Page 9 of Paddy

Besides, I had my own nieces and nephews that drove their Uncle Paddy mad, wasn't sure I could handle another.

“Thanks for considering me for the job, but I think I'm gonna have to pass. Nathan likely knows some other lads. I can't be the only person he knows in Boston.” The man ran his palms over his face, taking one more deep sigh before slouching into his chair.

“The best I can do is sixty thousand, and if you take the job, I'll throw in my Jaguar, XK120.” My eyes widened in shock. A car like that was a beauty. And there he was, just giving it away.Alongwith sixty grand. I put out my cigarette, leaning with my elbows on the table as I interlocked my fingers.

“How old’s the kid?”

“He's six.” Doing the math, Órfhlaith’s son was about that age, and he and I had no issues getting on.

“You say the job is only for six months?”

“Six months,” he confirmed. I held out my hand for his to shake.

“Then you've got yourself a deal.”

Four

Pretty

Lord save me from all this Boston traffic. It made me wish my gig in Chicago would have lasted a few more weeks, then maybe perhaps my driver wouldn't have been on vacation.

You know what I sounded like? Like someone who was being ungrateful. After all, it was a pleasure to be home after three months of grueling twelve to sixteen-hour days, constant critique on my work, and the only contact with my son being through the telephone. I wanted him grounded in one place, and my career, having me moving all around the world wasn't good for a child's stability.

Frustration just came from me having to drive to myself. Of all the indulgences I was proud to spend money on, having a driver was one of them.

Dividing time between working, being a present parent and a good wife wasn't as easy as the magazines and pictures portrayed them to be. I’ll admit at times I fell short at both because my career took me away so much.

I just couldn't wait to be home for Elijah, as finally, I’d have a few months before I left again for another gig, and I just wantedevery night to cook him his favorites, starting with flying fish and cou cou.

If only my husband was that simple to please. I had the best mother in the world growing up, so I had the best example of what it looked like to be a good one. But I’d had no proper example of what it took to be a good wife.

Unfortunately, I learned that my birth father had been a married movie star and abandoned my mother fairly quickly after conceiving me on holiday. Watching my mother break her back to raise me, as well put food on the table with no help from a man, I vowed never to be in that position if I could help it. Even with a husband, I still felt like I was doing everything myself. And that was the biggest strain on our union.

My husband was a good man, but before me he hadn't had that ambitious drive. I helped build himself into what he was today. The successful manager to talent of color, his biggest client being me. With a career, he had purpose, but over the years, he claimed that it hadn't been enough.

When he convinced me to have children before I was ready, I let my age be the deciding factor since I had already put off motherhood until I was in my early thirties. I thought that by him suggesting it, that it was his way of solidifying his commitment to me by starting a family. That was every man's dream, right? To be successful, have the beautiful wife and family while never having to worry about money.

You would think so, but once we had Elijah our relationship had taken a dramatic turn. And while I loved my son, probably even more than I loved myself, I often missed the Vernon I had pre-Elijah. Because now, we hardly talked about anything outside of the business parts of our lives.

We tended to agree on major things, but sometimes those little things mattered more, and I just can't get him back to theman who looked at me and thought I could do anything, unlock any door, and not be held back by my sex or gender.

Now, if we weren't discussing the work he had lined up for me, aside from arguing, we barely said a word to each other. He didn’t even touch me like a husband is supposed to touch his wife. I may not have been the size eight I was when I met him, but I still had men interested. To be this touch starved while my husband and I barely got intimate anymore was the main reason I was always committing myself to work, because what else was I going to do?

Admittingly my weight gain had been significant since I had our son. I wasn't delusional in that way to ignore that I'd gone up ten dress sizes in five years, but so far, it hasn’t been an issue when it came to getting booked.

People saw my talent and not my weight and while it did limit my chance to be in mainstream pictures, it certainly didn’t close the doors to work on any race films, and let’s face it, I had more support on those sets because when you were around your own people, it was just different.

Having my share of uncomfortable sets and work environments, I was happy to say we made enough and secured the best contracts early on in my career, so whatever we brought in now just allowed us to live well beyond our past means. Luxuries, cars, trips and everything we never had growing up were now available to us. I just never thought the biggest door to open in my life, would affect the second most important thing in my life. My marriage.

In my attempts to be the perfect wife and mother, in the past, I juggled everything. I made sure I looked good, cooked, cleaned, did all the child raising, and this was a hard one. I tried to encourage my husband while still letting feel like he was the man.

It was hard, especially since he was so bad at problem solving, I end up doing so much on my own because I hated the way he approached things. And this is all while juggling a strenuous music career. Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t even see myself being anything but a pianist and composer, but stretching myself thin for so long only made things worse. Two years ago, I even had to be hospitalized for exhaustion. Vernon didn't like that very much, which was why he was so dead set on hiring maids and nannies so I could have more time for work.

Coming from a strong line of Caribbean women, I was always too proud to ask for help, but I couldn't shake the insecurity that he only wanted the extra help to have access to other women right under my nose. Five nannies. That’s how many we’ve gone through in just two years. And they’d always be some young, thin, beautiful girl he’d always managed to hire behind my back. I didn’t see how someone in their twenties with no children at all was qualified to watchmyson. So yeah, I’d get rid of them the second they stepped out of line.

It didn't help that they all practically had homewrecker stamped all over their foreheads. Having women in my house was like giving him a permission slip to be unfaithful.

So, between having to deal with the lack of affection, fighting for his attention with other women, and trying not to nag him about making time for his son, you know, the one hebeggedme to have, I was at my limit. But coming home, I was determined to do better. Be better at addressing our problems. If he just stayed home for more than three hours at a time, he'd see that outside of the career that kept a roof over our heads, I still had so much to offer him.

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