I wrapped my daughter in a hug asI picked her up from Roofie’s house on Sunday. Tucked safely into the backseat of our snazzy new Single Mom & daughter mobile, my kidletlooked at me with the giant blue-grey eyes she inherited from me, and said:
“Blondie has a baby in her tummy. She’s pregnant.”
My jaw melted to my lap. I don’t think LB has ever seen that expression on her mom’s face before. I didn’t know what to say other than…”Oh, uh really? I didn’t know that.”
Hearing my 3 year-old say the word “pregnant” kind of sent me into the twilight zone. I was silent all the way home, trying to wrap my head around what I had just heard. Truth and reality are malleable things to a pre-schooler, but I was pretty sure this wasn’t a figure of LB’s imagination. Her words were so direct. So clear. So intent on seeing my reaction.
I’ve known this was coming for a long time. I knew that Rooferman wasn’t going to fish very long after being with me. He was going to find the next person who would support him and settle into his new life as soon as possible. He did it with me, so why wouldn’t he continue his tactic?
I’ve thought Blondie was pregnant before, and maybe she was. Over a year ago, Rooferman told me that Blondie had some medical issue and he was going to cancel his visitation. This was very soon after he had started dating her, and the wound of abandonment was still painfully fresh. I immediately jumped to the conclusion that she must be pregnant, and I proceeded to down my misery with a bottle of tequila and a webcam.
I haven’t cried this time. Maybe its too early. Maybe I just don’t care anymore. Maybe I feel more pity than I do sadness. Maybe I’m just too incredulous that Roofie would add a 4th kid to their situation when they can’t even afford the 3 they have. Maybe I’m become just another jaded single mom. Maybe I’m wondering if this has presented me with an opportunity to get away from their dysfunctional life, or if its just going to get worse from here. Maybe they will be so involved with Roofie Jr, that they won’t give a s*** if I move to Denver, or maybe the 9-headed Blondie Hydra will come out with a vengeance if the word “custody” is brought up.
The idea of the Roofie Brady Bunch has just slapped me in the face of how single I am; how exactly opposite my life is compared to theirs right now; how partner-less my existence is; and how much more I want to get away from this place. Don’t get me wrong, the idea of being Blondie right now makes me want to gag. But if those two broken people can find each other, why can’t I?