Today, as I was getting out of my truck to go to a software training session for work, a car parked in the row behind me. When I turned to see if it was someone in my class, I did see a familiar face. Again, my Salvador Dali painting of a life… it’s my STBX. I haven’t spoken a word to him since before court in February, when he broke his promise and showed up so our daughter would have to testify again.

Hi, he says. What are you doing here?

I have a class.

I go in the building. I didn’t have to hold the door for him because he was still by his car getting stuff. At first I’m thinking…why couldn’t I be here? You don’t own the county. Then I figure he was probably worried I was going to teach his computer class for seniors and give him a bad grade or something.

When our class breaks, I leave the room, and who walks into the hall…

How are you? he asks.

Fine. How are you?

Fine.

We’re having a class about the new software we’re using at work, I say.

Oh. I’m taking PowerPoint.

Yeah. PowerPoint’s cool.

I walk away for my bathroom break. I’m starting to get upset that he’s initiating small talk, and I have a 12:15 appointment at the lawyer’s right after class to work through his complaint with all the lies about me. So I call a friend, going on and on about how can he make small talk when…yada yada…before I stop myself in mid-sentence. Where am I right now? Why am I here in his head? It doesn’t matter why he’s making small talk while he’s signing lies to avoid alimony. Wait…this is my idea. I’m realizing I don’t care what’s in his head. It makes no difference at all!

Glad I could help, chides my friend, knowing sometimes you don’t need someone to paint the picture. Sometimes all you need is a friend to hold the mirror for you.

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