What Story Would You Tell?

Have you ever listened to the Moth Radio Hour? I hear it on my NPR station and have an app on my phone so I can listen if I missed the radio broadcast. People usually tell stories that are funny or tragic. They either make me laugh or cry.
I asked Grace what story she would tell on the Moth Radio Hour. She thought maybe she'd tell about the parties her French friend threw while she visited Paris. I suggested she could tell the story about her sorority sister who sabotaged her romance then slept with the guy herself. No, she decided, she would tell the story about flying home from France in tears when American Airlines bumped her up to first class. I posted briefly about this story in December 2011.
I'm not really sure what story I would tell. I wonder if I've written a blog post that would make a good Moth Radio Hour story.
I'll try occasionally to tell a brief story on my blog that could expand into a Moth Radio Hour story.
I'm not sure why, but I've been thinking about the incident that made Earl get serious about dating me.
Earl and I both worked as reporters for the Tampa Tribune in Pinellas County, that's the little peninsula that stands between Tampa, Florida and the Gulf of Mexico. St. Petersburg and Clearwater are in Pinellas County.
Earl covered the courts and I covered city government in Clearwater. Earl started working there about a year before I did. He was married at the time I met him, but it was a rocky marriage. (That's a story I'll let him tell.)
He and his wife, Elaine, decided to separate in January, and I had a two-bedroom apartment so I offered to let Elaine have the extra bedroom. I'd met her a few times when we all went out together. I was 26 and figured they'd be back together in a few weeks.
I saw Earl most days at work, but never told him that his wife didn't spend nights at my apartment. Some days I'd find evidence that she had been in the apartment while I was at work, but I rarely saw her.
One day I had an assignment to cover Gasparilla, that's a pirate day celebration around Mardi Gras, and I was going to ride a boat across Tampa Bay. I could take a friend, and I asked Elaine if she wanted to go with me.
"You should take a date," she said. I wasn't dating anyone.
"Take Earl," she suggested.
And I did.
Earl was picking me up early, at 8 or 9 a.m. The night before Earl's early arrival was the only night that Elaine spent in my apartment. She was there when Earl came to pick me up.
Eventually, Elaine moved in with the man she was spending time with, and Earl and I started dating. We went back and forth a hundred times. Earl would break up with me and go to marriage counseling with Elaine. Then he would come back and say he couldn't stop thinking about me. He'd show up on my doorstep with a 6-pack of Dos Equis, which was a new beer at the time. Finally, Earl decided to get a divorce.
We continued dating, but as someone just coming off a divorce, Earl wasn't too serious. We still went back and forth until I met Sergeant Randy.
I met Sergeant Randy through work. He was a cop, and I was working on a story about prostitutes -- a new program that punished the "johns" more than the women. I rode along with him one night as he staked out prostitutes, and they arrested the men who propositioned them.
I remember sitting in the front seat of the cruiser with Randy and we had an instant flirty rapport. He made me laugh. Now when I think of him, he reminds me of Ray Romano from Everybody Loves Raymond.
He asked me out, and I said, "yes."
The next day, I told Earl that I was going to start dating someone else.
I loved Earl, but the anguish of the back and forth was too gut wrenching for me. I figured it might take him years to get over his divorce, and I was ready to move on. His marriage counselor told him that I was only "a flash in the pan."
That day, after a goodbye lunch and lingering kisses, Earl decided he was ready to get serious. He wanted to be exclusive.
I'm not one of those conniving women who planned to force Earl to get serious. I truly found Sergeant Randy attractive and I'd had enough of waiting for Earl.
To this day, Earl remains a little jealous of Randy and refers to him as Katzenjammer, because he has a German sounding last name.  We haven't stayed in touch, but he did come to our wedding party and give us a gift of margarita glasses.
And whether Earl admits it or not, now nearly 24 years after we married, Randy had a role in bringing us together.

First Paragraph, Tuesday Teaser -- I See London I See France

Every Tuesday, Diane at Bibliophile by the Sea posts the first paragraph of her current read. Anyone can join in. Go to Diane's website for the image and share the first paragraph of the current book you are reading.
I was wondering which book I should feature today for First Paragraph and Tuesday Teaser, when I realized, I'd better showcase my own.
I See London I See France by me (Paulita Kincer) is about a married mother of three who realizes she doesn't know who she is or what she wants any more. So she sells her minivan and, with her three children, runs away to Europe.
Here's the first paragraph:

“I’ve had enough, Caroline.” He tossed the words down the stairs like an empty laundry basket.
Obviously, that was a subtle signal my husband Scott needed some time alone. It’s not like I immediately followed him up the stairs to continue the fight I’d started with a few well-placed comments about the leak in the bathtub not fixing itself.

Instead of shadowing him to the second floor, I continued to the dining room table and calmly folded clothes. I could hear him moving around as the old wooden floors squeaked above me.  I pictured him pacing in anger as our angry words dissipated. He’d probably calm down by the time I finished folding the clothes in neat piles and stacked them back in the basket.

Also this week  is Teaser Tuesdays. Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of Should Be Reading. Anyone can play along! Open to a random page of your current read  and share a teaser sentence from somewhere on that page. BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your tease.

Here's my teaser from page 54 during a flashback to Caroline's college days in France:

 I suppose we were taking our lives in our hands, Jean-Marc sailing with me as his helper, since I didn’t know what I was doing. As he taught me to sail, pulling on the ropes with my hands, hooking my feet under a cord and leaning out over the water to balance the boat, I became bruised and callused on my palms and the tops of my feet.I didn’t feel the pain, though. I felt the exhilaration of skimming along the very blue water and the spray on my face. On a sailboat in the Mediterranean with a handsome Frenchman. Would any of my friends at home believe it?

Hope you enjoyed the teasers. Please spread the word. My novel is available on Amazon or Barnes & Noble  or in paperback.

Dreaming of France -- I See London I See France

Please join this weekly meme. Grab a copy of the photo above and link back to An Accidental Blog. Share with the rest of us your passion for France. Did you read a good book set in France? See a movie? Take a photo in France? Have an adventure? Eat a fabulous meal or even just a pastry? Or if you're in France now, go ahead and lord it over the rest of us. We can take it.
Finally, my latest novel I See London I See France is available.
It's a fun, women's fiction novel with the exhaustion of mothering and a hint of romance.
Here's the blurb:

When her husband of a dozen years walks out in a huff, Caroline Sommers walks out too – to Europe, with her kids after impulsively selling her minivan for travel money. Tired of being the perfect wife, she escapes to rediscover herself, and possibly rekindle the unrequited love of a Frenchman from her college days.  While shepherding her kids from London to Scotland then Paris to Provence, she finds herself at a crossroads. Does she choose love, or lust, in the arms of a European man, or should she try again with the father of her children and the man she truly loved, once?

I wrote this book originally when the kids were little. It was my first novel, but I put it away. I've revised it a few times and I'm really happy with its latest revision. I added flashbacks throughout as the main character remembers her college crush with an older Frenchman Jean-Marc. Part of Caroline's quest through Europe is to learn whether she settled for the wrong man by marrying her husband.
And where did those ideas and feelings for Frenchman come from? My very own trip to France when I was 22.
I've sworn my kids to secrecy -- because we are still connected to the family in France-- but I had a major crush on one of the brothers.

This snapshot doesn't do justice to my French crush, but imagine learning to sail in the Mediterranean with a handsome French doctor. The character in my book is a little more extreme, but has a lot of the same yummy qualities. 

Here's a link to the paperback version of I see London I See France.

The Amazon link for a Kindle version at $4.99 is here, and the Nook link is here.

I hope  my book helps other to Dream of France too.

Can't wait to see what you post this week.

Skin in the Game

My best friend has a rocky marriage. No, it's not the marriage. It's the guy.
Her husband is a narcissist. I firmly suggested she not marry this guy when her first marriage dissolved. But she was on the rebound and knew she was marrying someone who would treat her well. Nine years later, not so much. Truthfully, in the first year he showed his true colors.
I'd like to say that I've been supportive of her marriage, encouraging her to keep trying, but I was saying "Dump the guy" before she reached her first anniversary. That year, growing large with pregnancy, her father dying of cancer, her husband scheduled corrective eye surgery. He couldn't afford it before, but the end of my friend's first marriage came with a settlement that her new husband felt free to spend. As she drove him home from the eye procedure, fighting a sinus infection that seemed to have taken root with the pregnancy, tears leaking from her eyes as she imagined her father fighting for each remaining breath, her husband told her that he had been dreaming of this corrective eye surgery for two years and now she "was ruining it for him."
Dump him, I advised.
She's been to years of marriage counseling with him, now as their son reaches his 8th year. They've had some happy times -- blips of moments that can't be pieced together to form weeks of happiness, much less months. They fight over her kids from the previous marriage who regard him with disdain. They fight over his free spending habits, his bi-monthly massages and $600 ski equipment. His refusal to help pay for her daughter's college so she has to hide the fact that she's covering the tuition costs. She works long hours, makes more money than him, puts the little guy to bed every night, cooks the dinners, goes to the sports events for the older kids. She's doing it all alone. Oh, wait. He does yard work, but lets her know what a drain it is on him.
Her husband is a little OCD. For instance, one day, she went out to the garage to change the bunny cage, washed her hands afterward, and continued with the rest of her day. That night when she made dinner, her husband refused to eat it because she hadn't worn gloves to clean the bunny cage. One of the biggest fights they have is about keeping the house clean, which isn't easy for most people, but even harder for my friend with the three teenagers, the 8-year-old and the unhelpful husband.
A few weeks ago, she told me the saddest story. She was chopping up jalapenos for dinner while her 8-year-old ate a snack in the kitchen. The cutting board tipped, sending the jalapeno pieces onto the floor. The 8-year-old hopped out of his chair and ran for the back door.
"I'll keep Dad outside until you get those picked up," he said. He knew that his father would blow a gasket if he saw the jalapeno pieces on the floor and then later in his dinner, even if my friend washed them and cooked them.
And that's her son's reality. Keep Dad from getting mad. Keep Dad from throwing a hissy fit.
So, my friend is inching her way toward a divorce. She gives ultimatums. She searches the internet for cute puppies she might get when doesn't have a husband any more. And the other day she upped the stakes.
"If I get a divorce, I'll pay for us to fly to France. You find us a place to stay," she said.
"Deal," I replied. Then I told her she might regret giving me skin in the game since I now had something to gain from seeing her divorce.
I texted her yesterday about great prices on flights to Europe, in case she needs incentive to hurry along her divorce.
She tells me, "I'm the only one in the room who has been through an awful divorce. I'm the only one who knows how hard it is."
Which is true.
But I haven't said to her, "You're the only one in the room who is living with a man who treats you with total disregard, who puts you last but expects you to put him first, in front of yourself, in front of your kids."
The trip to France was not the only skin I have in the game. She's my best friend. Every time he treats her badly, it scrapes away at my skin, wearing it raw as I see my best friend worn down into a numb person, moving through life like a race as if the finish line will provide her relief.
My stake in this game is the love of my friend -- and a trip to France.

Words of Wisdom From a Marriage

As a kid, I used to read the column "Can This Marriage Be Saved?" in a women's magazine, maybe Ladies Home Journal. The columnist would outline both sides and then dispense words of wisdom.
Sometimes, I feel like I might be that wise columnist, but I only hear the one side from my best friend in Michigan, and I've learned to laugh at the totally ludicrous words that come from her self-obsessed husband.
He's had some real jewels the past few weeks. When they were discussing her "output control" issues, he said, "I've learned to tolerate you over the years."
With that kind of obvious adoration for her, it's hard to imagine why this marriage is floundering.

When one day they were discussing if they would ever remarry other people if one of them died, the husband said, "Oh, my God. I could not do this again."
In the midst of another argument, he declared, "I'm sure there's somebody out there who would love me more than you do."
I'm not sure why she didn't take him up on it and suggest he go look for that somebody.
Then just this week, her two teenage sons got in a fistfight and had to be pulled apart. My friend was obviously distraught at the idea that her children were willing to beat on each other. She told her husband that she needed some support from him.
"Oh, I gave you support earlier in the week when I let you go to Washington for two days," he said.
She had to go away for work to Washington and he was kind enough to "allow" her to go. He has no problem overspending the money she makes, about twice as much as he does.
In the past, for her birthday he has given her a horse (which she never got) and a trip to Paris (which she had to pay for). He schedules twice monthly massages for himself to relieve all of his stress. She's been sick since October and can't seem to get well because of all the stress she's actually under.
So, back to the original question: "Can This Marriage Be Saved?"
My diagnosis: As long as she's willing to laugh off his narcissism and verbal attacks, the marriage can continue indefinitely. I'm willing to to be her sounding board for as long as she needs me because I love her even if she's married to an asshat.
And, just in case she decides someday to meet him at the courthouse, I'll try to keep track of all the hurtful things he says. She may need them as evidence.
Photo from www.media.cakecentral.com

Judgment and Other People's Marriages

Sometimes I find myself being so judgmental when it comes to husbands. I think that I would never put up with -- fill in the blank.
I have one friend whose husband insists on being in charge. She has to cajole him, get him in a good mood before she can ask permission to go to a girls' night out. Permission? What, is he your father? This would drive me crazy, but she says she has learned that every kind of marriage has its own idiosyncracies. That's what I need to remember.
There's a woman whose blog I read, she has little kids, and her husband apparently spends big chunks of each day playing an online game. I'd be standing in front of him screaming for help, which I'm sure would be good for the marriage.
Another friend who has plans to someday leave her husband said she originally set the bar at cheating. She decided if he cheated she would leave. But, she's pretty certain he has cheated several times and she's still there. When does that bar slip? When do we decide just to look the other way for now?
Another friend has been going through a rough patch with her husband. He thinks he can trust her again if she hands over all of her emails for the past six months. She has printed them off. She looks at them and wonders how he will interpret each one, what he will find to blame on her.
I warn her that this won't be the end. In three months, in six months, he may ask for them again. He may take this stack of emails and accuse her of holding out on him. I don't understand where this kind of distrust can end and a foundation for a marriage can begin.
My marriage has not been perfect and I'm sure that my friends can point to plenty of times when they thought I should have stood up to my husband. I remember when Stephanie came to visit me after I had surgery on my ACL. I had a cooling machine wrapped around my knee as I lay in bed. My husband let her in and directed her upstairs, calling me "the princess." She was so pissed at him. As if I'd chosen to stay in bed rather than being forced to rest after my surgery.
There have been other times. My friends are the ones I turn to when I'm angry. I spout the vitriole and hopefully move on, but they may feel they need to protect me from my husband. I know that's how I feel about some of my friends right now.
Being judgmental isn't helpful. But, wanting my friends to be happy and to be treated well is a genuine emotion. Somehow, I need to find a happy medium.
Have you ever set the bar? Decided, if this happens, that's it, I won't put up with any more?

The Marriage Struggle

The cell phone rang at 5:24 a.m. -- its Blue October song bursting forth in the still-dark morning. I was awake but lying in bed. I rolled from the bed, grasped the phone and walked out the bedroom door. The number wasn't one I knew, but the area code was the same as my best friend's.
"Hello," I said quietly, looking for a place where I could talk without waking people. I passed the bedroom door where the two teenage girls slept. In the living room, my 13-year-old was spread out on the couch. I walked out the back door and sat on the red rocking chair, watching the vines of the morning glories intertwine.
"Were you sleeping?" my best friend asked.
"I was awake," I continued the pleasantries. Then she burst out.
"He left me."
I felt my stomach drop and soar as if on a series of roller coaster hills.
He, the odious husband who made most days a misery, had left her? It seemed like a dream come true, a perfect outcome, but she sounded upset. I contained my glee and asked for the story.
After she went to bed the night before, he found her phone and went through her text messages. Apparently, she had sent a message to an old college boyfriend that said she was shopping for bras. Her husband found that inappropriate. There were others that he questioned even though the men live states away from her. He was convinced she was cheating on him. He kept the phone, refusing to give it back. I guess he planned to use it as evidence of her infidelity.
I tried to be supportive before I said, "This is like a gift."
"But he thinks I'm cheating. He's making me feel slutty."
For the record, she hasn't cheated on him. I'm not sure why. He's the most self-centered person I've ever met. When she was pregnant with their son and her father was dying of cancer, he scheduled eye-corrective surgery and demanded a ride. Then he told her she was ruining this very special day for him.
He takes no responsibility for anything. The other night he sat watching baseball with his now-five-year-old son beside him then yelled at my bestfriend that the boy didn't get a bath.
My best friend has children from a previous marriage. The very savvy teenage daughter asked her mom, "If I learn to make martinis, will you divorce him?" I love that girl.
If I knew this man as a person, I wouldn't hate him. He's just a man who can be polite for a little while but he can't keep up the charade for long. He wants things done his way, but he isn't willing to actually do anything about it but complain.
The reason I hate him is that he makes my best friend miserable. She rushes to clean the kitchen or insists the kids rake the lawn on the one day they are with her to appease him. And guess what? It doesn't make him happy. Nothing can make him happy.
I can't imagine living like that.
This morning he demanded she print off all of her emails since January. When I talked to her this morning, she said she was going to do it, to prove nothing was going on. But she warned him that could be the end of their marriage.
"Why isn't the question be the end of the marriage?" I asked. If someone demanded that of me, I'd say, "Screw you. I don't have to prove anything."
By this afternoon, she was pissed. Pissed that he'd made so many demands, pissed that he'd held her phone hostage, pissed that he threatened to tell the children he was sleeping on the couch because Mommy cheated on him.
She went to talk with her 11-year-old and said, "He's really angry right not and you should try to just stay away from him."
"That's okay," the blond, curly-headed boy said. "He's pretty mean anyway."
That made me so sad. How can you stay with someone who is mean to your kids?
I've pondered the whole cheating thing. Why is he intent on this? My best friend doesn't have a spare minute to herself, much less to cheat. Her husband's first wife cheated, or he says she did, so maybe that's why he's obsessed with it.
This afternoon, I decided he wants to think she cheated. He's as unhappy as she is. He wants out of the marriage, but it can't be his fault. He has to find a way to blame someone else. Cheating seems like the easiest solution.
Let him think that she cheated, as long as he leaves and she can find some peace.
Of course, if she stays with him to work on the marriage, I will still be there for her, hoping he'll turn into someone who can love and nurture her the way she deserves.