A day in May

There has been no more news. My daughter does not talk about what happens with her father. When I call to speak to her, which was negotiated and agreed to in the final order, I am told she is not there by her grandmother and they do not answer my calls at my ex's house. The house is still up for sale, overpriced, I should think.

Meanwhile, I've been taking French lessons, which give me a headache. I feel strained by the effort to communicate in a language I haven't used since I was eight years old. I should be talking French with E, but we invariably switch back to English because it is easier. Meanwhile, my fellow students all stumble along in class with their terrible accents, feeling no shame in them or their mistakes, and I realize that success depends on confidence and wish I had some.

The good news is that I'll be assisting a friend of mine direct a play this summer, which is something I'm really looking forward to after years of putting my theatre interests on hold. We met yesterday to discuss it and I'm excited to start something new and move beyond the stranglehold of this situation with my ex.

E is in Waterloo for a conference this week. I'll have a blessed night alone with him when he returns. I crave these islands of calm admist our attempts to successfully blend families. Invariably, I waver in my decision to move in with him . . . and I may never, considering how hard stepmothers have it. It may just be easier to maintain my quiet little home with A and visit E frequently. Even seeing my ex's relationship flounder scares me, although I know there is good reason for his failure.

In general these rainy days slow the pace of my life down. There is no incentive to be moving too fast. The grass grows and grows, but my garden waits for sun.

This is the email I received late yesterday afternoon:

A has probably said some things recently that make you wonder what's going on on our end.
All of A's activities and routine's [sic - means he's aggitated] are the same. The only thing that's different is a temporary change in A's residence. S wants to move to Montreal and I want to stay in Ottawa because of my commitments to A and my job.

S and I have decided to sell the house but A and I will continue to see both of them (although less often) and A and I will stay with my mom for the next few months until I can get our own place again.

* * *

I didn't reply of course, but I think it's bs. It came after a pointed email to my lawyer about the consequence of a "change of material circumstances" and an email to his "partner," neither of whom responded. Oh, well. So then he had to tell me.

It doesn't put my mind at ease at all. It means A will be living out in the burbs and will be shuttled back and forth to Montreal until that relationship dissolves under the strain and my ex moves on to greener pastures, as he always does.

Sad. Still truly sad.

Confirming

Today, as I was checking around, I found his house listed for sale.

Four years after leaving me . . . he's done it again.

I knew it.

And back again. . .

So, as I ploughed through hundreds of essays and exams . . . my ex was leaving his wife. I think.

When my ex didn't email me about the passover access, I contacted him.

"Is it passover?" I asked, "Are you making arrangements for A, because I haven't heard from you."

Now, here I'll remind you that my ex is not Jewish, he is from a staunch Irish Roman Catholic family. His partner/wife is Jewish. A big concession in the settlement agreement was my consent for him to have both Christian and Jewish holidays, while I had to settle for just the Christian ones. Anyway . . . he wrote back and said,

"Yes, it is passover. I'll pick her up from school."

That was it. When A returned the following day, I asked her about Passover Seder and the Menorah. She looked at me blankly.

"Did you have a special dinner?"

"No, I just played with Daddy."

Okay, something was up. Probably his partner had taken their baby away for the holiday. I waited to hear more.

For the next week, A and her dad were staying at "Grandma's."

"Is Grandma there?" I asked.

"No, she's in England," A replied.

"Where is your stepmother and baby brother?" I queried.

"At their house," A said.

Hmm. . . .

They have been at "their house" for the past two weeks and A has been with her father, staying at his mother's and his sister's house. Of course I'm wondering what is going on and I can't really ask too much of A.

It seems to me, however, that at just over the 1 year mark, my ex has left his current partner and infant, just as he did to me four years ago. I'm desperate to know, of course, because this is terrible timing for A, who was just settling into a new routine.

What do I do? How can I find out the truth? He won't tell me and it might set him off somehow. His partner has always been antagonistic, so I doubt she'll tell me. I warned her about him, but she was condescending and hostile. I wonder if she remembers any of my words of warning now. Had I received a direct warning about him from one of his previvous girlfriends, I would have listened.

As it was, I did receive two warnings that were difficult to take to heart. One was from a player who used to hang out at his ex-girlfriend's bar (she's now a noted anti-terrorist activist). This player (and I call him that with reason, he's apparently slept with 1000s of women, based on his own account, and has left at least a few that I've known brokenhearted) looked out at my ex as he loped toward Bridgehead four years ago, after I'd mentioned my new boyfriend, and the player practically spat the words, "You're an idiot." I didn't take kindly to that. I didn't associate with the player thereafter. What had been a friendly, bantering, cafe acquaintance turned sour.

Another warning came completely out of the blue and probably due to my last, and more popular, blog. An unsigned letter arrived. It warned me not to proceed with my wedding plans. It also intimated that I was being an idiot, but not as directly. That point alone made it easier to dismiss. Again, I think I could have at least taken some of it to heart.

But when we are "in love" we want to believe in it. I tried anyway. I may not have been thoroughly aware of my own reservations, but they did eventually make themselves known.

I wonder what has happened in this instance.

I worry how it will affect A. Already she has become weepy about leaving me and even more resistant to going to her father's. She says, "I cry for you every night at Daddy's."

"What does Daddy do when you cry?

"Nothing."

That hurts me to hear. I tell her, "But I'm here for you and I always will be. I don't want you to be sad."

It seems her father is all about making people sad.