"But you just left afterwards! What was that all about? Where did you go?"
"I had things to do."
...
When your kids are upstairs and all they hear from downstairs is crying and screaming. Shouting and praying. Pleading and wailing.
You don't tell them anything. Not a word. Let them figure it out on their own.
And when they finally tire out and the arguments come to an end, find your keys 'cause it's your cue to leave.
Your oldest daughter is on the ground helping her up. Your youngests are eavesdropping from the top of the stairs even though half of what they hear they don't understand. Sometimes because it's not English you're speaking sometimes because they were never briefed on the why this was happening. What they do understand they wish they could forget.
They don't know why any of this is happening. What they do know is that they spent the whole, warm, summer day with their mother. Playing, talking. And what they believe is that she couldn't have done anything wrong in that time because they were with her. But of course they are wrong. You know better.
You know what it is she did and now that you have administered the proper punishment you must get on with your night. Weave through the crowd, put on your shoes, slam the door behind you, and hop into your car to leave to an undisclosed location without saying a word to anybody. They don't need to know where you're going.
Your little ones are watching you from the upstairs window by the way, so make sure you never look back. Show them how a real man does it.
Though, and this may shock you, what happens when you leave is not sorrow nor longing for you to come back. Your kids are older than that now. What they feel is relief.
Things like: "He's finally gone." , "I hope he doesn't come back." , "I've never been so scared." , and "I hope everyone is okay." pass through their minds. Except when they hope 'everyone is okay' they aren't thinking of you. And when they say 'I hope he doesn't come back' you may believe they are merely naive children who will grow to no longer believe that and you will, some day, inform them of the truth. Well I must inform you while they my be naive now it can only be in part because of you're teachings. And I must warn you naive children do not become more impartial. In fact, it's quite the opposite. The longer you spend not telling them what's going on, the more they grasp to the only thing they know. You scare them.
Maybe that's not what you wanted to hear, but I've got to be honest. Anyway, this is only a minor setback, but it's okay because they're young and they don't even know the bases of the argument. They don't know anything.
So after you're done doing whatever it is you were doing, come back home and take a seat. Put your legs up, watch some TV you deserve it. None of the kids came down to welcome your return, which means they're probably asleep. Perhaps it would be right to check on them, make sure everything is alright, but she's upstairs and you truly do not want to run in to her again.
You sleep on a fold-up bed in the living room by choice and the kids don't remember a time when you ever slept in the same room as their mom. Wake up the next morning at 5am, don't bother with an alarm you've been doing it for decades you're body is used t it. Make it to work by 7:25 sharp not a minuet late, but forget to call the kids during your break. Brilliant it's all going to plan.
The kids wake up in their mom's arms, dried tears caking their faces, and the sun streaming in from the windows. Because it's summer and camp has started. Mom gets them ready, makes breakfast, and drives them down to the camp. And mom tries telling them it'll all be fine, but it sounds like she's telling herself. And the kids walk into camp to see their newly made friends conversing as if today is a beautiful day. Except they don't believe that anything good can come of the day.
And when they go to sit down with everyone else, they try their best to except that now is a time to be happy and they must try to forget.
"Hey, what's wrong?" A kid will inevitable ask.
And in that second they conclude no really wants to know. And so they respond with
"Nothing."
...
"You seriously still think you did the right thing by leaving?"
"Well, yeah I had things to do."
