|
|
05-19-03 - 11:58 p.m. My wrist is starting to get better. There's not as much pus, at least. Still, it does look like something Mary Shelley would have enjoyed. Um... So, I went and saw Jacqueline at her family's house on Friday. She's gorgeous, has these strikingly blue eyes (my eyes) and a mop of brown hair (my hair). She's ten months old and already walks confidently and has a budding vocabulary of monosyllabic words. She smiles at everyone but not in that usual idiotic blank baby way. It's like she's really listening to you, like she understands what you're saying. A little creepy, actually. And then Leif let slip that Jacqueline is not his first child. He came over, furious that I'd gone to see "our daughter" without telling or inviting him, pressed me up against the wall, and said, "You women are all the same, always trying to come between a father and his son." Son. I just stared at him for a second. I don't think he at first realized what he'd said. "Son?" I asked. "Daughter." "You said son." "I meant daughter." "No, I think you meant son." I pushed him away from me, but he grabbed my sliced-up wrist, which hurt like FUCK, and pulled me to him and said, "That's none of your business." I had my Glock in my pocket, whipped it out with my free hand, and put it to his forehead and told him to get the fuck off my property. He didn't budge, so I cocked the gun and he let me go. All he would tell me was that he had a little boy who lived with his birth-mother, that the kid is six years old and named Connor. Jacqueline has a half-brother. Things just keep getting more and more complicated. I should start sending this shit in to CBS and begin reaping royalties as my soap-opera life is played out every day by skinny women and greasy men. After he left, I went downtown to the San Diego County Superior Courthouse to file for two restraining orders. One will force him to keep away from me, my home, and those with whom I share my house (Rob, Kellie, Ricky), and the other will force him to keep away from Jacqueline and her family. I talked it over with her parents, told them the situation (all of it), apologized profusely for getting them somewhat involved in all of this, and was pleasantly surprised to learn they'd already been suspicious about him and would support my action. So now I have to wait for the government to get off its ass, assign me a court date, and argue my case. (You can't just sign up and walk away with a restraining order. You have to prove that it's necessary, and Leif can refute it if he wants.) Obla-di, obla-da, life goes on, bra...
|