Life Isn't Fair

Life Isn't Fair

I was 25, in college, for the second time, when my first wife and I had a falling out. Well actually, her clothes fell off for a local cop. And it wasn't for an official strip search, if you know what I mean. To say that I was depressed is an understatement. I was dependent on my wife for support. So, I was going to leave school and travel 1000 miles to return home to live with my parents until I could get on my financial feet.

First though, I had to drop out of school. I went to see the Dean of the School of Business and explain myself. While I told him my story I sobbed and sniffed. I painted a pitiful picture of a guy whose heart was broken and whose life was shattered. I didn't think he was moved.

He explained to me that he was sorry for my situation, but I was three days late to withdraw from my classes without any effect on my grade point average. If I left school my record would show all F's. The only way to ever get rid of those F's would be to return to the school at some future time and retake all those classes. I begged him to bend the rules for me. He had the power. But he refused.

I was very angry. We were both standing, he behind his desk with me in front. I lunged out with my hand, pulled him toward me by the lapel of his sport coat and said loudly, "THAT ISN'T FAIR!" He looked me straight in the eye and said calmly, without fear, "Life isn't fair Richard." I stood there; stunned. Then he looked at my arm. I looked at my arm. I let go, turned around, and left school.

* * *

1998 was not a good year for me. It started on March 31. That was a fun night! My second wife and I had the house to ourselves since our 11-year-old daughter was staying with my parents during spring break. We were just sitting around as usual. I was watching TV and she was reading a book.

I was just about ready to head off to bed when my wife suggested that we take a drive. It was impulsive but I thought, "What the heck?"

We drove for quite a while. We didn't talk much; just listened to music. She was driving so I just kept the beat of the music as I looked out the window at all the lights. At just after midnight, she pulled into a Denny's.

We walked in and sat down across from each other at a table for two. We ordered two Cokes and an order of onion rings. I asked her why she had wanted to go driving as I dipped my first ring in ketchup. I took a bite, began to chew, looked her in the eye as she said, "I want a divorce."

I was completely caught by surprise. I had not seen it coming. As a matter of fact, I thought we were getting along better than ever. It was like being punched in the head just hard enough to alter your perception without knocking you down. I was truly stunned. I was alive and drifting. I couldn't talk. Somehow I got up. Somehow I moved out the front door. I glanced over at a car parked right there. A man sat slumped down in the front passenger seat as a woman in a white dress straddled him facing backwards. Her eyes were gently closed and her face showed a concentration on pleasure as she moved her hips back and forth. Then we were back in our car. I was listening to the music and watching the lights. I glanced at the clock. It was nearly 1:00 AM; April Fools Day, but the divorce was no joke.

The next month I was diagnosed with a ruptured Gall Bladder. I had to have surgery or die. It is a strange feeling to be told that you are in eminent danger of dying, especially when you don't feel that bad. I thought it was a waste of time to go to the doctor in the first place. I'm still not sure why I actually went. I didn't want anyone to worry so I never told anyone how close I came to death. The doctor said it probably would have been within a week.

Afterwards, during my recovery at home, I got very sick. I couldn't eat and could barely drink. I had nothing in my stomach because I was constantly throwing up my esophagus. I tried to take pills and drink water but it all came right up. I really thought I was going to die. I had no one to take care of me.

It was my third day home from the hospital; one of my worst days. I was white as a sheet; one hand on either side of the sink. The convulsions had just began to subside and I was getting myself back together when there was a knock on the door. I was wearing only a pair of ragged navy shorts and had spittle on my chin and chest as I opened the door. A Sheriff's Deputy served my divorce papers on me. I signed his paper and took the document. I dropped it on the floor and dragged myself back to bed.

In July my Mom, my best friend in the world, maybe my only friend in the world, died due to complications from surgery.

In August, I sat in my lawyers office. He was telling me that I should give up my attempt at getting custody of my daughter. I tried to explain to him that I had been her primary caregiver and my daughter had told me that she wanted to live with me. I explained to him that my daughter was almost twelve and she was very mature for her age.

I tried to convince him to fight for me. I told him the story of my last few months. He said that he just didn't feel that we could win. I said, "That's not fair!" And he said, "Life isn't fair, Ric." I got a new lawyer.

* * *

Just the other day one of my coworkers got fired. He talked to me as he gathered his things. He told me how he was falsely accused of stealing. This other employee had been caught stealing and was guilty. The bad employee had named my coworker as an accomplice. I told him that I didn't believe it. And then he said it... "It's not fair!" Before thinking I said, "Life isn't fair, man." He didn't say another word. He just stared at me, turned around and left.

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