DAY ONE - I'm staying in the guest room downstairs. Asked to sleep there last night. Then was asked to stay somewhere else. I'm stubborn and don't like to do what I'm told. He comes downstairs. We see each other and don't say I word. Because I'm still mad. And I don't want him to see how hurt I am. Actually, I don't want him to talk me into not being this mad. And I don't want to start out the morning yelling. I can't believe we're back here again.
Later, probably twenty minutes later, he texts me on my way to work. He doesn't want to live in a house where we don't speak. He tells me that I should stay somewhere else. I decide to think about it.
A few hours later, another text to ask me why I haven't responded. I say that I'm milling it over. (I told you I'm stubborn) He says he's not giving me a choice. This is the text where he kicks me out. This is a fact I keep forgetting. My friends remind me many times over the next two weeks that he kicked me out.
I decide that I don't want to live in a house where we've got tension either. I decide to stop being stubborn and I call my friends to ask them if I can stay there. They say yes.
I spend the night in their guest room.
DAYS TWO THROUGH FOUR:
All a blur. But I do remember a few details. Like having dinner every night with my friends who I'm staying with. Glasses of wine and conversations in the kitchen. In these early days, I just get a lot of support. The guys ask me a lot about what I'm going to do. I feel now like I was a zombie. I had moved into their guest room four months ago for a week. And I went back. I don't want to exhaust their patience. I spend a lot of that time feeling shitty about burdening them. I don't want them to think that I'm an idiot. Sensing this, they mention that they will support me no matter what I do. And that if I go back to him, they'll support me because they're my friends. But I can see it, in-between the jokes and the cocktails: they don't want me to go back. They think it's a bad idea.
More logicistic texts and emails. I'm not really responding to anything he's sending me. No phone calls. Just a text to ask me if I want to take care of the dogs while he's away that weekend. I remember that we were supposed to go down to San Diego to see a friend of his who was working down there. It settles in. I won't be going with him this weekend. I do think for a second about whether or not we'll be fixed by then. Not because I want to stay in a fancy resort in Del Mar. But because I want this to be over. I want him to snap to his senses and realize that I left for a reason. But I'm mute.
I feel like he can see me behind a mirrored wall. I can't see him. But I'm screaming and screaming, begging him to stop. But all that he can see is my terror, as the water rises and rises. Eventually the water rises above my head. And he watches me drown, but does nothing about it.
The other thing I remember is that the guys left me a plate of food after I got home late one night. They had cooked for me and wanted to make sure I had eaten. Someone asked Mario Batali once what his favorite meal was. He said it was one that someone made for him. I had a lot of favorite meals that week, but that was by far my most favorite.
THE WEEKEND: DAYS FIVE THROUGH SEVEN
I come home on Friday. The boys decide that we should go out and grab dinner and drinks. So we head out for Mexican. I'm Mexican and I could use some comfort food. And margaritas. So we head out to the east side of town. I felt relaxed. I look around and realize that it's been so long since I had really headed east. But then I realized that the real reason I was relaxed was that I was enjoying a nice, low-key dinner. And I wasn't being interrupted. I was being heard.
The tone was changing. The guys were no longer asking me what I was going to do. But they were expressing their concern at what would happen if I got back together with him. I started to seriously think about moving out.
The next day, I was ready to head over to my old place to watch the dogs. But I got a text that he wasn't leaving now until the afternoon. I thought that he might not go or that he might say he was leaving and be waiting for me. Not that I thought I was in any danger, I just wanted to spend some time in my old place alone with our dogs.
I had brunch with my best friend, who had stayed away when we were together. They didn't get along. This was a pattern with most of my friends. I was angry that she had assumed that he had control over me and that I couldn't see her. But she was perceptive and right. He did have control over me. I was starting to realize what other people had been seeing for a while.
I went over after brunch, even though it wasn't 3PM (the time he was leaving). I just didn't want it to be weird. So I went in, just said that I was coming into drop off my bag and poop (the truth) and that I would leave and come back after he left. I went upstairs and saw him in bed, drinking a scotch. I probably said something to him. But I did what I came to do and then I walked out the door.
That was the moment I decided to start pre-packing.
When he left, he texted me and told me how cute I looked. I didn't care. I wasn't surprised about that then, but I am not. I'm a whore for a complement because I wasn't complemented much as a child. I've been told this by my therapist and my ex. Many times.
I sat in the house alone with the dogs. I watched a lot of TV. I did not want to prepack.
I went out that night with my friends. Danced and carried on. Then walked home at 3 AM. Or "home." I woke up the next morning and started to get rid of clothes and DVDs and other things I didn't want anymore. I put everything away neatly so that it wasn't obvious that I had done some prepacking. I was still scared of what he would do if he found out I was leaving.
A friend described this as "battered wife syndrome", which I looked up. I wasn't physically beaten ever in my relationship. But the emotional scars were there. As I Googled, I did a mental check list and most, if not all, of the signs were true of my relationship.
At that point, I knew that I was leaving him. Well, I was 85% sure. I was still hoping that he'd hear me. But I was still drowning.
He texted me to let me know he was on his way back. I put everything back, but I knew what I was taking and where it was when I needed to grab it.
Then I left. I missed him by two minutes.
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