THE PASTOR
Samuel was about to graduate from junior school and we were busy considering high school options, when out of the blue Aida asked if I’d consider letting Samuel spend a year with her so she could re-establish a relationship with her son. And it just so happened that they’d recently purchased a home within walking distance of one of the schools we were considering. Ever since she’d met Grant, there’d been an improvement. They’d been fairly reliable regarding alternate weekends, and more importantly Samuel was regularly getting to spend time with his sister.
Naturally, I had my reservations. Another year had passed since I received her letter of apology and her promise to do better. While she was entitled to alternate school holidays, Aida had not yet thought to include Samuel. I could’ve done with a break, and I would have been a bit more comfortable with the idea if Samuel had previously spent a bit more than a weekend with them. And I was particularly aggrieved when they didn’t include him in their family holiday to Europe. They’d recently been reborn, and on weekends they’d introduced Samuel to their church, which would’ve given me a reason to hope except that it immediately became my problem. So now I was not only expected to deliver and collect Samuel for the weekend, but also had to include his Friday evening youth group, Sunday services, and other church-related activities.
As much as I tried to remind myself that it was about progress and not perfection, I didn’t understand why – in a household with three independently driven vehicles – no one was available or interested in offering Samuel a ten-minute ride home. I was still sick, and I was still worried about the business. And with everything else that had recently been revealed I was feeling incredibly vulnerable. I wanted, perhaps needed, to believe that Aida’s newfound faith made a difference. I was looking to see if Aida had realized that occasionally Samuel’s needs just might be more important than her own.
Then there was the annoying issue of Samuel’s child support. Before I was granted custody and I was only a few days late with my support payment, Aida hadn’t hesitated to have me arrested. But now that the tables had turned and she was six months in arrears, she didn’t find it necessary to even respond to my emails asking for clarity. Not to be petty, but little things add up. They hadn’t thought to invite Samuel when they travelled aboard, but when we travelled Samuel would be handed a shopping list – and the items would be collected before we had a chance to unpack, and the receipts would be ignored. But more importantly – and I could be wrong here – I don’t recall hearing a simple ‘Thank you, Samuel.’ or ‘We’ve missed you and would you like to spend next weekend with Mum?’
My frustration with having to consider her request finally blew up when Samuel was abandoned after a church camp. I was already annoyed I’d been expected to pay for the camp, and I should have gotten the information directly from the church. But as Aida and Grant were involved with the camp, I trusted them to get him home safely or to let me know when he would need to be collected. I don’t really know what happened. Even though it hadn’t taken me long to get there, he’d been left entirely on his own. I reacted and made an appointment to meet their pastor.
The pastor suggested we meet at Common Ground, a sister evangelical fellowship. Their upstairs bistro conveniently overlooks the Common. Pastor Richard was busy sipping on a cappuccino when I arrived. After the usual pleasantries, he opened with ‘Samuel is such a wonderful boy.’ Then he went on to tell me Samuel had volunteered to take care of their kindergarten kids during Sunday services and had received wonderful feedback from their parents. Additionally, Samuel’s ability to include others had made him a popular member of their youth group. He concluded his report by saying ‘He’s such a blessing to us.’ Remembering my own experience, and the difference the church had made in my life, I couldn’t have been happier for Samuel.
While thanking the waiter for the near-perfect cappuccino, he’d switched to talking about addiction by letting me know that several recovering addicts from their congregation were looking into developing a recovery program of their own. Then he bravely volunteered that he’d once struggled with an addiction to porn. ‘Born in sin,’ he said. Even as a minister, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from spending hours trolling from one site to the next. While I appreciated his willingness to share, my insecurities screamed, and I wondered just exactly what this guy had been told about me. But then I thought he could have been referring to Grant’s recovery and not mine. Either way, my defensive ego had kicked in and I couldn’t stop myself from trying to somehow impress him with my sober thoughts on the history of porn.
Most of what I had to say came directly from a documentary I’d watched only two days before our meeting. The creators hypothesised that humans have been, and always will be, predisposed to visual arousal. From ancient Greeks and Romans with their frescos and sculptures that illustrated every imaginable sexual position and the Kama Sutra from India seen by many as the original sex manual, to the oldest surviving photo taken in1846 of a middle-aged couple having sex, porn had always been a part of our lives. But like so many parents, I was becoming increasingly concerned and wondered what my child’s first introduction to sex would be, given today’s easy access to the internet. As a survivor, how could I process the fact that the word teen is the number one keyword searched in a ten to fourteen billion-dollar a year industry? Or that it’s now perfectly legal for the industry to produce and distribute computer-generated, life-like graphics of children simulating child sex, incest, and paedophilia? And what was I supposed to do with the knowledge that an alarming percentage of porn stars were once child victims of sexual abuse?
Feeling like a bit of an ass, I attempted to switch back to the purpose of our meeting – which I was no longer sure about. I told him I’d made the appointment in anger, and I’d thought about cancelling it. But seeing that we were here, I hoped he could help with a decision I’d been asked to make.
‘You may or may not know that Aida and Grant have recently asked if Samuel could move in with them when he starts high school next year. They’re members of your congregation, and while I’m happy they’ve gotten Samuel involved, I’m becoming increasingly annoyed that I’m expected to do the running around for almost all of his activities at church. By now, I’m sure you’ve heard, I was pretty annoyed after Samuel was left alone at the end of his youth camp. Well, that’s why I made this appointment in the first place.’
He listened and waited for me to continue. ‘Anyone can make a mistake and I’m certainly far from perfect.’ He apologised and said he’d look into what happened.
I’d told myself that I wasn’t going to go there, but I didn’t know how this pastor could help without knowing something about our past. I told him that, as far as I was concerned, I’d always done my best to encourage a healthy relationship with Aida. We’d never missed any of Aida’s birthdays and we’d never forgotten to get her a gift every Christmas, Mother’s Day, and even Valentine’s Day. Even though I’d made sure that all of Samuel’s schools had a record of Aida’s contact details, I additionally forwarded her a copy of all his school reports and any notification that I received. To date, I’d never denied her access and I’d gone out of my way to accommodate her odd, haphazard requests to see him. But sadly, until very recently, Aida had shown very little interest in Samuel.
I didn’t think it necessary to mention the one and only occasion that I did say no to her. She’d made no arrangement to see him, and I had informed her he’d been invited by a close friend to join them on a trip to Italy. But after everything had been booked and paid for, Aida expected us to cancel because her brother would be joining her for Christmas Eve dinner, and she needed Samuel to be there. Their pastor, who’d patiently listened to me, interjected, ‘People do change, with Jesus all things are possible.’
I couldn’t help but responded, ‘Yeah, that’s kind of what I’ve been hoping for, I’m just not sure I’ve seen enough. Not enough to feel comfortable about letting Samuel move in with them. No matter how much I might need their help.’
‘We’ve been praying for you, trusting that Samuel’s attendance will bring you back to God.’ Then he suggested we pray for our enemies.
‘Oh fuck,’ I thought I’d held back. I also felt like I was done with turning the other cheek and kowtowing to Aida’s fears. I quite possibly came across as a disgruntled ex-husband. I had to think about it, but I’m not sure I viewed Aida as an enemy. He needed to leave, so he wrapped up with an invitation to join their Starting Point program, where I could explore faith and get to know their community. We ended our meeting by praying together.
‘Lord Jesus.’ he began, as we bowed our heads, ‘Thank you that you died on the cross for us. I pray that you will reveal yourself to Daniel, that he will come to know you as his Lord and Saviour. And I ask that you guide him with the decision he needs to make. In Jesus’ name. Amen.’
Walking home, I thought about the year Jeremy spent in Australia with his mother. It had also been his first year of high school. It wasn’t perfect, but then what is? He had re-connected with Gareth and he’d gotten to know his mother a bit better. But this was Aida, and I hadn’t had a conversation with her since before we got divorced. So, while I had hoped that the church, along with Grant’s recovery program, would have a positive effect on Aida’s behaviour, I knew from personal experience she could turn on a dime and it could very easily go the other way. This brought me to my primary concern: if I let Samuel go, just how would we communicate when she doesn’t even answer my emails? Or would Aida try to cut me out, as she had with Ellen? Then there was the question of whether Aida had actually changed or was she doing all of this to get something she wanted. Ultimately, I decided the only way that I’d be able to tell was if I raised the issue of child support.
HOW IT’S GOING TO BE
The next day, I emailed Aida and offered her the same deal she’d once offered me. I stated that while I remained open and willing to consider their request, I’d like them to consider that I’d still need to maintain his primary residence and she’d have to continue paying his child support. Essentially, it was the same de facto agreement I had accepted when she had custody but decided Samuel would be better off living with me. No matter how much I might have been struggling at the time, I had to make damn sure Aida got her payment before all else. I thought about mentioning her attempt to have me thrown in jail but decided her new husband didn’t need to know that. However, I did reference my previous unanswered emails asking for clarity about Samuel’s child support which was still in arrears.
I was surprised to receive an almost immediate response that was signed off by the two of them and copied to an attorney.
It started politely. ‘Samuel is welcome to reside with us during the week, whenever the need arises.’ But then went on to dictate their terms: ‘Each of us will be responsible for maintaining Samuel and meeting his financial needs whilst he resides with us in our respective homes.’ I wasn’t quite sure what they meant by whenever the need arises, or whether Aida was still interested in having Samuel or not. But whichever the case may be, Aida would no longer be contributing to Samuel’s upkeep. And once again, there was no mention of the child support which remained in arrears or what she planned to do about it. They’d obviously gotten some legal advice and I didn’t know if they chose to ignore it, but I couldn’t imagine an attorney advising anyone to ignore an order from the family court. I felt sure they would have been told that if for some reason they were unable to pay Samuel’s child support, they had to apply for a reduction and had to supply proof. Why they felt the need to involve an attorney made no sense at all. I still couldn’t understand why we just couldn’t talk. If they needed a mediator, I would have been happy to accept their pastor or better yet, Grant’s sponsor.
I was still hopeful because for the first time in Samuel’s life Aida had asked to have him for a part of the holidays before starting high school. So with that in mind, I chose to enrol Samuel in the high school in their neighbourhood. It wasn’t my only reason, but keeping the door open for Aida was an important part of my decision making. But as usual, she only had him over for Christmas Day. I can’t say for certain whether they decided to go travelling or whether they stayed at home. All I do know is that Samuel was returned two weeks earlier than expected. He did get to see his grandparents though, who thankfully took him camping for a few days.
I can only describe what followed as a vindictive tantrum thrown by two entitled toddlers who hadn’t gotten their own way. They stopped inviting Samuel for weekends and they wouldn’t even give him five minutes to collect the PlayStation that he’d left behind. Having already replaced a few of the games he’d borrowed after three months of hearing that it wasn’t convenient or that they weren’t going to be at home, I’d finally had enough. When we arrived I wasn’t too surprised to find that they were indeed at home, and they didn’t seem to be terribly busy but were lounging around watching TV. But even though we could all clearly see each other, they chose to ignore us until Grant finally stepped outside only to tell Samuel to go away. Watching and experiencing these adults take out our differences and their perceived rejection on a child, I very nearly jumped over their fence to beat the crap out of him until someone returned Samuel’s things. Strangely, it was the look on Aida’s face that stopped me dead in my tracks – it told me that was exactly what she wanted me to do.
But ignoring Samuel wasn’t enough for them. While I’d thought I was keeping the door open for Aida by enrolling Samuel in a school that would be convenient for them, they decided to involve Samuel’s new school and accuse me of fraud. A letter from their attorney read, ‘You seem to arrogantly accept that we should be a party to your fraud committed against the school. Mr and Mrs Clark (Aida and Grant) met with the school’s headmaster and his teacher yesterday and the outcome was as follows: 1) Samuel will be allowed to remain at the school for now, despite not residing with Grant, Aida & Ellen. The school is now aware of the circumstances under which Samuel’s placement occurred; 2) The above is dependent on proper parental supervision being exercised as regards your son’s schoolwork. Samuel has made a poor start and generally lacks discipline. This falls squarely at your door.’ Yes, I’d given the school Aida’s contact details, just like I’d always done before. And yes, I did hope that their address would help facilitate his application. I did live in arguably the best school district in the country, so did they really think we had no alternatives? Perhaps, a school that might have been a bit more convenient for me?
For me, it was obvious Aida had never really been interested and Samuel and I had simply been used as pawns in one of her games. And now that she had Grant locked and loaded and willing to do her bidding, she could comfortably be herself again. True to their letter telling me how it was going to be, Aida simply stopped paying her court-ordered child support. This left me with no alternative but to hand to matter over to the family court. Fourteen months of court postponements followed, mainly because the court allowed her attorney to call the prosecutor assigned the case to let them know his client wasn’t available. Each time, I’d have to be at court before eight only to be told at lunchtime that the case had once again been postponed.
I don’t want to make this a gender issue, because men do represent the overwhelming majority of deadbeat parents. It can be quite an enlightening experience waiting at the family court.
The corridors are filled beyond capacity with women hoping to get some assistance. I got to meet some inspirational grandmothers taking care of as many as five toddlers, astonishing caretakers from historically impoverished townships without any easy access to running water and having to share portable communal toilets. For many, simply getting to the court involved a substantial walk to the nearest taxi rank, a train ride, and a second taxi. But they’d show up with children in tow, hoping to be granted a garnishee order – an order that empowered the sheriff of the court to attach a minuscule amount of the father’s weekly wage. And they’d have to start the process all over again each time the father changed jobs. It was embarrassing being the only man there with my seemingly luxury problem. But if these saintly grandmothers could do it, then so could I.
I was beginning to understand why deadbeat fathers are purposefully arrested on Friday afternoons. I guess like anywhere in the world if you can afford an attorney, you can simply postpone the procedure for months. It finally came to an end when Aida’s attorney, while continuing to represent her, informed the court he had decided to sequestrate Aida for non-payment of his legal bills. Her attorney’s involvement sounded somewhat dubious to me, but I was taken aback to learn she’d been sequestrated. So much so that my immediate reaction was to ask why the fuck she didn’t speak to me? As if I would’ve been able or even allowed to help. Of course, my next thought was hold on a moment this is looking suspiciously like a pattern.
To the best of my knowledge, this would be the third time that she’d declared bankruptcy. The first was shortly after we got married. The second, when she met Martin and I was left with no alternative but to liquidate the business that we’d once shared. And now for the third time after recently getting married to Grant? Each time, the creditors ended up losing and we felt obligated to empty our bank accounts. As suspected, Aida reopened under a new name and less than a month later they had two new Porches parked in their driveway. I got so pissed off that I thought about asking my cousin, a senior prosecutor with the Receiver of Revenue, to investigate her. But Kathy had warned me and what was I going to do? For better or worse, she’d always be Samuel’s mother.
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