My son will be coming into Victoria any minute. I've a strong impulse to go and meet him off the tube. See him walk through the barrier and give him the tightest hug he's had all weekend. Carry him to school instead of holding his small hand. Never let him go until he's safely back in my world and the people I trust within it.
I don't want to see the Foca though. I don't want to have to go through the motions of that. I either take my son's hand and ignore this man,, his father, and walk away feeling the anger burn inside me. Or I tell the Foca he had no right to take him without my consent like that. But I know the foca, he will say "give me a hug son" and turn away and go back through the barriers. By ignoring me he will make me look like the mad harpie infront of all the commuting crowds.
Maybe that's ok. Maybe the watching crowds will make him see that he can't behave like that.
I don't want my son to see how angry I am, to feel it by how tightly I hold his hand.
At 9.15 I will ring the school and ask if my son is there. He will be. It's me the Foca saves his venom for. It's important everyone else thinks he's a nice guy.
At 9.30 I will email the council. I put a bid on a flat last week. It's worth raising my name up for these people again. Daddy chucked us out baby, but mummy will get you home.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment