April 4, 2012
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testing…watching…
Sure enough, he’s easing back in. This time it’s different. He doesn’t realize that his friends have turned on him. They’re weary of his games, how he treats me.
He forgot that this time the friends he lied to were my friends first. Sometimes the ties that bind us when we are children are as strong as the ties that bind families together. My heart was heavy. It still is. I don’t smile as much as I usually do. My mind goes far away, and my eyes become sad.
Angel me follows behind with a hand on my shoulder. She’s there always, afraid to leave me because she needs to hold my soul fast to Earth. I’ve told her that I don’t have a soul. She doesn’t listen though and her hand is warm on my shoulder. I sigh a great deal, and she pats me when I do….to bring me back.
Yesterday, I check in on the social networking site. My friend is supposed to be down from KY, but his father just passed away, so I’m wondering if he and his wife are making arrangements, postponing their trip. Nothing on his page….Then a chat box lights up.
D has typed, “Still wanna go to that place in FL”
I stare at the screen. Devil me looks at me expectantly. She knows me all too well. I begin un-spooling the rope, feeding it in measured lengths. Figuratively, of course, for the rope exists for D to hang himself with.
I type in the name of the restaurant in Ft Lauderdale, very expensive. Then I remark, “That’s one hell of a nice place to celebrate a birthday. Am I still paying?” Rude? Of course, I am. However, it’s equally rude and incredibly ballsy for D to spend time badmouthing me, not speaking to me, shunning an earlier dinner invite from me….and then ask if I will take him out to dinner. I key in “Yes, that was the restaurant I was going to take us to.”
Immediately he shifts gears, “Was = not going to. We cool. Its all good. I’m off tues thru thur. My sis is coming to visit next week.” I tell him that “was” means nothing, that he shouldn’t put words in my mouth, that if I’m going to spend $175 on dinner and drinks I don’t think the meal should be rushed through during the week.”
He agrees. I tell him what my call schedule is, when I have the kids. Tonight would have been the only night I could see him.
I send him a text “Do you want to see me tonight?” It’s a test. He’s sent me a text saying that he wants to wait until we have a weekend off together to go to the very expensive restaurant. He texts me hours later to tell me, “Not tonight. Some other time.”
I know it’s trivia night at the tavern he frequents.
I smile ruefully at Devil me, “Strike two.” She sits back, smiling, “Makes you want to tell that fat fuck to have the fair weathers or his antique dealer friend take him to the expensive place for dinner, doesn’t it?” I laugh in spite of the pain. I’m still feeding the rope out. I’ll never take him to the restaurant. Why would I take someone out who doesn’t want to spend time with me? It’s truly over, but I’m too akin to Devil me to leave this without fucking him over. It’s not a public humiliation, but a personal one.
He’s got it coming.
