Tommy, from ex-wife Helen's pov
I remember that night at the Northstar in Philadelphia- I sat at the bar with some girlfriends and the band began to play. The guitarist really put his all into the solo, fingers flying and hair flowing around his face like some sort of rock god. I hadn't been long in the city, but I thought to myself this was what living in the city meant. A bit forward maybe-- but a girl does what she has to do. I had the freedom to go up to that boy and ask him what he was doing after the show.
Turned out he was doing me, and he had dexterous hands alright-- though he lacked a lot in the imagination department. He fumbled with things, and he wasn't even drunk. That should've been my first sign. And the second, that he didn't talk smoothly- that sometimes he tripped over his words like his tongue had grown too thick in his mouth.
And he had absolutely no ambition in life beyond music. That was alright when his band stood a chance of going somewhere - but they never broke into that 'big time', and the venues started getting smaller and smaller. Still, I needed a husband. And we'd been dating all through my college years-- so I suppose it was natural we married.
Did I love him? Oh I suppose so,in the beginning. He had a certain charm about him, at times. He could be attentive and amusing, when he tried. I tried very hard to direct him-- to get him going to college. He'd done a stint in the army- he could've signed up on the GI Bill. He took a few classes here and there, halfhearted as he did anything that didn't involve his music.
He left guitar picks, strings, and music magazines lying about everywhere. He wouldn't cut his hair, or start wearing suits. And I had to fight him tooth and nail to get him out of the city and into the suburbs, to buy a proper home in a development (mostly paid for with MY money) so I could keep up with the rest of the team at my firm.
And do you know how embarrassing it was when he started spouting his environmental nonsense, or how 'The Man' was sticking it to the little guy during those dinners? An eloquent bit of debate could have provided some entertainment - but Tommy was never eloquent. Not him. He used to say that his brain ran faster than his mouth. And maybe that was true-- he was brilliant when it came to things like tuning pianos (he had perfect pitch, could do it by ear) and he could've made a decent enough go of it as a session musician. But he refused to network, couldn't shake the hands and go to the parties necessary to make it work.
And I'll admit--- there were times when I wasn't entirely faithful to him. On business trips with a senior partner, when the situation arose-- yes, I took the opportunity. But Tommy's mistress was music, so didn't I have the right? I couldn't feel entirely guilty about it. I never suspected he knew...
I thought the baby would help. My biological clock had been loudly ticking, and Tommy and I were drifting. It could've been the glue that cemented us together. We tried to get pregnant-- well, I tried and he mostly went through the motions. It took though, and I felt a wonderful feeling -motherhood. Caring about the tiny life inside of me. And the more I thought about that tiny life and our future together- the more I realized there was no place for Tommy in it.
I threw him out. There wasn't any one last straw, just his shiftlessness- his late night gigs in seedy bars, and his silly daytime gigs playing background music at malls - he still wouldn't get a real job, even with the baby on the way. Even when I called in favors and set up situations to assure his jobs wouldn't work out... he still kept stubbornly trying. Clearly, he had to go.
Oh he cried, and he pleaded, and he begged for another chance but-- I'd fallen out of love with him a long time ago, I'd realized. And the last good thing he could've done for me, he'd already done-- given me a child. I'd just have to pray the baby took after my side of the gene pool, and not his. And just in case there was any credence to nurture over nature-- welll. I filed a motion saying he'd been violent with me, and I feared for the baby's safety with him. I had a few friends say they witnessed his bad temper.
Did I feel guilty about it? Oh, perhaps a little. But I wanted a better life for myself and the baby. One without a class-D loser in it. A woman does what she has to do.
Turned out he was doing me, and he had dexterous hands alright-- though he lacked a lot in the imagination department. He fumbled with things, and he wasn't even drunk. That should've been my first sign. And the second, that he didn't talk smoothly- that sometimes he tripped over his words like his tongue had grown too thick in his mouth.
And he had absolutely no ambition in life beyond music. That was alright when his band stood a chance of going somewhere - but they never broke into that 'big time', and the venues started getting smaller and smaller. Still, I needed a husband. And we'd been dating all through my college years-- so I suppose it was natural we married.
Did I love him? Oh I suppose so,in the beginning. He had a certain charm about him, at times. He could be attentive and amusing, when he tried. I tried very hard to direct him-- to get him going to college. He'd done a stint in the army- he could've signed up on the GI Bill. He took a few classes here and there, halfhearted as he did anything that didn't involve his music.
He left guitar picks, strings, and music magazines lying about everywhere. He wouldn't cut his hair, or start wearing suits. And I had to fight him tooth and nail to get him out of the city and into the suburbs, to buy a proper home in a development (mostly paid for with MY money) so I could keep up with the rest of the team at my firm.
And do you know how embarrassing it was when he started spouting his environmental nonsense, or how 'The Man' was sticking it to the little guy during those dinners? An eloquent bit of debate could have provided some entertainment - but Tommy was never eloquent. Not him. He used to say that his brain ran faster than his mouth. And maybe that was true-- he was brilliant when it came to things like tuning pianos (he had perfect pitch, could do it by ear) and he could've made a decent enough go of it as a session musician. But he refused to network, couldn't shake the hands and go to the parties necessary to make it work.
And I'll admit--- there were times when I wasn't entirely faithful to him. On business trips with a senior partner, when the situation arose-- yes, I took the opportunity. But Tommy's mistress was music, so didn't I have the right? I couldn't feel entirely guilty about it. I never suspected he knew...
I thought the baby would help. My biological clock had been loudly ticking, and Tommy and I were drifting. It could've been the glue that cemented us together. We tried to get pregnant-- well, I tried and he mostly went through the motions. It took though, and I felt a wonderful feeling -motherhood. Caring about the tiny life inside of me. And the more I thought about that tiny life and our future together- the more I realized there was no place for Tommy in it.
I threw him out. There wasn't any one last straw, just his shiftlessness- his late night gigs in seedy bars, and his silly daytime gigs playing background music at malls - he still wouldn't get a real job, even with the baby on the way. Even when I called in favors and set up situations to assure his jobs wouldn't work out... he still kept stubbornly trying. Clearly, he had to go.
Oh he cried, and he pleaded, and he begged for another chance but-- I'd fallen out of love with him a long time ago, I'd realized. And the last good thing he could've done for me, he'd already done-- given me a child. I'd just have to pray the baby took after my side of the gene pool, and not his. And just in case there was any credence to nurture over nature-- welll. I filed a motion saying he'd been violent with me, and I feared for the baby's safety with him. I had a few friends say they witnessed his bad temper.
Did I feel guilty about it? Oh, perhaps a little. But I wanted a better life for myself and the baby. One without a class-D loser in it. A woman does what she has to do.