It was an odd thing for me to say. It seemed rather outside my character. And yet, the words came forth. There was no venom or spite. Just a profound apathy, if such a thing is even possible.
And now, the rest of the story:
I went to a baseball game tonight. Good times. The nephew, his grandma, her husband, and I had some great seats. Right behind home plate, front row. We couldn't catch any foul balls, but we could hear the conversation between the home plate umpire and the catcher. Like I said, great seats. Home runs were hit, double plays were turned, bases were stolen. I do love baseball.
Anyhow, back on topic. About the fifth inning, we were looking at upcoming games, and noticed a promotion called "Family Feast Night." It's all about $1 concessions. $1 for a hotdog, a burger, soda, whatever ballpark-appropriate junk food you can get a hold of.
The "stepfather" points out that it's not the sort of food the ex would go for. I pipe up with "Well, it's no longer my place to give a damn what she'd like." A moment after the sentence finished, I realized what I had said. I was a bit surprised at the sentiment. More surprised at the resignation behind it.
Three months is a very short time to fall so hard for someone. Three weeks to put the whole thing behind you is downright startling.
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