Bless the Beasts and the Children

Kiddos in bed. Lunches packed. Backpacks reviewed. Jammies on. Nothing left to do but dial. (And pour myself a little wine – which I did before dialing. No need for any tell tale clinking on the call.)

“Hi!” I said brightly. “J. tells me you made a long overdue phone call. I want to hear all about it. But first – how was the concert?”

The approach worked. Disarmed by the opportunity to gush about a grandchild, Endora was happy to talk.

Concert was lovely. She was so proud. It was a very enjoyable evening, that was, except for the deplorable conduct trotted out for all the world to see by Sandy and her merry band of idiots.

And there friends, we regained some semblance of common ground.

Unified in our love for J. Aligned in our contempt for his ex-wife. Comrades in our desire to return the derision 10-fold. Equally confounded as to how she gets away with it all.

She clucked and “Well, I never!”-ed through her description of Sandy's atrocious sideshow. (All that was missing evidently, were clowns in miniature cars with squirting flowers on their lapels)

I “You go, girl!”-ed and “Amen to that!”-ed through her recap of the torching phone message she’d left.

We fantasized out loud about the innumerable ways we’d like to return the overtures Sandy had made recently, and in years gone by.

We lamented that people like Sandy rarely suffer the remorse and introspection such retribution is intended to elicit.

Sandy was a lost cause. Beyond redemption. A malignant narcissist (http://narcissistic-personality.suite101.com/) with a penchant for blaming J. for standing in the way of her attainment of true happiness. Even as he leads a discreet life in a separate home with a completely detached and distinct focus. She was his little cross to bear. His crown of thorns. And his girls’ as well.

So long as there was Sandy, there would be “dealing with Sandy.” And so long as we’d be dealing with Sandy, there would be insults and injury, degradation and disgrace, law suits and public records, threats and go-ahead-and-try-to-stop-me gambits to contend with. Seemingly there is nothing capable of giving her pause or compunction.

She was singularly focused on destruction and vengeance.

And it was patently clear:

The only way to defend or deflect would be to have a singularly united front.

Our realization on the phone was palpable, yet for now, remained unstated.