Highway to Hell

I salvage dinner and set the table. I call Pat down from his retreat.

As he comes around the corner to join Hil and me at the table I can see that he has been crying. Crying quite a lot.

"Pat, what just happened here?"

He bursts into tears.

What I can gather between the sobs and nose blows, and choking is that Lars met Liza and Pat at home and spent the next 3 hours berating him about the project he was working on, and his grades. He had taken a look at PowerSchool and went through every test and quiz and assignment and carried on like a mad man. And poor Pat had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He was trapped in the lair and had no one to help him. (Hil is usually good for a little interference.) His retreat upon arriving home had been because Lars had warned him that he'd better not cry. And he better not find out that he'd cried later.

What a collosal asshole.

Pat was clearly heartbroken. There was no consoling him.

I called Lars. No answer, natch.

I begin to text like a loon. I am sure I misspelled more than a few common swear words but made a few points.

He had no right to do what he'd done today.
He had caused turmoil and upsetment and chaos in his children.
He'd violated my trust and Pat's and Hil's. He'd never get it back.
He had had no business lying to the children about permission from me to go to his house. If he did so again, I'd call the police and report that they'd been stolen.
The children have been informed that unless they hear from me directly, from my lips to their ears, that they are to leave my home with Lars or Liza, they are not to go, and not to answer the door.
I will never risk letting what happened today ever happen again.

Dinner is a disaster, and not just because the potatoes burned. I suggest that Pat try to recover sufficiently to study with me for his Health quiz. I tell him to take a long, hot shower and try to relax. Take comfort that his ordeal with Dad was over.

He takes a shower. He's clearly not recovering. Still crying. And still doesn't feel great. I tell him that we'll see about school tomorrow morning but he should read over his material just in case.

He tells me that Lars said he has to go to school the next day.

An idiot says what?

I said, "Pat, you and Hil are with me. Dad doesn't have any authority to say what happens with anything while you are in my care. He can't make you go to school. He can't make you eat your veggies. He can't make you clean your room. That is my department. And he can only hassle you about your school work if you let him. So let's not let him. OK? I will tell him to back off."

Pat's phone rings. It's Lars. I can see that he is upset to see that. I tell him he does not have to answer. He is afraid that Lars will be able to tell that he's been crying. (and invite further wrath because the cat is out of the bag that he's a monstrous parent. Duh.)

I can not believe the horror of it all. Really, I can't. Pat's phone keeps ringing, and then the house phone, and so on. Hil eventually answers. Lars never spends much time on the phone with her but he does ask for Pat. He's panicked when Hil brings him the phone.

I tell him that he has no need to talk to him, but also tell him that if he does talk to him to say he's been in the shower, not blowing off his calls. Pat sometimes needs to be told it's okay to be defiant.

Pat bucks up and talks to him. Lars is still on a tear. Wants to make sure he's studying for Health.

I ask Pat quietly if he wants me to tell Lars to stop calling. He waves me off and finishes the call.

Evidently, Lars is going to drop off the filled prescription. Hil has been instructed to meet him at the door. I take the opportunity to hug my son warmly before I leave the room to send a text.

As I leave, Pat says, "I love you, Mom. I wish Dad could be more like you."

Me too, sweetheart. Me too.