That's right, I'll smooch sweet thing here because I am finally back on track on the story. Story. I keep calling it a story, and I know that it is a story, the story of my life, but it sounds so artificial to me. Maybe "my book" would be better, huh? What the hell, it really doesn't matter what it is called, the object is getting the sucker done. I feel I am half through with it now, but you never know just how involved I will get when I get into the chapters beyond Marionette.
Right now involves the end of the marriage . . . A great many things went into the dissolving of our union, but basically, it was because we were both too young and much too immature. Marionette became pregnant early on and she got sick almost as soon. I was working, but not happy. We both wanted marriage, but I don't believe either of us were capable of working to make it work. Basically, we were too selfish individuals who wanted the other one to cater to them and when both of us refused that duty sparks began to fly. Silence followed the flying of the sparks. We turned into ourselves and said things we couldn't take back even had we wanted to, and I doubt that we wanted to at the time. Hindsight is one thing, but when two people are living in what they consider as pure hell, taking back hurtful words just wasn't in the cards. We meant for them to hurt, that is the reason we said them.
The last night we were together as man and wife had me taking off, without telling Marionette, to the dog races across the river in West Memphis, Arkansas. I went with a guy who came to the service station I worked at for gas and whatever. I think he made out with a woman while we were there and for whatever reason left me high and dry and broke a long way from home. Try walking across the Mississippi River Bridge back into Memphis and then walking to Euclid Street where we lived. By the time I got there Marionette was gone. That was it. She'd called her parents and they came for her . . . I saw her once before I left Memphis and went back to Taylor with my tails tucked between my legs, somehow like I did when I came home from the Air Force. My, my, if I could have just looked at myself in those days . . . I was bound for hard times and determined to find them . . . And I most certainly did find them . . .
My Novels:
Write To Murder . . . http://www.lulu.com/content/956621
Margaret and David: A Love Story . . . http://www.lulu.com/content/1072842
My Mother's Revenge . . . http://www.lulu.com/content/1132742
Right now involves the end of the marriage . . . A great many things went into the dissolving of our union, but basically, it was because we were both too young and much too immature. Marionette became pregnant early on and she got sick almost as soon. I was working, but not happy. We both wanted marriage, but I don't believe either of us were capable of working to make it work. Basically, we were too selfish individuals who wanted the other one to cater to them and when both of us refused that duty sparks began to fly. Silence followed the flying of the sparks. We turned into ourselves and said things we couldn't take back even had we wanted to, and I doubt that we wanted to at the time. Hindsight is one thing, but when two people are living in what they consider as pure hell, taking back hurtful words just wasn't in the cards. We meant for them to hurt, that is the reason we said them.
The last night we were together as man and wife had me taking off, without telling Marionette, to the dog races across the river in West Memphis, Arkansas. I went with a guy who came to the service station I worked at for gas and whatever. I think he made out with a woman while we were there and for whatever reason left me high and dry and broke a long way from home. Try walking across the Mississippi River Bridge back into Memphis and then walking to Euclid Street where we lived. By the time I got there Marionette was gone. That was it. She'd called her parents and they came for her . . . I saw her once before I left Memphis and went back to Taylor with my tails tucked between my legs, somehow like I did when I came home from the Air Force. My, my, if I could have just looked at myself in those days . . . I was bound for hard times and determined to find them . . . And I most certainly did find them . . .
My Novels:
Write To Murder . . . http://www.lulu.com/content/956621
Margaret and David: A Love Story . . . http://www.lulu.com/content/1072842
My Mother's Revenge . . . http://www.lulu.com/content/1132742
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