FROM THE NORM TO THE MARGIN

Good news in the evening.

Last night before I went to bed I looked at my phone. With the time difference I want to answer my daughters just in case before I go to bed. And then two surprises. My older daughter, who receives my mail in France, sends me a photograph of a parking ticket from April; the same day as her birthday. I prefer that the money for this day goes to a gift for my daughter and not for the state. I have absolutely no recollection of seeing a white light...

Seventy-seven instead of seventy. Okay, I can't remember that day anyway. I think I missed the speed limit sign as well as the radar. I'm the kind of person who keeps to the speed limit because I know I'm not in control of everything. So that at least I can control. First fine, first point taken off in thirty three years of driving. You can drink from that, can't you? No, you're right, I'm a mother, I have to set an example. In any case to give the change. Once again I bless the internet which allows me to pay this ticket from the other end of the planet. Progress is great!...

As good news never comes alone, I discover an email from my lawyer. More evidence to provide, more justifications to give, more steps to take to obtain the execution of a court decision. More concessions to accept in order to make progress with someone who doesn't want it to end anyway. It's a way of not quite getting out of our heads. He remains silent, unmoved despite the proposals, the obligations. Who does he think he is? The invisible man? Does he really think he has superpowers? For that to happen, he would have to have something human, and he doesn't. And great news for him; we are slowly but surely erasing him from our lives. When I say slowly, it's because every time we are reminded of the law, we are forced to put our heads back into the whole nauseating mess. 

Today, while searching for documents, I came across copies of letters and SMS messages whose tone varies between pleading, attempts to soften or blackmail and threats. He really thinks he's in a film. He invents a life that we never had and that he knows is imaginary. I say this because I once pointed this out to him and he changed the subject. He's as straightforward as a donkey going backwards. Who does he think we are? We don't have Alzheimer's yet, man! The highlight was the song he dedicated to me when I decided to move six hundred kilometres away after weeks of explanations. After he coldly looked me in the eye and told me he didn't give a fuck if I died. All he wanted was for me to stay with him.

So far I have not been able to listen to the whole piece. I need to give you some context. The first time we went on a 'couple' date he told me I was shaped like his guitar (at the time I was more like an H if that speaks to anyone) and that he would write a song for me. During our life together I told him about it several times. Each time, he looked at me without a word, his eyes filled with disgust. Once again he kept his word only to get something in return. After all these years of hell, he records himself, sends me the audio in an e-mail and tells me that he is happy with what he has done. I'm leaving, the children don't want anything more to do with you and they've made that clear to you, and you're happy to sing an obscene atrocity. Well, that was to be expected: just as he only cries about his fate, he is only proud of himself. Proud and smug with his big belly that he carries around. Coming back to listening to this "song", I force myself to listen to the lyrics and vomit, telling myself that we never had the life he is talking about. 

How can he imagine that I have forgotten all the rejections; "don't touch me you're freezing, don't come near me I'm already too hot and you're choking me". If I look at our history objectively, at no time was I happy in his company, not even on our wedding day. He already made me cry that day. I only have five happinesses, my children. I assure you that's sincere. I am glad that he has only remained a father. He always refused to share moments with them. Finally I thank him for it.

That's probably why we never missed him as himself.

Not for a moment.