The White Bus

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When the kids were at home with us, they were supposed to ride the school bus. The bus got there every morning and we would always remind them to ride the bus home from school also. Unfortunately, DB would always come up with an excuse as to why she needed to drive them home instead. The school is roughly 10 minutes from our home, and she would always come pulling into the driveway 45 minutes later, which is when the time the bus would get their if they rode it home. Dad would continue to tell her if she was driving them home on his days, they needed to come directly home and she would always argue “well the bus wouldn’t get home until 3:45 anyways so that’s when I’ll bring them”.

DB drove a white vehicle, so we always joked that the kids were riding the white bus that day.

One day though, DB went a little too far. Dad had a meeting in another town for work and was hoping he’d get home before the kids would get home from school, but had me get out there earlier just in case he didn’t make it. I parked in the garage, as I usually did. Dad also had his mom come up to sit at the house with me just in case DB showed up and started something. “Starting something” is an understatement to what she did.

I got a phone call from Dad a few minutes after they should have been home, and he told me that DB had called him screaming at him about how she refused to bring the kids home if he’s not even there. Keep in mind, you could not see in our garage and there was no way for her to have known that he wasn’t home and that I was there, yet somehow, she knew. Dad’s brother was a witness to this screamfest that she continued to unleash on him on their drive back home. He continued to try to convince her to just bring the kids home, stating that his mom is there and she can just drop them off. She still wouldn’t. Instead, she screamed at him endlessly until he finally hung up. Eventually, he got home and he let her know that he was home, so a few minutes later, she pulled into the driveway. The kids came walking into the house and instantly all we heard was the sounds of DB screaming at Dad about how wrong it was for him to expect the kids to come home to me. Yes, me, the woman she hasn’t even met yet at this point. She only knew my name because she asked the kids. She knew nothing about me, but felt it was a good thing to do to attack him, attack me, and do this all in front of the kids.

I remember the kids that day, so clearly too that it still hurts my heart. The oldest walked up to me, wrapped her arms around my waist and said “my tummy hurts”. All I could say back to her was “I’m sure it does” and walked both of the kids to the living room furthest away from the garage, where DB was still screaming.

I wish I could say I stood my ground that day, but I didn’t. I had a glimmer of hope that this woman could pull her crap together and just get used to the fact that Dad had moved on… But I was wrong.

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