We Always Came Back To The Song We Were Singin’…

Lemme see . . . March 16th was when I found out about Drew’s father and told him.  That was a Tuesday.  Which would make that Friday the 19th.  I suppose I should backtrack to then.

Like I already mentioned in another entry, I talked to Drew’s ex.  On both the 24th of Feb., and the 10th of March.  The twent fourth was when I spoke to her about the necklaces.  The 10th was when I suggested myself to her as a buffer.  Someone who could pick up the kids from her and bring them to Drew so he could see them for a few hours without her around and then bring them back to her at whatever designated time.  Long story short, she didn’t go for it.  And to be honest, with the way that conversation went, I didn’t want there to be any further contact between us.  I figured I pushed my luck enough, let that be that.  I was going to admit to him that night that I’d talked to her, but he came home in such a bad mood from work that I didn’t want to add to it.  I figured just bide my time.  It was on the 13th that his father died and then the 16th that I found out and broke the news to him, which only strengthened my decision to hold off telling him, because I just couldn’t add more grief to his mind and heart.

I probably should’ve and just gotten it over with, because it may have gone slightly better than the way things actually played out.  On Friday, the 19th, I was closing in Atlantic Highlands, and around eleven-thirty, Drew calls me up.  I figured he just wanted to talk a bit, so I answered, a smile on my face, and said, "Hey, what’s up?"  But he sounded anything but friendly when the first words out of his mouth were, "Have you been talking to my ex?"

My mouth fell open and my eyes got big, before I shut them, and the words ‘Oh, my God…’ running through my head.  I couldn’t lie right to him, not with a point-blank question aimed at me like that, so I admitted, "Twice."

"What the F*&K are you doing talking to my ex?!?"

I can’t remember exactly what I said, it was probably the start of me begging him to let me explain things, but he didn’t listen.  Though I do remember he said that he was getting his stuff and moving out that night.  Anyway, he hung up on me.  We talked a couple more times over the next ten minutes or so, each time resulting in him hanging up on me, though sometimes it was simply because there was silence and instead of volunteering something else to say, he hung up.  But yeah, the remaining time at Domino’s was Hell.  I sped home that night to get home before him, even though I already knew I would, since he was coming from a further away store.

It got to be around two-thirty in the morning, I think, and he wasn’t home yet.  So, I screwed up my courage and called him.  He answered, and I said I just wanted to know if he was coming back to the apt that night.  He said yes and relief absolutely flooded through me.  But instead of going over the top with words, I simply said, "Okay.  I guess I’ll see you when you get here."  He didn’t reply, or maybe he just grunted, and we hung up.

Anyway, yeah . . .  That was not a good weekend for me.  He insisted we were over, we were done, he couldn’t trust me and once he lost trust for someone, that was it, they’d lost it forever, and I was feeling guilty and pretty much just emotionally destroyed.  Monday, I was at least feeling a bit more normal.  Still depressed, but at least looking towards the road to ‘okay.’  Until he sent me a text saying that his mom had invited him to live with her and he was thinking about it.  That just . . . once again, I felt destroyed from the inside out.  I could barely manage to work the remainder of the day.  I didnt want to work the remainder of the day.  But I had no choice.

The next day, Tuesday, was the worst by far.  Drew texted me and asked what I was up to that day and how was I?  I said I didn’t know and horrible.  He asked why horrible.  (To quote what Lindsay said when I told her he said that, "Uh, hello?")  Anyway, the conversation just kinda went downhill over the next hour or so.  It got to the point where it hurt so much emotionally, that I started feeling this tight knot right above my stomach.  I just couldn’t take it.  I haven’t been that depressed in my entire life, and I hadn’t dealt with really any kind of depression in almost two years.  Sure there have been times when I was sad about whatever, but those were nothing.  The last time I was really out-and-out depressed, and enough that I was scaring myself, was May of ’08.  The entire ending with Rob.  And where afterwards, I made it a point to stay away from sharp objects for awhile.

Well, I finally ended up saying, because I couldn’t stand being hurt anymore by what he was saying, goodbye and that what I meant was I was going to kill the pain I felt by any means necessary.  Yes, possibly an overdramatic statement, and definitely one that could be taken badly.  I did not want to die, I just want to make that clear.  I did not want to die, I was not threatening suicide.  I’m not that stupid or cowardly.  I suppose something in me, though, wanted to see what would happen if I caused myself physical pain, however.  Could physical pain, even temporarily, take away that all-encompassing emotional anguish?

I didn’t find out.  I didn’t do anything to myself.  Drew actually texted back after what I said and asked if he needed to call my parents or the police.  And I can’t remember the exact sequence of exchanges, but the upshot is I said I wasn’t home, and he said if he had to, he would leave work and come find me himself and that would really piss him off.  I remember my response to that word for word: "Then don’t come.  I feel guilty enough where you’re concerned."

He didn’t answer me, though, and about two hours later, he walked through the door into the apartment.  We talked/semi-argued that night and the next day, I actualy felt better.  Well, okay, not better-better, but I was nowhere near as bad off as on Tuesday.  Then, Wednesday night, he surprised me by texting me and asking me to fix him some of the chicken nuggets we had in the freezer.  I took this as a hopeful sign.  See, whenever we have an argument, he goes on this whole ‘have to do everything for myself’ kick.  He won’t let me do anything for him, even something as simple as making coffee.  So him asking me to do that was really encouraging to me.  It gave me some hope that maybe things could be okay.

Okay, so that Wednesday was the 24th.  The following Tuesday, the 30th, the DM calls me up and tells me they’re doing some manager switching and I’m being moved to Eatontown.  Okay, whatever.  Well, because of which store Drew got moved to, we both had off the next day.  Unfortunately, we spent it arguing, fighting, talking, fighting, arguing, talking, and then finally . . . talking.  We were in his truck that night, on the way home from Burger King, when I asked him, "Do you want to lose me?"  And he said no.  Then I asked him how he felt about me, and he gave some kind of response, like he couldn’t believe I was asking him that?  And I said, "Well, I don’t know!  I don’t know what goes on in your head, I don’t know how you feel about me, if you feel anything for me, I don’t know!"  And he kinda sighs/growls, and says, "I love you, and I want to be with you, but you’re a pain in my ass!!"

I actually kinda laughed at that, and said, "Okay, so we’re in agreement, then.  We love each other, we want to be with the other, and we’re a pain in the other’s ass."

And Friday night, he let me sleep in there with him again.    And thus, the Hedgehog was happy.

I expect it to be slow-going.  I don’t expect to regain his trust overnight.  But then, in the course of that day-long argument on Wednesday, I think I finally got him to see that he’s also done things to me that he had no right to do.  Yet I’m not condemning him.

Anyway, though, we’re still in a relationship, and I think our bonds will be stronger for getting through this.  If I could go back, I would still never have done it, but at the same time, I think us getting through this was a good test.  Relationships have to withstand challenges.  Otherwise, how do you know how strong they truly are?

I admit, there are things that get me.  He’s afraid, plain and simple.  He was engaged and the woman broke off the engagement a month before the wedding and he never heard from her again.  Only got a note from her that she was breaking things off.  Then, his first mariage fell apart because she picked her parents over him.  His second marriage fell apart because she cheated two months in.  His third . . . well, there’s a space limit on these entries, so I can’t even scratch the surface of why that one fell apart.  And those are only the major ones that I know about.  I know he had a girlfriend who saw the different swords he had at the time, and she broke up with him because she didn’t like that he was interested in weaponry.

Despite the facade he puts up of being fine, having gotten over these things, etc., he’s scared to death.  He doesn’t want anyone to get close to him because he’s so terrified of being hurt again.  On top of that is the fact that he believes he’s the screw-up, that he’s not worth anything, and that any kind of relationship he gets into will eventually end, and end badly.  That’s why he flip-flops so much where I’m concerned.  He truly does care.  And that’s why he pulls back so often.  I truly think that some small, (or not so small,) part of him would rather see me unhappy without him, than unhappy with him.  He’d rather know that I was depressed for awhile, having lost him, and then that I moved on with my life and found someone ‘less damaged,’ or ‘better suited to me,’ or some such.  He’d rather that, than to know that I stuck things out with him, but months or years down the line, woke up one day and thought to myself, "What the Hell did I do?  I don’t wanna be with this guy!" and it turn out like every other relationship he’s had.

He doesn’t know how to just have faith in another person because he expects betrayal.  He expects to get screwed over.  He expects that the person will eventually want to be rid of him.

I can’t help remembering how much convincing Mike had to do with me to show me that I wasn’t worthless.  That I was someone worth knowing, worth caring about, worth loving.  It took him years.  And I can’t help wondering how much longer it would have taken him if I’d had other relationships behind me besides the thing with Will, and if Mike and I had been about two decades older.  How much harder for him would it have been?  Would he have managed it at all?

Some part of Drew has clung to the fading hope that someday, someone will see him as a person of worth.  If that wasn’t the case, he wouldn’t care so much about people.  He wuldn’t try to help others, provide advice, or suggest things that may help make their lives easier.  He cares.  True, that caring may have something of an ulterior motive; it may be that he cares simply because he’s looking for gratification, but I don’t think that’s it.  Not entirely.  But he does want to be seen as someone worth appreciating, because he doesn’t feel anyone has ever done it before.  And I must admit, the things that he tells have happened to him, it doesn’t seem like he’s been appreciated much, if ever, in his life.

But I do.  And I don’t care how long it takes.  Somehow, I’ll prove that to him.