I was supposed to pick up my kid today. Since I’ve moved, Roofie and I have been meeting half-way, approximately 150 miles from our respective homes in the middle of nowhere, Colorado. Seriously, there’s a park and 2 gas stations inside the city limits. Those of us who have broken families and live in freakishly large states can understand what it means to “share” custody in this way.
I hate that instead of buying myself a computer that will actually let me run more than one program at once, I spent $500 on new tires so I don’t have a blow-out and drive my daughter off the side of a cliff. Yeah, bitch, bitch bitch.
Roofie finally returned my calls Friday night. He insisted that there was NO WAY he could meet me on our scheduled Saturday. He was just “too busy” with the wedding plans. Their pastor was going out of town, they needed to get LB a flower girl dress, etc.. I wanted to scream into the phone “I DON”T CARE ABOUT YOUR GODDAMN WEDDING PLANS, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!!”
I should have.
And not only was it too much for him to meet on Saturday, he couldn’t even be bothered to meet me earlier than 4 pm on Sunday, since he has church and he was the only guitarist for the band..blah blah..once again DO I CARE??? Isn’t making sure your daughter gets home to her mother a LITTLE MORE IMPORTANT THAN GOING TO CHURCH??
I resisted the temptation to throw my phone across the room. I tried talking to LB, but my throat was so choked up, I couldn’t say more than 2 words without tears welling up. I hung up the phone and sat on the kitchen floor, listening to the swamp coolers hum in the background. The humidity in my apartment goes up 100% when they are running, but without the cool air, it’s almost intolerable inside.
I put my cheek against the tile and laid there for a good 15 minutes, feeling my heart pound against the hard floor. My face was burning, but the slate felt good on my skin. I felt like a dog, laying there…helpless, pathetic, powerless.
How does this person still have control over me? When is it gonna be over?