A Single Dad's Story Page 2
We found an old VW bus for sale in the West Village and purchased it, and prepared for the journey west. When we arrived in Albuquerque, we landed at The Tramway Apartments. I found a job with Nicole’s Home Remodeling doing grunt construction work. Every day, I went to the gym across the street from the apartments at 5a.m., went home, refreshed, went to work, went home, and repeated the process the next day. My wife was pregnant, and stayed home resting. We had talked about it a lot, and had decided we would have an in-home, water birth in the tub. We selected Barbara Pepper as our midwife. Back then home water births were considered “new-age.” Nowadays, some hospitals provide the same service.
Our daughter was born quietly. I was in the tub with mother when baby was born. All along, we had thought she was going to be a boy, so we had mostly boy clothes picked for her. It was a surprise to have a girl, but we were joyful. My brother Bill videotaped the event. My wife’s mother and three close friends were in attendance. Baby weighed 7 pounds 11 ounces. She was healthy and happy.
We were happy like this for many months. Then one day the phone rang. It was Gregg Swann telling me that the record company wanted us back for one last tour (at least). I was ecstatic. I told him I would have to call him back. It was a Friday. I hung up the phone and told my wife that we’d have to cut short our stay in New Mexico. The band wanted me back and I had to go. It was there that I heard the words that would change my life forever. My wife said, “I’m never going back to New York.”
I was stunned. I had always planned to return to New York to play music. But when my wife had said she never wanted to go back there, I knew I had to make a decision. I would either stay in Albuquerque with my family, or go back to New York and never see either of them again. I deliberated this with only myself for the entire weekend. I don’t remember sleeping a wink. I thought about how my dad’s father left my father and his mother when my dad was just a baby, and he was never seen again. During my youth, I remember that my family, including my father and my Uncle Bob, would meet various versions of Bill Rodway at diners and cafés and restaurants, I guess to try to reconnect with their past, to see their dad; maybe for closure, maybe to beat him up. They never found him. Disappearing dads weren’t restricted to my family: my wife’s father had left her mother when she was pregnant with my wife. And the news was full of stories about deadbeat dads. It seemed easy enough to do. Just walk out. But was I able? Could I be the guy who left his family? My daughter didn’t even know me. She was so young she could barely see, let alone know me. Still, I was her dad. I had a chance to break the chain. I had an opportunity to change history. So I did.
I called Gregg. I told him I wasn’t coming back anytime soon. I was on good terms with Gregg and we were close enough that I could tell him what I was going through. We spoke regularly on the phone. Gregg understood and let me know he’d keep the drum chair “warm” as long as he could. If there is a God, Gregg’s sitting with him now.
Knowing that we weren’t going back to New York, and that I was invested fully in keeping the family together, I wondered: “what next?” We moved to Hollywood to live with my wife’s mother. Ugh. I know, I know what you’re thinking. Crazy right? Well, the truth was, I needed to get drumming again. I couldn’t put it off. The grandmother lived in Encino, CA. just about 20 minutes from Hollywood. So I thought I could find some talent there and get drumming, maybe make an even bigger name for myself there.
So we broke all my families’ heart. Brother Bill and Dad, who’d come to love our baby were crushed to hear that we were moving. Indira’s Grandma was happy. When we got to Encino, I started working before I began anything else, of course. I got a job at Trader Joe’s in Encino. I saw many celebrities there including Rick Allen, drummer for Def Leppard, Brenda Vaccaro, David Hasselhoff and many others. “That’s all great,” I thought to myself, “but what about drumming?” I looked around town, and found a band called The Fancy Lads. Their musical style was a combination of Guns N' Roses and Rolling Stones. The Lads played in all the clubs that bands in those days thought they had to play in to be noticed. Little did they know that playing in “all the right clubs” really wasn’t effective after the '70s. Though things went okay for awhile, the Lads’ lead singer had a terrible heroin habit, and eventually destroyed whatever good gigs we had.
Our little family was growing, and our baby celebrated her one-year birthday in Grandma’s house. But though I was working and gigging, living with in-laws wasn’t all it was cut out to be. Neither my wife nor I wanted to keep living with her mother. It wasn’t long after that we packed up and moved again. Back to New Mexico we went. I was always hoping by some chance we could make it back to New York, even though my wife said “no.” Every now and then she reminded me, which re-crushed my dreams. Still, I pursued. My soul was calling for New York, and no matter what I was going through, I felt a strong pull from deep inside to get back there.
We went back to New Mexico, and once again my family were happy, because we were living on our own. My brother Bill and my dad were close. They always reminded me to come over to their house with the baby. We saw as much as we could of each other, even though my brother was a busy commercial airline pilot and wasn’t always around. Again, I found that living with or near family had its limitations. My dad was married to an awful woman named Irene, and would not leave her side. Irene really didn’t like my family or me. We were artists, gypsies, vagabonds, and our lifestyle did not fit into to her religious, born-again philosophy. Nevertheless, Irene offered something my dad wanted: he ate it up. He was getting what he needed. He and Irene rarely made the effort to accommodate our schedule to visit the baby or me.
Life went on, and I got a job working at the small Coronado Airport in Albuquerque, as a plane mover and fueler, and my wife got the job working behind the desk. I was fueling, and our little baby was just floating around the office area. The place was fixed in time. It had an Art Deco style, and never moved forward, but it was actually a great place to work and spend time. While I was there, I met a pilot named Dave Adams. He was talking to someone about a band he had, and the members were mostly kids. They were called The Young Razzcals. They played jazz, and needed a drummer for an upcoming gig in Silver Springs, New Mexico. I overheard this and told him I could play the gig. He was amazed. I showed up a couple days later to sit in with the band before the 4-hour trip to Silver Springs. The kids played like pros. Dave Adams played piano and directed the band. It was a band that showcased talent and talked about how young people should learn and appreciate jazz. (Learn more here.)
The gig called for us to play two shows at a college—one during daytime hours, then another, later that night. During the daytime gig, we played a few tunes, and then stopped briefly, so Dave Adams could talk about the featured player, and give a little history of the tune itself. Then we’d play a few more, he’d talk again, and it went on like that. The venue was packed with all kinds of people: parents, kids and jazz-lovers alike. Later that night we played the some venue but for that gig, we would be opening for some heavy jazz players, including the renowned drummer Joe La Barbera. La Barbera’s kit had been set up early for the evening gig, and I was to play it for our opening set. After we played, the main band came on stage, and I took a moment to thank Mr. La Barbera for letting me use his kit. He complimented my playing. I was stunned. I was rubbing elbows with some very talented players: Dave Adams recorded CDs with his band Birdland Express with many great players like Grammy winner Bobby Shew on trumpet, Dmitri Matheny on flugelhorn, Butch Miles of the Count Basie Orchestra on drums Terry Burrell on bass, and Leon Alexander on pans and congas. To be invited into this group for even one show was amazing to me. I’ll never forget it.
While the “real” Jazzers were performing, my wife and I stepped outside for some fresh air. Dave Adams was outside as well. He told me he thought my playing was “exemplary.” He kept staring at me. I didn’t know it at the time, but he’d had a plan in mind, and right then and there he reveale
d it to me. He told me that in a few months’ time, he would be moving to Virginia Beach, Virginia. He had a number of high-paying jazz gig lined up, which would include lots of great players. “At least a solid year of solid gigs,” he said. He looked at me and told me he wanted me to be his drummer if I was interested. My wife turned to look at me, dumbfounded. Her mouth was agape. I must have looked the same. We agreed to the whole thing on the spot—moving, gigging, all of it. I was astonished. My little baby was asleep in her carrier, and my wife did not look well. The magnitude of the situation began to sink in: we’d be uprooting our whole existence. Again.
Back in the hotel that night, my wife and I agreed that this was a big break for me. As we discussed the possibilities—and the changes—this opportunity would bring, I looked at my wife, and I saw a distance in her eyes. It was disturbing, and unfortunately, I came to know that distance well.
***
We had been renting an apartment during this time in Albuquerque, and we knew our lease would be up before we had to move to Virginia. We were hoping everything would come together in preparation for our new plan. We were trying to save money, and barely getting by. I was a Security Guard at the America Online call center, and my wife was at home with our daughter, who had just turned two. Indira was no longer a baby, and I was noticed my wife was not enjoying life. She loved having the baby, but now that baby was a toddler, and becoming more independent, it seemed like my wife didn’t appreciate her as much as she used to.
Things were tough. Cracks were forming in the foundation of our little family. Luckily, my brother Bill came to the rescue and solved one of our problems: housing. He suggested that we move to his house when our lease ran out. He said we could stay there until it was time to move to Virginia. We jumped at the idea, and moved all our stuff to his huge house on Cedar Hill Road in the Northeast Heights. Very nice. We settled in, but we had many months before the move, and that’s when things got really weird.
My wife got the idea that she would begin “dancing” for a living. When I met her she was a stripper. Let’s call it what it is, shall we? I told her then I would never date a stripper. She retired (though not because of me), and so I started dating her. Now she wanted to do it again. I really didn’t want her to, but I saw the money she was promising to make as a good thing, and we’d been broke long enough. As part of this new idea, my wife wanted to invest in a breast augmentation (using credit cards again, her favorite method of payment). It was $5,000 back then. She had the procedure, and when she could, she started getting work. I stayed at home with our little girl. We had wonderful times together, little Indira and I. Each night I’d read to her and we’d watch Peter Rabbit videos, and she’d fall asleep in my arms. Sometimes we’d both fall asleep. I worked days, my wife worked nights, just like my parents did when I was a kid. But this was different. My parents had jobs that allowed them to remain clothed. My wife’s job was in a whole different category, and though I’d agreed to her stripping, it was really bothering me. I wanted her to stop. I’d agreed to it, even as I knew I’d never be able to live with it.
I started to get suspicious. My wife was working late, and not making nearly the money she thought she could make. Something was off. I was really getting worried. Somehow, my wife had begun to think that this was her only option, and it didn’t look like much compared to the great opportunity I had coming up in Virginia, playing Dave Adams’ band. She bided her time in her dead-end job. She looked forward to moving to Virginia, and hoped it would hold better opportunities for advancement and money. We both couldn’t wait until moving day. I really wanted her to quit stripping, and talked with some of her co-workers about her quitting. I was met with resistance, and was told I should “stop being foolish.” I didn’t know it, but things were about to get ugly.
Moving day came. We were excited, but now that Indira was getting bigger and cuter, and her personality was developing, it was heartbreaking thinking we might never come back. My dad spoke up once again, like on my wedding day, and tried to convince me that maybe going to Virginia wasn’t a great idea. But I believed it was. In my mind, I thought drumming was going to save me from the fear and chaotic family feelings I was experiencing once again. And I would be closer to New York City, which was still on my mind, though I never talked about it. I knew New York was just a 6-hour drive, and I could easily drive there if I ever wanted or needed to. I heard my dad out, but I had other ideas. So away we moved to Virginia, and once again, I broke my families’ hearts.
***
We got an apartment at the wonderful Mayflower Seaside Apartments. They reminded me of New York City, and I felt closer to the city. So close, in fact, that one of the first things I wanted to do was drive to the city. It had been years since I was there, and Indira had never been there. We drove in and spent the weekend with my friends Victor and his wife Tanya (he and I had played in a band years earlier). I could tell my wife wasn’t happy there, but I was over the moon. I knew I had to return. But it was only a weekend visit, and we had to start our life in Virginia. When the visit was through, we drove back to Virginia to begin setting our life up.
Trouble between my wife and me started immediately, and things went downhill quickly. When I wasn’t doing gigs, wife would “work,” stripping again. Soon, she wanted to work more. I didn’t want her stripping, and we started to fight about everything. I could see that she was restless, and had her own ideas of what she wanted her life to be.
Then it happened. One night she said she was going to work. I called her work. She wasn’t there. We didn’t have cell phones in those days. Our daughter was sleeping soundly. I was awake. At 1:00 a.m., she called to say she wasn’t coming home. I knew what she was really saying, and I told her that if she stayed away, she was committing adultery. She hung up on me. Immediately, I began formulating a plan. I let my family know what was going on. I had been in communication with my brother Bill about my suspicions for months, and I’d talked about it with our family friend, Sue, as well. Because it was late, I didn’t call them that night. Instead, I sent emails and had to wait for their responses the next morning. I had to sit the night out, and while I watched the clock tick, I planned my daughter’s and my departure. I was going to take my daughter, and leave my wife behind.
Escape from Virginia
I called local authorities and learned that if I wanted to stay in Virginia, I’d have to “separate” for six months before being able to divorce. This wasn’t going to work. I knew that if I wanted out, it would have to be in New Mexico, where I had work history, family, and friends. I thought about taking Indira to New York City, but divorcing and all the potential problems and logistics issues would be too great for me to handle alone, with a two-year-old in tow. In New Mexico I could have help with Indira, and my own experience to guide me. I needed to learn quickly about transporting a toddler across state lines, divorce, my rights as a father, and so much more.
The next morning my wife came home. I couldn’t look at her. She ran for Indira and hugged and kissed her, like she had been gone for weeks. She seemed unfazed, as if I didn’t matter anymore. So I stepped up my game. I waited for a quite moment alone, and that same day, I called my brother and Sue. We made a plan. I would ship whatever I could to Sue’s house, and kiddo and I would live there until we got set up in New Mexico again. All I had to do was ship my stuff and go.
I started some fancy story-telling and lying of my own. The next day, I packed the car with my drum gear and told my wife I had a rehearsal at Dave’s and I would be leaving my gear there. But instead of leaving the drum gear with Dave, I shipped it all to New Mexico. I had to tell Dave everything, and he was crushed. But he understood.
Then just two nights later, when my wife went to “work,” I filled a backpack with mostly Indira’s things, and a few of mine, and we left. We had to leave our dog, Phoebe, behind, because we planned to fly to New Mexico. I had told my wife nothing of my plan to leave her, and to take Indira with me. My broth
er had sent me plane tickets, and the plan was that they would be secretly waiting for me at a hotel lobby nearby. I would go to the lobby and tell them who I was, and collect the tickets. We got the tickets, and got a cab to the airport and away we went, thank to Bill. Through all this moving around and activity, Indira was quiet. But when we got to the airport we had to wait a long time, and when we were sitting still, she asked “where’s mommy?” I looked at her and said “mommy wants to stay here.” I wasn’t wrong.
When my wife got home and found we weren’t there, she started making calls to my brother’s house and anywhere else she had the numbers for. She screamed and yelled at anyone she spoke to. Everyone played along, and said they didn’t know where we were. I never called my wife.
Once Indira and I got to New Mexico, we moved in with Sue. I was doing my best to keep it together and care for kiddo. I had to have friends and family watching her while I went out to work. I inquired about filing for divorce, and found that I could do it for just $69, if it was uncontested. So I met with the paralegal and filed. After the paperwork had been filed, I called my wife and told her what was happening. She was angry as a hornet. She would have to return to New Mexico to sign the paperwork. If she wanted to stay and co-parent kiddo she could, but she still had to sign. She flew to New Mexico to sign the papers. She didn’t even read the stuff. There was a custody agreement there as well, including child support that she would have to pay me. She never read it. Just signed it and went back to Virginia. I was shocked and relieved at the same time. I didn’t want her around, but what about our daughter? Indira was only two, but she saw that her mother had the chance to be with her, but chose not to. She was learning a lot at about life a very young age.