What It Takes

A Girl/Boy Meets World Fanfic

By Auburn Red

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me except Annie and Justin Marsden, Donna Valenzuela, and Mrs. Reynolds. They belong to Michael Jacobs and Disney. This for entertainment and fun.

Author's Note: And in the "Every Time I Think, I'm Out, They Pull Me Back In" File comes this, my third story set in the Boy Meets World/Girl Meets World universe. I didn't plan on writing another one, but I was so haunted by the final abuse support group meeting scene in which Minkus and Katy meet Jason Marsden, Eric's old friend, I was inspired to write this.

While this is set in the Minkiad Universe, it is not technically part of the Minkiad, since it stars Jason. It could be considered a side story or companion piece (Similar to my The Prisoner fanfics, "Windmills Of Her Mind" is a companion piece to my "Motherless Child" stories). It contains many similar themes to the Minkiad stories, such as domestic violence and child abuse (particularly female on male), single parent struggles with children, and learning to trust others. Plus it also serves to fill in the blanks on what happened to Jason when he was "put on a bus" after the second season of Boy Meets World.

Chapter One: Desiree

I hear the rich guy, Stuart Minkus, wrap up his speech. I mean yeah I heard about his fights with his wife and their accusations of abuse. They were all over the gossip rags for months, even got sick of hearing about it. But I guess I always thought, no way could this guy have the same problems as me. I mean he's a multi-millionaire. He probably never had to worry about feeding his kids or wonder where they were going to sleep for the night. I'm sure if he ever felt that he or his kids were threatened by his wife, he could always call a bodyguard or the police would come right away.

I look upstairs wondering how Justin and Annie are doing with all of those strange kids. Justin may be shy, sizing up the situation trying to make himself invisible or waiting until someone asks him a question before he answers. Annie could be emotional, in tears wanting to be with her Daddy or she might be in one of her friendlier moods introducing herself, already taking charge. Of course Justin is keeping an eye on his little sister. I wonder if I should be with them.

I'm hearing Stuart Minkus' speech and realize that it's something I could have easily said. There it was the bad tempers, the insults, the jealous tantrums if I wasn't "where I was supposed to be," and of course the mistreatment of the kids. It is all familiar. I guess maybe it doesn't matter if you have money or you don't have money. If you're abused, you're abused. It does feel good that another guy has been there. I just wish that I wasn't.

Of course, I really have no one to blame but myself. I knew that my ex-wife, Desiree was a "bag of misery." I warned Eric not to date her and after they broke up, what did I do? I dated her. In fact, I did more than that.

A month after we first had sex, in my dad's car, she paged me. I had just returned from the mammoth SAT study session. Eric was acting so nuts, freaking out over everything. I just decided to get some air rather than listening to any more of his weird ranting. Desiree paged me to come see her right away because she had an emergency. I braced myself figuring it was something trivial and unimportant or she wanted me to take her somewhere like the mall. I really should break up with her, I thought for the hundredth time since we first went out. But for some reason I never seemed to get around to it.

I entered her palatial home and said to her mother with an exaggerated Southern accent as I often did when I visited Desiree's family, "Howdy, Mrs. Beaumont, I just rode in from Gettysburg to give a report on the Northern War of Aggression."

Desiree's mother, a tall woman with short dark hair who almost never smiled, rolled her eyes and called through the intercom. "Desiree, that small person is here to see you and please lower your conversations to a quiet level. I am having one of my headaches."

"Send him up, Mama," Desiree said. I could tell that she was crying. Mrs. Beaumont led me upstairs to her daughter's bedroom.

"Perhaps you can make some sense of her," Mrs. Beaumont said to me, "She has remained in bed and appears to have caught some awful flu bug. She missed her monthly visitor-"

"-Relatives haven't come by yet?" I asked. Mrs. Beaumont gave me a frigid look and I got it. "Oh, her monthly visitor!" How do you say TMI in Southern?

Mrs. Beaumont continued to describe her daughter's illness, "Desiree hasn't eaten much and vomits something awful in the morning." I was a bit embarrassed by Mrs. Beaumont describing her illness, but I was concerned hoping to play the hero who gets Desiree her chicken soup and sits by her bedside.

"If she doesn't eat very much how can she vomit," I asked wryly. Mrs. Beaumont glared at me clearly upset that I wasn't appearing to take her daughter's condition as seriously as she did.

"I sent Oliver and Elizabeth to go and get her some medicine but the help are lazy as always, especially the colored ones," Mrs. Beaumont said. I inwardly rolled my eyes. It annoyed me how Desiree's family acted with people around them like their servants.

"Yeah you can't trust some people these days," I said dryly. "What with that whole emancipation, being free thing."

Mrs. Beaumont glared and waved me into her room where my girlfriend lay in her pink silk pajamas and a matching headband around her hair. She was in her room surrounded by paintings of plantations, Gone With the Wind movie posters, and photos of Desiree from her child beauty pageant days when she won titles with names like "Little Miss Magnolia," "Little Miss Lipstick," and "Junior Miss Atlanta" where she posed with big hair, lots of makeup, and outfits that were better on grown women. (Jonbenet's and Honey Boo Boo's moms would have looked at them and thought, "That's a bit much!")

"'That small person?' Your mom is finally coming around. I used to be 'that insignificant speck of a man.' I think she's starting to like me." I said to her. I thought that I would make her laugh, but instead she started to cry.

She did look sick and I sat next to her, "Okay Desiree what can I get you?" I asked.

"Could you take me somewhere, my little cream puff?" she asked.

"Big sale at the mall?" I said.

"No could you take me to the maternity ward?" She was in tears. "Jason, darlin, I'm pregnant." She sobbed at me, her feathery Southern accent almost made her words unintelligible. She showed me not one, not two, but three positive early pregnancy tests to confirm it.

Well not exactly what any soon to be high school senior wants to hear, especially when he wants to prepare for college, maybe do something with his life. We discussed all the possibilities with the doctor that examined her. Abortion was out, not because either of us were against it. But Desiree's doctor said that there were some issues with her internally that if she had one, it would cause too much strain on her and she couldn't have children later. We discussed adoption, but Desiree said, "I don't wanna go through all that and then have to give up my baby," she said. "Don't make me give it up!" She gave me that same helpless look that used to drive me wild. I held her hand tightly.

"You won't have to give it up, Desi" I said.

"Yes I will," Desiree sobbed. "Mama and Daddy would never let me raise the baby on my own."

"You won't have to give the baby up and you won't have to raise it on your own," I said as I slipped my high school class ring on her finger. "You can marry me."

She looked doubtful. "You mean marry you? Live without Daddy's money and him and Mama supporting me? I've never done that before. I don't even know how to boil tea! We always had servants doing everything for me! I wouldn't know how."

"Then I'll do it all," I promised. "When my grandmother died, she left me some money. It's not much but it will help us find an apartment. I'll leave school and work full-time for all three of us. I can cook well nothing fancy but processed food works and I'll take care of the house until you learn how. Desi, the burden will all be on me. The only thing you have to do is lie back and get that little one out of you."

She looked at me silently and I said, "Come on say yes, Puddin'." I purposely used the nickname that she loved and annoyed the hell out of me.

Desiree smiled as though the sun finally came up. "Yes…Puddin'." She kissed me in that long way that I loved.

And there it was. We got married. No one came to our wedding. Her parents thought that I wasn't good enough for her and threatened to cut Desiree off without a dime. (I believe the phrase "that Northern Jewboy who couldn't keep that thing between his legs" was thrown around about me.) Desiree threw a fit and said that they always gave her what she wanted and she was going to marry me whether they liked it or not.

My parents thought that I was throwing my life away, especially after I told them I was dropping out of school to support Desiree and the baby.

My Dad said, "Son, you know that we are not a rich family. Your mother and I scrimped and saved to create a college fund for you and you are just pissing on it by making the wrong choices!"

"I know what I'm doing, Dad," I said. "I thought it through and we're going to be okay. I'm going to use that money Bubbie left me and we're going to move to an apartment downtown. I will work and get my GED. After the baby's born, I'll get a degree and a better job."

"And what will Desiree be doing in the meantime?" Dad asked. "It seems that you are the one making all the sacrifices. After all, it's easy to encourage someone else to drop out of school when they've already graduated."

I stalled for a moment. "Well, she'll have the baby," I said. "She'll figure it out after that."

My Mom said, "Jason, someday you are going to wake up and realize that you gave your teen years away."

My Dad shook his head and said sarcastically (Mom always said that she knew where I got my sarcasm from), "Don't bother trying to explain anything to him, Loretta. He knows what he's doing! Jason, just know that you are on your own. We are not going to give you money! Your mother and I won't be your babysitters. We won't be there to pick up the pieces if you two get bored with parenthood. You made your bed, you can lie in it!"

"Fine," I said as I stormed out of the house. Desiree and I met after we confronted both our parents with the news and spent the night in a hotel.

When I handed Mr. Feeny my drop-out form he said, "Mr. Marsden, I admire your decision to take responsibility for the situation by marrying Miss Beaumont. This is a step not many young men would take. However, I cannot sign this form in good conscience without warning you that you are jeopardizing your entire future."

I picked up the form which he signed and said, "Mr. Feeny, I'm not Cory and Eric and I don't live next door to you. Your opinion is noted, but don't expect that you can tell me what to do and I will instantly obey or instantly learn from you if I don't."

When I cleaned out my locker, Eric looked at me instantly. "Desiree's pregnant and you're the father?" He yelled. I didn't tell him. School gossip works that way.

He thought that I was crazy and couldn't believe that someone who was smart enough to pass his SAT's with high scores didn't know enough to use a condom.

"We did, Eric," I said. "But condoms are only effective 98% of the time." Even less if the condom slipped like mine did.

"So that means they're not effective…." He counted in his head.

"2% of the time," I corrected knowing that my friend couldn't add two and two. Of course he was also the friend who came to my Bar Mitzvah because he thought they would serve him alcohol. (After all, it was a Bar Mitzvah) But then again, he was smart enough to wait and not get in as much trouble as I did.

I cleaned out the books and threw out all of the athletic posters and sayings that I had collected in the trash. I sighed feeling that I was throwing away my youth and was becoming a grown-up. Was I ready for this?

Eric kept objecting to it. "Jason, are you sure that it's yours?"

"Yes I am, Eric," I insisted.

"But you know she's had other boyfriends," Eric said. Then his eyes widened. "It could even be mine!"

I rolled my eyes. "Eric you broke up with her six months ago and she's only been pregnant for one month. Besides all you two did was kiss." I knew for sure the baby was mine. Except for Desiree's kisses to her previous boyfriends and a fooling around session with her escort to her Sweet 16 party (who later came out of the closet) and my previous relationship with the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue and my hand, we had no prior experience. Without going into any gory details about that night, until then we were both virgins. I knew for sure. "Eric, it was the first time for both of us. It's definitely my baby and Desiree is going to be my wife."

"You don't have to do this, Jason," Eric said.

I looked at Eric. "And what am I supposed to do? Desiree can't have an abortion and she doesn't want to give it up."

"Do what the guys on Maury or Jerry Springer do," Eric said. "Say 'It ain't my baby!' until the DNA test proves otherwise!"

I glared at my friend not believing that he would ask me to deny my own child. "I would always know that it was mine, Eric! It's my responsibility and I have to do this. I want to do this."

"But to Desiree?" Eric asked. "I mean yes she's beautiful, but you…were only in it for the break up kiss!"

"Well one break up kiss turned into others and…things happened," I shrugged.

"I can see that," Eric said. "But to marry her? You're making the biggest mistake of your life!"

I sighed. "Well if I am, it's my life and it's my mistake. So you going to come to our wedding? It's tomorrow night in front of the Justice of the Peace."

Eric shook his head. "Jason, I can't." He said more seriously than I ever heard. "I just…I can't pretend that this would be anything, but a mistake. But you're my friend and I will always be there if you need me."

I shook Eric's hand. I don't know if I understood then, I really don't know that I understand now. But Eric more than followed through on that promise, though it took years for me to accept it.

So that was it, Desiree and I had a few minutes in front of a Justice of the Peace with only the justice's wife and a friend of theirs as witnesses. No Southern Belle fairy tale wedding for Desiree. No traditional breaking of the glass, no family dancing around and lifting us on chairs for me. Just a few minutes and we were husband and wife.

The irony was that there ended up being no reason for us to get married. After 7 months of pregnancy, she went into premature labor. The baby came out, but he didn't move. Such a small little thing was born dead. We named him Rhett Otis Beaumont-Marsden and buried him.

It's weird to think that had Rhett lived, I would have a 21 year old son. I guess he would have as hard a life as the rest of us, so I should be glad that he didn't make it. Desiree and I considered splitting up. She fell into such a depression, postpartum depression they called it. It happens to some women after the baby is born, but with Desiree it was made worse by the fact that the baby died. She wouldn't get out of bed, wouldn't eat, or take care of herself. For someone who cared so much about her personal appearance, then she didn't. She wore the same clothes, stayed in bed, and her hair was a mess. She even said that she understood if I left her. Of course nothing moves someone to make a decision faster than guilt. I stayed with her. We didn't have anyone else.

I managed to get my GED while she was pregnant. After the stillbirth, I took a few classes at a community college to get a certificate in information systems, not only to find gainful employment but also to bury myself in some sort of work so I wouldn't constantly grieve for our deceased son. Not exactly the big college education that my parents hoped for or me to tell the truth, but I did manage to make something of my future. I also worked my way through her pregnancy and through school doing odd jobs like short order cook, waiter, Wal-Mart cashier, and office janitor.

Did I have second thoughts? Oh only a lot. I remember one time while Desiree was still pregnant, I was on my way home from work wearing that stupid Wal-Mart vest and ready to head to my second job cleaning offices. My arms were full with boxes of diapers, a stroller, baby food, baby clothes (all of which ended up not being used of course) and flowers (magnolias, Desiree's favorite), chocolates, and a diamond ring to replace my class ring for my wife. I struggled to get the stuff on the bus when my eyes wandered to a couple of guys about my age shooting hoops. I thought how only a few short months ago that was me and Eric. My parents' words echoed through my brain, It seems that you are the one making all the sacrifices…. Jason, someday you are going to wake up and realize that you gave your teen years away. I didn't want to think any more about it as I hopped on the bus.

After Rhett died, Desiree waited at home for me going through her depression.

That's when she started losing her temper. I left her money but it wasn't enough. She wanted just a "little extra" because there was a sale or something expensive or frivolous that she wanted. If I disagreed with her, she cried and said that I didn't love her or wasn't taking care of her good enough. If I was late coming home, she constantly called or paged me asking where I was or who I was with. I suppose, "Stuck in traffic, Honey," wasn't a good enough reason to be late. If we were out and I spoke to another woman, she said "You think she's prettier than me don't you?" and I said no of course not, but then she would start a fight.

The hypochondria also started. She constantly complained about headaches and tiredness and that "with her condition, she couldn't possibly find any sort of employment." It became her fallback position after a fight, so all she had to do was rub her head or speak in that far-off sickly voice and I caved. There were times when she refused to get out of bed because of her conditions either real or imagined. I don't know if the illnesses were real a symptom of the PPD, or she just milked them or they were fake and she just wanted the attention from the one constant person in her life that could give it to her. Knowing Desiree, it was all of the above and of course I was her willing nurse who took care of her. God, I'm an idiot!

After three years of marriage, Desiree had some ideas about becoming an actress or a model, so she suggested that we move to L.A. I wasn't sure that it was a good idea, but I wanted to make Desiree happy and wanted her to overcome her depression. Maybe moving away would be good for both of us. I cannot emphasize enough how wrong I was.

We moved to an apartment in North Hollywood that was really way above our price range at $850 a month but it was as close to the studios as I could afford so Desiree could audition nearby and it ended up being close to my job (which was a good thing because the only car I could afford was a used four door clunker. I couldn't even call it a sedan).

While there, I got an entry level job as a data processor at SoCal Insurance putting names and numbers on a spreadsheet all day and contacting clients for their current updated information. Desiree went on audition after audition, never getting noticed by any of the modeling agencies or directors. She had a few walk-ons and extras, a couple of cosmetics commercials, and posed for some print ads that paid scale, but that was it. Of course she faced these rejections in tears sobbing, "Why doesn't anyone love me, my darlin' Little Rock of Gibraltar?" I told her that I loved her and these directors didn't know what they were talking about. "Maybe you were the wrong physical type," I said. "The director was related to someone or sleeping with someone or they're just jealous of your talent." All of the lies I told to cheer her up, make her laugh, or to let her try again.

During that time, she got pregnant twice. But both of those resulted in miscarriages and more postpartum depression after each one. Desiree's obstetrician said that she had a genetic condition that while she could get pregnant not all of the fetuses would be carried to full term. Desiree remembered that her mother also had some miscarriages while she grew up. It explains why Desiree is an only child and probably why her parents spoiled her. I don't know I'm not a psychiatrist, but in a strange way I guess it makes sense.

I don't really blame Desiree for being ambivalent and unconcerned when she was carrying Justin and then Annabelle. She probably figured what point was there in being hopeful when chances are, these babies would die too. Desiree had her tubes tied after our youngest was born so these would be her final children (an expensive surgery but a necessary one, since Desiree said in "no way under any circumstances am I going to get pregnant again."). So there wasn't any hope for more children.

During these pregnancies, Desiree had been put on complete bed rest, to prevent any further miscarriages. She complained at first about missing out on auditions. (And when you consider that the kids were two years apart, that's a lot of auditions that she missed out on) But on the plus side, she had a free House Servant who waited on her, rubbed her feet and back, drew her bath, ran her errands, served her meals in bed, put up with her bad temper, shouting, paranoid texting (upgraded from paging), and mood swings and ignored any of his own worries and anxieties in favor of those of the Mistress of the House. The first time was easier than the second time, since I had to just take care of Desiree. Desiree's second time at bed rest was harder, because I had to not only look after my pregnant wife, but our infant son. I spent a great deal of that time away from work, taking care of two babies while one of them was preparing to give birth to another one.

Thankfully these children were surprisingly healthy, maybe because of the bed rest or maybe because God said, "Okay, you've lost enough children. These are yours."

Justin Max Beaumont-Marsden (Hebrew name: Yeshua, "Saved by God") and Annabelle Rose Beaumont-Marsden (Hebrew name: Avigail, "Father's light, his joy"). I recently legally dropped the Beaumont from their names. Maybe it's petty and childish of me, but why should Desiree get any credit for the wonderful children that I'm raising singlehanded?

I don't think that I would have had the strength to do half of the things that I have done without Justin and Annie in my life. They were little miracles that brightened up my day just by existing. I came home from work and enjoyed taking care of them and doing all of the Daddy things like giving them baths, or reading to them, or tucking them into bed, or watching TV with their little bodies falling asleep in my arms. They made everything worth it.

I wish that I could say that Desiree felt the same way that I did, but she didn't. She never bonded with the children, a symptom of PPD from what I heard but it lasted the whole time that Desiree was with them. She was never affectionate with them, just occasionally patted them on the heads or put her hands on their chins as if inspecting them for cleanliness.

She said that she wasn't comfortable doing the typical motherly duties, so she would often be out on auditions, taking acting or modeling classes, or finding other things to do that didn't require two small children to cling to her. She often left the kids with babysitters while she went out during the day. Sometimes they accompanied Daddy to work which was not easy filling out database information, collating them in files, meeting my supervisor's requests, and talking to clients over the phone while simultaneously feeding my infant daughter and rocking her while she cried and telling my toddler son to stop playing with the computer and the phone and to please color on the lined paper not the file folders. As much as I love them, I sighed with relief when they finally became old enough for school.

Desiree's favorite phrase at the time was, "I gave birth to them." Whenever one of the kids cried during the night and I had already taken care of them, she would moan "Jason, I gave birth to them." If they needed to be fed or changed, she would say, "You take care of it, I gave birth to them." As if her responsibility ended when they left the birth canal and now her work was done. Of course her husband took care of everything. I do believe that my spine was only used to hold up my neck.

They say sleep when your baby sleeps, but that was really hard to do with two children who were close to the same age. When one was asleep, the other was awake. Even when they both finally nodded off, I heard that soft feathery Southern accent calling, "Jason, I need you," and I would be off doing something for Desiree. There were times when I was literally running around the apartment in circles trying to meet the needs of my cranky son, sobbing daughter, and my temperamental wife.

Let's see which one was the most difficult of the three of them? I will give you a hint. The one that was old enough to say things like "If your people weren't so tight with money, I could buy something nice, better than this cheap trash!" ("Cheap trash" that sometimes ran into the $1,000's!) Or "I should have known better than to marry someone like you, a small Jew who got me into this! I could have done so much bettter than you and you know it!" or "If you don't make those little brats stop cryin', I'm going to drown the children and myself to teach you a lesson!"

Ironically, all Justin and Annie ever did was act like typical kids their age and cried when their needs weren't being met. They didn't cut me down further than I already felt.

Even as the kids got older and began school, our difficulties only got worse. Desiree continued to have a a short temper in front of the kids. If they were loud, asking questions, or bothering her, she yelled at them to shut up and called them and sometimes me names. Sometimes she ran into our bedroom and slammed the door in tears. Other times, she collapsed on the ground, stomped her hands and feet and threw a tantrum that was louder than anything that Justin or Annie could make. Of course she would blame it all on her "condition" she would say while rubbing her forehead and swooning.

She was very hard and often critical with the kids, particularly Justin. Desiree often compared him to Rhett saying that Rhett would have been smarter, more obedient, and would have minded her. (I don't know how true that would have been and that Desiree as many would have deified the deceased or she would have been just as hard on Rhett as the rest of us). She said that Rhett would never be the good-for-nothing that Justin was growing in his father's image.

If Justin did something that upset her, she would constantly threaten him to wait until his father came home. When I did, she would tell me to beat him with a belt because it was "the only way for him to learn to be a man." She said that she couldn't because "it was the father's job to discipline his son." I refused and never did. One of the few things that I put my foot down.

I also put my foot down on the clothes that Desiree often wanted Annie to wear. If Desiree unfairly compared Justin to Rhett, she unfairly compared Annie to herself saying that she was ugly and that she needed to be pretty to get ahead in the world. Desiree wanted our daughter to be a pageant queen, but I insisted that she wait until Annie started school at least. Desiree agreed, but it didn't stop her from wanting to give her heavy makeup and clothes that fit more of a girl twice Annie's age. I kept having this mental image of pedos coming after my little girl and said that Desiree could dress however she wanted, but was not to dress our daughter in that way.

I could tell that if Desiree had a favorite child besides the late Rhett, it would have been Annie and knew that she would play her and Justin off of each other. I had images of the future Desiree pampering Annie to follow in her footsteps as a beauty queen while Justin would be left out in the cold, neglected and abused. I also knew that if Annie didn't fit Desiree's vision of perfection and beauty, Desiree would turn on her too. She pushed our daughter to be more attractive, telling her that she was ugly or monitored her weight saying that she was getting fat, or that being nice or smart weren't as important as being pretty.

She was not only verbally abusive but neglectful as well. I came home to find that money I left for Desiree to pay the bills, rent, or for the children's care were used instead for shopping trips to Rodeo Drive, facials, hair styles, or for her to go out clubbing so she could be seen by the Hollywood crowd that so far was not impressed. I guess she felt like she had a lot to catch up on after being on bed rest and giving birth, or she felt the pressure of ageist Hollywood and knew that if a woman hadn't been discovered by the time she reached her mid-30's, she had very little chance of being discovered ever. The most likely answer was that the only person that mattered in Desiree's world was Desiree and why should something trivial like food and shelter get in the way of something really important like a cute strapless tube dress or a night out at the Viper Room?

We then received cancellation notices or the power was cut off before I took care of it. She hadn't made anything for dinner so the kids were hungry or they hadn't been bathed

and our home was filthy. I cooked meals, cleaned the apartment, did the laundry, took care of the kids, and tucked them in. (Burden all on me, right? I didn't intend for that to be a life sentence! How often did I rue those words and wished I could have taken them back or reworded myself so we could work together.)

I was irritated with Desiree when she returned from her "me time." I got sarcastic and sometimes yelled at her. I tried to remind her that behavior that is considered attractive (though personally annoying) in a high school senior is not so much in a 30ish wife and mother. She asked why I was being so mean to her and that if I brought home more money or was home more often, she would be able to take better care of them.

Desiree often accused me of having an affair which I politely (okay sometimes not too politely) reminded her that since I worked full-time, took care of the kids, the apartment, and her, I did not exactly have a very large window of time to have an affair. Since she went out, she had more chances than I did, but I never asked and probably didn't want to know.

Things really came to a head one night when Justin was 5 and Annie was 3.

I came home from work to find the kids playing on the streets near oncoming traffic. I led them inside and sent them to their rooms so I could speak to their mother. Desiree had been inside the apartment. Apparently, the kids bothered her so much that she had one of her headaches and she told them to go outside to play without supervision. I asked "How could you be so irresponsible Desiree? What if they got into an accident? How would you feel then?"

Desiree looked me up and down and said, "Oh I would feel bad at first. But I would get over it." Clearly she mistook our children for dogs that if they got hit by a car, all we would have to do is go to the Kid Store downtown and buy another one.

I should have left her. I should have packed up the kids and just took off, but I didn't. I called a domestic abuse shelter and said that my children and I were being abused by my wife. The woman said, "Oh we don't work with abused men. They don't exist sir." It's nice to know that as far as that woman is concerned, I don't exist. I was really worried about that.

I was trapped, alone in a state where I had few friends or support. My family didn't want to have anything to do with me and were in Philadelphia anyway. Plus, I knew that Justin and Annie needed me so I spent more time away from work and at home. If the kids or Desiree had the flu, I took a personal day. If I sensed Desiree was in one of her moods, I would be there to stand between her and the kids and take Justin and Annie out somewhere to a park or McDonald's or somewhere to get away from their mother. It got to the point that when the company downsized thanks to the Great Recession, I wasn't surprised to find that I was one of the unlucky employees given the pink slip. I did all right at the job, got adjusted to the database system, and even headed a few special projects. But I knew my frequent absences would not be favorable. Honestly, I only fault them for not firing me sooner.

I came home so early that Justin was still in school and Annie was still at her daycare.

Desiree was confused to see me and probably just as confused that I was holding a cardboard box full of my stuff. (She probably thought the box had stuff for her). I still remember her in that bright red romper dress and those black ankle boots. I had to admit that she was still beautiful even after two children, three failed pregnancies, and 17 years of marriage.

I sat down and told her what happened. She was in denial at first. "No Jason," she begged. "It's not true! Why can't you just go and get your job back?"

I shook my head. "Desi, they're downsizing. There wouldn't be much of a business to come back to." She began to sob and I held her whispering the typical things spouses do to say things will be okay when they aren't. "Desi, we'll be alright. I'll find another job and I can collect unemployment. We'll have to change the way we live, but we'll be fine."

Desiree looked at me as though I slapped her. "What do you mean?" She begged.

I looked around. "Well we'll have to find a cheaper apartment than this one. $850 a month is too much on unemployment. No more shopping sprees or expensive stuff and you're probably going to have to find a job yourself."

"I couldn't get a job with my condition," Desiree moaned. "And besides what if I get a part?"

I shook my head and tried to choose my words carefully. After several years of failed auditions and casting calls, taking acting and modeling classes, going to places just to see and be seen, and making sure her clothes and makeup fit the current trends, she didn't have much to show for her Hollywood dreams except two needy children, an unemployed husband, stacks of bills, and a fragile ego that constantly needed reassuring. "It's not going to happen for you."

Desiree paled and just stared shocked. "How can you say that?"

I rubbed my head in my hands. "I'm sorry, Desi, I didn't mean it like that. But if you were going to be a star, wouldn't it have happened by now? You're just going to have to find…another dream."

Desiree sprang up. "No," she crossed her arms and pouted. "No! No!" She screamed like a little kid. "I'm not gonna!"

I grabbed Desiree's arms and tried to steady her. "Desiree, I know you're upset but we all have to step up!"

"Or what?" She asked. "You'll leave me?" She swooned, rubbed her forehead and spoke in that sickly voice. For once I was not going to cave.

I sank down tired. "Desiree, I need you to help me. We are both going to have to work to get past this."

"What if I can't?" Desiree asked. "What if I don't wanna?"

I sighed and looked at my watch. It was about time for the kids to be home from school, so I decided to take them out to cheer them up and to give Desiree some time to herself. I picked them up from school and we went to the local public library to see Wreck-It-Ralph. They seemed to like it, but I wasn't able to pay too much attention I was so concerned with my problems. (Too bad too, I have seen it since and since I used to be a big-time gamer I thought it was hilarious.). We then had fast food and later went swimming at the apartment pool.

By the time we returned, things were quiet too quiet. I told the kids to wait in the living room and watch TV while I headed to our bedroom to find my wife packing a suitcase. "What's going on Desi?" I asked.

"I called Mama and Daddy and Daddy sent money," Desiree said.

I was a little embarrassed that she had to tell her parents our problems, but I figured that there wasn't much else I could say about it. "Well that's good," I said optimistically. "How much did he send? I could work out something to pay him back."

"Just enough to return to Atlanta tonight," Desiree said.

I felt my chest tighten and my voice grow hoarse. I hoped that it didn't mean what I thought that it would mean so I tried to interpret her words differently. "Well that's good. Maybe we all need a fresh start in a new city. I'll get the kids bags packed and ready to go."

Desiree shut her suitcase and looked straight at me as though I spoke a foreign language. "You don't understand, Jason. Daddy gave me enough money to return to Atlanta by myself. I'm going without you or the children."

It meant exactly what I thought but I didn't want it to be true. "How long are you going? Are you planning on coming back?" Her long look gave me the answer. "Desiree, why are you bailing when I need you the most?"

Desiree sank down on the bed. "What you said about stepping up. I can't do that, Jason. I can't. Justin and Annabelle, they get into so much and they need so much. This is just too hard! I have to go home! I want to go home!"

"Aren't you going to think of us at all?" I asked. Desiree never answered me so I don't know if she would have said yes or no. I'm not sure which answer would have upset me more. Instead I was angry, angry at my lost job, angry that I was going to have to face the hard times alone with my children, angry that this woman whom I spent the better part of almost two decades feeding her ego, tending her needs, and building her up was taking the coward's way out. "Well take care of yourself, Puddin'. It's what you do best!" I said sharply.

Desiree just glared and walked out the door with her bags packed. She didn't turn around or say anything not even when Justin asked questions and Annie sobbed, held onto her mother's legs, and said that she would be real good if Mommy would stay. Desiree didn't say anything except "For God's sake, Jason, take them!" as they continued to cry and hold onto her. She didn't hug the children or kiss me good-bye. She just left.

I held my sobbing kids and whispered bitterly, "Good-bye forever," to my wife as she entered the cab. I kept my eyes on that bright red dress as Desiree got further and further away from my life.

After she left, I held the kids who just sat on the couch and cried in my arms. "Doesn't Mommy love us?" Annie asked.

My heart sank and I couldn't tell her that I wasn't sure, so I decided to lie. "Mommy loves you two very much. She just doesn't love me anymore. We have been having some hard times and I think Mommy just wants to go away to be by herself for a while."

"We don't have a Mommy anymore," Annie said clinging to my chest. My shirt was becoming wet by her tears.

"That's not true, Baby Doll" I said kissing the top of her head and calling her by the nickname I had for her since she was a baby. "You do have a Mommy. I will be your Mommy and your Daddy and I'm never going to leave either of you. I promise." I kissed her again then kissed the top of Justin's head.

"What's going to happen now?" Justin asked.

"I don't know," I said. "But everything will be okay as long as the three of us are together." I forced a smile. "Hey we're like the Three Musketeers, one for all and all for one right?" Both of my children cried themselves to sleep. I waited until after they were asleep, then I cried too.

I never saw Desiree again and never heard from her until a week later, I received divorce papers in the mail and a summons to mail her clothes and jewelry (The only things that she wanted in the settlement. The only things she cared about. Of course I sent them.) Oh I also heard about her a month later when I received an anonymous wedding announcement that featured Desiree's marriage to a rich 55 year old man who was an old friend of her family's. (I'm not sure that Desiree sent it or her parents, probably both to brag). That is all I know of her now, frankly all I care to know.

Looking back on it, I can't completely blame Desiree for the failure of our marriage. Listening to Minkus' account, it wasn't quite the same as his. Desiree was never physically abusive with us, as far as I know she was completely faithful, and God forgive me but she wasn't smart enough to be as cruelly manipulative as Jennifer. I don't even really know that Desiree was as intentionally cruel as it sounds that Minkus' ex was, so much as irresponsible and neglectful. There were a lot of reasons that it didn't work out: the failed pregnancies, the unwise move to California, the depression, the constant financial struggles. But the truth was, Desiree was too young, narcissistic, and much too immature to be a mother.

I can't even truly say whether Desiree and I ever really loved each other. Sure we said it, sure we turned each other on. Desiree had these wild romantic fantasies about running away with the boy her parents didn't like, like some star-crossed lovers thing and everything would be happy ever after. I felt sorry for her and felt responsible for getting her pregnant, so I decided to play the hero. When reality set in, Desiree needed someone to take care of her and me, well, I guess I liked being needed.

She had been pampered and cared for her whole life. I pampered and cared for her as much as I could afford and sometimes more than I could afford. I resented her selfishness

and her ego, but I certainly encouraged it by never denying her anything.

She never wanted to face reality. She just retreated from it into her own world where only her needs were met and where only she mattered. Maybe I hoped that motherhood and marriage would change her and she would mature and adapt to our difficulties. Maybe I was too stubborn to admit defeat and prove my family and Eric and everyone else right that our marriage wouldn't work out. Why should it surprise me that when signs of trouble hit, she would take the easy way out? If given the choice, I would have done that too. But of course I didn't take the easy way out. I had a 6 and 4-year-old to think about and I knew things were only going to get worse for the three of us. If Desiree wasn't going to step up, then I would. After all I was Daddy, all Justin and Annie had now.

Author's Note: Interestingly enough Rhett's middle name, Otis, is the same as middle name of the real Jason Marsden's, the actor's, son. Justin's middle name Max is of course inspired by one of Marsden's most famous roles, Max, Goofy's son, in the Goofy Movies.