So I couldn't help myself. I called Tom last night and asked him if he wanted to talk. Yes, he said. I said I'd come pick him up and he said he was at his brother's house. Since his brother was sitting right next to me, I put him on the phone to say hello. WTFs wrong with him?
So I said, "Please Tom just tell me if it's over for real."
"I never wanted it to be over. You're the one who threw ME out." So yes, he said, come get me. Give me about an hour to get some of my things together.
So I picked him up. Helped him put bags in his car. Gave Marta a hug and said, "I hope Tom and I can work things out. He really does belong with me for now."
I was cautiously optimistic that we could work things out. Told him I took some of the blame too for our troubles. That I was going to try harder. That I hope we'd spent the summer going to the weekend fests and concerts. Travel short hops. Have fun.
Then somehow the conversation turned to all the changes I'd made to cut him out of my life. When I told him the atty had just filed papers taking his name off the house, he looked at me and said, "If I'm not getting your house, there's no reason for me to be here." Said if he had to move when I died, he'd be homeless, so he may as well be homeless now.
I drove him back to Marta's house. I called her first to ask her permission and told her why I was doing that. She reluctantly said yes. When I drove in her driveway, I helped to take the bags he'd loaded into my car and put them on the side so I wouldn't roll over them when I backed out.
She came out of the house, leaned into the car window and said, "If you think he's going to come back, baby sit you, take care of you when you are dying, walk your dog, take care of your pets all for NOTHING? You're out of your mind. You should put his name right back on your house."
I felt the right response was **** YOU and drove home.
So I said, "Please Tom just tell me if it's over for real."
"I never wanted it to be over. You're the one who threw ME out." So yes, he said, come get me. Give me about an hour to get some of my things together.
So I picked him up. Helped him put bags in his car. Gave Marta a hug and said, "I hope Tom and I can work things out. He really does belong with me for now."
I was cautiously optimistic that we could work things out. Told him I took some of the blame too for our troubles. That I was going to try harder. That I hope we'd spent the summer going to the weekend fests and concerts. Travel short hops. Have fun.
Then somehow the conversation turned to all the changes I'd made to cut him out of my life. When I told him the atty had just filed papers taking his name off the house, he looked at me and said, "If I'm not getting your house, there's no reason for me to be here." Said if he had to move when I died, he'd be homeless, so he may as well be homeless now.
I drove him back to Marta's house. I called her first to ask her permission and told her why I was doing that. She reluctantly said yes. When I drove in her driveway, I helped to take the bags he'd loaded into my car and put them on the side so I wouldn't roll over them when I backed out.
She came out of the house, leaned into the car window and said, "If you think he's going to come back, baby sit you, take care of you when you are dying, walk your dog, take care of your pets all for NOTHING? You're out of your mind. You should put his name right back on your house."
I felt the right response was **** YOU and drove home.