Jeremy and I were watching Doctor Who last night when the phone rang right in the middle of an alien invasion. I hate when that happens.
Jeremy rolled his eyes and pressed pause on the video. He knew who was calling. I have his Dad’s number set up with an “it’s probably a wrong number” ringtone, which is appropriate since I figure about 60% of his calls are either butt dials or him trying to reach someone else.
I find it frustrating that when my ex asks about Emma and Jeremy, it’s always a vague, “So is there anything new going on with the kids that I should know about?”. He doesn’t know the kids well enough to ask any specific questions plus he is prone to manipulating and playing games so sometimes he already has an answer and wants to see if I’ll cough up the same one. I’m neither willing or interested in playing games.
Last night he stepped up his questioning by asking “Is anything happening in the kids’ lives that I should know about?” as well as his usual version of the question. By then Jeremy had moved off his chair and onto his new exercise machine.
I turned to look at him, one foot on one of the pedals and the other hovering mid air as he swung back and forth. He was wearing a pair of ladies pyjamas and his purple toe polish glittered in the light. He tucked his hair behind one ear, showcasing his new earring and smiled when he noticed my attention.
‘Your son’s probably trans,’ I thought to myself.
“No,” I said out loud. “Nothing’s going on. The kids are both fine.”
The call finished with a request for me to text him Jeremy’s phone number. This number used to be Emma’s for years, their Dad had it memorized back then. Meanwhile he asks for Jeremy’s number every couple of months. I think he’s called once.
“Tell Jeremy I’ll call him either tonight or tomorrow morning,” my ex said earnestly, ignoring that Jeremy was right beside me and I could easily hand over the phone.
“I will,” I agreed. He didn’t call.