Post Secondary was so expensive. I had to go to work to help put the girls through University." Mom says.

"And I thank you for that." Charlene says. "I wouldn't be a lawyer if it weren't for you and dad. Gwen wouldn't be a C-level executive without it. I know we both appreciate it."

"You think it was expensive then, have you checked the cost of tuition now a days?" Justine says. "I'm not sure how we're going to afford to put both kids through."

"Trades is where the money is now a days. If Harper can get an apprenticeship with a good trade he'll be set for life." Barbara says.

"And Emma?" Justine asks. "What do you suggest she do?"

"She can get some schooling to be a nurse or a teacher then find a man with a good job. She'll be fine." Barbara says and Justine glares at her.

What's her problem? That sounds like a great plan for all the girls. I didn't go to school like my sisters. I got married instead. Mom and Dad wanted to be fair to all their girls and since I wasn't going to go to school they gave me a big wedding and cash for a down payment on this house. At the time I thought it was only fair, but now, I understand the sacrifice my mom made.

"Starting a career at 40 was life changing." My mom says. "I'm glad I could pay for your schooling."

"You were lucky to stay home with the girls as long as you had. When Gus was in grade school, Doug lost his job at the mill and had to take a lower paying job, so I had to go to work part time with the school district. Thankfully, it gave me the same holidays as the boys."

"Twenty years in the dealerships gave me a sense of purpose after the girls were gone. Life would have been empty if it weren't for work." Mom says.

"I was in my early 50s when the last of them finally moved out. I didn't think Gary was ever going to leave."

"You loved having him live there." Justine says.

"I wasn't going to toss him out because he couldn't find a decent paying job. It was so hard for him to find something. At least he didn't go off and join the air force."

"There was no war, so would it have mattered much if he had joined the air force?" Justine asks.

"The first Gulf War was quick, but one never knew if there would be another one. The world was unstable after the wall fell, news was filled with wars and unrest."

"Everything was peaceful until 9/11." I say.

"As they say hindsight is 20/20, but at the time we didn't know what they would do."

"Nine eleven was a day I'll never forget. We were so worried about Gwen and the phone lines were busy, we couldn't get through. I was so sick with worry."

"I remember. God. What a day." Charlene says.

"The world changed that day." Justine says.

The whole room becomes heavy, as we all are silent with memories of that day. I know my mom is reliving the horror of not knowing if Gwen was alive or dead. All of us huddled around the TV watching the news, searching for a glimpse of her, and any word. Too scared we'd miss something. Too horrified we'd see something. Images of the people jumping from the windows to their deaths will forever be burned into my mind.

I don't want to think about it.

"Gwen was just fine. She got out." I say.

"Terrorists changed the way we live." Charlene says.

"Hardly." Betty, Justine's mom, says. "I remember living under the terror of the bomb. Always thinking Russia was going to send a nuke our way and that by hiding under our desks we'd survive. There has always been the threat of war and fear that we'd die any minute."

"You know I never thought the Berlin wall would fall or the world would be different than it was growing up." Barbara says. "When it did fall, it gave us so much hope for peace, but that didn't last."

"Hardly any time passed before the news was talking about the unsecured Russian weapons and speculation about terrorists getting their hands on a nuke. It was as if they expected a nuclear bomb to go off on any street corner." Mom says.

"There has to be something less heavy to talk about." I say.

#

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# 

# Justine

They call our generation the x-generation. We are a small, forgotten generation stuck between two colossal groups, the Baby Boomers and the Millennials. So insignificant we didn't even merit a proper name. Our generation was born between 1965 and 1980.

When we were born the world was smaller and the biggest evil was the television, well that and the Russians. We played outside, we read books, we talked on phones that were connected to walls by a wire and had a dial instead of buttons.

In our lifetime jobs were sent off shore. New jobs were created in the Tech industry well into our career paths, too late for most of us to switch easily. The personal computer was invented and adopted into every home. We saw VCRs, Cassette tapes CDs, Answering Machines, and whole industries come and go. Our world has been transformed by technology, what was considered Science Fiction when we were born, became reality in the 40 some odd years we've been alive.

Our generation has been tasked with making feminist equality a reality, both in the workplace and at home. With change there are casualties and our generation is plagued with divorce, job loss, and health issues. Censorship has given way to artistic freedom and easily accessible pornography.

Not all change is bad, old fashioned bigotry has been replaced with acceptance. Government sanctioned segregation is no longer law. Bad hairstyles and the worse fashions of the 80s came and left. Nothing is shocking anymore. This is the best time in the history of the Western World for women and the most stressful. Opportunities abound for anyone willing to risk grabbing hold of them. Artists have more control over their work and consumers have more choice at less cost.

But what does it all mean? How have these changes affected us on the whole?

The X-Generation is at that place in life when people reflect, change, and reposition themselves for the second half of the journey.

Life is different and yet the same. Does any of it matter? Do we?

I am brought out of my haze of thoughts by something Rose's mother, Mrs. Reed, says.

"My daughters have put themselves in danger by helping you, the least you could do is thank them. Everyone has forgotten their manners. Your generation is take, take, take without gratitude."

Sophie looks like she is about to break out into tears and that fragility is back. She is scared, no, terrified, her body has shrunk into the couch making her look so small.

"Thank you." Her voice is child like and quiet. "I do appreciate everything you all have done for us."

"Sophie. It's Ok. Everything is good." Lindsay says before getting up and sitting between Sophie and Rose, who looks put out.

"Craig has been served a restraining order, he doesn't know where you are and you're safe here." Charlie reassures her and I can see Mrs. Reed's eyes roll.

"Safe. I am sure if he knew she was here, he'd be banging at the door. What can a piece of paper do? And who paid Charlene to arrange for it?" Mrs. Reed says and I can't dispute her logic. She is right, a piece of paper can't stop him, only detour him.

"I am putting it through pro-bono. We have a small pro-bono program at the firm for this kind of thing. The divorce will be a different matter, but we'll talk about that later." Charlie says.

"Lindsay." I say, my curiosity too strong to keep the questions to myself any longer. "I am curious, why were you so quick to take Sophie into your house? It is unusual, people don't usually invite strangers to move in with them."

Stories of kindness and unusual generosity do make it onto the Social Media Viral tour every once in a while, but only because such acts are so beyond the norm. People don't go out of their way to help anyone anymore.

If I had car trouble at the side of the road when I was in my twenties, it was minutes before a man would pull over and help me. The other day I saw two young women on the side of the road and no one was stopping, not even me. They were on their phones calling for help. Strangers don't even help stranded pretty girls anymore. Too many horror stories have made the rounds about pretty girls luring men to stop so their boyfriends can pop up, beat up the poor Samaritan and steal his car. That, and people are always in a rush to get somewhere so they don't have the time or resources to help.

"Why did you? There are shelters for women like Sophie." Mrs. Reed says.

"Shelters." Lindsay's voice is filled with disgust. "Ever been to one? Ever had no option but to stay in one?"

"Well no. I didn't marry a brute." Mrs. Reed says.

"No one chooses to marry an abusive man, mom." Charlie says. "They don't walk up to a woman, beat her up, and then say hey, you want to marry me? They are much more manipulative than that."

"I know that Charlene. Your father never gave me any reasons to consider leaving for a shelter is all I meant."

"Of course not, daddy is a wonderful man." Rose says.

"It still does not answer Justine's question though, why did you take in a complete stranger?" My mother-in-law says.

"Because I could."

"But you didn't know her. What are your motives?" Mrs. Reed asks. "What do you want from this, from her, from my girls?"

"What could I possibly want? I have everything I could ever want. I can buy whatever I want."

"Are you buying Sophie?" Rose asks.

"Buying her? She's not some thing to buy and sell." Lindsay says. "She's a person who needed some help and I could help."

"Lindsay. I think we are just trying to understand what motivates someone to help someone else." I say.

"Rose said she'd have Sophie move in and no one is questioning her." Lindsay says. "Justine is storing her things. Y'all helped her out. No one is questioning your motives."

She's right. We aren't questioning each other, however, we know each other. We're family, we understand why Rose offered to take a friend in. Why Gary stepped up to fill our garage with Sophie's stuff. We don't have to ask because we know who we are. We don't know Lindsay.

"I guess we want to understand you is all. Who are you?" I say.

Lindsay says nothing for a minute and neither does anyone else. Finally, I can see the decision made in her eyes. An anger flaring up in her face, a defiance, a strength from deep down has come over her.

"Maybe because all I wanted as a child was for someone to save me and no one did. Everyone ignored what they saw. Ignored my mother's bruises, her broken arms, and her daughter. No one saved us. Doctors. Teachers. Neighbours. Family. Friends. They all turned a blind eye. I guess I saw my mom in Sophie and me in her children. I guess I just wanted to do what no one would do for me." She stands up. "Sophie I think its time for us to go home."

"Wait." Charlie says.

"I'm sorry." I say.

I mean it too. I am overcome with guilt that I pushed for an answer to satisfy my own curiosity. Though, her response has only added more fuel to my need to know more about her story, the tragedy, the struggle, how she got to where she is today.

"Back then no one asked. It was personal business and you didn't interfere." My mother-in-law says. "Back then it was still somewhat acceptable for men to do what they wanted to their wives and children. Not like it is today."

"Today you can't even spank your kids without worrying about them being taken away." My mother says and she's right.

"I'm sorry Lindsay. We should not have pushed you like that, we were curious." I say.

"I get that." Lindsay says and starts to sit down. "I just don't talk about the past. My life is now. All that is not important."

"Everything is important" Charlie says. "We're your friends and we want to get to know you."

"Well. I'm not that. I'm now. And now - we have wine." She grabs the bottle and pours wine into her glass before filling up all of ours. "Time to change the subject I think."

"You're right." I say. "Rose is going on a girls weekend to Las Vegas with her friends."

"I'm not going to Vegas." Rose says.

"Why not?" asks her mother.

"Because I can't."

"Why can't you Rose?" Charlie asks.

"I can't go without Gus and the kids."

"Sure you can." I say. "Gus and the kids will survive without you for one weekend.

"We can't afford it."

"Gus and Gary go to games all the time and those tickets aren't cheap and you are always buying the kids something they think they need. I'm sure they could sacrifice a bit, so you can go to Vegas." I say.

"A wife does not go on vacation without her husband." Rose says.

"Sure she does." Mrs. Reed says. "I used to go away on girls trips without your father all the time."

"You did not." Rose says.

"I did. Don't you remember? We never went to Vegas or anywhere too expensive but every few months the girls and I would go on a mini shopping trip, ski weekend, or a spa trip. I'd have gone crazy if I didn't get away sometimes."

"Do you remember that weekend we decided to go hiking in the mountains and we ended up getting lost up near some lake?" My mother-in-law says.

"I thought the bears were going to find us before we found our way out." Mrs. Reed says.

"It turned out that we took a wrong turn and ended up on a ten mile trail instead of the three mile one we'd planned on taking. My legs hurt for a month."

"I think that was the last time we let Janice plan anything and the last time she did anything outdoors."

Both women start laughing at some inside joke and the rest of us shift uncomfortably in our seats wondering what is so funny.

"See Rose. It's perfectly fine for you to go away with your friends." I say.

"Are you going?" She asks me.

"I don't know. Maybe. Depends on the dates etc. Work and all that." I say.

"Oh sure. You always have work as an excuse and to pay for it."

It is true, I do and unless I get another contract, I will not be going to Vegas because we really cannot afford it.

"Mom." Gus comes into the room holding the portable phone.

"Yes." Both my mother-in-law and Mrs. Reed say laughing.

"Gwen's on the phone."

He hands Mrs. Reed the phone and we inform Gus that he will have to cough up some money for his wife to go to Vegas.

"Sounds like fun. OK. Put it on the Visa, not the American Express."

That's all he says before he leaves the room.

Rose looks mystified, perturbed, and shocked. I think she's the only one who is surprised because we all know that whatever Rose wants he makes sure she gets somehow and whatever he wants, Rose moves heaven and earth to make sure happens. They love each other. Support each other. Work together to make a life they both want. How many can say that?

#

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# Charlie

Mom leaves the room to talk to Gwen. She claims we are too loud and she can't hear.

My sister Gwen is the success of the family. The one who escaped all this, became Vice President of an International publisher and travels the world. No husband. No children. No responsibilities beyond her career and herself.

I love Davie. I do. I would not want a life without him. However, I sometimes wish I'd been more like Gwen, brave enough to step out into the world alone, without all the demands of family.

I can't help but wonder sometimes, where my career would be if I didn't get married? If I didn't have to juggle being a mother and being a lawyer? If I could have focused all my energies on my career? If all my time was spent on getting ahead at the firm? Doug wouldn't be able to make my life so difficult. He wouldn't have anything to use against me. No one would be able to question my loyalty, dedication, or focus. I could have continued my education and done so much more professionally. I might have made partner by now, I might have...

That's for another life.

I have Davie.

I have my Parents.

I have Rose and her crazy demands for tradition.

I have responsibilities beyond myself.

"How is Gwen?" Mrs. Douglas, Justine's mom asks.

"You know I haven't talked to her for a few months. You'll have to ask mom when she comes back." I haven't really talked to my sister since we decided to move mom and dad into the home. Even then we only talked about the facility and how we were going to share the costs. I haven't talked to her about her life for... I can't remember. Some big sister I am. "Rose. Have you talked to Gwen lately?"

"I talked to her..." She pauses in thought. "You know I can't remember when I last talked to her."

"That's odd don't you think?" Mrs. Fisher says.

"Not really." I say. "She is a lot like Jessica, quiet and keeps to herself. Always was a private kind of person. We are all really busy and the only time she comes to town is for the holidays. Even then she's quiet and doesn't stay long."

"That's when I last talked to her. Christmas. She said everything was going well."

"She always says that." I say. "So, I guess that would be your answer Mrs. Fisher, she is doing well because that's the only answer we'd get if we had talked to her recently."

"It is a shame she never got married." Mrs. Fisher says.

"I don't know. She seems happy enough. I guess. I mean I got married and look where it got me. Marriage isn't always the answer." I say.

"She must be so lonely in New York, life is much better shared." Mrs. Fisher says.

"You'd have to ask her. I'm not sure if she feels alone or is too busy with her career to care. I'm sure she has friends to keep her company. She never has a complaint about her life, so I'd say she likes it." I say.

Gwen is always travelling and doing something amazing with her life. Her life is easy. She doesn't know what it is to struggle, fail, or be disappointed. Everything she ever wanted she got. She has the glamorous New York lifestyle.

"I have news." Mom says as she enters the room. She's vibrating she's so excited. "Gwen is moving home. I told her she could stay here with you Rose until she gets settled and finds her own place. Oh now I wish we hadn't moved into the city, she could have lived with us. Maybe we should think about moving into a new place."

"No." Hell no. It was difficult finding a decent place for them with room. They are taken care of there. They have nurses, transportation, activities, and friends. I don't have to worry about them because I know they are OK there. I need the help that their facility provides us. "Mom, Gwen will be fine here with Rose and I'm sure she'll want a place of her own. Why is she moving home all of a sudden?"

"You know, she didn't say."

"Didn't you ask?"

"Of course I did dear, she didn't give a reason, just that, it was time. I can't wait to see her. Now Rose, where are we going to put her?"

"Well. There is the basement. I guess we can clean out the family room and put her down there for now."

"Perfect. Come on let's go take a look shall we?"

Mom drags Rose down into the basement.

Gwen is coming home. Now isn't that interesting.

#

