Chapter 4~ Leaving Neverland: Surprise Pregnancy, Big Moves, Infidelity.
( names have been changed)
Panic. Can’t sleep. I take Nyquil. I take Advil pm. I take an anti-anxiety med. Still can’t sleep. I listen to scriptures. I pray. Harder than I have in a long time. I vow to give up sex. I vow to give up cigarettes. I’ll even give up music, just help me God.
“ You can just move to my condo in Naples. Live rent-free. Get child support from Rob.” My sister says. She’s a CEO. She went to…any Ivy League. And trust me…my family couldn’t afford Ivy Leagues. She’s the golden child. My dad often wears this “My Daughter Went to ****” shirt she got him. I’ve thought about getting him one that says, “ My Other Daughter is a Struggling Songwriter” hat to go with it. She lives with her sommelier husband from Turkey and they’re extremely successful and happy. They live in New York most of the time. They’ve decided not to have kids. But she’s had the same little dog for sixteen years. That’s the one thing I can’t wrap my head around. I always wonder if there’s something she’s not telling me. She keeps most things close to the vest.
“It’s not that simple Jill. I can’t just take her to Florida. You don’t get it. Rob would fight for her.”
“You were never married. It doesn’t matter.”
And I realize she just can’t understand.
“Rob loves her. He’s a good dad even if he wasn’t the perfect partner. I wasn’t either. She needs us both. So I may just have to sacrifice and be here. I’ll figure it out.”
I’d met Rob while I was living in Nashville. My publishing company had sent me there from Los Angeles to try it out for a few months. That’s where the best of the best hone their songwriting craft. I’d been writing for this blonde 19-year-old gorgeous Canadian artist for a bit. It was tough. Anywhere we went eyes went straight to her. I had to deal with my own insecurity around her. But then she invited me to a baseball game her agent had invited her to. I almost didn’t go. But then…I decided to open my heart. We strutted down the steps of the Sound Stadium turning heads. She waved to her agent. Her agent’s best friend was wearing a baseball cap sitting next to him. It was Rob.
I recognized him but he didn’t recognize me. I’d been in sweats and a t-shirt with no make-up one day a few months earlier when I’d rushed into his publishing house on music row to write a song one day. The moment I’d looked into his eyes…I felt like I’d met him before. And I knew I would see him again. Funny how that happens in life. He was so tall and commanding, with this bellowing voice. He radiated confidence. He put his hand on my shoulder and asked if I was lost. And he showed me the way to the writing room where I met a life-long friend, Sarah.
Flash-forward to the baseball game — -I wore a cute little black dress, my hair long and curled. We’d done our make-up using Sephora samples. We looked like we were ready for prom. Rob didn’t recognize me. He came over to chat with us and say hi. He was cold. Sarcastic. Intimidating. And it became my goal in that instant to melt his heart. I asked about his life. His family. He showed me photos on his phone of him water skiing with his nieces and nephews up in Washington. He didn’t ask for my number but he found me on instagram that night. And we’d chatted.
And we ended up having dinner across from my hotel the following evening. He made fun of me for choosing a chain restaurant. Said girls from the Midwest loved chains. Olive Garden. Applebee's. He wasn’t wrong.
This chain was a…I can’t remember the name honestly. But we had such a great time, I made him come to my hotel afterwards and do the “ice bucket challenge” that was trending at the time. We’d gone in the pool in our underwear. His were pink, which I found surprisingly and hilarious. We kissed. And then it started to rain. So we ran up to my room. And we’d made out while a special on the Bee Gees played in our hotel room and I gave him a blow job. Meaning I dried his hair with the hotel blow dryer. Don’t get too excited.
After that, we fell in love fast. It’s like my body was saying I needed to make a baby with him. I tried to resist for as long as I could. And on the day we decided to make love my phone rang three times in a row. It was my father. A strange omen. My dad rarely calls. He’s usually on the road. Sort of a modern day Mark Twain. But he’s very spiritual. It’s as if he knew my life was about to change forever.
Rob invited me home for Thanksgiving just two months into dating. Something I now know is super out of character for him And after we’d watched the Seahawks beat the 49er’s at his best friend Carl’s house we’d impulsively made love in the back of his sister’s car (she wasn’t in it, she’d lent it to us). We’d been impulsive before as well about two weeks earlier but I’d taken the morning after pill. Only took one impulsive moment. Funny, we’d almost split up right before I found out. We were back in Tennessee. I’d been nauseous all day, staying at this mansion in Franklin. It was the home of this southern woman I adore named Kathy. She was a Miss Nashville once and the epitome of a brilliant hostess. She let me stay with her when I came to town to write. I’d met her many years before through a friend of my father’s at one of the political conferences he took me to. Long story.
Anyways. There I was. Up in the guest room vomiting. And Rob wasn’t responding to a single text. Later he said he’d been busy watching “the game”. I was so annoyed. He was annoyed. His reverence for the Seahawks was nearly religious. Nothing came before football. We hadn’t spoken for a couple of days. But then…when I went home to Saint Louis for Christmas the nausea continued…so I took a test…in a Walgreens’ bathroom. I remember my hands shaking. I texted my little brother Mitch first.
“ Mitch…I think I’m pregnant.”
And then…I’d sent a photo of the results to Rob.
“ We’re Pregnant?!?! Mel? Are you sure?? Take another test!”
I did. I was. And after that he’d jumped on a plane right away to see me for New Year’s Eve. And to meet my parents.
“ Just don’t tell them…yet please. Let me…meet them first.”
I remember getting all dressed up in one of my mom’s long red coats from the 80s to go get him from the airport. I looked like Carmen San Diego.
I remember him walking off the plane, looking pale and stressed but in a nice button down white shirt, freshly shaven. We’d gone to this random New Year’s Eve buffet/dance my mom had gotten tickets for. And when the band started playing “ September” by Earth, Wind and Fire, my dad grabbed my hand to spin me around and around like he always does when that song comes on. He and my mom can dance. They’re the best couple I’ve ever seen dance. They make up crazy moves. He twirls and dips her and has been dancing with me since I was little. When his family has weddings (he has ten brothers and sisters) the dancing is off the charts. A bunch of baby boomers swinging each other across the floor. But Rob could see I was getting nauseous. So he stepped in. Took my hand from my father’s. And we slow-danced under the disco ball. It felt symbolic almost. I loved Rob so much then. So much.
We went to the doctor to get an official test. He still wasn’t totally convinced. The nurse said if we weren’t really ready, that maybe we shouldn’t have the baby. That she’d had her son when she wasn’t ready. And sometimes she regrets it. And that made me want to puke. But Rob took me to get cold stone after and told me not to listen to her.
When we got back to Nashville, to his apartment, he broke down and cried. This big, strong guy, crying.
“How am I gonna support you Mel? How am I gonna — -support a kid? What am I gonna do?”
For a few days we debated what to do. But we decided we were going to have this baby.
He was still vulnerable with me then. I told Kathy the news. She was shocked. I don’t think she’s ever forgiven me for getting pregnant while living under her roof. She seemed upset with Rob, ten years my senior. She thought he should have known better. I moved in with him in his bachelor pad apartment that I guess his father in Washington owned so he paid rent to him. I took the room upstairs. He took the room downstairs. Because…as it turned out…I couldn’t fall asleep beside him. Maybe it was the stress of being pregnant. Maybe it was…fear of him really knowing me. My belly grew. We found out our baby was a girl. I cried. I knew Rob had probably been hoping for a boy. I also knew how difficult my relationship with my mother had been. But I dreamt my mother and I were shopping for girl clothes and I so I think part of me knew even before the ultrasound. Rob was sweet.
We went to get soup. He said it would be different with me and my daughter than it had been for my mother and me. That maybe this was my chance to do better. For healing. That he would love us. He did worry that he didn’t know how to braid hair and how he would pay for a prom dress. I told him I’d help with the hair and the dress. Those were such beautiful special months together. We played house. I tried to cook. I discovered crock pots. We watched 30 Rock in bed and laughed. I didn’t get periods so I didn’t have my crazy pmdd mood swings. I prayed he would propose. When I finally told my parents, my dad drove out and took us to dinner and while I was in the bathroom telling my publisher I was knocked up, my dad was gently telling Rob he needed to propose. But Rob wouldn’t. He said we needed to do counseling first. That we couldn’t just get engaged cause we were pregnant. It had to be because we wanted to. So we did some counseling. They said my upbringing…maybe wasn’t the most stable. And that Rob’s seemed more stable. And the more time I spent with him and his family, probably, the healthier I’d become. Then his company decided to move Rob to LA, promising him he could open the new West Coast Branch. He’d be heading it off. Something he’d dreamt of for years.
I agreed to go with him. But I was losing hope he would propose. Valentine’s day came and I fell apart. I laid on the bed crying after we’d been packing the apartment up all day.
“Hey now…don’t get like that,” he said.
He pulled my legs to the end of the bed. And pulled out a ring.
“ I was going to do this on our drive, maybe if we passed the Grand Canyon.”
I was shocked.
I said yes.
And we went to the grocery store. And ate dinner. And watched 30 Rock.
Since he was in music publishing, he signed bands and writers and knew tons of people in the industry. I always thought he might help me continue with music. I was worried being pregnant…maybe my career was over. But he was always hesitant, not wanting to mix personal with business. That really stung sometimes.
But we drove cross-country and talked on walkie-talkies he’d bought. We stopped to pass a football back and forth in a field somewhere and suddenly my ring was gone. And I was panicking searching through knee-high yellow grass for it. Terrified. Turns out it was in the car all along. I’d taken it off cause my finger was swelling.
There were a million hot air balloons in New Mexico one morning. And we had the best tacos of my life on Easter. It was the best road trip I’ve ever taken.
We found a little place to rent on a hill in Pasadena. A tiny, run-down white cottage. But it was home.
We would walk the Rose Bowl everyday together, talking. He’d help push my pregnant ass up the hill. We were…so in love for a minute there. We talked about names for her. We’d wonder about what she’d be like. She’d kick and I’d say, “ what is she doing in there?” and he’d say “ Packing her bags! Getting ready to meet us!”
The night she was born…he sat by the bed and played with my hair until my water broke. And when the nurses put her in my arms and I was still in shock, he said, “ Mel look down! She’s looking at you!”
And I looked down to see the most wise, beautiful blue eyes imaginable, staring deep into my soul. We were on cloud 9. That kid’s feet didn’t touch the ground for nearly a year. We were always holding her. We had all day with her, every day, till his office was ready.
But then…right after Lyric was born…his company sold. And everything changed. They said they were sorry, and let him go. Let everyone go. He was so hurt. Angry. He was stressed all the time. He had to find another job fast.
Suddenly, I was just a nuisance to him. And I was overwhelmed, caring for a baby on my own. No family. No support. He got a job but it was long days and far. I’d text him asking when he was coming home. I’d freak out. I felt so overwhelmed. I loved my days with Lyric so much. I did a pretty amazing job looking back. I’d take her to art museums all the time, show her Monet’s. We lay on the front lawn in the sunshine, blowing bubbles. I’d get her canvases and we’d paint. We went to parks. I loved every moment with her. But…I needed Rob too.
I started trying to write songs again when she napped. I would write in my tiny, hot bedroom closet as to not wake her. I wrote one…about two people holding on through life’s greatest challenges called “ Standing”. My publisher loved it. Thought it was a hit. They were gonna try to get it on Sirius xm, on the radio. That would mean money. I was feeling hopeful.
I remember the night I found the texts on his phone. Times were tough. But we were a family. And I loved him. But I guess when he’d been walking around the Rose Bowl one day with Lyric…he’d met some woman and they’d gotten coffee.
“I really shouldn’t be googling leather halter tops at work,” his email to her said.
Another email was her asking him if he wanted to go to the movies.
My heart stopped. I went to wake him. He was lying next to Lyric’s crib. He can sleep anywhere.
“What is this?” I said, my hands shaking. In hindsight, I should have kept the phone longer. He wouldn’t have known. I should have done my research. But when he realized what I was seeing he wrestled it from my hands. It was the longest night of my life. I cried. I begged him to tell me what it was. What the other emails said. He said it was just for music. They’d just gotten coffee. I threw my keys at the wall and left a hole in it. I’d texted Jill, frantic, and she’d booked me a ticket to Virginia, to stay with my parents (they’d recently moved there), just like that.
I loaded Lyric up into the car, still shaking. I think I’d tapped the bumper of his car on purpose. He stumbled after us.
“Mel! Stop! Please! Please! Be careful!”
Since then, Jill has sort of hated Rob. Which I get. She didn’t understand why I went back to him. But after a few days with Lyric in Virginia, he and I had finally talked.
“ What am I gonna do? It’s the three of us. The big, tall guy and the little Strawberries. I’m sorry. Nothing happened. I just…needed someone to talk to.”
We tried counseling after that.
Before long, his new job was over too. Another company closing. Rob decided to move us back to Nashville. After I’d finally made friends in Pasadena. He said he was going to try becoming a financial advisor and it was more affordable there and he had more contacts. So. Heart-broken. I went along.
We drove back. And I made new friends and a life there. And I made an album with my buddy JT. And then one day, I came home, and, deja vu, Rob said he took a job in Washington where his sisters and parents lived. He hadn’t even asked me. I was stunned.
I screamed. I wept. I protested. I didn’t want to move again. But he said we needed help. We needed family. So Lyric flew to Washington with his mom. And he and I….drove. Yet again. And now, suddenly, I was living…in his territory. Washington. The Evergreen State. He had his whole family. I had no one but Lyric. No music industry. No songwriter friends. No family.
We’d tried counseling again. Three. One was free. She had huge boobs that always annoyed me. Another was too expensive. I admit, I had anger problems I didn’t understand. I knew I had pmdd at this point. This really extreme rare pms some women get that make you…very different than you are the rest of the month. I knew a lot of the anger and spiraling happened when I was feeling abandoned. But I couldn’t figure out how to change it. Maybe it was the way I was raised. The way my mother treated my father scared Rob. My mom can be…very hot and cold. And…anyways. When I felt abandoned…I would sort of spiral and lose it on Rob. But he was so icy cold. I needed to know he cared. We kept trying. The last counselor was Christian, like my dad had suggested. I could tell he and Rob didn’t click. He didn’t like Rob’s attitude. Rob has a personality you either love or hate. After about three sessions he pretty much told me “I don’t think Rob loves you”. I’d come in desperate. I’d said…to Rob…to the counselor….if something didn’t change, I felt I may have an affair. I was feeling so starved for affection. So isolated.
See…I’d begun talking to someone. His name was Jay. I’d met him 6 years before…before I’d ever met Rob.
One night at the Troubadour Bar in La, my then manager Brent wanted me to go see a band he thought I could write songs for. I’d almost not gone that night. I’d worn a little black dress. Jack had seen me across the room and come right over. He had worked for Brent as a young intern before becoming a music agent himself. He had intense brown eyes and dark hair and tattoos on his hands. Jack asked to buy me and Brent a drink. He said he’d sworn he’d seen me somewhere…maybe even in a dream he’d had. He later asked Brent for my number. Brent thought maybe he liked my music and wanted to be my agent. I was thrilled.
So Jack and I went out to dinner. I was two hours late because of traffic and some other mishap I can’t remember. But he in turn had drunk too much wine and I think even had taken a Xanax he was so nervous. But we talked and laughed easily and ate fancy sushi by a fireside. He tried to kiss me in the uber afterwards. I told him I wasn’t that kind of girl. That I thought it had been a professional meeting and that I was with someone ( I was…a Christian guy. We were being chaste. It had been almost three years without having sex at this point…). I tried to send Jack music after that. But he wasn’t into it. He was into me. So we lost touch.
But after I’d found those emails…from Rob…to that woman….and had come back from Virginia…I’d met with Jack for lunch. We’d laughed so much. We met another time for a drink at a bar. Nothing happened. We just flirted. He kissed my forehead. I was trying to get even with Ross. But we didn’t let it go far.
However…now in Washington, Rob and I were on the rocks…four years later….I was up one night …unable to sleep. Rob was in the other room. I had still never been able to really sleep with him. It was really hard for him. He didn’t feel close to me because we didn’t sleep together. And I didn’t feel close to him because we weren’t having you know what and I was tired of initiating.
I saw Jack was online. I impulsively sent him the link to the album I’d made in Nashville. And he’d freaked out. He said….I’d mastered the craft. And he wanted to be my agent. I started freaking out. I told my manager . It was a huge win, getting an agent. My manager hadn’t thought I’d ever be able to tour, being a young mom to a young kid. But here Jack was…saying he believed in me. Not just as a writer but as an artist. My manager Ivan was worried though when he found out Jack had had a crush on me previously. He was worried it wouldn’t’ be professional. I told Jack we could work together as long as we didn’t fall in love.
But I was so lonely. Lyric had started preschool…and Rob was gone all day…and I didn’t have songwriting sessions. I started talking to Jack. For hours. We talked every night once Rob was asleep. About music. Plans for touring. Plans for the album. He was so good at business. Such a strategic genius and go-getter. He made me feel beautiful. And talented. And special. Meanwhile, Rob wouldn’t even hug me. He was more and more detached. I told him I was starting to have feelings for Jack. I told him…we had to work on us. I told him I was lonely.
On one of our last sessions with the Christian therapist Rob said he believed I’d only gotten pregnant for a free ride. That was sort of the nail in the coffin. As Jack and I fell in love…I started to feel torn and tortured. And guilty. I told Rob…I thought maybe we should get our own places. Saying it was easy. But he actually looked surprised. That’s what threw me. He knew we were unhappy. He never touched me. Or wanted to talk to me. Why was he surprised? After that…he went stone cold. He hardly spoke to me. Sometimes I regretted the decision. I’d go into his room… I don’t get it. I’d been able to sleep with boyfriends in the past. Until I moved in with the Christian guy and we’d decided to not have sex. And I guess I got used to sleeping alone. But maybe it was deeper than that with Rob.
Rob said it was part of the reason he didn’t feel close to me. And because of that he rarely tried to have sex with me. Funny cause it had been so hot when we’d first met. He even joked to a counselor that sex definitely wasn’t our issue. I’d tiptoe into his room after that sometimes, crying…saying maybe we should try again. For Lyric. He’d say, “ Mel. We have tried.”
I remember holding Lyric one day…in the living room…telling her…dad and I were going to live in different houses. I remember tears welling in her eyes. And her becoming very still and serious. She climbed into my lap. And we hugged for a long time. And since then…she’s been fine. At least…she seems fine. And happy. She didn’t like when we would fight. And it seemed we could fight about literally anything. And it always escalated so fast. So. Slowly but surely…Rob moved out. He agreed it was best.
So now. Post-Covid. My sister was trying to convince me to leave.
My family didn’t understand why I was holding out in Washington. Why didn’t I just move down to Florida? I had my reasons.
It had taken me too long to get free of my mother’s grasp. I couldn’t go back.
“Well. Tell mom. Cause now she’s all excited about you two moving there,” my sister said.
“What? I never said I was moving there. I had a fever. I had Covid. I was panicking. I’m…I’m gonna figure it out here. But thank you…It’s very nice to know it’s an option.”
Ironically, that song I’d written, “Standing”, had done well. So did the next songs I’d written. So for a minute there, I was even making more than Rob with royalties. However, now, thanks to Covid, I was at back square one.
I was gonna figure it out. For a split second I’d thought about just packing us up and leaving. When I was on the couch with a 101 fever and realized Rob wouldn’t even bring me Gatorade. He said he couldn’t. The mother of his only child. He couldn’t bring me a fucking Gatorade. And that was the moment I thought screw it. Lyric and I can move. I have no one here. If I was dying, no one here would notice. While he has his family. His whole family. His sister lives up the street from me. Which is funny because Rob has now moved an hour North. And here I am down the street from his sister, scraping by. Trying to pay rent and tuition. I’m not gonna give up. I’ll flip burgers. I’ll nanny. I’ll go into Target or Tuesday Morning and work retail. I’ll apply today.
On the love front, ironically, Jack and I aren’t talking either. While…miraculous at first…the mind-blowing sex…the concerts…everything…our incredible “connection” quickly turned…chaotic and toxic. I didn’t realize he was drinking to deal with his job loss. I didn’t realize the paranoia that came with that. I chose him and because of that my manager quit. He’s a big part of why Rob and I split. Or maybe I am. So. I’ve been. Coping with the consequences of everything. I’ve been doing what everyone else my age does…I’ve been on hinge. Trying to soothe my aching heart with the faces of other broken strangers who will at least buy me a steak and a cocktail and sometimes even kiss me in a parking lot.
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