This evening was quite frustrating and joyful – all in one. That wonderfully frantic experience that you dreadfully celebrate; pushing down your pleasure to force the scowl lines on your face to dramatically reveal themselves.
As I’ve related in several recent outbursts here, the situation with The Boy is just growing out of control. As a positive though, my daughter is becoming less influenced by him and thereby is less under his thumb. I have begun to witness the slight rays of sunlight peering out of the dark clouds, accented by triumphant stomping of feet. It really is beautiful.
Tonight however, this evening I should say, I noticed she was wearing a different necklace than the usual ownership pendant of his that typically hangs about her neck. I should note that first she asked me if she could come outside and get some fresh air with me, quite a contradiction seeing as I was having a cigarette and secondly she very rarely wants to stand on the stoop while I do so. But no problem, I consented. And then I commented on the changed necklace, jokingly, and asked her if she was playing musical necklaces. (Yes, I am very aware in hindsight of how very devoid of humour that remark was.) At which point, she began to cry and confessed she was going to dump him. When I say cry, it wasn’t a heartbreaking wretch of a cry, more of a pitiful whimper with a few tears rolling down her cheeks.
And then I asked the most inane question a mother who has been praying for such joyous news could ever ask – ‘Are you sure this is what you want to do?’ followed by the even more idiotic suggestion of ‘Perhaps you should give it some time and rethink this decision’. Moronic, yes. But if she were to make such a significant decision, I wanted it to be firm and decisive, not something that we’d have to endure the pain of her faltering on and undoing over the next few days.
For all of my pleading for her to rationally see his actions, and him, for what they, and he, truly is, it was a bit bothering to me to know that it was her best friend’s mother that finally got through to her, by saying the same things I’ve said for a year now! Jealousy, I suppose. Anyhow, she posed the question to my daughter as to how she and The Boy were going to continue their relationship when she went off to college next fall. My daughter informed her friends’ mother that it was a subject they hadn’t discussed – that she wasn’t allowed to discuss it with him. Somehow this brilliant woman explained to my daughter how not talking about a subject didn’t make the reality of it disappear.
And so, today at school, my daughter asked The Boy what they were going to do when she went off to college next fall. He reminded her they weren’t to discuss it. She persisted. And he then told her she didn’t need college to be a housewife – his housewife. Followed by the comment that she was not worth him giving up his family to watch her go off to school.
This cemented her decision that she shared with me this evening on the porch and again, I tried as best I could to repeatedly take his side, to make certain that this decision was one she was truly committed to. And once I ascertained this, I asked her how she planned to break up with him. She wanted to do it at school, which I suggested was not the best of ideas and asked her how she would feel if he broke up with her at school. (In truth, my greater concern was his instability, emotionally and mentally, and what the ramifications might be if she embarrassed him in this arena.) I convinced her the better option was to do it over the phone, perhaps on a Friday so he could have the weekend to mope.
She agreed to the phone, but was not going to wait. So, we came back inside and while I sat with her on her bed, she broke up with The Boy. She cried and explained her reasoning, I rubbed her hand and tried to will her the strength. She finally hung up on him and I held her in my arms as she cried.
And beneath her bedroom door, her sister shoved my phone. Or tried. I finally just told her to come in and I looked at the caller – it was The Boy‘s mother. I hit silence and went back to comforting my daughter. Seriously? Why are you calling me? The phone rang again, and again I hit silence. And again. So I turned it off. And now the home phone rang, her number showing on the ID. What the hell was wrong with this woman?
We ate dinner and tried to be jovial, cracking jokes that she smiled at, all the while shaking her head and saying it’s too soon. Her laughter sputtered through the tears though, always a good sign. There’s that ray of sunlight, smashing through those darkened clouds.
And I sat down here and logged onto Facebook to find messages from the wackadoo. Call me, urgently! Seriously?
After ho-humming a bit, I decided to phone her. Glenn and I stood side by side, ears pressed to the phone as it rang. One ring and answered. There’s that fake little chirpy voice I’ll never again have to endure!
Do I know what happened? Her poor baby is at a loss. Everything was perfect, as always, then suddenly she calls him and ends the most beautiful thing.
I lied. I told her I knew nothing and was clueless.
Then she asks me if I made the two break up since everyone knows how I’ve wanted them to be apart from the start.
This pissed me off, but somehow I managed to tell her the truth, that I found out after the decision had already been made and that I, yes I, had even asked her to reconsider the decision and give it some thought.
Does she not realize had I wished to do so I would have made them break up a year ago? If I had wanted to be involved I would have put a stop to his cruelty before my daughter endured a year of hell. But I knew that my involvement would only strengthen her resolve to prove it could work, she is my mini me after all. So out of it I stayed, on the sidelines and only refereeing when absolutely necessary.
I sit her now, riled but refreshed. I have already begun to see the spark of sunshine in her smile. The happiness that has been drowned by his stranglehold is creeping back in.
Mundane Excogitations 
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