Momma always knows... or at least in my case, Jesus Christ Margaret has some amazing powers of persuasion to extort information out of one Cloak and Dagger Dad. Or, it's because Joe just can't keep a secret for the life of him. I think it's the latter, but Marg has a way of weaseling information out of people when her suspicions are raised.
In short, my mother now knows that The Man and I are no longer. You may have already deduced that from the previous post. He's moving out at the end of June, and I'm a bundle of nerves. I know I've made the right decision for me. It doesn't mean that I'm not scared. In fact, I'm crapping my pants right now. (You're welcome for that unwanted visual...)
While my dad has been calling every few days to check in, Margaret's imagination has been running rampagnt, with visions of domestic disputes, police reports, SWAT takedowns and a stint in the witness protection program for the entire extended family. I may be exaggerating here, but not by much.
You would know this if you read previous posts about relentless phone calls, sending out the search party when told I was going for a walk around a few blocks (I live in a very safe neighbourhood and it was daylight) or phoning the cell and the house phone consistently until someone picks up.
My dad promised to keep her in check, however. It's a kind thing to do, but after all, he's the one who spilled the beans. Lesson learned: keep dad away from the cloak and dagger-like stuff. 'Cause he's pants at it.
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