I haven’t had much to write about Ex recently. Since that last little round of drama a month or so ago he seems to have dropped entirely off the face of the planet. I would be lying if I told you it hasn’t been nice. It’s been quiet and drama-free.
Is he dead? (A cryptic post to the Facebook page for his firm a few days ago confirms he is alive. It was the first post in months and it read: There are always options. Some of them are more attractive than others. Whatever that might mean.)
Was there jail time? (Google thinks not.)
Pushing a shopping cart as my first attorney—the one I FIRED—said he one day would be? It’s within the realm of possibility.
On a long bender then? Most likely.
Last night at Little Man’s soccer practice another mother asked me if the kids’ father was planning to attend Zeep’s promotion ceremony from middle to high school. I hadn’t even thought to ask him.
When Sissy passed that milestone three years ago she affirmed that she did not want Ex there and she began the brave process of defining the terms of that relationship for herself.
After dinner I raised the issue with Zeep. He got that pained look that makes me think of what he will look like as a grown man worn by decades of concern.
“He hasn’t called in a while,” I said.
“A month,” Zeep confirmed.
He was quiet for a few minutes.
“Could you invite him?” he finally asked.
“He may not be able to come,” I said, hoping to cushion any disappointment.
“I know,” he said, “he probably won’t, but I want him to be invited.” He looked at the ground and I knew he was hoping against all odds that this would be the time that Ex would have that long-awaited epiphany and come through; now and forever after, more than just words.
“Okay, I’ll send him a note,” I said.
“Could you also tell him to call me?” he asked, standing up.
“Of course,” I said.
Today, I sent this email, cc’ing my son:
I am contacting you at [Zeep's] request to invite you to his promotion ceremony from middle to high school. The ceremony is at the school at nine in the morning EST on Thursday, June 21st. Also, he would like you to call him.
I’m not gonna lie. I hate this. I really do.