Confessions of a Litigation God

There is nothing in the world that will ever compare to the feeling you get when your child is sleeping in your arms. It touches the deepest part of you as a human being. It reminds me that I still have the capacity to love.

But to be clear, I have the capacity, not the desire, because I’m not looking to love anything or anyone past Gabe. That’s never going to happen. I did that once and when I did, I went in all the way. I went into love hard and deep, surrendering to it completely.

But never again… not for anyone other than my son.

The sad thing is… I was built to love. I was a f**king natural at it. Fiercely loyal, endlessly giving. And that’s not cockiness or ego talking. I was a f**king fantastic husband. I worked hard and provided a good lifestyle for Marissa. I spent all my free time doting on her, buying her jewelry, taking her to exotic places. I spent every night giving her pleasure, sometimes forgoing my own just to give her more. I listened to her… to her every thought and whim and I validated them all, even when I thought some of them were silly to me, because I knew they weren’t silly to her.

Yes, I was a f**king fantastic husband in every way, except for one.

I failed to realize that my wife needed something that I couldn’t give her.

Freedom.

I failed to realize that Marissa didn’t want to be married and didn’t want to be tied down. She didn’t care if I was loyal, giving, or f**ked her like a rock star. She didn’t want the commitment and only wanted to be free.

I didn’t figure out any of this stuff until it was too late. Until she was taking a little bit of freedom behind my back in the form of f**king various men.

Does that make me a bad husband because I failed to see it?

Fuck no. She’s a lying, cheating bitch spawned straight from the fiery pits of hell who deceived me.

So it doesn’t make me a bad husband. It just makes me stupid.

>

And that will never happen to Matt Connover again. There is no “fool me twice” scenario here.

My emotions rage as I think about Marissa, but then calm when I look down at Gabe sleeping on top of me. Today was fantastic. Baseball, pizza, and now movies with my boy.

We’re lying on the couch as we had been watching Finding Nemo, for about the one-thousandth time. He fell asleep just after the “big butt” line, which always causes him to giggle hysterically. Butt is a funny, funny word to a seven-year-old boy for some reason.

I know I should move him to his bed, but I don’t want to let this feeling go. He’s lying with his back up against the couch cushions and his head and torso across my chest. That position provided him the best and most comfortable view of the TV.

That position provided me with a close-up view of his cowlick and about one-third of the TV screen, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t into the movie really.

Just into holding Gabe.

Closing my eyes, I push Marissa out of my mind and concentrate on the feel of my son in my arms. His hair smells sweet from his bath tonight and his breath is soft and gentle. My hand rubs his lower back to soothe him deeper into slumber, and the feel of his tiny heartbeat against mine soothes me as well.

No, nothing will ever compare to this… not in this lifetime.

***

I’m awoken by the sound of Barracuda piercing my dreams, which, with a flash of guilt, I realize I had been dreaming of Mac while my son lay asleep on top of me.

Leaning over slightly, I grab my phone and connect.

“What do you need?” I whisper into the phone so I don’t wake Gabe up.

“I need to talk to you,” Marissa says. The slurred words are a clear indication she’s drunk. This happens infrequently but when it does, it’s always so much fun.

Yes, that is my sarcastic inner voice.

“I don’t have time for this,” I growl at her.

“Well, make the time, or I’m coming over there. I’ll just take Gabe back home with me,” she threatens me angrily.

Motherfucking, cock-sucking whore.

Inside thoughts only around Gabe.

“Just a minute,” I tell her. “Let me put Gabe to bed, and I’ll be right back. ”

Setting the phone down, I sit up, clasping Gabe’s head to my chest and supporting his weight with my other arm. I carry him quickly to his room, thankful I insisted he put on his pajamas before we started the movie.

Settling him in his bed, I pull the covers up and kiss him on the forehead, then quietly back away. I leave the door open just a crack… I always do so I can make sure I hear him if he has a bad dream or something. I stare at him a moment more, watching his sweet and peaceful sleep, drawing on the calming effect that has on me.

I’m going to need it to handle Marissa.

With a sigh, I turn away and walk back into the living room. Picking my phone up, I say, “I’m back. What do you need to talk about?”

“Anthony and I broke up,” she says morosely.

“Did he catch you f**king around on him?” I know that’s wrong… to say that to the mother of my child, but I absolutely cannot help myself. I’m still operating on a ton of bitter feelings here.

She hisses at me. “Of course not. He’s worried about our age difference. ”

Sighing, I drag my fingers through my hair, briskly rubbing back and forth. “Why is this my concern, Marissa?”

“Because I’m sad and lonely,” she says softly. “And you are always there for me. ”

Yeah… that’s where you’re wrong, bitch.

“Were,” I correct her.

“What?”

“You meant to say ‘you were always there’. Not you ‘are always there’. ”

“I don’t understand,” she says in confusion.

I’d like to say it’s the alcohol making her obtuse, but Marissa doesn’t have the keenest common sense. She is book smart, for sure, but sometimes simple things go right over her head.