Blood Attracts Blood: Update

I have a new confession now, that I have to share.

Update: I have a new confession now, that I have to share. I shared with you the original interaction and I’d hoped to get some feedback, advise. Maybe even some help on what to do next to get myself out of this predicament. But something happened the following morning, just days ago as you read this and before I’ve had a chance to absorb the replies. As I type this I feel nothing but a terrible state of internal turmoil within me. I need to solve this before it tears me apart.

I believe some additional context may be in order so as to give a detailed account of myself. Here it goes…

I’m in my room, still groggy from sleep but somewhat aware of my surroundings now. Work for me starts pretty much when I want it too. I work remotely and so long as my quota gets completed per day, no one bothers me, no one gives a shit and that’s how I like it. The digital clock says O’eight thirty am. I can wait for the hustle and bustle of the morning to pass. The two oldest children aren’t in school anymore. The oldest is even moved out with a promising boyfriend to take care of her future. The other one has work but she left for that at least two hours ago. So not as busy as it once was, but still pretty all hands on deck. Three washrooms for ten people in total, could equal real havoc. My wife got out of bed with a grumble, directed at me, most likely. I couldn’t tell what she said but that’s the first thing I noticed outside of myself as I regained my consciousness at the time.

“Nice for some, being able to lie in all day.” She jibed through a whine as she maneuvers around the big, king sized bed. I’m definitely awake now. Part of me wants to retort but the wiser half knows better. Stupid o’clock in the morning is not the time to have a verbal slug fest. I don’t dare even look at her. Fat bitch that she is now would probably give me a migraine anyway, such is my general sentiment towards my beloved wife of late. Last week or two I’d say. Of course, I’d never say out in front of the kids. I can think her into a bloody mosh pit of verbal abuse though. My thoughts are mine to do as I please with, so long as that is all they are.

As the wife trudges off to the washroom, Catherine comes into visit me. I only notice her as she’s practically standing over me and crawling into the bed with me. It’s normal for us and we’re very close in a paternal sort of way. I don’t fight it. I whole heartedly love this kid and the feeling is clearly mutual. She soothes me and I find her healing, refreshing. My ‘love bucket’ as the girls like to call it nowadays will always be full, so long as my Catherine is around. Won’t be long until she’s grown up and gone to live her own life though.

She immediately snuggles deep in to me. I do not even have to think about it before my arms just naturally envelop her, “You’re still wearing my shirt.” I say casually as I notice the minor detail.

She just smiles and looks back at me cutely and replies politely, “You don’t need it back do you?”

“Nah, not yet. I’ve still got two more. Besides, It is nice seeing you in them.”

“Good. Because I claim it and it’s mine until I say otherwise.” She talks back.

“Well… you DID just say otherwise, sooo.”

She wells her eyes up in mock sadness, perfectly matching my energy, “B… b… but it still smells like you and it’s so comforting.” She blushes hard and pulls the covers up higher on us both until our heads are covered. Then she takes a deep, long sniff, her nose pressed into the nook of my neck.

“All I smell is you.” I say with a crook eyed stare.

“Ew, why would you want to smell that?!”

“Because I like your smell too.” I make a point of pulling her in closer to me so I could bury my face in her neck and take a deep breath in. She feigns to struggle against me as I do this and once I’ve taken a nice deep breath of her in to me I tell her, “favourite smell in the whole world.” I’m nose to nose with her again but we’re our same old selves without a care in the world outside of our bubble nor stray thought between us.

She pouts at me with the whole squinty eyed stare and pokes me under the covers in the rib. I let out a yap and bat her hands away. Suddenly, from out of left field, “Come on you lazy bitch! Stop whoring in my bed and get to school.” my wife directs her voice towards Catherine as she walks back into the room.

Suddenly I become propped up on one elbow, eye balling my wife. I don’t want a fight right now but she’s really pushing it. “I’ll let the bitch slide but don’t you call my daughter a whore for cuddling her father. Go slink off to your office, sit down and shut your mouth.” There’s very few things I’m willing to get into fisticuffs over but my five children… and even two out of three of my wifes own children from her previous marriage, them I will fight for, over and with.

“Don’t go throwin’ all that micro-aggression at me, asshole. Must make you feel like a real big man, throwing your weight around against a woman.” This is just a small taste of the natterings that occur between my wife and I of late.

“The more you talk and ever since you joined that women only book club last year, the less I think of you as a woman and the more you come across as an overgrown child in a fat suit.” I’m rarely this crude and abrasive with anyone. It’s not just the current situation grinding my gears but also the last year of constant, petty bickering, largely instigated by my wife. Who would have thought a man and wife could grow so distant in such a short space of time during our nearly twenty years of otherwise love and passion filled marriage, to the point of near repelling each other. My long term frustrations from over the last year are beginning to surface.

“Screw you. That don’t change the fact this kid is in my bed when she should be getting ready for school and is instead shackin’ up all cosy with a married man that should know better!”

“What’s with you fuckin’ mormons and equating everything with sex? It’s like you can’t see a kid without linking them to some sort of sexual desire. I’m starting to think it’s your lot that’s the problem.”

“Don’t swear at me! And what you said was so mean and hurtful!” My wife shouts loudly. “How can you say such things to me?”

“So’s your fucking attitude. I suggest you change it.” I’m snapping back brashly, which is generally out of character for me. Lately I’ve had a harder and harder time holding myself back, to the point where I’ve caught myself from very nearly smacking her.

All the while, with each new sentence, her pitch is rising and her tempo is creeping faster as she continues speaking. “There isn’t anything wrong with my attitude when my lazy husband is still in bed at eight o’clock in the morning, setting a bad example for our daughter.” She tried to smack the back of Cathrines head as she was still tucked away under the covers whilst I was reluctantly facing off against the wife. She’s never tried to get physical before now though. Then again I really never gave a whole lot of push back like I am now.

I caught my wife by the fingers before they struck and forced her onto her knees or else I’d have broken them both. As she kneels, a mix of anguish and bewilderment is plastered all over her face. I lay mostly still in bed, propped up on an elbow, with Catherine nestled into me. She is still mostly tucked away under the covers whilst I glare at my wife. My wife, Rosanne sharply tilted her head up at me to glare upwards and back into my stare. I could already see the scream developing behind her eyes for a brief moment but she stopped herself. As she stared into my eyes she saw me look back at her in a way I’d never done before. Mine was a cold and malicious stare. I could feel it dwelling in me, glaring ahead at Rosanne like she were a Gazelle caught in the gaze of a ravenous lioness. A different kind of forest fire this time, a vision of violence and destruction raged behind the otherwise tranquility of my eyes whites. A thought in my head passes through, ‘How easy it would be to snap them both. Like a pair of twigs. I might even enjoy her screams.’ I think better of it, this time but say to her sternly, “Get out and go to the office, while you still have a home to return to.”

She left after that without much more fuss. There was a little wardrobe slamming and thumping but within two minutes she was gone without another word. I realised in that moment, as I felt relieved to see my wife walk through the door and disappear out of sight, that something had to change. I don’t like the realisations I’m being forced to face lately. What am I going to do? What can I do? But I’m not here for marriage advise. I merely needed to add the scene as a whole to complete the picture. This is about my daughter and I. This is the problem that truly leaves me feeling winded and clueless.

As my wife finishes readying herself for the day ahead at the office I tell my daughter with a soft breath, “She’s right though, you do need to go to school soon.”

Catherine responds bluntly,“school can go shag itself.” She’s picked up on a few of my idioms but she still has a mostly Canadian accent, since that is the predominant accent where we live. It’s unusual for her to be coarse though.

“Oh baby, it can’t be that bad.” I have a hand rubbing her back from top to bottom, following the line of her spine smoothly and uninterrupted. I hoped it helped to sooth her since it felt so therapeutic for me to be rubbing her back like this. I, of course, am still propped up on the one elbow as she was looking up at me from her position, flat on the mattress and a bit further down on the bed than me.

“Yes, it’s such a lovely place. All those delightful boys, the happy people with zero stress from the low grade expectations. Yes, what a delightful place to be. Cannot possibly think of anywhere else I would rather be.” As she continued speaking I realise she just witnessed that horrid display between her mother and I. I didn’t give her any thought in the moment, though perhaps I should have. It was her mothers outburst of violence and abusive choice of words that drove it but Catherine didn’t see her mom lunge at her. I wondered if that little spat spooked her.

“Did that between your mother and I scare you?” Her eyes go wide as I say it. Then she looked down into my chest with sadness on her face and said, “Yes”, while burying her face into me.

Before she continues, she pulls herself up on the bed until we’re nose to nose again. Catherine sounded like she had been holding it in for quite a while as she spoke, “It’s never been that bad before… Why are you and mom always fighting these days? Just a little over one year ago you both used to love each other so much and now it just feels as though you hate each other. I know it’s not your fault and you’re trying to make it work. I do! I see it! But ever since she joined that stupid book club she’s been different. Always moody and snapping at everything. Especially you and my brothers. Things she used to laugh at do nothing but offend her now. She used to be the life of the party, now she sucks the life out of it.” She was quite weepy by the time she finished talking. My hand migrated to her hip as she propped herself upward on the bed. I loved the feel of her hip under my fingertips and payed no further mind in that moment. I gently caress my fingers up and down on her in short strokes. I felt the warmth of her skin and the lack of any underwear under that shirt in that moment, which, right then, is really only an after-thought.

I could hear footsteps at the door. It’s Johnathan. I could only tell because he makes himself a part of the conversation and says, “It’s not just you she seems to hate, dad. Me, Kennedy and Jerome all feel like we can do no right in her presence. Every word we say is a micro-aggression or trespass of some sort. The only girl she seems short with is Catherine. Maybe cuz you and her are so close.”

A look of concern descends onto my face as the words left his mouth and I stammer a little, “I… I… I hadn’t realised. I haven’t even noticed. I thought she was normal with you kids.”

“When you’re around, she sort of is. But in the evenings when you’re off with friends or camping it’s like she becomes a whole new person. Those stupid tit jokes we brothers share, the ones she always used to laugh her ass off at? Those offend and trigger her now. Sometimes if we’re playing around with our sisters, she’ll bark at us to leave them alone and call us bullies and predatory. They’re laughing and joking around the same as us by the way.” I could hear the frustration and hurt in his voice.

I lay back down in the bed, head rested on the head board and an arm propped over my eyes. A mix of deep sadness and bitter, undirected anger swirls within me. I’m not crying, but I want to. I’d never let it happen in front of the kids. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t notice. I’ll have to fix this, somehow.” My voice is low and monotone.

“I… It’s ok dad. I don’t think you were meant to and it’s the first time any of us have said it. We know how rough your relationship is right now. None of us want to be responsible for finishing it off.” I’m trying in the moment to hide how I’m really feeling but it is painfully obvious they could tell.

“Your mother is doing a bang up job of that all by herself. It’s not your fault Johnathan. None of you are responsible for this. Thank you for telling me.”

“W…” Johnathan next asked nervously, “what are you going to do?”

I replied to him very matter of factly, “I think me and your mum are going to have to have a good long talk. I’ll decide what to do after that.”

The conversation turns a little cold for a moment as the atmosphere turns morose but Catherine quickly chimes in, probably to try and normalise the start of our day, somewhat. “Dad, are we ok…?”

“We?” I ask, “as in me and you? Why wouldn’t we be?”

“It felt a little awkward last night after we nearly kissed accidentally when we said goodnight to each other and I thought that maybe you were cross with me.”

I can see Johnathan following the conversation. “Oh no sweetheart, I’m not cross at all.”

“What sort of T is this? You two got all smoochy woochy?” Johnathan teases playfully and then sing songs out the next line. “Don’t let officer brooke find ooouuut.” He was using his most positively queer tone now as he mocked us. He often sounds grumpy this early in the morning but eventually he slips into his usually, gay self. He actually is full on gay, by the way. Not the slightest interest in the female species and lately, because of his mother, I was starting to feel like that was the way to go. If it wasn’t for my daughters I’d have nothing to do with them. He, Johnathan would cringe at a tit pic but drool over a firm, unrelated males ass whenever it was in view. He was unashamedly the village gay boy. One of a handful. I am honestly quite proud of how brave he is to be so open about it. Especially in the middle of a small, mormon town. Maybe those are just the times we live in.

Catherine retorted, “No, stupid. We were saying a normal good night and our lips nearly met in the middle. Made it a little awkward for a second.”

“It’s normal though, isn’t it? Pascal down the road kisses his children on the mouths every time in front of everybody when he drops them off for school or church. There’s nothing wrong with a quick paternal kiss.”

“You’re right.” Catherine agreed with Johnathan vehemently. “It is normal. Can we try it dad? Just once? And if it feels weird, we never do it again! I’m guessing you want to have a go too, Johnathan!”

Johnathans face controted, “Ewww. Fuck no. I ain’t no daddy’s boy. You can have all that scrumptious daddy stubble all to yourself honey buns. Mhhm, you go girl, tiger or whatever you aspire to be.”

They had a little chuckle and the atmosphere’s tension seemed to evaporate. Johnathan said, “Well go on and get on with it then. It’s only weird if you two make it weird.” Every once in a while a little bit of my accent seeps into Johnathan’s accent and confirms absolutely that he is one hundred percent a dna match as my son.

Catherine looks at me expectantly. “Ok, fine. Fiinne.” I say, sounding reluctant. “Better than letting it hang over our heads for the rest of time.” I agree and we move our heads closer quickly. The hand I had on her hip, at this point splays out wide on that same hip and squeezes ever so lightly. I feel her hand go to my stomach, high, just beneath my ribs. The bed covers still cover everything below my chest. Her finger tips play with the light dusting of hair I’ve got there. Our lips meet. My hand squeezes a little more and subtly pulls on her. Her own fingers stop playing and spread fully out on my torso.

It doesn’t become a close eyed kiss. Yet I still feel a rush of electro-magnetism between us as our lips meet, like we were orbiting the horizon of a black hole that desperately sought to suck us in whole. One that had waited all this time for us to step even a single toe over the line. I can feel her press into my lips and mine press lightly back. It’s far less than a passionate, lovers snog. But it’s subtly a half step more than a purely paternal peck on the lips. I feel her generous cuppage spill outwards against my chest. The fabric of her shirt is the only thing preventing full and direct contact. The kiss itself lasted maybe all of one solid second before it was over and we both pulled away.

“See, nothing to worry about.” Johnathan said in blissful ignorance. As I stared into Catherine’s face she wore her tender, contented smile again and also had a reddish hue on her cheeks. She looked at me bashfully when we locked eyes before backing out of the bed and standing straight up. “You’re right, I’m going to be late for school. We should really get going.” I can’t help but smile back at her in the moment, despite having at least a partial understanding of what had just happened between us. Even though Johnathan couldn’t see it, I knew my feelings were stirred again.

If Johnathan wasn’t standing right there at the time, would I have stopped? In my honest heart of hearts, I didn’t really know in the moment and still don’t. I remember the ghost of her warmth under my finger tips. It has stayed with me, lingering on the tips of each finger for the rest of these past fer days so far. Did I want to casually slip my hand underneath her shirt and grab that hip directly and for real? Kiss, a little deeper, maybe even poke a tongue in? Let that tiny spark become a raging inferno? Just thinking about it as I type this out has my heart racing. God save me… I’m even hard right now at the thought of those possibilities.