My ex-husband stopped by unexpectedly today. Thorr answered the door. “It’s dad,” he said. And sure enough there stood my ex-husband in the doorway looking nervous, holding lunch from my favorite Japanese restaurant. I was suspicious.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. He said he just felt like hanging out with us. And went into a speech about waking up and realizing that he did us wrong. Sure you kicked me out, divorced me, and took the house, but I deserved it. And I shouldn't have left you to raise Thorr on your own. I haven't been a good man and certainly not a good father.
"You're right," I said. If he were looking for sympathy he had come to the wrong place. I spent the first five years after he abandoned Thorr hating him. Then one day I woke up and could not find an emotion to associate with him.
He sat down to lunch with us. "This is nice," he said.
Does he realize that he owes Thorr eight years of fathering, and me eight years of child support?
"What do you want?" I asked.
"I’ve been thinking about us lately. And I know that you’ve moved on, but I was hoping that we could forget the past and start over,"
I told Thorr to finish eating in his room and he left without question.
I turned my attention to the man whom I'd promise to love and honor for all time. And again I could not come up with an emotion with which to connect him. I could not recall a moment when I ever loved him, kissed, touched him, lay in his arms and drift off to sleep. I must’ve felt love when I promised him forever, and I must’ve believed it. Now here I was without emotions and any sense of connection.
“What do you say? We can give Thorr that family he’s always wanted,” He said.
Men like these always play the child and family card when it’s convenient.
“I’m not interested,” I said.
“You shouldn’t spend the rest of your life being bitter about the past,” he said.
“I stopped being bitter a long time ago,”
“Then why can’t we start over?”
“Because I don’t love you anymore,”
He stayed silent for a moment before rising from the table. He went to Thorr’s room to say goodbye. I watched him walk through the house we’d build together. His steps sounded like a stranger’s. He paused before old pictures—and lingered in the hallway knowing that it was time to go, but didn’t quite how to do it.
He stopped in the doorway and looked back at me with what appeared to be sadness. “I guess you can’t always go home again,” he said closing the door behind him. I didn’t watch him leave this time.