8.11: Marital Endings and Surprising Revelations

   "This is ridiculous." I muttered to myself as I lay stretched out on the balcony's deck chair. Maya had decided that I couldn't sleep downstairs on the couch; the girls might see me and then they would know that mommy and daddy weren't getting along. I wanted to shelter my children as much as possible, but Phoebe eleven was and Marlo was seven. Old enough to be observant, yet not quite old enough to comprehend what their observations meant.

   All of this misery because I didn't think that it was worth buying the resort. So what? Why did that suddenly mean that I deserved to sleep outside like a dog? I sighed. If I slept outside, I only fueled Maya's idea that she could get me to do whatever she wished. The couch I might have slept on and obeyed, but a wooden chair? Dammit I had limits. 

   I stood up, hoping that it wasn't too late to reassemble my dignity. My ego was beyond repair, but maybe I could borrow some of Phoebe's construction paper and pink duct tape and tape the pieces onto the paper, filling in the gaps with her sketching pencils and glitter. I stood up, realizing something. It was rather chilly outside when it was three am and you were in boxers and that t-shirt you got for free after you signed up for diving lessons to find your now she devil wife. 

   I opened the sliding glass door, stepping inside the home, into the AC, which was rather nice. Inside it was pleasantly chilly, not  nature chilly. I wonder if ex-mermaids thought of inside chilly like I thought of nature chilly. After all, they lived outdoors, in nature. I had to stop lingering. I had something to say to Maya. 

   I quietly opened our bedroom door, expecting to find her sound asleep in bed. Surprisingly she was sitting on an impulse of a buy chair watching early morning soaps.

   "Maya?" I whispered, wanting to make sure that the girls didn't hear me.

   "Harbor." I heard her say, still concentrated on the television screen, in a tone I couldn't analysis. It wasn't anger, wasn't relief, wasn't sadness. What was it?

   "Mind it I sit?" I asked, silently shutting the door, then I walked over to her and sat down, not waiting for a response. "Whatchya watching?" 

   "Going for the  small talk first approach. Nice." I shrugged, then turned to watch the couple that was embracing as wistful music played in the background. "Okay... they're actually related. See she, Marybeth, was engaged o this one guy, Charles St. Patrick Sr. He slept with her mother and out of rage Marybeth's best friend, who is a guy named Frank, killed him. Or so we think. After the funeral episode  Marybeth is sneaking away from some cheap inn after having paid for this hooker, Scarlet, to come and meet her. She was going to swear off guys by banging a lady of then night, but changed her mind at the last minute after finding out that Scarlet was actually Charles in drag. Frank killed Charles' twin brother Cameron. Charles was adopted, though; he is actually Marybeth's dead father's brother."

   "That was... more than I wanted to know." I said, after she gave me a ten minute spiel about season seven's whole plot.

   "Sorry."

   "It's okay... I was thinking."

   "That's a first."

   "No, seriously. We need to  talk-"

   "About our marriage." 

   "It just... I think we..."
   "Yeah." She sighed. "You know, my... I feel like a real bitch sometimes. Usually after I say crap and all."
   "You act like one." I muttered, under my breath.
   "Ugh! See, you provoke me, you little son of a bi- oh. Hell. Still, I want this perfect family and you're preventing me from getting it, so I become pissed and go al bitchy, but if you would only, you know, let me be perfect and have this perfect family, it wouldn't happen."

   "I don't think it is all me. I think both of us need accountability."
   "Accountability can go blow itself."
   "Maya!" I exclaimed. "What the hell?"
   "I just... Excuses, right?"
   "What are we going to do?"
   "About our marriage... I don't know."
   "We have to do something. This isn't working. There's no sugar coating it, no saying maybe or lying and saying it is just a phase. We've been married for twelve years and frankly it has been down hill since Pho was a toddler."
   "I know! Open marriage."
   "What? How does that fix anything?"
   "Well... you can go find some hooker and be less stressed, causing you to be nicer to me."
   "I'm not cheating on you. That isn't a fix."

   "But I'd get to cheat on you, too. And we'd know. So in a way it isn't really cheating... You have one wrong, I've got one so there's none."
   "Or we have two. No open marriage."
   "I'm trying to come up with a solution. See? You never accept my ideas."
   "I would if they were reasonable."
   "What's reasonable, then? Tell me, dammit." Her light hearted mood disappeared, turning into an angry mood that wasn't going to be pleasant.
   "I don't know! What to other couples do?"
   "Hell, I don't know. Open marriages worked on Arrested Development."
   "One, no. We aren't doing that. Two, didn't it just create a bigger issue for Tobias and Lindsay?"
   "I don't know, I'm only half way through the season, so no spoilers." She glanced back at the television screen, where a bride was freaking out about how there was no hair spray left. "Harbor. I..." She took a deep breath. "I don't think we can do this."
   "We're headed downhill. The kids don't deserve this." I admitted and it was true. I loved Phoebe  and Marlo, I wasn't sure what I felt towards Maya, I assumed at the time it was love, but not I realized it was just lust, curiosity, attachment to all I'd ever known, and adrenaline. Children deserve a happy family and Maya and I weren't happy together; the constant bickering and petty silent treatments showed it.
   "What to they deserve?"
   "Honestly better than us fighting all the time. They deserve peace and being able to go to the movies without arguing over calories in candy and how we cannot afford the jumbo sized extra butter, extra salt popcorn."
   "So are we ending this?"
   "What the hell is this?"
   "Our marriage, Harbor." She whispered. "I knew you came in here to be serious. You came in wanting a solution and there is only one."
   "I know. Divorce."
   "Yes." She shuttered. "I guess... this really is the end of our marriage, isn't it?"
   "I never thought we'd end like this."
   "Did you think we'd ever end?"
   "Uh huh." I admitted. As soon as Maya changed I knew that we would. "Just not like this. Not at six am watching soaps."

   "Ironic, isn't it?" She said glancing at the newlyweds kissing on screen. "Everything ends and begins simultaneously."

Maya's Point of View...

   Harbor and I were getting a divorce. Lovely. I knew that things were bad, but I couldn't help but wonder why he let them get this way. Shouldn't he have realized that every time, every damn time, he denies me the privilege- no the right- to something that will make our family picture perfect, things get bad? I couldn't tell him this; he'd ignore me. Better to go along with it. It wasn't like he treated me right anyways; alone I could achieve perfection.

   I walked over to the bookcase where the phone book was perched between volumes one and two of the boaters guide to boating. Why did we need those books? Harbor wouldn't let us get a damn boat. I sighed, thinking of what else we weren't aloud to get. Maybe I will get a boat after the divorce. Maybe I'll get that diamond and emerald encrusted nail polish. Hmm... maybe I could get his money and buy what I needed. I suppose divorce would be nice, after all.

   I picked up the phone book and moved over to the couch to sit. Let's see. Divorce lawyers, divorce lawyers; that was what I needed. Harbor was going to pick his and I was going to pick mine, then we'd get together and do what people who are getting a divorce do. I thumbed to the correct page and glanced at the number.

   I stood up, grab my cell phone, and began dialing the law office's number. I wonder why you would become a divorce lawyer. It had to get pretty nasty with petty exes who were nothing like me. If anything, they were probably all needy and selfish like Harbor, never compromising.

   "Sawyer and Sawyer Divorce Lawyers, how may I help you?"
   "Um, yes I would like to get a divorce."
   "Alrighty. What's your name, please?"
   "Maya Janes, J-A-N-E-S, like the girls name, plural, not Jones."
   "Just a minute let me look you up in the city's data base." I heard the secretary click-clacking away at the keyboard for a few seconds, before she asked, "Is that your maiden name?"
   "No, it is Bayonet. B-A-Y-O-"
   "Okay." I heard more clicking and clacks before a befuddled female asked, "Um, do you go by anything else? Is Maya a middle name  or nickname?"
   "No." I said, curious as to what was going on. "Why?"
   "I'm sorry, miss, but it appears that there is no marriage file for Maya Janes or Maya Bayonet. What's you husband's name?"
   "Harbor Janes." I replied, hoping that she was just incompetent and nothing was actually wrong.
   "I'm sorry, the only thing that appears is when he was granted citizenship, w Isla hen his children were born, and that he is a city employee."
   "What showed for me?" I asked. I needed the money from the divorce; I was calling for myself, not him. "Miss, it showed that you have two children, but not citizenship or anything."

   "I am a citizen! My family has- oooh." I paused. I was a mermaid; I may have lived in Paradiso's waters since birth, but I had never actually registered to be a citizen because mermaids couldn't come into contact with humans. "Um... what is the policy for getting a license?"
   "First, both applicants must come to the Family Division of the superior Court. Did you do that?"
   "No my husband, well suppose to be, got the papers."
   "There are two one hundred dollar fees, one for the filing of the marriage application, one when the license is picked up eight days later. Did you pay either?"
   "We got a piece of paper from city hall in about an hour... no fee paid."
   "Alright." I heard her sigh.  "Miss, did you ever get a license or return the paper you signed?"
   "No..."
   "So you never filled out any paperwork, ever? Did you have any witnesses, were you symbolically married by a religious officiator or judge?"
   "Yes and no."
   "According to the government, you cannot get a divorce then."
   "What?! This is outrageous. I demand to get a divorce."
   "One, miss, you must pay fifty dollars to the court and a petition for divorce before consulting a lawyer's office, second you are no married."
   "Wait... I'm- what?"
   "You can go to the court an inquire, but I'm going to save you time and inform you that if you didn't pay an fees, didn't fill out forms, had no witnesses or anything, and followed none of the proper procedures you are not legally married."
   "I'm not married?"
   "No, miss, you are not. That is why all your file info is under the name Maya Bayonet, because, since you were never married, you name was never changed."

   "We have children together."
   "I understand that miss. You can go to court over custody, but you cannot divorce."
   "Um... what about bank accounts?" Money was what was important; not my needy, aggravating spawn.
   "Do you have any joint accounts? Are your assets under both of your names?"
   "No. Harbor has an account and the car and home is under his name, not mine."
   "Legally, you have no right to either. Would like me to transfer you to someone who specializes in custody or monetary assets?"
   "No thank you. One quick question, who has rights to our children?"
   "If you do not go to court to work something out, it is up to you to."
   "Um, thanks. Bye..." I hung up, a bit baffled. Harbor and I weren't married. I had no job, no home, nothing. It all belonged to Harbor. What was I going to do? I had nothing. Hmm... this is going to get interesting.

8.10 Part Two: Wrecked Resort, Wrecked Relationship

NOTE: One, language-blah-blah-disclaimer and stuff. PG-13 rating. You know. Two, the resort is built by the wonderful pixiegamer, not me. ALL CREDIT GOES TO HER.

   "We're here, we're here!" Marlo exclaimed, once I parked the car and we all climbed out.
   "Calm down, Marlo." Maya  said. She loved both our children equally, but I could tell that she was starting to lean towards the youngest the most. Phoebe looked just like her, but she started developing her own taste in interior design and fashion; she wasn't letting Maya play dolls with her. Marlo, on the other hand, hadn't developed her own opinion so she gladly wore and liked whatever Maya bought for her. It was like because she looked like me and her name didn't end in W, she had to work extra hard to earn her mother's approval. Maya usually babied Phoebe more and generally paid more attention to the eldest daughter and I was worried that, because her comments to Marlo were either critiques or about what she was going to buy for her, the youngest was going to have some maternal issues.
   "Okay, mommy." Marlo said, pinching her wrist.
   "Look at the sign!" Phoebe exclaimed.
   "Landscape classes- learn to paint the scenery around you." I read.
   "Can I go, dad? Please?"
   "Sure." I sighed, handing her some cash.
   "What about me, mommy?" Marlo asked. "Can I go paint?"
   "No, no. Phoebe's older, she's in fourth grade, sweetie." Giving an excuse to a child who didn't ask for one was her specialty.
   "Can I go to the dancing thingie?"
   "Dancing seminar- learn the basics of tap, ballet, and classic popular dances, such as the chicken dance." I read the sign off to my wife. "It sounds great; sure."
   "Fine." Maya huffed. "Whatever, I said she's too young, but sure. Dancing. Like Dirty Dancing. As in, the innocent girl who didn't know any better-"
   "Maya, stop. She's seven and going to complete the first grade in two weeks. I doubt she'll end up like Baby."
    "What's Dirty Dancing? I took a bath last night. I'm clean." Marlo glanced down, then she sniffed her hand, just to confirm that she was indeed clean.
   "A movie you're too young to see." I said. "Now, go have fun. Go dancing or painting." I gave her some cash as well and in the blink of an eye she was gone, following Phoebe.
   "Why do you have to undermine me so much?" Maya snapped.
   "I'm not. Look, let her have fun."
   "They're grounded! They deserve no fun."
   "They get no sweets for two months. I don't think I sent them to a candy shop."
   "Ugh. Think you're so smart?" She muttered under her breath. To me she said: "Let's begin the tour. It's self guided." We walked up the stairs and turned right, into the pool room.

   Bright orange cones and yellow police tape were strew about the place and a suspicious red stain was on the bottom of the pool. Definitely not a major selling point. I glanced at Maya and she shrugged, then turned and walked into the room across from here, the lobby.
   "Welcome... are you here for directions?" A bored looking clerk asked us.
   "No." I said. "Um, interested in buying-"
   "We heard that the city is giving this place away, all you have to do is fill out an application and use your money to get it up to code." Maya quickly corrected me. "And from what I saw, they mean health department, building codes, pretty much every regulation that should apply here doesn't and we are going to fix it."
   "Ha. Right. That would take thousands to do."
   "Ugh. You suck the energy out of the place. It's bad customer service." Maya glared at them. "Well, when I'm owner you're F-I-R-E-D."
   "Maya!" I exclaimed. "You cannot fire the- just...stop acting like we already signed the paperwork. Be nice."
   "I'm always nice, you're the over exaggerating one who makes me seem bitchy."
   "Do you have any questions?" The clerk said. "About this place? Any at all?"
   "Yeah, the red pool stains..." I trailed off. "And the water and buckets and barriers in this room?"

   "Oh, the lawyers convinced the jury that the person was just clumsy and it had nothing to do with the ladder being rusty and part of the pool wall that hit them in the head, causing them to hit the floor. Don't worry, the autopsy wasn't incriminating. As for here, the roof's been leaking causes puddles and the floor partial collapsed with all the water weight."

   "So there was a- I think my wife need to go outside and have a talk." I grabbed Maya's hand and pulled her outside, to the tables and chairs by the rotting, molding, disgusting smelling buffet.
   "Harbor. What are you doing?"
   "We need to talk. This place..."
   "You haven't seen it all. Once you have, you'll love it. Why don't I go look at the cabins and the classes behind the cabins and you stay here?"
   "Fine. Get the kids, though."
   "Ugh... they're so much work." She wandered off to the cabins, moaning and groaning about her stupid husband and the difficulties of motherhood. Did she honestly believe that this place was good? I certainly didn't. Nevertheless, once she had an idea it was like trying to get hell to freeze over to convince her to change it.

   I stood up, walking to the bathrooms. Might as well see what they look like. I opened up the door to see two gross portable potties and three glaringly large holes in the roof. No way. Not happening. I stared at the mess for a few seconds, before turning away and walking back to the tables. Just as I sat down, Maya sauntered back over to me.
   "Now that we've seen it all, can't you just tell how great it is?" She squealed.

   "Great it is?" I repeated. The place wasn't exactly ready to be opened, it would take a ton of effort, effort that cost money, to prepare the place for the public. "It doesn't seem that great. It's awful."

   "Oh, Harbor. It is obviously a fixer upper. Besides, you know what they say."

   "No I don't." I sighed. I doubted whatever saying she was about to tell me would make me change my mind; eventually her persistence wore me out and caused me to say yes, but I was determined to say no to this.

   "Takes money to make money."

   "Guess what we don't have."

   "Oh... I thought we discussed this last night. Stop the tutor and bam- money."

   "And we also stated that we care abo our daughter's education."

   "Harbor." She said again, as if repeating my name was a decent arguement. "Please?"

   "No. We don't have the money." 

   "Ugh. You suck."

   "I suck? What are we, teenagers?"

   "Please?"

   "I said no."

   "But it will make me happy."

   "And not being homeless will make me happy."

   "But you always say yes to me!" She pouted, leaning forwards to show off what was beneath her expensive top.

   "If you think that is going to change my mind... Maya we're married. I've seen them plenty of times."

   "Yeah. Well, you won't if you don't start complying."

   "You're taking away sex? Because of this? I thought we were adults who could talk about our differences. I mean, aren't you abo-"

   "Obviously I'm not above it." She rolled her eyes. "You just said we were married, you should know that."

   "Look, I want you to be happy-"

    "So yes! Oh Harbor, thank you so much! You know, good behavior is rewarded..." She took a step forward and began whispering in my ear. "Maybe we can do it specially... Maybe we can try that position I read about. Oh! Or the one with the whipped cream and handcuffs and blindfold."

   "You didn't let me finish. I want you to be happy, but I also want to be financially responsible and stable. Right now we wouldn't be either of those things if we went ahead with this."

   "Jerk!" She shouted, taking a step away. "Guess you can forget the whipped cream... Maybe you could try it on yourself? Not like you'll have anyone for the next few months."

   "Calm down. People are beginning to stare."

   "All I want is the perfect family. Don't you? Dammit, don't you? Say you do, say it you son of a bitch."

   "I think that your idea of perfection is getting to you."

   "No, you're son of a bitchy jerkiness is getting to me."

   "Look, the children are close by. They don't need to overhear our spat."

   "Spat? Spat! This is just a spat? What the hell counts as an arguement then? Do I need to slap someone or storm off or getting so drunk that I can't stand? Do I need to proclaim that you're not the man I married? What the hell, dammit. What the fudging hell?"

   "Maya." I whispered. "No need to drop the F bomb."

   "Oh stop it, you... You jerk. I want my damn happiness and you aren't able to see it."

   "Maya I love you, but I need you to calm down. We'll talk about it."

   "You're so repetitive, dammit! You are not sleeping in our bed tonight." she said, arching an eyebrow. Did she believe that the couch was enough for me to make a choice that would essentially be financial suicide? I sighed.
   "Let's go home."
   "Fine, you son of two bitches. Not because I agree with your controlling butt and like how you think you run the family emotionally and financially. Only because the stress might cause breakouts and I need acne pills, though." And with that she turned on her heel and sauntered off to our car. Wasn't this going to be lovely to deal with?

NOTE #2: I know I make the resort seem crappy, but trust me it is an amazing build built by pixiegamer via my request. I appreciate all the effort and time she put into making the resort look like something that truly is a fixer upper. You can download it off the Sims Exchange or throw it a rec if you'd like HERE.

8.10 Part One: Money Messes and Sisterly Skirmishes

   I sat at the kitchen table, the bills laid out in front of me. Despite my office job, which I had been promised would be safer and make more than my life guarding job, the family's income was very low. The truth about city desk jobs is you do not get paid better, you just get paid on a schedule, unlike life guarding where the number of hours, weather, tourist season, lives saved, and lawsuits play a much larger part. There was the car payment, the house payment, credit card bills, electric, water, cable, internet, cell phones, groceries, gasoline that I had to manage to pay for. Also, Phoebe had been told that unless she stopped doodling in class and actually started doing the math assignments, she would have to repeat fourth grade because her test score was so low. That meant there was her weekly tutor sessions I had to pay for, plus immunizations, and the cost of getting her and Marlo's cavities fixed. Life was expensive and quite frankly with my measly salary, even with the raises, I could barely pay for it.

 "What ya doing?" Maya asked, strutting into the kitchen.
   "Bills. I think we may need to cut cable, since we're a little short this month."
   "Short? What do you mean? You aren't making any less, are you?"
   "No..." I sighed, glancing at a statement that listed several upscale boutiques and a four star restaurant as recent purchases. "It probably has to do with the four hundred dollar necklace and caviar."
   "Harbor! Look, you know that sometimes I miss the ocean and my family, so I splurge. No biggie. We can cut, oh..." She glanced over my shoulder at the paperwork and pointed to the first thing she spotted. "That. What is it, dear?"
   "Water." I dryly said.
   "Hmm... we have to pay for that? In the ocean, well you know. What about that?"
   "Phoebe's tutor?"
   "Yeah, yeah! Why does she need a tutor, anyways? She's making Cs."
   "Cs aren't good." I exclaimed, standing up from he kitchen chair, turning to face my wife.
   "It is a passing grade."
   "But the teacher said if she doesn't raise her test score it'll go down to an F and she'll fail."
   "But we can't afford it."
   "Shouldn't education come first, though?"
   "I guess... hm..." She sighed, examining her manicure. "I was thinking, we should buy a boat."

 "A what?!" I exclaimed, standing up from the dining chair. I loved boating, I loved the days when I lived on a houseboat and could steer it underneath the midnight sky's starlight, but we couldn't afford a boat. The taxes on it were insane.
   "Not a big one. A small speedboat or something. See, we have the house, the car, the two kids, the office job, right? I show up to PTA meeting occasionally and will buy stuff whenever the school holds a bake sale, but this isn't the model family. Sure, it is a classic family lifestyle or most, but we aren't in some suburb, so we cannot rely on classic. We're on an island. In order to have a model family, we need a boat."
   "They cost-" I sighed. Model family. Dream lifestyle. Two kids, house, car, the works. Trophy wife with handsome office job husband who work too much to support the family and allow the wife to buy overpriced, materialistic junk. I had heard the spiel a thousand times and frankly over the years I had grown tired of it. Maya didn't want to hear my opinion, she wanted what I had told her so many years ago: Y-E-S. Don't fight, agree, "Fine, but we have to cut spending somewhere else."
   "The tutor."
   "She's going to need good grades. Maybe she can grow up and go to college and get an education so she doesn't have to go through this one day. I don't know if anyone in my family has ever attended college, I want my daughters to."

   "She's blonde and if she looks anything like me, not to brag, she'll be pretty damn attractive to the males. Maybe her brain won't be the brightest, that's okay. She'll use other things that being with B to convince some nerd to do her work."

   "Did you seriously just suggest that?" My ten year old daughter was not going to be told to rely on looks; how degrading to woman was that? I didn't want to teach her that just because her genes were good meant she could freeload off of some idiot who had been horny enough to track her down after he'd seen her a couple months ago.
   "Yeah, what's the big deal? I didn't go to college, yet you're in love with me."
   "We're struggling to pay bills! I want a better life for Marlo and Phoebe, so that way they never will."
   "If you wanted a better life for Marlo, should have tacked a W to the end of her name."
   "She's been alive seven whole years and has yet to run into trouble because of a single letter. Let it go!" whenever something happened to Marlo, whether it be she lost the spelling bee, wowed everyone at the class dance party, or could hold her breath sixteen seconds, beating Phoebe's time of eleven, Maya blamed it on the lack of a W in her name. "Why did you even come in here?"

  "Not to listen to you insult me, that's for sure."
   "Me insult you?"
   "Yeah. Do you listen to your self? Anyways, I found a fantastic opportunity for economic gain."
   "Buy a lotto ticket?"
   "No, silly. Buy a resort."
   "A resort?"
   "Yeah."
   "Did you ignore my whole we cannot afford to pay our bills thing?"
   "No, Mister I'm Smart and You're Dumb, I did not. It's free."
   "Really?" I gasped. This was perfect. We buy a resort and I quit the office job I hate to run it. Maya can help out and we can both work together, improving our relationship romantically and professionally.
   "Yep. Free, F-R-E-E."
   "What do we have to do?"
   "Well... I was thinking maybe we could go look at it tomorrow morning, then, if you like it we could talk about the details."
   "Alright." I sighed, up for anything at this point. At least she had waited to get my approval before running off to claim it and was trying to help the family out.

Phoebe's Point of View...

   I climbed up the stairs, walking towards my room. I needed to find my hair band before going out, in case it was windy. I didn't like the wind, because my hair got in my eyes and I couldn't see then. According to the weather woman, today is suppose to be clear and sunny, but you never know. Daddy had said that we were going to go look at some resort that he and mom might buy and they wanted to know if Marlo and I liked it. I hope it was nice; imagine your parents running their own resort! I bet if we did, the teachers wouldn't talk to daddy in hushed voices and make him get me a tutor.
   They all think I'm failing because I doodle and don't want to work, but the truth is I doodle because the work is boring. I know that five time eleven is fifty-five, why do I have to write it down three times and show my thought process? The same goes for English, I know what a synonym is and what a homophone is and what a is hyperbole and the difference between their and there, why do I have to do sheet dedicated to the subjects? I draw because no one knows what the end result is; nobody an memorize the correct answers and make you do three essay questions on it. I mostly doodle pictures of my classroom, only I decorate in my drawings. I add curtains and bright colors and lamps and fluffy rugs and bean bag chairs and change the walls from white concrete to wallpaper printed with roses.
   I reached the top of the stairs, walked to the second door on the right, the door to my room. and opened it.

   "Marlo!" I exclaimed. My little sister was always in my room and it was annoying. I spent a lot of time going to stores with mom to pick out which lamp and bed spread and doll I wanted and color coordinated all of it; she was messing it up.
   "What? I'm just playing with your toys. I left mine of the playground and mommy says I can't get them back until Monday."
   "That's tomorrow." I said, through clenched teeth. "Besides, why would you take toys to first grade? Don't they have lots is the classroom?"
   "Yeah, but mine are funner."
   "That isn't a word."
   "How do you know? You aren't a dictionary or mommy or daddy or my teacher."
   "Give me back my toys, please."
   "I wanna play more."
   "I said please."
   "But, Phoebe! Why can't you be fun?"
   "I am fun."
   "No you aren't. You think just cause you're in fourth grade you're too old to play with me. You spend all your time drawing and coloring."
   "I like drawing and coloring! It's creative and the drawings don't go into my room without asking first and play with my toys."
   "Haha, toys can't talk, they couldn't ask."
   "Get out of my room." I said for what was probably the ten jillionth time. Marlo didn't listen, she was stuck thinking whatever rules existed didn't apply to her.
   "Okay, since you said so!" She giggled, hopping up from the floor and running towards the closet that leas to her room.

   "Don't take my toys!" I shouted, following her to her room. Her room was decorated by mom it hadn't changed since it was her nursry. I didn't like it as much as mine, but I had to admit it was pretty.

Harbor's POV... 

   "DAD! Marlo stole my toys!" I sighed, after hearing the familiar sound of Phoebe screeching that Marlo had done something. Marlo was in her room, Marlo called her Rudolph cause she had a sunburn,   Marlo this and that. When the two got along, things were wonderful. When the couldn't, well let's just say life got difficult. Difficult, of course, meant that Maya would lecture me on proper discipline, go off to some store or restaurant to blow money, forcing me to  fix whatever fight was about to happen between our daughters.
   "Girls, we need to go! Come on." I called, as Maya  stood by the door tapping her foot.
   "You should be stricter."
   "I don't want to be mean."
   "Come one, man up. Lay down the law. They have a fight every two weeks, clearly your apologize to each other and no sweets for two weeks thing only works for, well, two weeks."
   "Wait, you're right... How did you realize that?"
   "Oh, I schedule my mani-pedis on those days." She smiled. "See, my polish is getting worn, I need a touch up."
   "Instead of telling my this when you realized, you scheduled a manicure?"
   "Yeah. Parenting stresses me out. I wish we had a boy, it would make stuff so much easier. They're so low effort."
   "Let's just go get in the car." I said, just as Phoebe and Marlo came rushing down the stairs, talking bout dolls and toys and rooms and boundaries. "Girls, I've decided to sweets until you stop fighting and can get along for two whole months."
   "Dad!" The whining instantly began. They'd complain, they'd mope, then they'd accept it and get along. This is what my life had become, fixing my children's silly quarrels and having to put up with Maya. I loved everyone so dearly, but damn did this have to keep on keeping on?

NOTE: I'm so sorry that it took forever to get a new chapter out, I have a new computer that's incredibly slow and blah-blah-excuses. I appreciate you hanging in there for the three (or four?) chapter-less weeks. I promise that chapters will be coming out much more quickly; I already have the next two semi-written. Thank ya! =)