I wish I could get Thérèse's last conversation with me out of my head. I want to -- it's so... big, and ugly, and I can't seem to just forget it. She thinks that Liz will want to move back there, that she is in the process of disentangling herself from Jamie, Francie and me. That she can't stay in one place or put down roots because she'll freak out and get out of it. She talked about Paul and several other situations she had been in.
Not home two days and we're going to Milborough.
I know why, of course. I was shown the e-mail. Mrs. Patterson is coming out of her fugue and wants to make what amends she can. I cannot see that as a bad thing.
But apparently I am a bad person, because I have reached the point where I just want to live my life in Vancouver for a while. I am tired of whipsawing Françoise across the continent to spend time with a mother who doesn't want to see her. I am tired of a wife who seems to have to deal with everyone's problems but our own. I am tired of paying for plane tickets, paying for treatments, paying for maid services, paying for lawyers, paying for everything because no one else in this family has three cents to rub together or the inclination to spend them.
I don't understand it. Elizabeth and I were doing so much better, and then she had weeks in Colorado and now she's running off there and....
...well, that date did not happen, needless to say. But she did at least join me after I went to bed again.
I don't know. I want to have hope -- I really do -- but is it so wrong to just want to live happily ever after? At least for a little while?
One thing of interest -- Françoise barely turned on the television when her mother was away. Teletoon didn't interest her that much. Now that she's back they're watching it all the time again. I know what you're thinking but I resolved to not say a word about the shows she was watching -- Françoise has had enough chaos without me adding some. It makes me wonder how much of it is Françoise's own personal tastes... and how much of it is Elizabeth's.
Enough. I have to get ready. And prepare to fly East again. And convince work that I'm not a slacker for wanting all this vacation time so scattershot.