Sounds to me like she would have preferred to have sole custody, to take the divorce and run.
So why then, does she continue to sing her song of abandonment? Is this how the story is retold to their child?
“Honey, I loved your father very much, but he didn’t feel the same way. He didn’t want you or love you like I did”.
Does the child know that Mama was always the promiscuous teen? Does he know of the abortions that came before him? Or that his father tried to hold on to the marriage, the marriage in which he was told to stand aside while she engaged with other men? That they could not honestly say they were married for love, but they were married for him?
What does he see when he looks at his father? Does he see a man who loves and cares about him, who wants him to grow up strong and smart and able? Does he see the Untrusted One, the one who is too immature to act responsibly?
And what is responsible anyway?
Was it responsible to stop pot cold turkey, before she put the pregnancy test down? Was it responsible to work two jobs to pay the rent while she finished her degree? Was it irresponsible to want something better for himself, to want to get a decent education of his own, dare a career? Was it irresponsible to act on that, to push himself through 5 more years of school, to get this job that will now pay for his child’s college?
I guess. After all, she’s the mother and she knows what’s in the best interest of her child. The child needed a man—a real man—around when he was younger. Someone who would stick around, and be there when he got off the bus from school, to pat his head and pick him up when he fell. A real man, who would understand the needs of the young mother, the need for her to be the hero, to prove to the world that she could make it.
He certainly wasn’t the man for her.
She continues to yell at him, 15 years down the line. He could never be a good father. He doesn’t know how—he doesn’t even know anything about kids, much less his own. How dare he talk back to her? How dare he insinuate she’s not the best mother? Where was he? He should have known about the problems (he would have known if he truly cared).
But he stays quiet, calm. His face blanches; there’s a barely visible quaver of his body. He clears his throat.
That’s what the child sees. It must be true because there is no defense. He doesn’t refute or rebut, doesn’t offer an explanation.
A broken man, good for the rides to the arcade and the walkman on his 12th birthday, the computer on his desk and his future education, fights the tears as he weakly hugs his son goodbye.
“I’ll see you in two weeks”.