The phone vibrates on the hard surface and the loud ring seems to scream shrilly with the announcement that the monster is calling. I let it ring. And ring. I still have time. Finally, the quiet returns. Then the ring starts up again and I press the button to accept the dreaded FaceTime call. It’s Monday night, at exactly 6:45pm.

Having celebrated my son’s third birthday today, both boys were outside playing with the dog in the yard. I’m so thankful for the warmer weather and can’t wait to leave the door open and listen to the sound of laughter while making dinner. But tonight, there is no laughter. I bring the phone outside after sliding on some shoes and a coat. I hold it facing the boys and let them know he’s ready to chat. They run over, wave, say hi and then take off again. One is busy chipping ice off the deck and the other is nailing shot after shot in the basketball net. I cheer and then remind them to talk to their father. They don’t want to.

Using the railing to prop up the phone, I let him watch the boys play while I wait for the highly anticipated alarm to ring when the call can end. He has been awful today with a thread of threatening emails and text messages and I won’t let the call go over by even a minute. But then I refocus on the voice, the one I used to think was sexy because it’s so deep, and the words penetrate my deliberate withdrawal from the call.

“I called to talk to my boys. Not to stare at your backyard. Or you. I don’t want you.” he complained.

I turn the phone to face me and replied, “They are playing and I’m letting you watch them. I’m not speaking to you. If you don’t want to watch them play then I’ll happily hang up.”

“You’re holding the phone all over the place. The least you could do is hold it still. You’re such a meathead,” the monster spews.

I can’t help but cringe and want desperately to lash out and hurt him with words like he does me. Instead, I take the bloody high road as instructed. Again.

“I will be hanging up now. Boys, come say goodnight. I made it very clear what the expectations are for these calls and you are not to be rude or disrespectful to me or anyone else.”

Click.

The phone rings over and over again so I turn the power off. I pull my oldest aside to explain why I hung up when there were still 5 minutes left on the scheduled call.

2 ~ Bloody High Road