A sunset I stole.
I can't afford to take a class right now. Between books and tuition, it's going to cost us about twelve hundred dollars for our girls to stay in school this semester. I sent their ratfuck sperm donor an e-mail asking him to pay just a quarter of that amount. I want to be hopeful, but I can hear him laughing four hundred miles away.
He's taken up with the woman he left me for so many years ago. This does not bother me as much as it did then, or as much as it would have if the kids were still small enough to be influenced by her. I'm ashamed to say it bothers me at all. That ego, boy. What a killer.
I would make jokes about his demise but as soon as I did he would die and, just to spite me, all the evidence would point to me. If I were in Rome for the six months prior to his death, if I were at the knee of the Pope at the moment of his death, still, somehow, all the evidence would point to me.
That's the kind of relationship we have.
Not that I don't try. I'm nice to him until my stomach bleeds. I try to bend until my discs grind. For the kids. For the kids, I will break, if I need to.
But please, not over or in front of him.
