8.13: Good, Better, Best, Dead

"Daddy... Is mommy really gone?" Marlo asked me, staring up at me with wide eyes.
   "She's not gone, honey." I said, struggling with my words. How was I suppose to explain this? "We just aren't living together any more."
   "Cause you aren't married?"
   "Yeah... Sorta."
   "But mommy still loves me? Daddy does she hate me? Would she us marry you cause of me? Daddy?"
   "No, no! Of course not! Mom loves you and Phoebe from Pluto and back still and so do I."
   "Hey, when are we gonna visit?" Phoebe asked me, as she came into the kitchen.
   "We're sorting out... Mommy was thinking maybe she gets you every other week during the times when there is not school and when there is school she gets you every weekend."
   "Gets us?" Phoebe asked, her face crumpling up into a cringe. "We aren't possessions."
   "I know you aren't. We are going to try the best we can."
   "Mommy was gonna sign me up for ballet classes at the dance studio cause I liked the resort lessons."
   "I can sign you up."
   "But ballet is girly! You're a boy."
   "Boys can do ballet."
   "You're my daddy, though." She giggled.
   "Ugh. Marrie, there's more important stuff. Like mom is the one who cooks."
   "I can cook!" I exclaimed. "Besides, don't worry."
   "Dad." Phoebe said.
   "Dad." Marlo repeated.
   "How can we not?!"
   "I know this is gonna be difficult-"
   "Nunuh, gamma and granny are together. You don't know." Marlo said, sticking her tongue out at me. "Liar."
   "Marlo! Don't do that, it isn't nice."
   "You and mommy unmarried. That is not nice, too."
   "I'm the daddy. It is different." Marlo glanced at Phoebe who shrugged, than pointed at something I couldn't see.
   "Dad." Phoebe asked patiently. "Marlo needs ballet clothes." Marlo enthusiastically nodded her head in agreement.
   "Why don't you wear your play shorts and sneakers and that shirt-"

   "Tank top, daddy." Marlo corrected me.
   "And that tank top mommy bought you?"
   "Because, they aren't meant for ballet."
   "I don't want to buy you a new wardrobe for classes you may not even like."
   "But daddy!" Marlo whined. "Pllllleeeeaaaassssseeeee?"
   "Mom would buy her ballet clothes." Phoebe shrugged. Dammit. The mom card. If I didn't I would be the mean one and since they were living with me the majority of the time, I “couldn't let them think that.
   "How about we compromise? I'll buy you ballet flats and after you go to one lesson and you decide you like it we'll get you some nice clothes."
   "Okay..." She said, glancing at her older sister who winked, as if to say told you we could convince him. "Can Wendy take me?"
   "Wendy?"
   "Mrs. Buboes?"
   "Her last name is buboes? That's unfortunate... Why do you want to go with her?"
   "Because, Phoebe lovvvvvvvesss Quentin."
   "I do not lovvvvve him!"
   "Yeah you do, he's your booooyyyyyfrrriendd."
   "No he isn't! He is a boy and... Dad, make her stop!" She crossed her arms and glared at me, which prompted me to ask my youngest to stop pestering her sister about boys and love, something that a fourth grader shouldn't care about.
   "Okay." Marlo said.
   "Thank you." Phoebe said. She had handled the news about Maya's departure quite well. Apparently Maya had favored Marlo much more because Phoebe would let her treat her like a Barbie doll, causing a bit of tension between the sisters. Surprisingly since Maya moved out, they were both behaving better.
   Marlo wasn't as open to sharing her emotions towards the event; she was a closed book unwilling to share what she thought. I assumed she wasn't completely messed up, because she didn't act out at home or school. Who knew, though. Maya was he one who was around mostly when she was a toddler, Maya was the one who instilled her values and opinions.
   "Would Mrs. Buboes be okay with me asking?"
   "I dunno. She went to PTA with mom." Phoebe said. "She's nice. She baked up cookies."

   "She's fat." Marlo said.
   "No she isn't. She just isn't a stick."
   "Mommy said she is fat."
   "Mom was wrong."
   "Nooo, mommy was right. I saw Wendy at the beach, she was wearing this bikini mommy says only skinny, pretty people should wear cause you would see her chubby tummy."
   "Marlo, people are all different shapes and sizes. Just because they aren't smaller like you or Phoebe doesn't mean they are fat. If Mrs. Buboes is healthy that is all that matters. Besides, it really isn't any of my, your, or mommy's business."
   "Okay... But I'm smaller than Phoebe."
   "You're younger." Phoebe said. "Of course you are."
   "Girls, it doesn't matter." Weight was a sensitive subject for females and I knew that with the fashion industry and all these other things people blame you should make sure to establish that healthy isn't just a low number on the scale. Maya must have taught my littlest girl that the opposite was true; I'd have to make sure that she didn't teach the children any more crazy things.
   "Okay." Okay must be Marlo's favorite word, because she used it so often.

Marlo's Point of View...

   I looked at my outfit in the dance studio's mirror. Daddy had bought be blue ballet shoes that matched my tank top mommy got me. Mommy would have got me a leotard, too, but for now just shoes were okay. I knew I was gonna love ballet and after I confirmed that, daddy said we could ask Mrs. Buboes to take me shopping. Phoebe had begged me to ask him that, since she liked Quentin. I don't get why she likes him, cause he is always poking her or pulling her hair or something mean like that. Phoebe's gonna be in fifth grade soon, which is the top of the elementary school, so that means she is  older than everyone and awesomer.
   "Class, class, please gather around!" The ballet teacher, whose name was something funny sounding that I could remember, said. I glanced at the other kids, six girls and two boys, who all had on ballet leotards or tutus or something meant for me. I looked dumb with my shorts and tank top. "Alright, welcome to the beginner's ballet class. Let's go around the circle and say our name and age, alright? Do you want to start?" She pointed at the boy sitting next to me, who nodded.
   "My names is Harold Arnold Jonathan Saint Peters Junior. I am eight."
   "Wow." The teacher said. "That's a long name. Can the class call you Harry?"
   "Yeah." Harry said.
   "Class, say hello to Harry."
   "Hi, Harry." We all said.
   "I'm Paris." The girl to Harry's right said. "I'm five. I'm named after a city in France. My mama's from France."
   "Hi, Paris." We said. We said this after every person said their name, until it got to me.
   "I'm Marlo. M-A-R-L-O. I'm seven." The class looked at me and I could tell hey we're judging me. I looked different, my outfit was different, my hair was different, and I didn't look as pretty and stick-ish as they did. Mommy said skinny was pretty and they all had smaller bones and whiter teeth and shinier hair, just like the ballet posters on the wall, so they were prettier.
   "Hi, Marlo." They said after what was probably a whole year of judging me.
   "Alrighty," Ms. Ballet Teacher said, "So we have Harry, Paris, Marcy, Hattie, Alexandra, Nicole, Jared, Bethany, and Marlo. What a wonderful class! Let's begin. First," she began talking about stretches, which was boring, and we did stretches, which was fun.

  

 After the class I told daddy about it. I have decided that I like ballet. I have decided that I am going to be the best possible ballerina in the entire universe, including the one the aliens live in. I am Marlo Janes and I'm a ballerina.

8.12: Finding Out

NOTE: *Squints off at the horizon* HOLY GUMMY BEARS IS THAT A CHAPTER? Yes, yes it is. This is a chapter.... so, um, heeeeeey,  *waves spastically* long time no see. Glad you're still reading. So, I'm still alive and writing, my computer is just being a pain an I've started school again and it is overwhelming for me. So, yeah.  Also, a little bit of stuff, language, etc. 

  "Girls..." I said, taking a deep breath, "I... your mother and I..."
   "What, daddy?" Marlo asked me, staring at me with her large brown eyes that were filled with the innocence only a seven year old could possess, as she sat on the park bench. "Mommy and you what?"
   "Um... we want you to have ice cream." I lamely finished. I couldn't tell them now. Not now. It was a beautiful sunny day and the girls and I were at the park. Maya was suppose to come with, but she said she was feeling bad and that her monthly visitor, ehem, was causing leg pain. In our twelve years of marriage she'd never used this as an excuse to get out of things, in fact she'd never complained about leg pain and it before, so either she was in an incredible amount of pain or she really didn't want to do this. I was guessing the last, because ever other time we'd planned on announcing the divorce she gotten out of it somehow. Of course, maybe the pain was real. I didn't know her that well; maybe I was confusing this single truth for a lie.

   "Dad, you grounded us, remember?" Phoebe said. "No sweets?"
   "Yes, but... this is different. Special. You girls have gotten along so well lately; you deserve a treat."
   "Phoebe, yay! We get yummy, don't complain." Marlo said, bouncing up and down on the bench. I gave them each a few dollars for ice cream and they scampered off to the booth, eager for a cold treat. I sighed, sitting down on the bench. How much longer could we keep this a secret? I knew it was my duty- no our duty, Maya should have to tell them with me- to, but I couldn't. They were so sweet, so innocent. They smiled so often and were filled with joy; I couldn't ruin that. I couldn't be the bad guy and let Maya be the good one who comforts them and tells them daddy is mean.

   No, I wasn't going to tell them here. I wasn't going to ruin the festival for them. I'd tell them at home, with their mother around. It had only been a week since we'd decided to end our marriage; I hadn't even arranged to meet my lawyer yet. A few minutes wouldn't hurt anything. I had told Maya we'd be out about an hour, but coming back early would be fine.
   "Look daddy!" Marlo said, coming back with a freezer bunny pop. "Isn't he cute?"
   "Um, yeah." I said.
   "And he's yummy, too!"
   "That's good. How is yours, Phoebe?"
   "Good." She smiled. "I gott a vanilla cone with rainbow sprinkles; mom never lets me have sprinkles cause she says the dye is bad for you."
   "Well, I want you to have what you want. Hey, i was thinking maybe we could go home and talk with mommy. Is that okay? You can eat your ice cream in the car and it is hot out here."
   "Okay." They said at the same time. I stood up and walked with them to our car. The drive back was quite quiet, much to my surprise. "Girls, did you finish?" I asked, once we pulled into the driveway.
   "I did." Phoebe said, holding up her empty hands.
   "What do I do with the stick?" Marlo asked.
   "Put it in your pocket and throw it away inside." I answered, as I exited the car. I walked up onto our porch the girls following me. I was about to open the door, when a man opened it for me.

   "Dude! She is fudging insane."
   "I- excuse me?! And could you please not curse, the children." I glanced at him; he was muscular, wearing a fireman's hat and boots and tight red shorts. Did Maya hire a prostitute or stripper?
   "Whatever." He shrugged. "Least I got paid." He flashed me fifty dollars and then leisurely strolled past me, to the bike that was thrown casually to the side against the home's wall.
   "Daddy, who is he?" Marlo asked. "Why was he not wearing a shirt?"
   "Did mom pay him?" Phoebe giggled.
   "Girls, why don't you play outside, I'm going to chat with mommy." I sighed. So much for telling them ASAP. They both looked up at me curiously, than wandered off to the backyard. I opened the front door, to see my soon to be ex-wife sitting on the couch in a black corset and maid's headpiece. "What the hell, Maya?" I shouted.
   "Harbor... did you see him?" She smirked. "You weren't suppose to be home this early, I can't help it if you were..."
   "What happened? Did you pay him to... you know. Was it just a little light hearted fun? Or did you...? Why? What happened?"
   "You sound like a worried parent interrogating your teen. Relax." She rolled her eyes and quietly  kicked away a blue box that said XL on it and was opened. Dammit.
   "You expect me to relax? My wife is dressed up like a sexy maid and a man in a firefighter stripper outfit just exited my home!"
   "So you do think I'm sexy?"
   "I haven't told the kids yet. We need to."
   "Ugh... Harbor." She began playing with her hair, glancing around the room.
   "What happened?" I paused for a couple seconds and when she didn't answer me, I continued. "Fine. Let's go to the courthouse tomorrow. Make it official."
   "I won't go. I won't tell you anything. Look, I'm feeling... like staying together."
   "What?! Are you insane?"
   "Maybe." She shrugged. "Probably not."
   "I'm going to contact a lawyer."
   "Look, I'll do what you want if you agree to what I say. And sign that." She gestured to a piece of paper on the coffee table.
   "What is it?"
   "Oh... just, well, we didn't sign a prenup so technically we both get half, but this just protects my assets."
   "You are not getting half! I earned the money it is in my name-"
   "This paper simply states that in the event we were to ever stop being together, I got the car, it would be transferred to my name, but you'd still pay for it, all my clothing and jewelry is still mine, you'll buy me a nice home and pay for it, and I don't have to pay child support or whatever."
   "What about custody? You wanted children so badly-"
   "Harbor. They're so needy... they drain the resources we have. I want a resort, but because of Phoebe's tutor you said no. They ruined my body; I have yet to lose the last fifteen pounds I gained from being pregnant with Marlo and my stretch marks are horrible. Oh yeah, also you'll pay for any plastic surgery to reverse damages to my body that happened when we were together."
   "No! Our children are wonderful and I'm not going to pay for you to be injected with chemicals-"
   "I'm not telling you anything, than. I'm not signing anything. I will not go to court."
   "Stop being childish."
   "Speaking of childish, if you don't sign this I'm going to tell the court that you forced yourself onto my. You stalked me, than after we met you forced yourself onto me and I ended up pregnant."
   "Are you..." She had to be insane. If she did that, I'd never be able to live it down. Ever. The rumors alone would murder my career, I wouldn't be allowed within fifty feet of my children. I couldn't visit their school or see their projects or recitals.

   "Harbor. You. Ruined. My. Life! I will make your's hell, okay? You will suffer until you sign on the damn dotted line."
   "You can't do this! I'll get a lawyer."
   "Oh, please. The mother almost always wins in court. The judge has so much sympathy for the poor girl, so young, so naive."
   "You're four years older than me!" She shrugged, batting her eyes at me.
   "I will ruin you." The toxicity in her voice was so apparent, I thought I might need a hazmat suit. "I want my perfect life, okay? PERFECT! I am thirty-four years old and I'm living like a lower middler class female who is forty. I don't want that. No, I want perfect. Give me perfect, Harbor."
   "Are you insane?"
   "No." She glanced down at her feet and for a minute I saw a flicker of humanity in her eyes. She wanted perfect and I couldn't give it to her. "Harbor, please."
   "Did you sleep with him?"
   "It looks like I did." She winked at me. "Of course, you're my husband... one last time?"
   "Rain check?" I said, hoping to distract her enough that she forgot about the contract.
   "Sure." She shrugged. "Please, Harbor, sign."
   "Maya, can't we work something out? Something more civil?"
   "Please? For me? if you do... I'll let you have full custody. When they're in school, you get them on weekdays, I get weekends. Over breaks, we get them every other week. It is in the contract."
   "If I don't sign what happens?"
   "If you don't, the sex offender thing."
   "Is there a third option?"
   "No... this is my version of civil."
   "I... I..." I took a deep breath. Sure, I could fight and drown myself in legal fees. I was already barely floating, plus with the emotional stress the children would go trough if I fought. I had said yes to so many things I wasn't okay with, one last time couldn't hurt. On last yes to get me, and Marlo and Phoebe, away from the monster named Maya. "Yes."

   "Oh, Harbor!" She squealed. "Thank you so much." She handed me a pen and I shakily signed my full name. She stood up and began walking up the stairs. "I'm going to go get dressed and drop this off with my lawyers... by the way, you probably should tell the children that we're getting a divorce, it'll be simpler to explain."
   "Simpler?"
   "Oh, you didn't read the contract?" She said, playing dumb. She knew I didn't; she saw me hurriedly sign. "See, it says in the event we break up... Break up, Harbor. You know who breaks up? Girlfriend and boyfriend. See, we were never married. I could tell you the legal jargon, but I think simple is best. We never got married. I wasn't entitled to anything, but now I get, well I told you. New home, the car, jewelry, clothes." She giggled and waved the paper in the air. "You signed."
   "I didn't know you- you bitch!"
   "Oh, see there's this section that says you read and know. I explained the not married thing in here. Should of read it. Sucks that you didn't." And with that she pranced up the stairs, a smirk on her face and a spring in her step. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.
   I couldn't fight this... well I could, but I wouldn't. I wasn't going to put the children through that; I mean, at least I got custody. But, dammit. She tricked me. What happened to us? What happened? Dammit, who knew?

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! =)

8.9: Countless Conflicts and Second Babies

   Maya and I were standing in the houseboat's kitchen discussing my now over life guard career and potential desk job, as well as our future family home, as Phoebe napped in her crib.
   "Did you quit your job yet?" Maya asked for the tenth time that night.

   "I pulled some strings and begin my office job Monday, I have two more days to keep the beach safe." I technically hadn't quit, I had been moved to a different department run by the city of Isla Paradiso.
   "Okay, good. Wait, two days!?"
   "It isn't that long. The pay period is monthly, so I'm going to work a full month before stopping."
   "Harbor." She said, rolling her eyes. "I told you three months ago what we wanted, that means two months ago you should have stopped lifeguarding."
   "The summer is the busiest, they needed the help. I got a bonus."
   "But, that office job offers a fifteen cent raise every six months, biweekly pay that is hourly, not based off of how many lives you save, with a New Year's and Fourth of July bonus."

   "I know and six months from now, you'll be in labor and I'll get a raise." I quietly said, trying to refrain from sounding rude. Ever since she found out she was pregnant three months ago, she had been much more pushy, to the point where I wanted to scream. Not that I would ever do that to my pregnant wife; it didn't matter what was going on, when fighting with a lady who was expecting, you were always the bad guy.
   "Harbor, honey." She shook her head and softened her tone, acting as if I was clueless. "We're going to have a house payment soon. Two months will make a big difference, if only you had listened four months from now you'd have gotten a bonus and I would be attending top notch birthing class because I'd be seven months along."
   "I'm just saying that in the grand scheme of things-"
   "Harbor, I just want you to be safe. Phoebe and the baby need their daddy."
   "Stop saying my name like that, please." I said through clenched teeth.

   "Like what?" She innocently asked.
   "Patronizingly."
   "Why would I talk like that? I'm just saying..." She looked down at her feet. Here it comes. "Th-th-that I love you so much and care so much!" She blubbered on about caring and how my foolish, risky behavior showed how selfish I was and how she married a kind man and I should act like him, not this ridiculous person who refused to acknowledge that change was good. "A-and after all of that, I mean, how could you not agree? See you and Phoe are my only family. How could you do that to us?"
   "I care, Maya. Honestly I do. I love you and Phoebe and the baby so much that words cannot describe it, I just don't understand why two days or two months is such a large deal."
   "So you're sorry and admit that you're wrong?"
   "I didn't say-"
   "Oh good!" She leaned forwards, hugging me. "By the way, I found a house that we're getting. Three bedrooms, two bath, it is just pure lovely."
   "Okay. Yes." For the second time I agreed to a major life change, reluctantly, as my wife blindly ignored my nonverbal clues. It was so much easier to make her happy then to try and fight for what I wanted.

Six months later...

 

   My job was filing papers. Filing papers. I took sloppily filled out forms, typed all the data into the computer, then printed the typed form and stuck it in a filing cabinet. I didn't think that desk jobs would be as exciting as life guarding, I just thought it wouldn't be a glorified secretary position. I couldn't complain, though. Pay was decent, benefits alright, and Maya was happy that it was safer than my old job and constantly reminded me of this fact.

   "How are my two girls?" I asked, as I walked into the front lobby slash living room of our new home. Maya had informed me that she liked this house, it had enough bedrooms and bathrooms, and was only a little bit out of our price range. Little, used in that sentence, meant ten thousand six hundred dollars.

   "I'm good, daddy." Phoebe said, as she sat in my wife's lap, looking up from the story Maya was reading her about creativity. 

   "That's good. Did you have fun today with mommy?"

   "Yeah. We read books and I drew with crayons!"

   "What did you draw?"

   "Our house."

   "Wow, bet it is really pretty. You're a good artist."

   "Thank you, daddy." Phoebe said, her tiny cheeks turning crimson.

   "Harbor, please don't flatter her. We want modest children, not children who are praised for every tiny thing they do, okay? Vanity isn't appealing."

   "Sorry, hon. I don't think one compliment about her crayon picture is going to go to her head, though."

   "You don't know that. Are you going to applaud the child when it emerges from my womb? Congratulations, you did something the majority of the population did in order to be alive."

   "It will be okay." I said through gritted teeth. Maya's hormones left her temperamental more often then not... or at least I hoped it was pregnancy hormones. if this was the new her, what would I do? "Take my hand." I said, bending down a bit.

   "Why? I'm reading to Phoe."

   "Because..." I sighed. "I would like to do something."

   "Look, I-" I took a hold of her hand as Phoebe wobbled off to the side, taking ahold of the handmade doll my sister Basil had sent. She'd apparently bought it while traveling through some foreign country, pursing the art of landscape photography. 

    "I wanted to do that." I said, after I planted a kiss firmly on her lips. "Because I love you and I thought it served as a decent hello."
   "Harbor..." She said, staring into my eyes. "You're such a good kisser. Did I ever tell you that?"
   "Nope, but you did now."
   "I love you... you know I'm just trying to do what is best, right?"
   "Yeah, I know. You're a great mother, just keep in mind just because you agree with something doesn't mean that it is what is best."
   "Haha, yeah. Funny." She chuckled.
   "I wasn't kidding."
   "You know I know best. You were, weren't you, though?" She kept laughing, assuming that my statement was simply there for comic relief.
    "I..." Once again, I didn't bother trying to correct her. Was it my fault she was this way? I didn't correct her because I didn't want a full blown fight; our small skirmishes were bad enough. "How was your day?" Was what I asked, instead of stating my opinion.
   "Oh, fine." She said. "Hey, stop that!" She pushed my head away from her neck hat I ad just begun kissing. "We don't want to do too much in front of Phoebe, she'll grow up slutty."
   "It was just a couple pecks. I'm sure she won't remember, but if she does she'll know her parents loved each other and won't be prudish about kissing."
   "Are you being funny again? I swear, you marry a man with a sense of a humor and he never stops cracking jokes. Speaking of jokes, Phoebe thought of a name for the baby if she is a she."
   "What is it?"
   "Oh, I don't know... It was silly and I'm fairly certain it is going to be named Levi, cause he'll be a guy."

   "Okay, still doesn't hurt to have suggestions." I helped Maya get get back onto her feet properly, then walked over to Phoebe and picked her up. "What did ya want to name the baby if it's a girl?"
   "Marlo!"
   "Marlo?" I asked. Marlo wasn't a bad name; at least it was a real name and not something like Princess Sparkles. "I like it." I said, smiling.
   "No, no. Hon, ask her how she'd spell it." Maya insisted.
   "Em, ah, R, el, oh." Phoebe said. "Marlo! My sissy's name."
   "M-A-R-L-O? That's how I would spell it. What's wrong with it?"
   "Um, no W at the end."
   "Spelling doesn't matter much, does it? I mean, if it does't change the pronunciation."

   "But I like it with a W."
   "I know,  either way the name is pretty."
   "Well. Still, honey you don't understand."
   "Alright." I sighed. "Don't you think it is a boy, anyways?"
   "Yeah, but with a W is the right way."
   "Okay, momma." Phoebe said. "You told me I getta meet sissy or brother next week, so it okay. ou getta talk about Marlo, my sissy more."
   "She's right we can chat about it. Let's not stress we have a week."
   "But, Harbor! W. That's final. Aren't you listening to me? Dammit-"
   "Careful, Phoebe's listening."
   "Earlier I thought you said it was okay for you to kiss my neck because she wouldn't remember. Please explain."
   "I'm... nevermind. Sorry."
   "Thank you." She said, as I began walking towards the kitchen. "Where are you going?"
   "I figured since it was nice out I'd go to the patio with Phoebe."
   "But I was reading to her."
   "I know, I just-"
   "Look, you keep assuming stuff and I'm tired of it."
   "Sorry, I know that there's a bit of conflict between us right now, with all the changes, just... we need to keep a stable head."
   "Stable head." She calmly said. "Okay... sorry, I..."
   "Mama... you're wet." Phoebe pointed to Maya's jeans.

   "FUDGE. Honey, get the car. I'm having a baby." I began panicking, holding Phoebe and running to get her hospital bag in order. After a few moments I managed to get Phoebe buckled into her car seat, help Maya into the vehicle, and begin driving towards the hospital. After a short, and very drugged up, labor Maya and I had momentarily forgotten our petty argument because we had another child. A daughter, names Marlo. M-A-R-L-O. I hadn't been able to keep my dream job, our houseboat, got no say in which family home we owned or the car we drove, but I managed to have my daughter who I instantly fell in love with named what my first little girl wanted. That was enough for now.