Pete & Repeat
"Exactly one week," I said.
"Aw, that's so looonnng! I really miss him!"
"I know, it's hard to wait. But we've got playdates with Max and Elijah this weekend, so you're booked up, man! Next weekend will be here before you know it." I pushed the hair back from his eyes. His beautiful almond eyes.
I'd spoken with the school nurse last week about Miles' weight fixation. She spoke with the school counselor, who suggested that Miles was feeling alienated from his father.
Not that I couldn't have told you that.
She suggested we try to involve Daniel more in Miles' daily life. This is, I think, a great plan. Miles can call his dad on our way home from school. We had been trying to get him on the phone for a week and had heard nothing. Miles, ever diligent, called every evening and left halting, six-year-old dreamy-voice messages. He never complained that Daniel didn't answer, but this morning he had a pure frustration meltdown so intense that I had to walk away and count to ten.
Okay, maybe thirty.
After the morning assembly I walked home and texted Daniel on the way. I'd have called, but after a week of orphaned voicemails, my gut told me he was not merely busy, but was avoiding me.
D: Can you pls send your itin 4 next weekend? Miles has been calling. Can you pls call back?
I went out to my clients and returned home to an email from Daniel.
Oh, I think you can guess.
He wrote that due to "challenges in the last couple weeks, both good and not," he would not be coming next weekend. However, he has decided to come the following weekend.
This he informs me.
I hit the table and "Unnnnnh!-ed" in frustration and anger and general seething hate for a person who, despite my continued benefit-of-doubt giving and inner wounded soul-hushing because this is not about me...despite all that, he has remained true to form.
And left me hanging with a weekend full of plans which include travel and event attendance, including tickets which cannot be refunded. Of course I will keep my plans. I will also let him be the one to tell Miles and Jack that he won't be showing up.
Of course my parents will take care of the boys. Of course my family will clean up yet another mess left by the person who sends checks two weeks late with no warning or explanation. Who is convinced that a weight-loss contest with a six year old is a good idea.
Who seems determined to disappoint his children at every turn.
Who writes me unfathomably inconsiderate emails and signs them "Yours."