This week, I received a text from my 8th grader’s mother inviting me to his graduation. They had apparently moved the date completely and no one had told me. Why should they? Out of sight, out of mind, right?
At any rate, he has been blaming himself, thinking that for some reason he did something to make me leave and she’s been trying to get him to invite me himself, but he couldn’t, so she finally did. Because I overthink things, I said I’d have to think about it and yes, of course he could call or text me whenever, as long as she’s good with it. I had been planning to explain what happened to him, but not until after the school year was over and all of this was moot. I knew he’d need the explanation, but I also knew that I couldn’t just tell him and start the gossip.
So, I emailed Father to ask if he minded. It’s his house, and his rules. He said it would be great if I came. So, I said I’d come.
But that opened up a whole lot of other thoughts.
See, now it’s at Sunday Mass, and I was not going back there because I don’t believe anymore, right?
And I surely did not want to go back to that place with that man.