Focus was illusive today. Anticipation, my only companion.
Edged forward, hour by hour, I tried to keep my anger at bay.
But he forgets how our son struggled before this school,
he forgets how we moved to this place in a failed attempt to save our marriage,
he forgets that I hate it here
Now that he moved away, I have no obligation to this place. While he plans to move back here because he misses his son, if he pulls the plug on school, I’d pull up stakes.
When he finally calls, he tries feeling me out with varying emotions. He tries frustration about his week, looking for me to comfort him. I did not. Then attempts self deprecation, looking for me to counter with praise. I am silent. Then he moves to sarcasm about the extra cost of the support program our son is in. Still nothing. I hear him struggling to find words, which tells me his blood sugar is low, another attempt to garner sympathy.
This tug of war over school is bringing out the Storm in me. Dark, cunning, calculating, cynical, fueled by decades old pain, the fury palpable, the attacks precise.
At this point he knows who he is speaking with and asks to speak to his son
While he forgets so much, at least he remembers Tempest