The kids got home from camp after midnight on Thursday morning.  Their father hadn’t opted to see them before they left, and he didn’t meet them at the airport.  He shot me a text one evening, and he called once.  Talking to him is always uncomfortable, but I suffer through it.  I tell myself that once the kids are 18 I won’t have to deal with him.  I will let the kids decide if they want him at significant events.  I wonder if it will be weird not seeing him at graduations, engagement parties, holidays, but I’m relieved.  He can go hang out with his friends.  He’s become somewhat of a joke.  My oldest son told me that some of the girls at his high school know his dad from all the parties.  They call him by an embarrassingly immature nickname.  My son thinks it’s rather sad, but I was horrified.  Who gets cozy with 16 year old girls at parties?  One of the girls said she sat on his lap.  What kind of mother lets her underage daughter flirt it up with a 49 year old man?  I told my son to steer clear of the girls, and to watch his back if his dad dragged him off to a party.  My youngest attended one party with his dad, “Never saw so many drunks in my life.  The kids all sneak beer and smoke pot or steal pills out of the medicine cabinet.  I didn’t, but they didn’t give me a hard time about it.  I almost called you, mom.”  I shuddered.   

I don’t think about D at all.

I’m too busy.  Between working, hanging with the kids, and trying to get the closets and house organized, I have no time, and that suits me just fine.  There are two guys who are flirting with me on the social networking side.  One is an old friend from the neighborhood, still handsome, but clearly just looking to hook up.  The other is a guy I’ve known since we took WoodBadge together in 2007.  He’s going through a divorce.  He lives an hour north of me, and rides a candy apple red Harley.  He’s a nice guy, but I’d be a rebound. That’s not something I want to be, but I tell myself that it’s a safe place for both of us.  We’re both good people, so maybe this will be a mild, nonthreatening foray into dating.  I’m not going to lie and think that it’s a favor to him.  I can certainly use some time with a nice person who isn’t running around with a bunch of classless clowns.

I really hope he isn’t running around with a bunch of classless clowns.

The ironic thing: In the circles I socialize in, I’m well-liked for my sense of humor.  I don’t have patience for the kind of people D socialized with.  I have to give people a chance, but I’m wary.  

I dropped the air compressor off at D’s.  I drove over, left the car running, hopped out with bag in hand.  I trotted over to his bushes and tucked the bag behind them.  His music blasted through the door, so I knew he was home.  I trotted away, with my heart hammering in my chest, suddenly afraid that he’d throw the front door open and yell at me.  I drove a mile before I shot a text to him, telling him that the compressor was in the bushes.  He replied, in caps for emphasis, “TOLD YA TO KEEP IT.  bought new one at target.  Oh Well”.  I didn’t respond, because it looked like he was looking for a fight.  I slipped my phone back into my bag.  

Then I left him alone.  He took his ex-wife to a Dave Matthews Band concert.  He gushed on the social networking page, much like he did after the motorcycle trip.  On a lark, I navigated to her page.  She had plenty of gushing to do herself.  D had taken her out to dinner on the anniversary of their wedding.  They’ve been divorced for 14 years.  Apparently, he has always taken her out on their old anniversary.  Her sister commented that D still loved her.  I had to agree.

It made it easy to completely disengage and walk away.

When I drive, I remind myself what he said in his second to last email.  The damning one – that outlined all my faults and prophesied that I’d never be “the one” for anyone, because I was so flawed.  It was a spear straight through my heart.  I had responded to that one, completely neutral and without malice.  I’d closed it with the sentence, “I will leave you alone.”  He had responded with two words, “Yep.  Okay”, sarcastic and disbelieving.  

I let him have the last word.  I’m walking around with a spear through my heart, so there’s no fight in me anymore.  Of course, there is no reason to fight.  We’re done.  He’s always been tied to his ex wife, so that’s reason enough to run.  

It troubles me wondering if he’s right about me being so flawed.  That’s the part I have the most difficulty with.  What if he’s right?  

I’m back to that dark, sad place, like being adrift in the farthest point out to sea.  No hope of rescue, and wondering if it’s time to give up.  

Angel me led me away, “You need to find yourself again…”

I know.  I wrapped both hands around the spear, and pulled it free.  Blood flowed dark and thick, coating my hands.  I looked up at Angel me, and she reached  for the spear.  I sighed as I studied my bloody hands, “I can’t die.”  She shook her head, “You may feel like you will, but you aren’t leaving this life yet.  Go wash your hands.”  The hole closed in my chest, leaving the heart intact, but fragile. 

D still visits my page.  I steer clear of his page.  Devil me kisses the top of my head, “You are doing the right thing.”  I know I am.

The air compressor he lent me is wrapped in a plastic garbage bag, ready to be hidden in the hedge by his front door.  At the height of the row he told me to keep it, “I’ll get a new one!”  I bellowed back that I could afford to get my own.  I didn’t need his charity.

Last weekend I’d agreed to go to his house, but was detained by one thing after another.  He had planned on me staying overnight, but H called, drunk and belligerent, demanding that I pick up the kids.  He had plans.  He had called me on Friday after the 4th, demanding to know why I hadn’t picked up the kids.  I was at work.  I had told him what my schedule was.  He told me to pick them up on Saturday. 

I finally got to D’s house, he was watching a movie.  I let myself in the open door.  He seemed okay, not the least bit perturbed.  Dinner?  The take out place had gone downhill.  He had cooked chicken on the grill.  I shrugged, that was fine with me.  I was fine with just hanging out.  And, so it seemed, was he.  We dozed off, woke up in the wee hours, I didn’t stay until morning.  I thanked him later for a nice evening.

He blew up.  I was rude.  I was inconsiderate.  He could have made other plans.  I was 5 hours late.

Only we never really set a time.  I told him that I was picking up things that my kids needed for a trip.  Patches that needed to be sewn on uniforms came in a week before the kids were to leave for the event.  Dufflebags, t-shirts, and backpacks had to be picked up so they could be packed.  Everything was happening last minute.  I explained that.  My lawn maintenance guy had shown up to talk to me about the fill that I was getting.  I hadn’t expected him.

Would it have been better to have canceled? 

I outlined my afternoon, reminding him that we hadn’t set a time.  Then something snapped, and it all flowed.  Him lying about getting an invitation and going to a rowdy wedding stag.  The motorcycle trip that he dumped me for.  The lies, the slights, the loneliness, all raged forward without mercy.  I was certain that he was seeing someone else.  He didn’t deny it.  I think for once he told the truth by not jumping on it and denying it.

When it occurred to me that I was likely the other woman, I cooled and turned it analytical, and neutral.  I was still done, but I acknowledged my errors, my misunderstandings and miscommunications.  He snapped back.  I tried once again to find a neutral ground.  I wasn’t interested in him outlining his errors.  I didn’t need a confession.  I just wanted to be dismissed.  I wanted to slip into the shadows where it was safe.

He rained more hellfire, slipping easily into that place where H resides.  My response was worded carefully, closed with “I will leave you alone.”  Before I slipped away he read the note.  It was like a wisp of smoke, moving away on a breeze.  He couldn’t reply.  I’d left him without words.

I didn’t tell him that he was no longer my friend.

He’ll figure that out soon enough.

For now, I’m alone.  The kids left on their trip.  They’ll be gone for 10 days.  I’m happy that they’ll have an adventure, but I miss them already.

I’m scheduled to work an overnight shift on quite possibly the busiest night of the year.  I pack a lunch that I’ll likely not get a chance to eat, and log on to the social networking site to check with my nearest and dearest.  Wish everyone a happy 4th.  I look at D’s page, but the only thing there is a post he stole from one of our friends.  She’s the formerly ridiculous creature, who returned to terra firma when her very wealthy husband unceremoniously dumped her on her ass.  She used the last of her alimony to go to special effects makeup school and now does that on occasion and teaches painting to children on occasion.  She’s found a sweet and handsome man who loves her even if she’s gotten a little pudgy.  They live together, and he goes to pirate stuff with her.  She checks in with me every day, because even when she was ridiculous…I would check in with her.  I wasn’t certain if she’d catch the thread fluttering just within her grasp, but when she realized that she was mortal….still…..she took it up and returned.

She plans on attending our 30th high school reunion next year.  She requested that I dance with her.  She’s apprehensive about dancing alone.  I told her to choose some music and I’d dance with her.  We both have years of experience belly dancing.  I have a long time to work on a costume.  We’ll meet so that she can do my makeup because she’s a professional and we both are vain enough to want to look stunning.

D sends me a text asking if I’ll stay overnight on Saturday.  I’m a little surprised.  His last text inquired if we were breaking up.  I didn’t know how to answer that, because to say  ”Yes, we are” would be too easy.  I’d never know what it was that I’d done wrong, or his true perception of me.  I told him that I just wanted to talk, which was true, but didn’t mention that I thought that we’d be better off parting ways.  Predictably, he’s assumed that there’s nothing wrong, and all is well.

Fuck.

There’s no bowing out of it now.  I’m committed.  Even worse, he urges me to come over early on Saturday – “Bring the dog.  We’ll go somewhere.  You can stay overnight.”

Part of me craves the intimacy, even as I scold myself.  I have to talk to him sometime!!