The Past:
The story starts like this...
High School, Rural community, Smoking parking lot across the street, early 90s
New boy at school is looking a little lost and lonely. Girl, remembering being new at the same school, decides to break the ice with a joke.
girl: Ask me if I'm a truck?
boy: Are you a truck?
girl: No, ask me if I'm an airplane?
boy: Are you an airplane:
girl: No, you just asked me if I was a truck.
Thats how we met. I was into abstract humor at time.
Now:
Early friday evening and we (the kids and I) are just about ready to drive 2 1/2 hours to my grandmother's 90th birthday party. I was hoping he would at least come out and say goodbye to the children, which he does after I call him on his cellphone.
About an hour earlier I got a call from the health insurance carrier for the children, they need him to send them some information. I let him know this, and he complains about the tone in my voice. This leads into an arguement, similar to the ones we've been having. I think he's not helping out enough with the kids, he thinks I can magically pull money out of my butt. Blah blah blah.
In the driveway we look as though we are having a good ol' fachion showdown, like the ones in western movies. Standing about five feet away from one another, the sun setting behind me is lighting up the barn behind him.
The argument ends when, rather than telling me to drive safely, he tells me not to f#$K up the car.
Our 12 year old daughter is extremely upset but our arguing, which makes me feel guilty for my part in it. Earlier that day, a good friend of hers suddenly was pulled out of school and moved to a faraway town, with little or no explaination from her parents. My daughter tells me this in tears for the first 30 minutes of the drive. I comfort her as best as I can, telling her that she'll still be able to email her friend. I also apologize for fighting with her father, and let her know that it will get better.
When I stop to check the baby, I decide to call him. He doesn't answer the phone, which afterwards I realize was probably a good idea. But he calls back when we are on the road. He says "What" just like that. I'm sorry, I tell him, I know neither of us like fighting like this. I say, I sincerely thought when I moved here a few months ago that he was going to help me more get on my feet, and that maybe I was expecting too much and that I was just feeling disappointed. He says he's sorry about that, the first apology I've heard from him in years. I wonder if he really means it, or just doesn't want to upset me more while I'm driving.
Grandma's 90th birthday is a story for another time. We get home early sunday afternoon. The baby is running a temperature, too much partying. My daughter decides to help out by making dinner, a delicious potato soup. She invites her dad to join us. I went out to find him painting the interior of his RV, his new home on wheels. I'm surprised when he decides to join us, and he brings a beer for both of us. Dinner is actually really pleasant, a small miracle which I gladly savor.
The truth is, I love this man very much. We've known each other all of our adult lives. I miss talking to him, and listening to him. I miss him very much, even though he just lives behind the barn. It feels like he might as well live in Australia. I know he'll be moving on at some point in the near future, and that thought severes me in two.
