As my alarm went off this morning I thought :Why did I set an alarm for Sunday morning?". Then I realised it was actually Monday and that I had to get up for work. I'm still on weekend-speed, in other words, super-slow-motion.
This weekend was drastic. I spent Friday night drunk. I got home, upset at the fighting that I had endured with him during the day and downed the last beer I had in the fridge. My folks invited out to dinner and I only had two glasses of wine, but the beer and emotion made them go straight to my head. Dinner was delicous. My dad and I decided we would share some starters, each with a foccacia bread. We had spicy chicken livers, squid heads and haloumi cheese. I had a garlic foccaccia. Everything was delicious.When I got home, I decided to have a bourbon. Once I had poured it and taken the first sip, I realised that I was far too drunk to actually enjoy it. So I drank it as fast as I could and then went to bed. I also realised that I needed my energy for Saturday. And I was right.
I woke up early on Saturday morning. I had planned to go to his flat and get my furniture out of there. All of it. The fighting with him on Friday was about that. He wanted to change the plan again. It really upset me. I kept thinking "Why is he doing this? He doesn't want me in his life yet he doesn't want me to move on. Why? Why? Why?"
I was advised by friends at work that I should ignore any further emails from him and stick to my plans. Just go there and get my stuff. If he causes a problem, deal with it there and then.
I was shaking with nerves before leaving the house to go over there. My dad suggested that I call Dee and ask her if she could be there too. I agreed, realising that I was going to need all the support I needed. I called and she said yes. It means so much to me that she gave up her Saturday for me.
So I picked up Dee at her house, literally around the corner from his place. While driving, I started praying to God, the Universe, Buddah, Allah, Jaweh, everyone. I prayed that he not be there. I prayed that it would all go smoothly. I prayed for strength. As I drove into the complex, I knew that if his car wasn't there, it would all be ok. At first I didn't see it. But it was parked behind an SUV and I didn't see it at first. My heart sank when I saw his car there. I just knew that it was going to be difficult.
We parked the two cars outside the garage and decided to pack the things that I had stored there first. It went very quickly. Once we were done, we all went upstairs. I still had keys, so I opened the gate and Dee took over. She knocked on his door and we waited. Knocked again, waited again. Knocked again, even harder and waited again. Dee tried to unlock the front door, but it was locked from the inside and the key was in the door. Dee started banging. She called his phone a number of times. We could hear his phone ringing in the flat! Eventually she sent him an sms saying that if he did not open the door, she would call the police. Still, there was no response. Fianlly, she made the call, took down the reference number and we were told they a unit would be coming over as soon as possible. Being South Africa, it could be 10 minutes or 10 hours before the police showed up. We knocked some more - although at that stage, banging would be a more descriptive word. I sent him an sms telling him the the police had been called and that they would be arriving soon. And I asked him to open the door. Politely.
I was in a state. I was shaking and starting to freak out at the thought of the police showing up. I knew that if they showed up and forced their way into the flat, he would be in trouble for a lot more than attempted theft. Luckily for him, he opened the door, looking like he had just woken up. But not before trying to avoid the situation even further by speaking to Dee through the closed door! Anyway, he opened the door and Dee took charge once more. I was told to stay away from him, to say nothing. When we saw that Dee was not getting anywhere with him, my dad stepped in. Man to man, same size, but my dad (bless him) was a hero, protecting his pffspring, like a true lion. As he spoke to my father, trying to talk his way out of the situation, my anger built up even more. All I can remember hearing was white noise. I have no idea what was said. I remember trying to jump in and say something, Dee holding me back. I remember going downstairs for a little while. I remember sitting on the steps, my eyes filled with tears. I remember NOT crying. I remember going back up there, my mission was to beat the fucking shit out of him. Seriously. All I could think of was wanting to launch into him, to physically hurt him. I probably wanted to fucking kill him. But while I was downstairs, an agreement had been reached. Dee told me later on that she saw me coming up the stairs with this mad look in my eyes. She held me back again. All I remember saying was that he had better have my stuff ready when we got back or I was going to call the fucking army. Or my army. I'm not sure.
The arrangement was that he had two hours to straighten up and put my things to one side. Two hours. Dee told me that my dad looked at his watch and said that we would be back in two hours, at 12:20 exactly. He said 12:30. My dad said no. Two hours and not a minute more.
We left. As we drove out of the complex, Dee told the security guard that we would be back and that the police may show up. She gave him the unit number of where the police would have to go. We went to the storage unit and unpacked my things there. Then back hime for some coffee. I was still shaking. And I'm not really sure what we talked about. I know Dee was replaying the events, I know she kept saying how disrespectful he ws to my father. All I did was look at the time. It was going so slowly. It's not that I wanted to go back there, I just wanted it to be over and done with.
Eventually the time came and off we went. The security let us back in without even signing in. There was a strange energy. As we drove in, at exactly 12:20, we was standing on the balcony, beer and cigarette in hand, watching us. When we got upstairs, he had left a few things outside, and when he opened the door (without the drama this time) all of my furniture was to one side, ready to be taken out. In 20 minutes it was all out and packed into the cars and the trailer. While we were there, he just stood around, drinking his beer, smoking his cigarette. When everything was out, I went to him to give him his keys. I looked him in the eyes as I put the keys in his hand. All I could say was "Thank You". He said nothing. He didn't even look me in the eyes.
I get the feeling that the police was there in those two hours. The way that the security guard just let us in, the way that he was so quiet. The energy that was there.
As we drove away, Dee told me not to look back, not to look in the rearview mirror. And I didn't. I felt numb. I felt drained. I felt as though I had just survived a nuclear holocaust.
Dee was invited by my parents to have lunch with us. The conversation was all about the events of that morning. I asked that we please stop speaking about him by midnight. Sunday was to be the first day of the rest of my life and I want him to be in my past, nowhere else (I know I'm breaking my own rule here, but this is for the sake of record-keeping). My dad, apologising in advance, told me of something he had heard quite a while ago. My dad was told that he had told someone that once he got famous, he was going to leave me and get someone better. My eyes filled with tears. After everything that he's put me through, hearing that just confirms to me that he is a cold, heartless person, that he never loved me. Part of me wants to find the person who was told this. Part of me wants to confirm. Another part of me doesn't care.
I spent the night at Dee's. We drank wine. We talked. We watched movies. We slept.
I haven't cried. My eyes have filled with tears a few times but I haven't cried.
I didn't cry when I left "our" home for the last time.
I didn't cry when I heard that story.
I didn't cry when I was drunk.
I didn't cry when I could sleep on Saturday night.
It's as though I have reached the maximum number of tears that have been allocated to him. I said to Dee that in the last few months, he has systematically destroyed every good image I have had of him and that Saturday just confirmed everything.
When I couldn't sleep on Saturday night/Sunday morning, all I could think was "I feel so stupid. Why didn't I realise all of this earlier?"
Well, that's the story. My side of it anyway. I'm sure that he will try to drag my name through the mud. The people who know and love me will not believe what he says.
It ended a lot uglier than I had wanted. I had hoped that we would be friends in the future. That is not ever going to happen. Hopefully I will never see him again. I am never going to contact him again. I think there are still a few CD's of mine there, but I don't care. I will not try to get them from him. Call it collateral damage, casualities of war.
And I still haven't cried.
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