Coloring Outside The Lines

"I got a little too drunk, was by myself and I'm pretty sure I got roofied by two guys I was partying with. I learned several lessons that night, the most important of which is that neither me nor my friends ever leave a bar alone with a man if we didn't come with him. We all leave together, or at the very least, leave in pairs," she explained.

"But my daughter is a gift from God. She is the most precious thing in my life."

She took out her phone, tapped a few times and brought up a photo of an adorable toddler.

"You got kids?" she asked.

"I don't think it's ever going to be in the cards for me," I said, launching into my story of how I came to be in Santa Fe.

"Wow. That's terrible. But you're still married to her? You should get that taken care of," she asserted.

"I should, but at the time I just wanted out quickly. And then there's the matter of actually talking to the stupid bitch."

Angel and I actually went on a few dates alone, and then I started inviting her daughter along to kid-friendly dates. Elinore was shy around me at first, until I actually got on the floor with her at her level. I had read that somewhere, and whoever wrote it was a damn genius. I instantly became her favorite adult, Angel told me. There were times when Angel and I were snuggled up on her sofa when Elinore would take one of my hands and tug on me until I got off the sofa and sat on the floor, at which point she'd crawl into my lap like a puppy and fall asleep. That really seemed to impress Angel, but I've got to admit I liked it, too.

Angel and I got along well, but we never discussed exclusivity. She had told me when we first started dating that she already had someone she was seeing occasionally. I didn't believe Angel and I were in it for the long haul, and since she was honest with me I had no problem with her continuing her other relationship.

You know the old saying about assumptions. Well, I just assumed that Angel's other relationship was with a man, whose name was Bobby. We never really discussed Bobby, the way I assumed she hadn't discussed me with him. About three months into our relationship, however, she mentioned that she and Bobby went out shopping for bikinis a couple of days earlier, and...

"Wait. What?" I said. "Bobby's a woman? B-o-b-b-i-e... not Bobbie as in Robert?"

"Well, yeah. Haven't I mentioned that before. Bobbie's a woman... a lesbian... and I'm bisexual. You sure we haven't talked about this before?"

I shook my head silently, and Angel suddenly started looking at her hands, her feet, anywhere but directly at me.

"Is that a problem, Oliver?" she got out barely above a whisper.

I really hadn't ever thought about something like that before. I've known bisexuals, but had never dated one before, that I was aware of anyway. It took me a minute to let that sink in before I realized that it made no difference in our relationship what gender the person in her other relationship was.

"I don't suppose so, unless she's really pretty. I think for the most part women are more pleasing to look at than guys, and if she's really pretty, then I'm going to suffer big-time by comparison. Should I be worried?" I asked.

"She is pretty, but I don't think you have to worry too much. You both literally bring different things to the table."

She giggled easily, which caused me to laugh.

"You sure I never told you before that I'm bi? I usually try to tell all my dates pretty early on so I don't mislead anybody. That usually gets feelings hurt," she said.

"So now are you going to be wondering what we do when we're out together? Are you that kind of a pig?"

"Nope. I never wanted to know what you two did together when I thought Bobbie was another man; makes no difference now that I know she's a woman. We're not exclusive, and your private life is yours, the way my life is mine.

"So she's pretty, huh?"

I tried to look at her seriously, but she knew me well enough to know I was kidding her hard.

"Who's Elinore's favorite?" I asked in a childish voice.

"You know you are," she answered back.

I actually became Angel's back-up person for Elinore's babysitter, getting written permission to pick up the child on the few occasions that Angel had to work late. I bought a child's car seat for my Mustang and installed it permanently because nobody else ever rode in the back seat of that car.

I didn't put two plus two together when my cell rang a couple of months later and the caller ID said it was Bobbie Clarkson. Angel never told me Bobbie's last name, and there really was never any reason why she would ever be calling me... except for one. My stomach did a nervous flip as I answered.

An almost hysterical Bobbie spent the next few minutes telling me that Angel had died in a car wreck on the way home from work. The police on the scene had found Angel's cellphone and called Bobbie, who was listed several times in Angel's call history. Bobbie had gone to the hospital, but Angel was already gone. When Bobbie could think straight for a minute, she realized that Elinore needed to be picked up from the babysitter, and Angel had once told her that I was cleared to do that. We agreed to meet at Angel's apartment after I picked up Elinore.

Bobbie was sitting sobbing at the kitchen table in the apartment when I rushed in crying with the very confused child. The woman ran to us and hugged us both as she continued to cry.

We probably stayed that way for five minutes, two crying adults and a toddler in between us in a tight hug. We finally broke apart when I noted that we had to get the child fed and some things decided.

We pieced together some things from Angel's life based on what she had told both of us. She was an only child whose parents had both died, and there didn't seem to be any aunts or uncles in the picture. That meant it was up to us to take care of Elinore until we could figure out which state agency needed to take over.

Bobbie had found a couple of cans of tuna and made sandwiches for us and put some in a bowl so we could feed Elinore. A little more looking turned up a juice box and Cheerios.

Between bouts of crying for our departed friend, Bobbie and I struggled to come up with a plan for Elinore. We came to the realization that legally she was a ward of the state and would probably be placed in the foster care system... but neither one of us could live with that decision. Maybe we weren't thinking right, but it seemed best to us that the child should remain with one of us for the foreseeable future, rather than have her turned over to the foster care system.

"If the state doesn't know about her, they won't be trying to take her away and place her in foster care. She can just stay with us. They always talk about how lots of kids fall through the cracks. Elinore can fall through the cracks and stay with us, with me," I volunteered.

"What do you know about raising a kid?" Bobbie quickly asked.

"Honestly, nothing, but I was a kid once," I remarked.

"Perfect. Not exactly the answer I was looking for," she said.

We talked round in circles for the next hour trying to come up with a good plan for Elinore. Eventually, we came to the conclusion that I would give up my apartment, move into Angel's and become the primary caregiver for the child, along with daycare. Bobbie said she would come by often to help out. We were both highly cognizant of the fact that neither of us had ever been a parent before.

"What's that old saying? The blonde leading the blind?" she asked, causing me to laugh for the first time all night.

"Actually, that's 'the blind leading the blind,' but your way is funnier," I rejoined.

"By the way, I'm Oliver Navarro. It's nice to officially meet you, Bobbie," I said formally, holding my hand out for a handshake.

She looked at my hand before looking me in the eyes. She walked past my outstretched hand and into my space, wrapping me in a tearful hug.

"God, I'm going to miss her so much," she said.

"Me, too," was all I could say back.

I called in to my office the next morning and explained to my boss that I needed a couple of personal days to get things squared away with Elinore. Bobbie and I decided that we would have Angel's body cremated.

It took a couple of weeks for Elinore, Bobbie and I to sort of find a routine. Bobbie showed up at the apartment almost every night after work, and we split cooking duties for meals. I could see why Angel liked her. She was smart and funny, with a bit of sass like Angel had. She was also tall, blonde, blue-eyed and very curvy. I enjoyed her company and missed her on the few nights she didn't come over. A lot of nights she and I talked about our feelings for Angel.

Three months had gone by when a somewhat nervous-looking Bobbie approached me one evening after I had put Elinore down for the night. I was sitting at one end of the three-cushion sofa in the living room and Bobbie sat down on the cushion right next to me, facing me with her feet crossed under her. Most women can do that pretty easily; most guys struggle with the position without a hard surface like a floor or the ground under them.

"Ye-e-e-s?" I asked, drawing the word out in anticipation of... something.

"Oliver, what would you say to getting a bigger apartment and me moving in with you two fulltime?" she asked. "It would be better for both of our wallets and we could better share with Elinore. I love the child and I guess I want to be... her mother, sort of. And you could be her father, sort of. I know you love her, too. We don't need to be married to raise a child. In fact, with both of us in the home, we could even have our own social lives. And since we're friends, not lovers, that should decrease the chances of us splitting up, like..."

"All right, you don't have to say it: like my wife and I."

Bobbie was indeed a beautiful woman, but since I knew she played for the other team, I would never make a move on her: that would be the ultimate in rude. Still, I had grown... fond of her, to say the least. Both of us absolutely loved Elinore off the charts. The plan sounded... actually, it made really good sense, to my way of thinking.

Bonded by a commitment to Elinore, and maybe because there were no emotional and sexual games in play, the friendship between Bobbie and I grew tight. The three of us grew into a real family, which only got tighter when Elinore starting calling us Mommy and Daddy, apparently something she picked up from the other children at daycare.

Who knew two little words could have such an effect on two grown adults? The first time she called me Daddy when I picked her up, my heart about grew out of my chest. The first time she referred to Bobbie as Mommy, I thought Bobbie would come totally unglued. She had just finished tying Elinore's shoes and Elinore said, "Thank you, Mommy." Bobbie choked for a second, then ran into the bathroom so Elinore couldn't see her tears.

She came out of the bathroom two minutes later, tears still in her eyes but a big smile on her face.

"Yeah, Mommy, it got to me, too," I told her.

She punched me hard on the right arm. I smiled and nodded.

Except for the fact that Bobbie and I never engaged in any cute husband and wife touching, I thought we blended in well with the parents of Elinore's friends at school and social events over the next several years. We told the truth about not being married to those who asked, and we never really engaged in childbirth stories, sort of deflecting and ignoring those discussions.

You could have knocked me over with a feather when Vivian--yes, that Vivian--showed up at our front door one Saturday morning about four years after I left her.

"Umm, Oliver, someone is here at the door for you," Bobbie said from the living room while I sat at the kitchen table playing blocks with Elinore.

Elinore followed me into the living room, and I'm not sure which one of us looked more shocked--me or Vivian.

"Is... is she yours, Q?" my wife asked while looking at Elinore like she'd seen a ghost.

I had to close my gaping mouth to answer.

"Well... she's ours actually," I said, pointing from Bobbie to me.

"Yours? She can't be yours. We're still married..."

I could see this wasn't going to be easy for Vivian, who looked like she was ready to crumble to the floor. I offered her a seat on our sofa, and she quickly sat down.

"Calm down, Viv. Bobbie and I aren't married, but Elinore is still our daughter," I said.

"Oh... oh good, sort of... We could work with that," Vivian mumbled.

"What are you talking about, Vivian? Why are you here after all this time? Aren't we divorced at this point?" I fired off rapid fire.

Much to my surprise, I found out I was still married to Vivian. She hadn't filed for divorce, figuring I'd come back to her for the first year. Then she and her father spent almost two years looking for me, before she spent another year working up the courage to finally approach me to reconcile.

"Reconcile? Seriously? Why?" I asked in more rapid fire. "Four years isn't enough for me to have recovered from you ripping my heart out and acting like the Wicked Bitch of the West. Hell, a lifetime wouldn't be enough time."

"You know I love you. Always have. Always will," Vivian said. "I made a mistake, one hell of a mistake, but still a mistake. I'm sorry for what I did... and sorry for trying to take advantage of your good nature.

"I figured if I hit you with a little shock and awe, I'd overwhelm you, and you'd have no choice but to go along with it. I also didn't think you'd give me up for a weekend of sex; sex, not love. Wasn't having children and spending the rest of our lives together enough of a trade-off for a weekend of sex?"

"You knew me better than anybody," I said. "You knew how I felt about fidelity. You blatantly rubbed my face in it. I won't take that kind of disrespect from anybody, even from my loving wife."

She looked around the room, her eyes stopping for a few seconds on Bobbie and Elinore.

"It looks like you recovered very nicely," she said. "Almost like you didn't waste any time at all.

"By the way, your asshole boss back home really had your back. He kept telling Dad's investigators that Quincy Navarro didn't work there anymore, when you had just moved offices and started going by your middle name. Dad finally got a court order to look at Bishop's employment records, and then he remembered that your middle name is Oliver. After that, I just had to find the guts to approach you."

"Okay, you've approached me," I said. "Even if I was the biggest dumbass in history, I've got a family now that I'd never throw away. I've got a beautiful woman whom I love and who I completely trust with my heart. She respects me and I her. We've got a beautiful daughter who we will cherish long after she grows into a beautiful woman.

"We are an us. I love being part of an us. Remember, once upon a time I told you there was no I in team, no I in us."

My volume had risen considerably, almost to a shout. For the first time, Vivian truly looked remorseful. I took a quick look at Bobbie and Elinore. Bobbie looked shocked. Elinore looked frightened. I walked over to my girls and we hugged fiercely. I looked at my little girl and whispered, "It'll be all right, sweetie."

"I get it now Q," Vivian said quietly as she looked at us. "I'll file for divorce based on abandonment as soon as I get home. I don't need anything from you financially. But would I be out of line to ask you to forgive me for being a selfish bitch?"

"I can try, Viv, but that's the best I can do. Maybe in time..." I rasped.

Vivian got up off the sofa, gave me a half-smile, and left the apartment and, I hoped, my life forever.

Bobbie sent Elinore up to her room to play. She took my hand and directed me to the sofa, sitting down next to me with our knees touching. She had a look similar to the one Elinore did a few minutes ago.

"Did you mean what you said to your wife a few minutes ago... about us being an... us?" she said.

"Completely," I answered. "I know you and I don't love each other... like that... but I do love you. I trust you completely. I respect you and I believe you respect me as well. And I know you love us... us. You get it."

"I do," she said simply, smiling brightly.

I suppose finally having an official divorce should have helped my attitude with dating, but I knew I wasn't going to run out and start fucking every decent-looking willing woman I came across. That was never who I was before I got married, and now that I had a family, it was definitely a lower priority. I still occasionally had my fun, but I wasn't looking for the next Mrs. Navarro.

Bobbie dated more than I did and had a better social life than I did. We kept in constant communication about those things and made sure our daughter was always first in our planning. We also had a rule that no dates were to be brought home by either one of us for anything other than a meal.

Elinore was probably close to 11 when Bobbie and I made the tough decision that she was ready to learn the truth about whom she was and whom we were. I know that on the night we were going to tell her, there were two adults who were sweating bullets. We had been talking about this for almost a year.

The three of us shed a lot of tears that night. We showed Elinore photos of her birth mother and explained her mother's relationship to both Bobbie and me. We also had to explain about Angel being a bisexual and Bobbie being a lesbian. Of course we also had to explain about our decision not to give Elinore to the state and raise her ourselves.

"So we're not a family by blood. We're a family by love," Bobbie summed up.

I know Elinore was perplexed and anxious for several days as she worked out for herself what Bobbie and I had laid on her. She was a bright child and mature for her age, and several days later it seemed to congeal in her brain.

"You guys could have just let child services take me. Wouldn't that have been easier for you both?" she asked while we were eating dinner.

"Doing the right thing isn't always the easy thing," I answered. "I've never regretted my decision for a minute... except maybe when you threw up birthday cake all over my new suit when you were six... and I'm sure Mom hasn't regretted it either."

A tearful Bobbie nodded her head while wiping her nose with a tissue.

In addition to our own friends, Bobbie and I had several friends we had developed as a couple, and occasionally she and I went out for an evening with several of those friends. Bobbie enjoyed dancing, so every now and then we did that. She was a better dancer than I was, but I worked hard to keep up. Our friends, most of who knew we weren't a couple, often commented how good we looked together.

Bobbie occasionally danced with other friends as well when we were out, but never accepted an invitation from strange men, for pretty obvious reasons. As pretty as she was, she never lacked for attention from either men or women.

Most of the men who approached her took her soft rejections well, but not all. She had just returned to our table after dancing with one of our friends, John, when a guy I'm guessing to be about 10 years younger than her had a problem with her turning him down.

"Oh, come on, babe, I'm better than that guy you were just dancing with, or that guy you're sitting with. Come on, give me a shot," he demanded, grabbing her wrist and trying to yank her back to the floor.

I'm on the thin side at 6-2, 180, but I was still in pretty good condition at 41... and regardless, I would never let anyone handle a friend like that. I clamped down on the arm that was holding Bobbie's wrist and twisted. The youngster howled in pain and released Bobbie's wrist... which proved to be a big mistake. Once free of the man's grasp, Bobbie turned into him and swiftly raised her right knee. Did I mention that she played soccer in college? The young man crumpled to the floor, but not before his face hit the table on the way down.