Holding the Line

I police the phone calls like a jealous spouse for the next few days. I ask the kids to be honest with me. They tell me what calls have come in and show me their phones. I can look at texts. I can check the house phone on my own. Lunacy.

But the difference it makes is remarkable.

The peace and the calm are uncanny. I regret that I did not do this ages ago. And again am figuratively flogging myself.

But the end of the week comes and I have to send them back to Lars. I am sure he’ll blame them for playing along with my crazy ideas and letting it happen.

I am also sure they’ll be praying to vanish.

But there are two things on the weekend that provide opportunities for me to look into their faces and see how they are fairing.

One is Pat’s Scout Pancake Breakfast and the other is Hil’s Girl Scout cheer section in a neighboring town on the path of the Susan G. Komen 3 day walk. I plan to make a stop at both.

Hil is gathering all manner of pink gear to wear. Pink pants. Pink sock. Pink boots. Pink shirt. Pink hair extensions. Pink bandanna. Pink cowboy hat (Don’t ask.)

But we can’t find the pink cowboy hat anywhere and she is quite miffed. Believes that I must have given it to charity. (Because what the poor really need is a bedazzled pink cowboy hat.) I promise I will look for it and get it to her if I find it.

Scott joins me at my house on Friday and we go out for a drink. I rehash all that has happened and describe how relieved I am that Lars seems to be at an arm’s length.

Scott warns me that I should expect Lars to be a hard ass over calls to and from me this week. Don’t be upset if I can’t reach the kids or have to go through him to speak to them and am reminded of my own obligation to adhere to the One Call rule.

Don’t worry, I am prepared. And I will behave. I prepare him that Lars, should we happen to cross paths at the Pancake Breakfast, will be a full-blown horse’s ass to him. His track record for doing so is impeccable.

The next morning I head to the attic room to find something to wear to the breakfast. It has gotten chilly and I will need a coat for the High School football game we’ll be attending later. And there it is. Hil’s dazzling pink cowboy hat.

I pick it up and race downstairs to call her. She’ll be so excited. I get her on the phone.

She’s not so excited.