After that day, we started hanging out. She’d come to the dorm, help me with my homework, and I’d invite her to games. Our friendship turned romantic a few months later, and after a couple of years of dating, I asked her to marry me. I thought I had found my soulmate. It turns out I was just her meal ticket to stardom.
It’s funny when you’re in a life and death situation. You say a lot of things to the people around you. For me, I’ve always dreamed of playing professional football. I worked my ass off in college to achieve my dream. Elena’s dream was to work in marketing or advertising. That was until we started dating seriously, and her social media skyrocketed. Then, her dream was to become an influencer and eventually a model. I supported each change in her career wholeheartedly because I wanted her to be happy, and I was in love with her. I thought she was in love with me. She told me we had to have a house in Orange County even though we lived in Portland, Oregon. At first, I didn’t understand why but still gave her what she wanted. Everything became clear when some reality TV show about wives announced she was joining the cast. The show was a hit. Her fame grew. And suddenly, she wanted to be an actress. By now, through all of this, we have two children and are splitting our time between Portland, Huntington Beach, her parents in Delaware, and mine in Michigan. An endless cycle of traveling. I tried to talk to her about it. I tried telling her something had to give. At first, she was defensive, telling me I was trying to stifle her creativity. Then she said if I really loved her and the kids, I’d ask for a trade to one of the teams in California. When I told her no, she uttered the word I never thought I’d hear—divorce.
My world was rocked.
When all of this happened, Elena and my kids were my world, and I couldn’t imagine my life without them. I spoke to my agent, asked what I could do to move to California, and thought about how I’d have to approach my career—that was until I found out she had an affair.
While I was busting my ass on the field, providing the lifestyle she wanted, she thought it would be smart to sleep with her co-star from her theatrical debut. She forgot about the prenup she signed, and now I’m the bad guy.
Now, here I sit, in the house we bought together, the place we planned to raise our children, at a standstill. I want the kids to live with me in Portland, and she wants them to live here with her. My argument is that our oldest, Reggie, is already in school. He has friends and plays Pee-Wee football. Roxy, our youngest, is only three. She doesn’t grasp everything that’s going on and knows Mommy and Daddy sometimes work away from the house. But most often, I’m gone for a couple of days when we have an away game.
“Julius, we need to make a decision,” her voice is like nails on a chalkboard. I used to love listening to her talk, but now, I never want to hear it.
“I’ve told you my stance, Elena. It doesn’t make sense to pull Reggie out of school to move down here. Plus, this puts unnecessary travel on me when I want to see my kids.”
“Well, I can say the same thing,” she fires back. “I’d have to travel to Portland to see them.”
“You’ve done one movie, E. One. With no other movies lined up. It doesn’t make sense for you to be here if you don’t have to be. You can stay in the apartment in Portland, and I’ll go to a hotel. We can swap or whatever. Others have done it.”
“And that doesn’t make sense for me, Julius. My job is here, and this is where I live.” She spreads her arms out, almost as if she purchased the house with her own money.
“Not for long, I’m going to put the house on the market.”
“You can’t.”
I look at her and cock my eyebrow. “I can, and I will.”
“I’ll sue you for the house and alimony.”
I let out a chuckle and decide to stand. I walk over to the window and look out over the expansive ocean. We have a view—that’s it. If we want to go to the beach, we have to drive to it. “You signed a prenup, Elena. A very particular one that states I don’t owe you anything if you partake in an extramarital affair.”
“I never cheated. I only started seeing Sonny after we decided to divorce.”
I turn to her and shake my head. “You must think I’m stupid. I have the photos. I have videos of him coming into the house and leaving in the morning.”
“Those don’t prove anything.”
My hands go to my head, and I groan. “Just stop, Elena. You’re getting the divorce—that’s what you wanted. The rest, I’m not budging on. There is no way in hell I’m paying you alimony, you know this, and your only fight is for the kids. Tell me, what are you going to do if you get a movie role that films out of state, huh? Leave them with a nanny for months?”
“They can go live with you.”
“And interrupt their lives? No thanks.”
I’m about to sit down when the front door opens, and a voice calls out, “You better be naked and ready for me because I’m . . .” his voice trails off when Sonny sees me standing in the room.
I look at Elena and shake my head. “Really? On a day we’re supposed to be trying to work on the arrangement for our kids.” I point at her boyfriend while keeping my eyes on her. “And what if they were here, huh? You just gonna keep them in their rooms so you can get fucked on our white leather couch?”
Elena says nothing. She won’t even look at me, Sonny either. I think he’s afraid of me, which is good. Although, I would never jeopardize my career for the likes of him. He’s a pretty boy, the current Hollywood heartthrob.
“I’m so glad I wasted my day off to fly down here to talk to you. If I were you, I’d talk to ole Sonny boy about shacking up,” I pause and scoff. “Oh, that’s right, his wife kicked him out for having an affair. What a pair.”
I brush past Sonny and head toward the door without saying another word. I’m beyond pissed and hope I send that message to them when I slam the front door. Thankfully, I have a rental car parked in the driveway, which should’ve been a clue to Sonny that someone was inside the house. Right now, I think they’re both out of their minds. It’s the lust fueling them. Once the newness wears off and reality sets in, they’ll both realize how badly they fucked up.
I head toward the airport, weaving my way in and out of traffic. It’s never wise to drive when you’re this angry, but I need to get the hell out of here, even if it means I’ll have to sit in the terminal lounge until I can get a flight. At this point, I don’t care.
After dropping the rental off and catching a shuttle, I flag down a security guard and ask him to get me through security. Sometimes, I wait with the rest of the travelers, but I’m not in the right frame of mind to deal with fans. The last thing I need is some media report calling me an asshole because I wouldn’t pose for a picture or some shit.
Once I’m through security, the guard drops me off at the terminal lounge. Inside, there’s a concierge type person who can help me with my flight. Unfortunately, the next flight to Portland isn’t for a few hours, and it’s full, which means I’ll be on standby until my scheduled flight at eleven tonight.
As soon as I sit down at the bar, the bartender asks what I want to drink. I order my usual “whatever you have on tap” choice and ask if I can get a burger and fries. Not ideal, but it’s been a long day, and it’s going to be a long night.