A Number on My Desk

I'm tired, so this may not be as cohesive and coherent as my posts would normally be, but bear with me.

He called today. I kept wondering if he would, and he did. And I didn't have the reaction I thought I would. My mom and brother told me over dinner. And honestly, my first thought was, "Why didn't he call when he knew I'd be home? Like in the evening?" But he didn't. He called in the middle of the day, almost as if he purposely called then so that he could avoid talking to me. I do that sometimes. Purposely call people when I know they won't be home so I won't have to talk to them. (No, I'm not a mean person, but sometimes I just don't feel like talking, yet I have a phone call to make.) Anyway, he talked to my brother, and had the gall to identify himself as 'Abba.' He hasn't been Abba for years! We all call him Avi. Then, only after asking for me and finding out I wasn't home did he ask about my brother. "How are you? What are you doing over the summer?" To which my brother replied, "I'm busy. I can't talk now," and hung up.

I have Avi's number. I have his cell phone number (which is where he called from) and I still remember his home phone number (yet he didn't remember mine...). It is currently sitting on my desk, just thrown there. I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't want to call him back, and I technically don't have to. But I did tell him in court that if he called and I wasn't home and he left me a message, that I would call him back. So now I'm caught between keeping my word (though why I should is beyond me), and doing what my heart and gut are telling me to do.