Who Is This, Please

Understand that for the past 7 years, while my marriage actively unraveled and my tenuous relationship with Lars deteriorated into full on belligerence toward one another, I have never given him the satisfaction of actually asking him a question.

I've consulted his opinion on something and promptly overridden it.

I've consulted his opinion on something and have experienced the powerlessness of shared custody with a bully.

I've asked for flexibility with our custody schedule and sometimes been granted it. I have never benefited in return from flexibility shown to Lars. Time I give him is just forfeited. Time he gives me has to be returned in kind. I swear he keeps a spreadsheet.

Mostly I just tell him things. In deadpan straightforward directness.

"I am traveling. That is all you need to know."

"I will be away that weekend." Omitting the details about where, who I'll be with and how and if I can be reached.'

"I am not paying for that." Trust me, I have my reasons. I can not begin to waste my breath explaining them to you.

"No. I do not agree." For reasons too numerous to text. "No" is all you need to know.

And I have certainly never given him the satisfaction of asking him a professional question.

First of all, I don't think he's all that smart when it really comes down to it. I think he's a good test taker. He could probably pass the NASA Space Flight Exam if he could get the physical clearance to sit for it. I struggle that he asked once if Hil's damaged kidney would grow back. I am sure the doctor was thinking, "Suuuuuurre! If we could figure out how to grow a kidney do you really think we'd need all these organ donors?"

But in this case, with an amputation to actively avoid, I have a simple medication question.

"Lars, I got a blah blah blah dose of whatever antibiotic. The label reads that I should take 2 doses a day. If you were me, would you take one now and then get the second dose in before bed?"

He seems delighted that I've asked, know-it-all that I am. "Definitely. Get the first dose started right away. That's a really high dose. Make sure you eat something. You may not feel all that great."

What? What is this thing that looks like kindness? I tell him I will and that the kids were nice enough to save me some pizza. "Are you worried?" he asks.

Concern for your children's mother? Where has THAT been hiding? "Maybe a little. I never expected this to be something so big. I almost choked when they wanted to admit me. I was thinking it was just a bad blister."

"I can imagine," he says. "Well, if you want me to look at it when I come get Pat, I can."

I thank him and tell him I'll see him in a minute.

And suddenly I feel weird about all of it.

Lars has not crossed the threshold to our marital dwelling since he left 7 years ago. Has stood outside in the wicked cold and all manner of elements rather than come inside. We've occupied the same car exactly one time in all that time. He has not physically touched me since shaking my hand during the ironically named "kiss of peace" at Mass during one of the kids' sacraments.

And now he's going to examine my foot?

Why am I in a flop sweat?