Again

This morning was a painful repeat of Tremblant weekend, with X not showing up and A and I waiting outside the ghostly community centre until we gave up went home. He didn't answer his cell (it seemed to be turned off) and his girlfriend answered his phone.

I said, "Hi, it's me. X wasn't at the drop-off this morning and I'm wondering if there's a problem."

"He was there, but it was closed so he went to the cafe."

"Okay. I'll drop her off there. Can you let him know I'm coming?"

"He knows."

Whatever. How did he know?

After this little incident, I broke down and bought a cell phone. I can't afford to be running all over trying to track down A's father. As I was driving away from the cafe, I heard him telling A,
"You were really late," as though it were her fault.

I can't stand how he manipulates her, me, and the system.

I recently wrote that this is an abusive system, what I should have written is that the system is vulnerable to incredible abuse from these types of characters, who seem intent on proving their adequacy by attacking the mother of their child. Meanwhile, their child is forced to deal with a difficult division of loyalties. How fair is that?

Yay, Lee Valley Tools

Well, the gift mower, given by SG, broken by E, has been returned to Lee Valley Tools and successfully exchanged for a 20" manual mower that I have to say worked much better on my big lawn. Still, my lawn is yellow and patchy, burnt in spots, with tufted up earth where my neighbour V, cut it down to its quick. I can't do much but try to help my lawn recover. Meanwhile, my father said he bought me an electric mower and will bring it down next weekend. I'll have to decide what to do thereafter . . .

It is E and his son's birthday weekend. Tonight we'll all go to the Lebanese Festival and then for cake and swimming at his place. My first non-escapist weekend without A begins Saturday. I'm not sure how I'll manage without her.

Annul

1. declare invalid
2. cancel, abolish

What was most striking to me about episode 7 of Asunder was the story of the woman whose husband attempted to have their 20+ year marriage annulled. It so happens that my ex's father was responsible for this type of thing as a canon law "judge." He was also, ironically, the person who pushed us into a Catholic wedding. We sat down with him and my ex's mother, both staunch Catholics, to tell them that we were thinking of a small non-denominational ceremony. Well, my ex's father got so angry that he literally stood up, clenched his heart, and teetered, saying it would kill him if we didn't have a Catholic wedding. There isn't much you can say to that.

We ended up having the Catholic wedding; now I'm wondering if it has been annulled. Could he annul it without me? I actually asked Father Joe about this (yes, he performed our wedding), and he said that couldn't happen, but I'm not Catholic and I don't trust the Catholic church.

E's Catholic too. So, I guess we can't get married in the Catholic church, not that I'd want to do that again. I can't imagine how it would feel to actually be a person of faith in that church and have it turn on you and annul your marriage.

My ex is now living with a Jewish woman. They are raising their son Jewish and celebrating Jewish holidays. She's also divorced. I can't help but wonder how they dealt with the marriage question.

Interestingly, E's ex-wife was the one who insisted they marry, as she looked down on common-law status. As he is quick to point out, the very unions she judged inferior to her own marriage have lasted longer than their partnership. He's not that into marriage. Thankfully, he is into me and quotes Elizabeth Gilbert when he says, "I love you so much, I'll even marry you."

Hmm . . . I wonder if that is a good place to start.

11th Hour

Yesterday I received an email from my ex's lawyer. It started out with the words "Please provide me with your available dates for the return of the case conference so that I may secure a date immediately." This did not bode well for the rest of the email. Sure enough, while admitting that his disagreements with my proposal "are simply not worth the time and expense of litigating" he went on to add an additional 6 points that are . . . and we're back on track to court again.

Among the six points and a couple that are simply there to annoy me, like accelerating the integration schedule and prohibiting me from re-locating "outside the defiend perimiters of Ottawa." After calls yesterday and today, my lawyer finally called me back earlier this afternoon.

"Where did this come from?" I asked. "I thought we were almost there and then they add all these additional requirements."

"I don't know," he said. "It doesn't make sense."

So, now he's thinking about it and I've been thrown off-course and into sleep all afternoon. I'm recovering by reading The Little One while drinking icy mango juice on the porch. How can I deal with this constant hostility and bad faith bargaining? I tell myself that I can't let it bother me . . . and I try to take 10 second breaths and focus on my future with E . . . but if I can't leave Ottawa, I can't live with E, ever, and then I start to worry again and it is a vicious cycle.

This is an abusive system.

When A woke up this morning, I said, "Guess who is picking you up from school today?"

"Who?"

"Daddy."

She was quiet, so I asked, "Are you okay?"

She replied, "Yes." Then added, hugging me, "I'm not sure I'm okay with Daddy."

"Why?" I asked.

She didn't respond to my question. I asked it again to silence.

Finally, she mumbled something I could barely hear. I thought she said, I will love you forever.
I replied, "I will love you forever, too." But then she clarified.

She explained, "I want to live with you forever."

What am I to say to that?

Our first weekend away . . .

We just returned from a mini-road trip back to my home town. A, E, and I headed out on Thursday evening, got caught in rain just outside Deep River, but made it in by midnight. We spent the next few days eating and reading and wading and strolling, doing nothing much, which was exactly what I needed.

Distraction

At least we had a fun Friday. We ate E's fabulous Subway sandwich aproximations and watched Flushed Away. The next morning, A and I were up early and got ready for her big weekend away with her dad. We walked to our drop off and waited. It was eerily quiet.

A said, "Listen to the crickets, mommy." And we did. No cars passed. The parking lot was vacant. I watched my watch click past 10:12 am. I realized her father wasn't coming.

"Where's Daddy?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," I replied. "Let's go call him."

We returned home and I called her father. No answer. I left a message and called his cell phone. No answer. I left a message and called E.

"He wasn't there," I said. "He's not answering his phone."

"Didn't you confirm it?" He asked.

"Yes. It was supposed to start this weekend."

"Did you email him?"

"I'm trying, but my internet isn't starting up."

By this time I was slippery with sweat and had a headache rapping my left temple. A was watching a Backyardigans video at top volume in the living room. I knew E would not be happy to have A tag along to our Spa Weekend in Tremblant. The internet finally connected and I sent X an email.

"What do you want to do?" E asked.

"Well, what can I do? If I can't reach him, we'll have to take her. You can't cancel, right? I told him in the email that if he didn't get back to me in an hour, I would. All I can do is wait. Maybe I'll walk back to the drop off. Can I call you after that?"

I told A she could bring her video and we walked back to the drop-off point, just in case. It was still deserted. The crickets thrummed in the silence.

"I think your Daddy must have made a mistake," I explained. "Maybe he thought it was next weekend. Maybe you'll have to come to the mountain with Mommy and E."

"I don't want to see my Daddy," A said.

"Well, let's go home and see if he called."

We walked slowly back to our house, holding hands. When we got in, she turned her video back on and I was about to call E when the phone rang, it was Z, my ex's new partner.

"It was next weekend," she said.

"No," I explained, "I just sent a copy of the email from my lawyer, this was your weekend."

"Well, I'll have X call you when he gets back."

"When will he get back? We were supposed to be going away."

"He'll be here in a few minutes. But you can bring her over now, if you want."

I agreed to that, relieved, then went to gather up A. It took some convincing. I shouldn't have mentioned the mountains. She agreed to go so long as she could take her video. As we were about to hop in the car, my neighbour, H, bumped into us, on his way to our backyard.

"Oh, hey, would you like to come for a ride?" I asked. I threw all the junk from the front seat into the backseat and made a space for him. A climbed into her car seat and we set off for the Acres.

On the way, my neighbour, the one who so kindly cut my lawn, launches a few bombs. He's been looking me up on the internet and has found lots of things, apparently, and would like to talk to me about them. I shut that discussion down fairly fast. After we dropped A off to her father, with my neighbour as witness, he said in the car, "I've seen that guy around before."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"He's been outside your house, walking around."

"Really? When?"

"A couple of times we've seen him. M and me. A few weeks ago, around 10 pm. 10 am the other time."

I had to sit on that for a while. "I should tell my lawyer that." I say, "He shouldn't be doing that."

My neighbour raises his eyebrows, he probably says something I've blanked from memory.

When we get back to my place the garage door won't open. My neighbour hops out, throws it up, and poof! its broken. Meanwhile, E is on his way and we were supposed to be off to Tremblant at 11:00 am. It is noon. My garage door is missing a screw, a nut, and a washer. It hasn't been working properly since it was "fixed" a couple of months ago. My neighbour says, "Do you want me to fix it for you?"

"Do you have time?" I ask.

"Answer the question. Yes or No. Do you want me to fix it for you?"

I hesitate. "Yes?" I answer.

"Okay then. Give me the remote."

I hand over the device, shuffle around behind him for a while, then realize I have to pack and make an excuse to leave. E will be here any minute.

I throw some things in a bag. I'm not thinking clearly, so I shove in 4 dresses, a bathing suit, my strappy sandals, and a couple of t-shirts. Then I hear someone at the door. It is my neighbour.
I go to greet him and he says, "Listen, you've got to let me have a look at your computer so we can block that guy." He means my ex; I told him about the harassing emails.

I sigh, "I really don't have time right now," just as E arrives and saves me from further excuses. E introduces himself and I thank my neighbour, but he says, "Listen, it isn't really fixed. If you want it really fixed, then leave me the remote. And do I have permission to water your lawn? It needs some work, but it is your water bill."

I'm scattered and tired and I turn to E who nods.

"Okay," I say. "Thanks."

My neighbour leaves and we throw my bag in the car and take off.

The weekend is a lovely oasis of calm and goodness. Then we return.

We leave the mountain at 6:30 am. We get lost. We turn around a few times and finally think we're going in the right direction, but still have a few turn arounds before we find our way. I'm exhausted and jittery because I've been up since 5:00 am, worried about my ex's last words in relation to A: "I think you're worng." "I'll be calling my lawyer on Monday." "Talk to your lawyer."

Well, what lawyer works on a holiday Monday? Of course my lawyer isn't in. I call, but there's no answer. My ex wouldn't agree to meet me, but I send an email and leave a message and forward my lawyer's last communication to me wherein he states that he discussed this very drop-off with my ex's lawyer and it was for 10 am on Monday, which it almost is.

E and I read until 9:45 am and then we get into his car and drive to the pick-up point.

"Are you okay?" He asks, as I take a deep breath. I nod.

"Do you want me to come in with you?"

"That would be great."

So, as much as he hates this tense exchange, he comes with me, and as we are walking to the drop-off location, we see my ex with A.

"He's here," I say, exhaling, bumping into E and grabbing his hand. We make it into the cafe and stand waiting. (Yes, a cafe, yes, a terrible place to exchange a child.) My ex walks in with A, sets her down. She stands talking to him for a while, asking silly questions, poking him with her hand. She sees A and I and just has her last few moments with her father before she turns and walks into my arms. I hug her tight and sniff her hair and want to cry.

E drives us home and we go in and lie on the couch. A little later on . . . I realize I still don't know where my purse is . . . I didn't have it when we got to Tremblant, I didn't have a coat or sweater either. I'd packed badly. But my purse. I looked through the house. Not there. My car? Oh yes, my neighbour has the remote. Maybe my purse is in my car. I have my keys, so I go outside and open the side door. The garage is clean. I didn't leave it clean. I open the car, it is cleaner. I didn't leave it that way either. It was locked. I locked it when I left. I open the garage door with button.
A's behind me.

"Oh dear," I say. "He cleaned our garage and our car."

"Why, oh dear?" she asks.

"Well, I don't know where anything is," I explain.

Then my neighbour turns up. He explains his work. He's organized everything.

"How did you get in the car?" I ask, " I locked it," I add.

He taps the hatchback.

I ask, "Did you find my purse? I thought I left my purse in there."

He shrugs and points to a box. "I put a lot of junk in that."

It took me 20 or so minutes of panic and phonecalls to E and searching before I found my purse under my briefcase in the house. Meanwhile, my neighbour was searching my garage and I was fuming about his little intervention. I still can't find anything. I realize he was trying to help, but . . .

I've been driven to distraction.