So as expected, with it being buba’s birthday – the inevitable parcel arrived. The token “I’m a good dad” bull shit!
I tell you it makes me so mad! So absolutely infuriated. After everything especially the latest lawyer letter. (oh and trust me when I tell you even you will gasp at this one. So pardon the slight digress here...)
So there I am at work, minding my own business and an email pops up from my lawyer, her preamble reads; “J, I am anticipating your response but I have to conduct due diligence”!
Well that’s not a good start.
What could be the next thing to hit me?
What the fuck could he possibly want?
I tentatively open the attached letter, from his solicitor. My eyes start to scan and although I’m reading the words I struggle to comprehend. It reads…
“Sadly our client has hit financial hardship, and would like to request that your client financially support him. We feel this is a fair request, as to date he has not asked for anything financially or otherwise from Miss ..”
I read it over and over, my mouth hanging in aghast! And I start to laugh.
I mean really?
This guy is beyond unbelievable. I’m in shock!! But credit where it’s due, what a pair of balls he has to dare ask me, ME to HELP HIM!!! He lives a lie with me for 12 years, stealing my youth, my money, my life, my happiness, my career, my confidence, my mental health to name just a few, but I should support him in “his fair request?!”
I dial my lawyer. The second she hears my voice she says “J, I know what your response is” to which I reply, “is it tell him to fucking swivel?”. “Erm, Something like that, yes!” she retorts.
She laughs, in as much shock as I, and continues to tell me that on this occasion he actually isn’t lying, after all he hasn’t ever asked me for anything- he just took it!! Ok I’ll give her that one!
Anyway that was that!
So now here I am looking at this box. The smooth brown surface littered with his child like scribble. I have no interest in what’s inside it. I throw it on the side and decide I’ll bin it later.
O, being the curious creature he is, wants to open it.
A fisher price till. Not much thought gone into that one.
But not so bad I guess, at least it’s not a German speaking toy this year- (clearly no woman doing his shopping for him now!) But the thing that really got me was the card.
He babbles away like fucking dad of the year, gushing about how he had one of these toys and how he hopes A has as much fun with it as he did! Then the “Love Daddy” sign off. #definedaddy #definelove!
As O reads the card I can literally feel myself recoiling. Bile riding up in my throat from the pits of my stomach, my face contorting in sheer disgust. I want it gone. I want him gone!
The fact is I have worked so, so hard to remove any trace of him, or us from my life, our lives- mine and the boys, that the thought of having anything in my home that his hands have touched makes me feel physically sick!
It’s so transparent so pitiful and so selfish of him to continue to do this. Pop up twice a year (Christmas and birthday’s) all the while telling himself it’s for the boys, he’s doing the right thing!
Well I’m calling Bull shit on that one!
I know it’s just to remind us of his presence; he’s so scared of being irrelevant, forgotten he just can’t walk away.
Well one way or another this is over. I sit now and contemplate how to bring this to an end once and for all;
A letter from my lawyer demanding no further contact, perhaps?
Return to sender with a do not contact us again note, possibly?
Not known at this address? Hmm!
I’m not sure yet, but one thing is for sure, no more! I’ve held my silence for two years now, and I’m done. He needs to understand we don’t care. We never want to see, hear from, or think of him again. Ever!