electra-ish

There's a memory that pops into my head once in a while, for no clear reason. Since it came up again this morning, I'm going to share it with you. (I love having a blog.) *This entry involves the mention of an ex-boyfriend, for the purpose of historical context and comparison. If he reads this, he definitely won't feel flattered, but that's a risk I have to take.

In June of 2005, my dad came for a weekend visit to where I was living in Bracebridge, Ontario. It was the weekend after my birthday, it was father's day, and he drove up in a mini-van that he was giving to me and my then-boyfriend. He had a one-way plane ticket home. (We needed a car and couldn't afford to buy one, but I really wish we hadn't used that method. The sum of the taxes paid at the border, the registration fees, "out-of-country gift" fees, inspection fees and repairs ended up costing us thousands. It was not a sound investment.)

My dad and I have had a particularly bad relationship since about 2002, but this visit took place during a brief window of reconciliation. One afternoon during the visit, my dad, my then-boyfriend and I were in our apartment. I was walking into the kitchen when I caught my big toe on the corner of some furniture and hit it hard. I cried out in pain and immediately fell to the ground and clutched my toe. I had bruised it badly and broken the skin-- there was a thick blob of blood forming and pooling out from under my toenail. My dad remained on the couch, looking at a magazine, and my boyfriend remained at the computer, where he usually was.

A while later, my dad commented that he felt concerned about my boyfriend that day, because he didn't show any emotion or concern when I hurt myself; he didn't even look up. When I told him that, my boyfriend said that apparently my dad didn't know that I was clumsy, and it wasn't unusual for me to stub my toe.

I've been pondering this situation from time to time ever since then. Yeah, I stubbed my toe... maybe I was kind of clumsy. But it hurt. I cried. Niether of them got up to check on me or consol me, and they both had excuses.

I'm not mad. I just find it puzzling. That's why I still think about it sometimes.