When the Rules Changed

Some nights disappear quietly.

Others vanish right in front of you, while you’re still holding the plans you made for them.

I’m excited to be here… to see you… to have our night.

Me too.

It’s a special night - your birthday.

Yeah.

I got us a cozy table down the street. That cute Italian place you like.

You did?

You didn’t mention it when we talked this week.

I wanted it to be a surprise. For you. For us. For our night. You don’t seem all that happy about it.

I have my kids tonight.

Don’t get me wrong — I’m happy you’re here, and I’d really love to go out.

But tonight… I need to stay here.

What happened to the thing we agreed on? Where our night was for us, and all the other nights were for all of us together.

This is the fifth night our night has disappeared.

When did you decide to change the rules?

I can’t just tell their mom no if I’m here and around.

Besides, it’s one night.

Come on, let’s go to the shed so we can talk.

She's your handler, you know. You do her bidding.

I don’t have any handlers. She is most certainly not mine, and I don't at all cow down to do her bidding.

On some level, you do. And you ask me to choose.

Choose what?

I never asked you to choose anything.

Choose between you having a continued relationship with her… and me wondering whether to continue having a relationship with you. And it’s been five times now that you’ve asked me to choose. This time, I’ve chosen differently.

What the hell does that mean?

It means it’s time for you to make a choice. Just walk me back to my car, okay?

So you want me to tell their mom no when she asks? I can’t do that. They’re my kids. If she can’t take care of them, I’m next in line; she calls on me.

You can’t make me choose between my kids and you. There is no choice in my mind — yet you’re asking me to make one.

I’m not staying the night. And I understand your stance on one point only: that yes, they are your kids and you'll do anything to make sure that they're protected and safe.

But I have my own stance on this one.

You want me to be okay with the fact that our night has been put on the non‑existent species list five times in a row. You want me to chalk it up to 'it's just one night'. Well, I’m not okay with that. And it has absolutely nothing to do with your kids. And I’m not leaving because I’m angry.

You think me and her have a thing besides the fact that she’s my ex and the mother of my kids? There’s nothing going on with her and me. I can’t make you see that. And I don't get your stance.

I believe you and her have something where, when she asks… you do.

So while it’s not a traditional relationship, she has you.

Just because she’s asked me a few times to help doesn’t mean she has me. It means she knows she can count on me if she needs help - she's the mother of my kids. I’d like to think it’d be the same if it were flipped around. You know my stance. I cannot choose between my kids and you. And, at the same time, I’m not going to leave my ex stranded when she needs my help caring for our kids.

I’m sorry you don’t understand that.

I’m not okay with being in the middle of it anymore. You've chosen her plans over our night for five weeks now because she needs you. I'm not so naive as to think that there's nothing else going on here.

I miss our nights. Don’t you? When did you decide that our night would be dependent on your answering her call to action?

He doesn’t answer. Not really. Not in the way that matters.

I stand there at my car, holding my breath, waiting for him to choose something he keeps insisting isn’t a choice.

And then I finally breathe to tell him -

Believe it or not, I’m not leaving because I’m angry with you.

I’m leaving because I finally understand where I don’t fit.