Fife finally did call, and here’s what happened after BigOne left me flailing about on the pavement.
He got on the 22 bus, which went into town, and then he walked to the bus station and got on a bus toSt Andrews, with plans to change there for another bus that would drop him off near his village where his friend Darren also lives.
Wow. I’m impressed. My first month in Dundee I was perpetually lost. I couldn’t believe this kid found his way around. When I brought up this very important detail to Fife, Fife said that he was quite shocked as well, but Darren admitted to his mother (who told Fife) that BigOne had Google Maps on his phone and had downloaded an app that showed the buses around Dundee in real time. BigOne had been planning his escape with Darren for the last couple of days. The plan was to talk his Dad into playing ball out in the garden, then come into ‘use the toilet’, get his phone and some money from his dad’s wallet (the reason I found him rummaging through Fife’s bag), then hit the road while his Dad was playing ball with LittleOne. Once he reached Darren’s house, Darren was supposed to hide BigOne until they could get a train to the South of France. (When I was a kid I once tried to run away to the Costa del Sol and got as far as the corner store before realising I had no idea how to get to the trainstaion. It’s a good thing there was no iPhone when I was a kid, or like BigOne I might have gotten a lot farther.)
Man kids are weird. One minute they’re scary little adults, and the next they’re planning to run away to the South of France, which is kind of cute. Although, there’s loads of adults who run away to the South of France, they’re called ex-pats. So, kids are just like ex-pats.
Anyway. My coming home thwarted BigOne’s plans, because he assumed he’d be long gone by the time I got home.
When I talked to Fife earlier had calmed down a bit, but he was still blaming me quite a bit, which I find incredibly unfair. That kid had been planning this. Short of sitting on him for an undeterminable amount of time (and I’m not sure that would have worked), there was nothing I could do. Fife said that I should have used my ‘common sense’ and realised that he wouldn’t have just BigOne in the flat alone. And that I should have thought to look in the garden forFife. This really peeved me off, because I came home the other day to unsupervised children, so I don’t think it’s beyond reason to think that Fife left BigOne alone.
I opened my mouth to tell him that I really didn’t appreciate his attitude, but before I could say anything, Fife jumped into tell me that he was going to let BigOne stay the night with Darren, but that he’s spending the rest of the weekend with us in Dundee. ‘[BigOne] needs to get used to the fact things are changing,’ Fife added.
Then he said that LittleOne and he were going to stay in the Fife house tonight, because Helen is away this weekend, so no one’s around to night anyway. Oh my god. Then why are they even staying at my house if Helen is away. Holy fuck! I am beyond annoyed. I can’t even tell you how annoyed I am.
Hearing Fife say that – despite having a free house in another county available for them to live in — I was staring down a weekend with his two kids, after one assaulted me (okay, he didn’t actually assault me, but he’s a scary little fuck and he did make me fall over and then laugh about it), was unbearable. I’d had a miserable week. I talked the London agent out of quitting, then realised that I did the woman a serious disservice when I then found a remittance notice in a stack of bills, thus indicating that none of us may have a job in the near future. I found my dip-shit pretentious neighbor over dosed and near death on my door step, but I get nothing but a cold shoulder from the cow for saving her fucking life. Then I come home to little Damien trying to run away, and when I try to stop him pushes me into the pavement making my elbows and forearms look like they’ve been gone over with a cheese grader. Do I want any more of this??? No.
So, when Fife said that I had a weekend with the kids to look forward to, I might have said a little lie. Okay, I said I big lie. I didn’t plan the lie, it just came out. I blurted, ‘I have to go to Glasgow this weekend…for work.’
Actually, if I can defend myself, it’s not a complete lie. One of Loraine’s clients is doing a poky little reading this weekend. I wasn’t going to attend, because he’s pretty seasoned, set the thing up himself, and the venue is really small so a full attendance is assured. No reason to go. But I claimed to Fife that Loraine was supposed to go to this thing (not really a lie), and had forgotten to mention it to me before she left (also not really a lie), but today the author rang wanting to know if someone from the Agency would be there. Okay that part is a lie. He rang to ask about his books.
‘Do you really need to go for the whole weekend,’ he asked almost sarcastically.
‘I’m going tomorrow morning, but I’ll be back on Sunday,’ I said. It seemed like a good compromise.
Fife was getting bitchy. ‘It’s funny how you haven’t brought this up all week, and now you suddenly have to go away for the weekend.’
‘Like I said. I only found out today,’ I argued.
‘And where are you staying while you’re in Glasgow?’
‘With a friend,’ that’s all he needed to know.
But he pushed it and wanted to know who, so I said I was staying with ‘my old flatmate’. Which is actually true.
Fife humphed into the phone and said, ‘Fine. Do whatever you want. See you on Sunday.’ Then he hung up.
What a fucking dick. I know he’s disappointed I’m not staying the weekend, but he can’t blame me for wanting to get away. Spending time with his kids has been hell. And they need time with their Dad without me there. So, he can be pissy all he wants, but going away for the weekend is the best for everyone involved.
Shit, it’s just dawned on me that I told HarryPotter I couldn’t come around this weekend. I better ring him to make sure he’s still about. Right, off to make a phone call.