This morning I saw a tweet that linked to an article about a guy who said he has felt like an ATM machine ever since his divorce.
I didn’t read the article.
I feel for the guy.
For a nanosecond I wondered if Mark felt the same way. There’s no need for me to wonder since he has told us plenty of times – actually lectured in the way a nun might do just before she slaps the back of your hand with a ruler – that the only reason we get in touch with him is because we need something.
It’s been about three weeks since Will said, “We won’t do visits until they get more comfortable for both of us.“
Mark has texted three times to invite Will fishing, hiking, and rafting. None of the invites included Jenny. Will politely declined the invitations.
Yesterday the kids received a text from Mark. He asked if we were going to be around and could he drop something off.
I refrained from scaring my kids by telling them all the thoughts that rushed through my head.
“Oh shit! He’s delivering papers from a new attorney!”
“Oh, crap! He’s gonna bring them some long letter telling them how they are depriving themselves of a relationship with him.”
“Oh, no! He’s going to bring back all of their stuff from his house and leave it on the front lawn!”
Yeah. I took a Pepcid last night.
This morning, Will’s stomach was bothering him, too.
Jenny texted to find out what time Mark would be here today.
If they were older…
If I weren’t an over-the-counter drug Nazi…
… we’d have downed Pepcids together and thrown our glasses at the wood stove.
I didn’t ask the kids what they were thinking. Sometimes – even though I am the Poster Child for Communication – I don’t want to beat a dead horse.
The door bell rang. Will opened the door.
Mark commented on how big Will had gotten.
He asked Jenny how things were going – in that way that narcissists do when they don’t really want an answer.
He handed Will a large wrapped package.
Then he left.
No mention of getting together.
No discussion of fishing or mermaids or Jenny’s new bow and arrow or summer plans.
Inside the box was a new coat for Will and a leather bound journal for Jenny. (Neither kid asked for either item.)
Jenny said, “I guess it’s all about money.”
Will said, “Dammit, I need a new golf bag, not a ski jacket.”
We only briefly discussed things because, as we’ve said before and we’ll say again, “What the hell is he thinking?”
*I didn’t include a photo in this post. I thought of twisting barbed wire into the shape of a question mark and taking a picture of that. He’s not worth hurting myself over. He wasn’t then, and he sure as hell isn’t worth it now.
Tags: child of narcissist, front lines, narcissism, narcissist behavior, narcissistic behavior, NPD
I think the gift is pretty much a physical version of the non-apology, along the lines of “I’m sorry for whatever it is that seems to have upset you so much, now can we just forget about it and get back to normal”.
M,
Thanks for writing. It’s nice to see you here again.
Yeah, that’s just like them to “make nice” so we can quickly resume the status quo – having our world revolve around them.
Your comment helped me to realize something… Maybe the gift was also about getting their eyes trained back on him. He’d gone “no-contact” for about two weeks and couldn’t handle it anymore. He brings presents, gets them to notice him again, and assumes life will go back to normal. Three days later, when Will sends him an email thanking him – again – Mark responds with a denigrating email that attempts to put himself back on the pedestal, and Will in his place.
It proves that “they” seek whatever kind of attention they can get – good or bad.