wrapping up

I began wrapping J's Christmas gifts tonight. As I was putting her pink biker jacket in the gift bag, A wave of hatred washed over me remembering when I bought it. It was during our epic trip to Kentucky. On the way back - possibly in Arkansas but I can't remember -  in one of the many truck stops we visited, were these adorable children's biker jackets. Not leather and made in China, but still adorable and affordable. I bought a pink one for J. You bought a black one for your son. Well, actually, I bought it, along with a remote control camaro and a monster truck - for the boys. For your son and his brothers for Christmas. The six year old, the five year old, and the two year old - Terry, Mike, and Andy. Damn if you can't think quick on your feet. Of course, there is no Terry, Mike, or Andy. You have no son. The entire story you told me, my mother, your sister and her family, and your 84-year-old grandmother who raised you was a lie. Why? Why? Why tell your family? Did you think you'd get money from them for your son. I can kind of see why you might tell me. That way I wouldn't question when you went to Sacramento to visit your "son" - in actuality to visit your "other" girlfriend and get high with her on crank. But why your family in Kentucky? And why buy the gifts. The girlfriend's sons are much older than that. So it was a complete waste. I don't understand any of it. And now you have disappeared again. This time not just out of my and my daughter's life, but also the "other" girlfriend's and her sons lives. What woman are you preying on now? Please, please, don't let her have children whose hearts you will break along with her's. Please.