As the day went on, I just got angrier and angrier. I am annoyed at Fife sneakiness, because he could always claim that he wasn’t ‘lying’. But the spirit of what he told me was that he was getting a divorce because of me. He never said, my wife has finally left me officially because she’s getting remarried. Would that have changed Fife and I’s relationship? I don’t know. Probably not. But the fact he didn’t tell me, and the fact that he has been a sneaky little bastard that implies things that aren’t true, has changed our relationship.
I don’t want to see him when I get home. I don’t want to see his kids. I want to get as far away from him as I can until I figure out what I want to do. So I’m going to London.
Oh, and HarryPotter is coming with me.
He’s got his mum’s car while she’s in Italy. (Digression notice: HarryPotter’s mum is Italian — his dad was Irish –, like properly born in Italy but has been here since she was little. So, she’s still got family over there, and she’s going to live there for a bit while she’s grieving. But it’s kind of weird that’s where she’s going only because Loraine has gone to Italy to grieve her mum. Is Italy the place to go when someone dies?) Anyway, HarryPotter’s got his mum’s car and we’re driving to London (or Surry actually) tomorrow after work. So that he doesn’t have to backtrack, I’m taking the train to Glasgow from the office, he’ll pick me up at Queen’s Station, and we’ll head on south from there.
Everyone is in town. I cannot wait. I am seriously hating Fife right now. And I can’t wait to leave.