Picking up where I left off.
Sunday, June 8th
I didn't sleep at all the night before, so each bus ride was done in the blink of an eye. When I got off the bus in Schenectady, Jess was sitting there and waiting. Because of the night before, I held her hand but stayed somewhat distant. I just wanted to take care of business. I wasn't happy to already be back in the 518 and I hadn't gotten enough distance from Jess, as much as I did truly miss her every single day. I had a few responsibilities being back in town:
1.) Sign paperwork for inheritance;
2.) Attend my grandmother's wake and funeral;
3.) Get my digital camera and phone back from the police;
4.) Grab some things from storage.
We walked to my grandmother's house, where I walked in to my Aunt Patty, Uncle Chris, his son, and my grandmother's dead son's ex-wife, standing around the kitchen table, smoking cigarettes and sharing some beers. I didn't really feel comfortable, as I never had around much of my family. The reality of my grandmother's passing became increasingly solidified as the minutes without her in the house passed. I got right to it and signed some paperwork as one of my grandmother's beneficiaries. The concept of getting money from someone's death was disturbing to me, though I knew deep down that any extra money could really help with the moving situation. My aunt was taking care of almost everything, including the funeral, the legal documents, and the sale of the house. She did not know how much I was being left, though, because it was all a matter of what was left over after the wake and funeral costs, which wound up amounting to around a disgusting $3,500.
They told me about my parents' antics leading up to my grandmother's death. Not only had they moved themselves into the house the week before her death and made themselves nice and comfortable up in her bedroom since she couldn't get herself up the stairs, but they had gotten loaded the entire time and used her credit card to finance their partying like suburban kids. My grandmother was an adamant teetotaler, so it was incredibly disrespectful for them to be drinking beers a floor above her dying body. When my aunt and uncle came in to start getting things situated after her death, they had to clean out garbage bags of empty bottles from her bedroom. They also got the bill for her credit card, which they had liberally charged alcohol and take-out food to. Completely unrelated, my uncle felt it necessary to chime in, "David, ya know, I can't believe you're vegan; you've put on a lotta weight." We got a ride to Price Chopper so we could get some food in the fridge for ourselves and then we were left in the house together. We sat on the couch and talked. It remained civil. Unfortunately, it wasn't long before the chaos of being in my hometown commenced.
My aunt called me to warn me about my father. My mother called her and told her he was out to "fuck me up", especially if he saw me in his mother's house, which he now had his own key to. For some reason, my grandmother had left 50% of the house to him, the other half going to my aunt. I started panicking and pacing. I grabbed a frying pan from the wall and prepared to have to bludgeon my father when and if he showed up. My grandmother had just died. My girlfriend was connected to child pornography. I was in the middle of trying to move to another state. I just didn't have it in me to even try to deal with potentially having to fight my father, who is not only a psychopath, but also way larger than me. I decided to leave and try to find a hotel to stay in. First, I tried the Days Inn, but it was $100 a night. So I moved on to the America's Best Value, one of the many sketchy motels on State Street popular amongst prostitutes and other street entrepreneurs. They had me at the bargain price of $80. I couldn't believe I was paying that much to spend a night in a smelly room in Schenectady. At least I had Jess with me, who told me she was allowed to not return to the women's shelter. Well, when I asked, she technically said, "They won't throw my stuff out as long as I come back within three days." We had a really great, passionate night together. We had sex three times.
I called my aunt to let her know where I was and she told me that it was a good thing I had left when I did. My parents wound up at the house shortly after I got out of there. They had kidnapped my grandmother's beloved dog, Lily, claiming that my grandmother had wanted them to have her. I knew for a fact that this wasn't true, since my grandmother had spent the last year talking about her own death and had always said Lily would go to my aunt, whose house is already full of animal companions. Obviously, my parents were juvenile delinquents and couldn't even take care of themselves, so why would they inherit a dog? My aunt had to threaten them with the police, which spoke volumes since my father still had a warrant out for his arrest, and when they went to their house to retrieve Lily, my mother punched my uncle in the face a couple times. My parents lacked a conscience, clearly, and nothing about real life was capable of bringing them down to earth. I knew my parents were awful people, but seeing their behavior around the passing of my grandmother showed that I didn't even know how scummy they could actually be.
Monday, June 9th
Jess and I went to Bombers and ate. I had no idea what to do. What was once the safest place and last resort I had in the entire city had been turned into a threat thanks to my parents. The cruel irony was that I had somewhere to live in a better place now. Matt showed up a little later with his father to pick me up. They were offering to let me stay at their house for the night. But when he showed up, Jess dropped a bomb on me: unbeknownst to me, because she did not return to the shelter the night before, she was technically kicked out by default and had to go through the whole process again to maybe get back in there. She had lied by omission the night before when I asked if it was alright for her to stay with me. Even worse, she was acting outraged that I was about to leave with Matt when she suddenly didn't know what her situation was. I tried to hug her goodbye, but she didn't hug back. As I neared the door, she whimpered, "You're just gonna leave me here?" Her guilt-trip worked, even though it was infuriating. I told Matt to leave without me and in that instant accepted that what I thought was only my problem was now ours. I now was given the responsibility of babysitting Jess, I felt. Part of me suspected she did it on purpose.
I unhappily joined her on the walk back to DSS where she had to recertify for shelter assistance. We argued the whole way there as I yelled at her for not prioritizing her son, for making terrible decisions at every opportunity, and for expecting me to be there to help at my own expense. Suddenly, a city marked van pulled up to us. It was her case worker from CPS, Jon, and an older woman. They met us around the corner and Jon basically repeated everything I had just screamed at her, except he added that she was, "running back to places she told him weren't good." I wasn't sure what that meant, but it had me paranoid she was talking badly about me. I knew from her that she'd already complained about me "abandoning her" to several people. I sat at DSS with her for two fucking hours while people who reeked of weed sat around me, women screamed entire conversations, and babies cried like they were being boiled alive. I was powerless to her and I couldn't even justify why to myself anymore. I tried to make the best of it and have a normal conversation with her as we sat there. I mentioned something to her about how the parents in Philly acted like real parents, but she responded in a sarcastic, uninterested, bitterly jealous way: "Yeah, I know, everything is perfect in Philly," while rolling her eyes and sighing. She had done this every time I mentioned anything good about being in Philly whenever I'd talk to her on the phone. It became clear that I wasn't able to talk to her about good things because she resented me for having it a tad bit better than her at the moment. So I sat outside in the rain and read instead of being anywhere near her. From DSS, I called my aunt. My grandmother's wake was that day and I already didn't want to go to it just because I don't really believe in any death traditions. More than that, though, I was afraid of seeing my parents and needed to be with Jess. So I told her I wasn't coming.
In the end, she was rejected. First, they told her they, at best, couldn't help again for thirty days. She cried a lot while waiting to be called in for a one-on-one meeting. They offered her ten days at a hotel three buses away that operated on the side as a shelter of sorts, which had several people in a room at a time. This wasn't good enough for her. I was amazed at how she could still have standards despite her predicament. We argued on the way out about it and she decided right away that she'd rather be on the streets than at this hotel. I felt like I had to suffer with her because I loved her. Maybe I loved her more than I loved myself.
I walked back to the shelter with her so she could gather all of her belongings into one piece of children's rolling luggage and two big garbage bags. Within minutes of walking up the street, one tore right open and her clothes went everywhere. So we combined everything into the other bag and I carried it. I went to the police department and, thanks to coincidence, I actually saw Detective Sherman outside as I got up to the front steps. I talked to him for a few minutes and, once again thanks to the power of annoyance, was told he'd write a note to release my camera to me so I could get it the next day. It turned out that it wasn't in the custody of the state police, as he'd been claiming; it was suddenly right there in their evidence room. As for my phone, I had to get a hold of Detective McCabe, the one who'd confiscated it from Jess. Just my luck, he was on vacation for a fucking week. At least I accomplished one thing, I told myself, though it wasn't much of a consolation. Lastly, we went to Jessica Ampersand's house where I had a free government phone sent for Jess. It had finally come.
We returned to Bombers because we had nowhere else to go. Jess made us sandwiches. My Uncle Carmen, my mother's brother, and his girlfriend Tracy came in. They were surprised I wasn't at the wake. As they explained to me, they were dressed up and about to leave their house when my mother called them and told them to not go. Apparently, my mother and father hadn't gone to the wake and they had actually been calling other relatives and telling them not to show up. None of my siblings went, either. I didn't hold any respect for the sanctity of death traditions, but the act itself was appalling. Tia's boy thing, Andrew, offered us a place to stay that night, thankfully, so we took a bus to Albany and he picked us up. We hung out with him in his pristine bedroom for a few hours before falling asleep on his floor. He was very accommodating and nice to talk to.
Tuesday, June 10th
When we got back to Schenectady, I ditched my grandmother's funeral. The bag we were carrying all of Jess's clothes in had completely torn, so I went hunting for a shopping cart. As I tried to steal one from a bottle redemption center, the owner came over and asked where I was taking it. I lied and told him I was picking up several bags of bottles and cans not too far away. When we came passing by a few minutes later with our belongings in it instead, he was waiting at the entrance of the parking lot. I had to give it back to him and he wasn't happy. I got a new garbage bag from an automotive guy, though. My Uncle Chris picked us up and brought us to a diner they were eating at with some other family members. Jess waited in the parking lot while I signed some other paper they forgot to give me. We got a ride back to my grandmother's house where I grabbed my traveling pack and gave it to Jess to make walking around with everything all the time easier for her.
From there, we went to Bombers. I took everything out of my bank account so I'd have it in Philadelphia. I returned to the police department and got my digital camera back. When they handed it over to me, it was in an evidence bag, her son's name next to the line, "VICTIM". I went to the Stolen Cellphone Store and talked him into giving me a loan phone until I got my real one back from the police. We went to the mall in Rotterdam and I bought Jess a new pair of sneakers since she only had boots and they were giving her bulbous blisters on her heels. We ate dinner at Subway with egg rolls on the side and saw Neighbors in the movie theaters. I felt like we were having a really great day together. I was feeling pretty calm and safe around her. Even though I didn't necessarily feel like leaving her behind for Philadelphia was the wrong thing to do, I did feel a vague sense of guilt over it and responsibility for her. Even if most of these problems were her fault, I acknowledged she was sick and was suffering immeasurably. I still loved her, so I did what I could to help in any way possible while I was there. At times, worrying about her was better than worrying about myself and my own problems.
But at the end of the day when we got back to Bombers, things took a turn. While sitting there, she got a call from an internet friend who had just moved to Philadelphia, where she asked if it'd be possible to move in with her until she got on her feet. This was neither a good nor practical idea, but I let her go along with it, hoping it wouldn't work out. One thing that bothered me about her half of the conversation was that, once it was brought up that I left without her, she responded, "It's mostly my fault," instead of with the truth, which was that it was all her fault and she was connected to child pornography. After she got off the phone, she came out of nowhere and said, "Could you please stop checking out every fucking girl that walks by right in front of me?!" I looked at her and laughed, then asked, "Are you being serious?" She was, and no assurance that I wasn't doing that or keeping my cool to give her an opportunity to come to her senses was going to help her get over it. Yes, I have a wandering eye, but I look at everyone up and down. I'm a people-watcher, and my anxiety has my eyes constantly floating around nervously in public places. I swore to her, and still do as I type this, I was not and would not check out other girls right in front of her. Honestly, I had no interest in other girls when she was with me. Why would I?
The more I denied doing it, the more upset she got. Next, she was telling me she hated Andrew, which really pissed me off because he was so nice for giving us a place to stay for a night. To her, though, "there was something off about him," because he was on two certain medications she knew about. Yes, she of all people was judging someone else based on their medication. When I brought up how shitty that was of her, she said she wasn't judging him based on that, just that there was something she didn't trust about him... based on that detail. She wasn't making any sense. She wanted to stick to her opinion while also denying it because it was so hypocritical and unfairly judgmental. She then started ranting about how he wasn't vegan yet. If she were him, she would have let us stay at her place for a whole week! She was such a fucking brat and a total asshole. It was really getting to me, so I angrily told her he was a far better person than her: no matter what issues he must have had at one point, at least he got his shit together and knew how to treat people. As this was happening, I was texting with Grace, who knew my predicament and wanted to help if she could. She was offering to talk to her mom and arrange it so we could stay at her house. She wouldn't be there, but she was pretty sure her parents would be willing to be there for me. "We might have a place to stay tonight," I told her. But when I told her where, she was livid.
"I'm not hanging out with her!"
"No, she won't be there. She's three hours away in Ithaca."
"I don't care, I'm not going there."
She was freaking out about this as I was typing to Grace that I wasn't going to take her up on the offer unless Jess could stay with me; it was either both of us or neither of us, I told her, and she had no problem with that. But, once again, circumstances were not perfect for Jess and therefore were unacceptable; no compromise possible. It eventually turned into an argument about me still talking to Grace, even though we'd had that exact argument already.
"You keep talking to her and we're done!"
I looked at her and said, "After all I've done for you, after all I've let slide, you're willing to throw our relationship away over this?"
She nodded, affirmative and satisfied. I told Grace to never mind the offer. When she asked me what was wrong, I told her I didn't want to talk about it. Jess kept pushing the issue, anyway, but as much as I'd already depleted any remaining self-respect I had at the feet of Jess, I had a line. Like Jess's line was drawn at physically molesting her own son, my line was being told who I was allowed to be friends with. I told her outright there was no way I would stop talking to Grace or anyone else I was already friends with.
"So you'd choose her over me?! Shows how much you love me!"
"I'm not choosing her over you; I'm choosing me over you. A good partner would not try to dictate who I was allowed to be friends with."
She kept pulling the love card, when I could just as easily turn it around on her. I didn't, though, because I was a decent human being. I sank in my seat and deflated. I felt so stupid for giving her another chance. I'd lost count of how many I'd already given her. I felt so stupid for continuing to invest so much of myself in our one-sided relationship, not just emotionally, but financially. How could I give someone so much of myself and they still treat me like this? What the fuck was wrong with her? Or was there just something wrong with me? I said all of this to her, but she felt no remorse. I didn't know what else to say, so I stopped responding.
That's when she got louder and stormed out of the restaurant as people stared at me. Once she realized I wasn't following behind her, she returned, unapologetic. She started threatening to call up the alcoholic traveler kids she met to stay with them in their tent in whatever backyard they were crashing in. I couldn't believe what was going on, even though none of it should have surprised me at that point. I looked at her and said, "I'm glad you were able to get some more out of me before you did all this." I was devastated. Out of nowhere, she then said, "By the way, you have no permission to ever write about me!" I looked at her and just kept spilling my guts: "You're breaking my heart over and over and over again."
"That's a little ridiculous."
As she got louder and people stared more, I left out of fear of eventually getting kicked out or being confronted for abusing her. I didn't know where to go, so I went up a block and sat on a stoop outside of a closed bank. I cried to myself a little as she followed me and berated me for my behavior. I started telling her, "You don't love me. You never loved me. You've been using me this entire time." It had become the only way I could make sense of her dating me at all and then putting me through this. It became clear that the only time she was a suitable partner was when everything was going precisely her way. As soon as I got out of line, whether it be not giving her something or rejecting her orders, she became a monster.
She then began threatening to leave me there, but she had to be manipulative about it, trying to force me into a position where I'd technically be the one deciding that she goes. I continued to just speak my mind and avoid eye contact, telling her over and over, "You've been using me this entire time. You never loved me."
"Do you really believe that? Tell me right now. If you do, I'm leaving!"
She wanted me to decide for her for some sick, twisted reason. But I wouldn't answer. I told her that if she wanted to leave, she was going to make that decision on her own. She started telling me to "shut the fuck up" a lot and then started saying outlandish things like, "All I wanna do is get drunk right now!" She littered right in front of me, too, saying, "Who cares?" when I said something about it. I stood in a doorway of a closed mental health building, ironically enough, and thought long and hard about what I should do as she came up with new and creative things to say to hurt me. Eventually, I thought I had it figured out and asked her to approach me.
I asked her, "What I'm doing with you is unhealthy, do you agree?"
She did.
"I have far surpassed what most would consider being a good person, haven't I?"
She agreed.
"I deserve better, don't you agree?"
She did.
"This relationship is over. I can't do this anymore."
"PEACE, DUDE!" and she started scrambling away. I tried to call her back, but told myself I wouldn't chase her. I called Matt and told him I needed a friend desperately. Without question, he said he'd meet me at Denny's. When Jess saw me on the phone, she started frantically screaming the question, "WHO THE FUCK WAS THAT?! WHO ARE YOU GOING TO MEET?!" over and over.
"Why does it matter?"
Her first suspect was Grace, even though I'd already told her she was three hours away.
"Is it Grace?! I was just about to apologize and say I don't care if you're friends with her!"
She sat down and cried. I stood over her and said, "I want you to fight for me this time."
She asked what I wanted her to do; she'd do anything, she promised.
"If you want to be with me, you'll shut up and come to Denny's with me. I'm meeting Matt."
"I don't want to hang out with him! It'll be so awkward!"
"I don't care. If you wanna fight for me, you'll deal with it."
She followed. Halfway there, she started to tell me that I should just suck it up and go to my grandmother's. If my father showed up, I should just fight him or call the cops. I couldn't believe that she would expect that of me. When I told her that what she was saying was the same as me asking her to go back to her parents' house despite their history of abuse, and that I'd already interacted with cops way more than I'd ever felt morally comfortable with for her, she instead tried to tell me I was a hypocrite because I had dialed 911 to get her taken to a hospital. I started walking away from her as fast as I could. "I'm not chasing after you!" she yelled to me. I kept going, whispering to myself out loud, "Don't turn around, don't turn around, don't turn around..." A block or more away, she let out a long shrill of a scream at the top of her lungs. She reeled me back in. When she caught back up, I simply reiterated that it was time for her to fight because I was done. I hung out at Denny's with Matt and talked to him about what had been going on as if she wasn't there. That wasn't all I did, though, and she even found herself participating in the conversations like everything was okay. But around 3, she was tired and it was time to go. I told her I wasn't ready to go, wasn't tired, and didn't particularly want to sleep on the streets of Schenectady at night. She freaked out and said she "needed sleep" like she'd die without it if she didn't get it exactly when she wanted it and resorted to manipulative threats again: if I didn't leave with her, she was going without me. So she stormed out and I didn't follow.
Wednesday, June 11th
As the sun came up, rain began to come down. She never came back and I was beginning to worry as it neared time for me to leave the diner. I used their phone to call her cellphone and found out she was sleeping behind the dumpster in the parking lot. It was raining and cold. I went to the first sheltered place that came to mind: a little alcove that lead to an abandoned building's doors that I'd slept in before. It was dusty and had the overwhelming ammonia smell of human urine filling it, but it was all I could think of. After a while, I decided to walk up to the little park and try the gazebo. It kept us dry, so she laid down. I couldn't sleep. I looked at her sleeping body and felt like I hated her. Mosquitoes bit me and her body began twitching with shivers. I did eventually fall asleep on one of the two benches, but the cold woke me up not too long after. I gave up and decided we'd go to my grandmother's. As soon as I walked through the door, I was stricken with panic. The house was empty, but not knowing when or if my parents would show up and violently attack me had me terrified. I couldn't fall back asleep even in the bed, so I called my sister and asked her if she knew anything. She avoided them for the most part, so she didn't know much, but she did ask my mother about it, leading to a phone call and message on the answering machine denying that anyone was out to get me, accusing my aunt of lying (she wasn't), and claiming that they didn't go to the wake because my aunt and uncle threatened to have cops waiting for my father at it (they didn't). It was at least enough to calm me to sleep.
Two government agents came and picked Jess up for some interrogation. My aunt called and told me my father had left a message saying he was going to "set the house on fire" if he found out I was in it. So I left and waited at Bombers for Jess to meet back up with me. The agents spoke to me for a few minutes. I talked to Tia on the phone for a little while about everything that had happened and all that I was feeling. The more I told her about what Jess was putting me through and how I still felt like I couldn't let go, the more sad and disappointed she sounded. In the end, the closest justification I could muster was that she was ill, and that someone ill who was an otherwise amazing person deserved to have loyalty and support; that I could overlook everything because I knew who she was capable of being. I had to be honest, though: at the same time, I feared that maybe I was just deathly afraid of being alone again. Back at my grandmother's, I had come up with an ultimatum to introduce to her. I asked her to sit on the bed with me and let me talk.
The first thing I said was, "I'm going to go back to Philadelphia without you." Before I could say anything else, she exploded. For some reason, me returning to Philadelphia wasn't already obvious to her; she had somehow concluded that I'd stay in the area with/for her. She started screaming, running in and out of the bedroom, stomping around, and telling me I was a "cold, heartless asshole". She got so scary and loud that I told her she had to leave. She crossed her arms and firmly said she wasn't going anywhere. I threw all of her shit out onto the porch and tried to push her outside. When I successfully got her out there, she started putting on her shoes... but then I told her to come back in. I felt like I hated her again. I hated myself more, though.
Thursday, June 12th
Jess spoke with CPS and was given another chance at the women's shelter. It was a huge burden off my chest knowing that I could go back to only worrying about the logistics of my own life and that she'd have somewhere stable and mildly safe to be. While she was out doing that, I met up with Grace and her friend Kara at Bombers. I caught her up with everything and didn't hold back describing in graphic detail just how pathetic I was. This was a side of me that none of my close friends had ever seen before. Jess and I met up at Taj Mahal, my favorite local Indian restaurant. There, I was able to finally give her the full ultimatum: I was going back to Philadelphia and still wanted to be with her, but this was her last chance. If she screwed up again in any way, we were done, I told her. If she wanted to be with me, it was her turn to fight. She had to do whatever it took to not only get her son back, but to get me back. Back at my grandmother's, things were surprisingly peaceful. She had to take the bus downtown at 10 to make it to the shelter before her 11 o'clock curfew.
Friday, June 13th
The agents interrogated her again. Walking downtown, I saw a girl I recognized from a long time ago whose Clone High DVD I never returned. I don't remember her name, but she apparently was still very upset about not getting her DVD back. Once she realized it was me, she yelled, "HOW'RE MY DVDS?!"
I looked at her confused and said, "I... dunno?" I couldn't believe she was bringing something up from 2006. She looked genuinely pissed off like it had just happened yesterday.
"YOU LOST THEM?! WHAT DID YOU DO WITH THEM; EAT THEM?!"
I just kept walking, caught off guard and unsure of how to even respond to such a display as she repeated, "DID YOU EAT THEM?!" several more times.
Jess joined me as I ran some errands. When we got back to the house, we watched several hours in a row of Ridiculousness on TV. Out of curiosity, I listened to the voice mails that were still left on my grandmother's phone. Most of them were from my mother, all of them clearly while she was drinking from the last week or two. She relayed some vile low blows to my aunt on a few of them, telling her, "Your mother didn't even like you. She said you were a whore." In another, she offered my aunt $3,000 for Lily, my grandmother's dog. "Y'all are just bad people. She wanted us to have that dog. The dog would live a better life here." One was for me, threatening to have me arrested for trespassing if they found me in the house. She did wind up showing up at the house while I was there, but I wasn't attacked or arrested. Instead, she went on incoherent tirades about my aunt and tried to quote my grandmother, saying she told her things in confidence. "I don't want to hear things that my grandmother probably never said to you." She said things that didn't make sense, like, "Don't pay for the funeral, david!" She noticed my grandmother's tiny television set had been removed from the kitchen and sobbed, "They took her TV?!" I looked at her and said, "What else was it supposed to do, sit here forever?" I told her before she left, "I'm glad there's no afterlife. She'd be so upset if she had to see what you've done since her death."
Jess and I had a good two days in a row together. I was hoping that the ultimatum had actually had a positive impact on her. As anyone in their right mind who may be reading this can assume, though, it didn't last.
Monday, June 16th
I met Jess downtown and we went to Happy Cappuccino to sit around. It wasn't long before she was suddenly accusing me of looking at some girl outside of the window we were near. I denied it, I tried to remind her it was her last chance and that she needed to slow down and realize what she was doing, but she persisted. She had a job interview at some pharmaceutical warehouse that day and I had told her I'd go with her, but after the fight she started about something that had just been resolved a few nights before, even when faced with her last chance, I told her I wasn't going. She lost her mind and told me she wasn't going to the interview unless I came with her. She tried to say whatever I wanted to hear, suddenly claiming she trusted me and whatever, but at the same exact time couldn't put her ego to the side enough to admit that I wasn't looking at some other girl right in front of her. I called her a cab to take her to the job interview, since she was at that point running too late to walk there, and told her to wait outside of Bombers. She started screaming at me right there, refusing to take the jacket I had brought her for rainy days. When the cab pulled up, I repeated that I wasn't coming with her, which resulted in her not going. She had already gotten into the car, but flipped out as I handed her a $20 bill. I had to cancel the cab, she didn't go to the interview, and I told her I was going home and for her to not come with me.
She followed me, repeating "what-the-fucks". I didn't want to feed into her anymore. I was too weak to live up to my own ultimatum and tell her it was over. No matter how I responded, it'd be the wrong choice for me and for her. What it came down to was that she wasn't getting her way. So I just sat at the bus stop and remained silent as she tried everything she could think of. First, it was saying the meanest thing she could think of: "Do you know how many guys would have sucked it up and come with me?" Next, it was threats: "If you get on that bus, I'm coming, too." I eventually told her to go find one of those guys who would have sucked it up for her. I just wanted her to fucking disappear. Because she threatened to follow me, I passed up two buses home. I just sat there. I didn't know what to do. I felt like she was a disease I had, even though I had more control than I'd allow myself to exercise. I went to eat at Taj Mahal again. Yes, she followed right behind. When we got there, I ordered, and she had the nerve to say, "You're not gonna share?!" once I got my food.
Her face was red and moist with tears and the nice man who owned the place noticed. He asked her if she was okay and then brought her black tea, saying it would help. Then he brought her some garlic and told her it was an anti-depressant. Then he brought her a salad. She said all the typical shit once she calmed down and realized I was sticking with how cold and distant I was acting. I didn't really respond to any of it. In the end, I bought her food like an idiot.
Grace told me a few days prior that the naan there now contained yogurt, so I asked the owner about it. He confirmed that it did, saying it was to ensure the bread lasted longer when sitting out for buffets. I told him it was really a shame, that using dairy was unnecessary, and that a lot of my vegan friends were going to be really disappointed. He came back out with his wife, who manages the kitchen, and they told us they were experimenting with new recipes with their new cook. I reminded them that a lot of vegans came there to eat regularly and that dairy was both unhealthier and bad for cows. They assured me there on the spot that after that day they would no longer be using dairy in their naan.
One of the agents called me while we were there and said I could come to the station and pick up my phone. I tried to coast on the victory of getting my phone back and getting dairy out of Taj Mahal's naan, but they were too little to overpower how destroyed I was inside.
I didn't sleep at all the night before, so each bus ride was done in the blink of an eye. When I got off the bus in Schenectady, Jess was sitting there and waiting. Because of the night before, I held her hand but stayed somewhat distant. I just wanted to take care of business. I wasn't happy to already be back in the 518 and I hadn't gotten enough distance from Jess, as much as I did truly miss her every single day. I had a few responsibilities being back in town:
1.) Sign paperwork for inheritance;
2.) Attend my grandmother's wake and funeral;
3.) Get my digital camera and phone back from the police;
4.) Grab some things from storage.
We walked to my grandmother's house, where I walked in to my Aunt Patty, Uncle Chris, his son, and my grandmother's dead son's ex-wife, standing around the kitchen table, smoking cigarettes and sharing some beers. I didn't really feel comfortable, as I never had around much of my family. The reality of my grandmother's passing became increasingly solidified as the minutes without her in the house passed. I got right to it and signed some paperwork as one of my grandmother's beneficiaries. The concept of getting money from someone's death was disturbing to me, though I knew deep down that any extra money could really help with the moving situation. My aunt was taking care of almost everything, including the funeral, the legal documents, and the sale of the house. She did not know how much I was being left, though, because it was all a matter of what was left over after the wake and funeral costs, which wound up amounting to around a disgusting $3,500.
They told me about my parents' antics leading up to my grandmother's death. Not only had they moved themselves into the house the week before her death and made themselves nice and comfortable up in her bedroom since she couldn't get herself up the stairs, but they had gotten loaded the entire time and used her credit card to finance their partying like suburban kids. My grandmother was an adamant teetotaler, so it was incredibly disrespectful for them to be drinking beers a floor above her dying body. When my aunt and uncle came in to start getting things situated after her death, they had to clean out garbage bags of empty bottles from her bedroom. They also got the bill for her credit card, which they had liberally charged alcohol and take-out food to. Completely unrelated, my uncle felt it necessary to chime in, "David, ya know, I can't believe you're vegan; you've put on a lotta weight." We got a ride to Price Chopper so we could get some food in the fridge for ourselves and then we were left in the house together. We sat on the couch and talked. It remained civil. Unfortunately, it wasn't long before the chaos of being in my hometown commenced.
My aunt called me to warn me about my father. My mother called her and told her he was out to "fuck me up", especially if he saw me in his mother's house, which he now had his own key to. For some reason, my grandmother had left 50% of the house to him, the other half going to my aunt. I started panicking and pacing. I grabbed a frying pan from the wall and prepared to have to bludgeon my father when and if he showed up. My grandmother had just died. My girlfriend was connected to child pornography. I was in the middle of trying to move to another state. I just didn't have it in me to even try to deal with potentially having to fight my father, who is not only a psychopath, but also way larger than me. I decided to leave and try to find a hotel to stay in. First, I tried the Days Inn, but it was $100 a night. So I moved on to the America's Best Value, one of the many sketchy motels on State Street popular amongst prostitutes and other street entrepreneurs. They had me at the bargain price of $80. I couldn't believe I was paying that much to spend a night in a smelly room in Schenectady. At least I had Jess with me, who told me she was allowed to not return to the women's shelter. Well, when I asked, she technically said, "They won't throw my stuff out as long as I come back within three days." We had a really great, passionate night together. We had sex three times.
I called my aunt to let her know where I was and she told me that it was a good thing I had left when I did. My parents wound up at the house shortly after I got out of there. They had kidnapped my grandmother's beloved dog, Lily, claiming that my grandmother had wanted them to have her. I knew for a fact that this wasn't true, since my grandmother had spent the last year talking about her own death and had always said Lily would go to my aunt, whose house is already full of animal companions. Obviously, my parents were juvenile delinquents and couldn't even take care of themselves, so why would they inherit a dog? My aunt had to threaten them with the police, which spoke volumes since my father still had a warrant out for his arrest, and when they went to their house to retrieve Lily, my mother punched my uncle in the face a couple times. My parents lacked a conscience, clearly, and nothing about real life was capable of bringing them down to earth. I knew my parents were awful people, but seeing their behavior around the passing of my grandmother showed that I didn't even know how scummy they could actually be.
Monday, June 9th
Jess and I went to Bombers and ate. I had no idea what to do. What was once the safest place and last resort I had in the entire city had been turned into a threat thanks to my parents. The cruel irony was that I had somewhere to live in a better place now. Matt showed up a little later with his father to pick me up. They were offering to let me stay at their house for the night. But when he showed up, Jess dropped a bomb on me: unbeknownst to me, because she did not return to the shelter the night before, she was technically kicked out by default and had to go through the whole process again to maybe get back in there. She had lied by omission the night before when I asked if it was alright for her to stay with me. Even worse, she was acting outraged that I was about to leave with Matt when she suddenly didn't know what her situation was. I tried to hug her goodbye, but she didn't hug back. As I neared the door, she whimpered, "You're just gonna leave me here?" Her guilt-trip worked, even though it was infuriating. I told Matt to leave without me and in that instant accepted that what I thought was only my problem was now ours. I now was given the responsibility of babysitting Jess, I felt. Part of me suspected she did it on purpose.
I unhappily joined her on the walk back to DSS where she had to recertify for shelter assistance. We argued the whole way there as I yelled at her for not prioritizing her son, for making terrible decisions at every opportunity, and for expecting me to be there to help at my own expense. Suddenly, a city marked van pulled up to us. It was her case worker from CPS, Jon, and an older woman. They met us around the corner and Jon basically repeated everything I had just screamed at her, except he added that she was, "running back to places she told him weren't good." I wasn't sure what that meant, but it had me paranoid she was talking badly about me. I knew from her that she'd already complained about me "abandoning her" to several people. I sat at DSS with her for two fucking hours while people who reeked of weed sat around me, women screamed entire conversations, and babies cried like they were being boiled alive. I was powerless to her and I couldn't even justify why to myself anymore. I tried to make the best of it and have a normal conversation with her as we sat there. I mentioned something to her about how the parents in Philly acted like real parents, but she responded in a sarcastic, uninterested, bitterly jealous way: "Yeah, I know, everything is perfect in Philly," while rolling her eyes and sighing. She had done this every time I mentioned anything good about being in Philly whenever I'd talk to her on the phone. It became clear that I wasn't able to talk to her about good things because she resented me for having it a tad bit better than her at the moment. So I sat outside in the rain and read instead of being anywhere near her. From DSS, I called my aunt. My grandmother's wake was that day and I already didn't want to go to it just because I don't really believe in any death traditions. More than that, though, I was afraid of seeing my parents and needed to be with Jess. So I told her I wasn't coming.
In the end, she was rejected. First, they told her they, at best, couldn't help again for thirty days. She cried a lot while waiting to be called in for a one-on-one meeting. They offered her ten days at a hotel three buses away that operated on the side as a shelter of sorts, which had several people in a room at a time. This wasn't good enough for her. I was amazed at how she could still have standards despite her predicament. We argued on the way out about it and she decided right away that she'd rather be on the streets than at this hotel. I felt like I had to suffer with her because I loved her. Maybe I loved her more than I loved myself.
I walked back to the shelter with her so she could gather all of her belongings into one piece of children's rolling luggage and two big garbage bags. Within minutes of walking up the street, one tore right open and her clothes went everywhere. So we combined everything into the other bag and I carried it. I went to the police department and, thanks to coincidence, I actually saw Detective Sherman outside as I got up to the front steps. I talked to him for a few minutes and, once again thanks to the power of annoyance, was told he'd write a note to release my camera to me so I could get it the next day. It turned out that it wasn't in the custody of the state police, as he'd been claiming; it was suddenly right there in their evidence room. As for my phone, I had to get a hold of Detective McCabe, the one who'd confiscated it from Jess. Just my luck, he was on vacation for a fucking week. At least I accomplished one thing, I told myself, though it wasn't much of a consolation. Lastly, we went to Jessica Ampersand's house where I had a free government phone sent for Jess. It had finally come.
We returned to Bombers because we had nowhere else to go. Jess made us sandwiches. My Uncle Carmen, my mother's brother, and his girlfriend Tracy came in. They were surprised I wasn't at the wake. As they explained to me, they were dressed up and about to leave their house when my mother called them and told them to not go. Apparently, my mother and father hadn't gone to the wake and they had actually been calling other relatives and telling them not to show up. None of my siblings went, either. I didn't hold any respect for the sanctity of death traditions, but the act itself was appalling. Tia's boy thing, Andrew, offered us a place to stay that night, thankfully, so we took a bus to Albany and he picked us up. We hung out with him in his pristine bedroom for a few hours before falling asleep on his floor. He was very accommodating and nice to talk to.
Tuesday, June 10th
When we got back to Schenectady, I ditched my grandmother's funeral. The bag we were carrying all of Jess's clothes in had completely torn, so I went hunting for a shopping cart. As I tried to steal one from a bottle redemption center, the owner came over and asked where I was taking it. I lied and told him I was picking up several bags of bottles and cans not too far away. When we came passing by a few minutes later with our belongings in it instead, he was waiting at the entrance of the parking lot. I had to give it back to him and he wasn't happy. I got a new garbage bag from an automotive guy, though. My Uncle Chris picked us up and brought us to a diner they were eating at with some other family members. Jess waited in the parking lot while I signed some other paper they forgot to give me. We got a ride back to my grandmother's house where I grabbed my traveling pack and gave it to Jess to make walking around with everything all the time easier for her.
From there, we went to Bombers. I took everything out of my bank account so I'd have it in Philadelphia. I returned to the police department and got my digital camera back. When they handed it over to me, it was in an evidence bag, her son's name next to the line, "VICTIM". I went to the Stolen Cellphone Store and talked him into giving me a loan phone until I got my real one back from the police. We went to the mall in Rotterdam and I bought Jess a new pair of sneakers since she only had boots and they were giving her bulbous blisters on her heels. We ate dinner at Subway with egg rolls on the side and saw Neighbors in the movie theaters. I felt like we were having a really great day together. I was feeling pretty calm and safe around her. Even though I didn't necessarily feel like leaving her behind for Philadelphia was the wrong thing to do, I did feel a vague sense of guilt over it and responsibility for her. Even if most of these problems were her fault, I acknowledged she was sick and was suffering immeasurably. I still loved her, so I did what I could to help in any way possible while I was there. At times, worrying about her was better than worrying about myself and my own problems.
But at the end of the day when we got back to Bombers, things took a turn. While sitting there, she got a call from an internet friend who had just moved to Philadelphia, where she asked if it'd be possible to move in with her until she got on her feet. This was neither a good nor practical idea, but I let her go along with it, hoping it wouldn't work out. One thing that bothered me about her half of the conversation was that, once it was brought up that I left without her, she responded, "It's mostly my fault," instead of with the truth, which was that it was all her fault and she was connected to child pornography. After she got off the phone, she came out of nowhere and said, "Could you please stop checking out every fucking girl that walks by right in front of me?!" I looked at her and laughed, then asked, "Are you being serious?" She was, and no assurance that I wasn't doing that or keeping my cool to give her an opportunity to come to her senses was going to help her get over it. Yes, I have a wandering eye, but I look at everyone up and down. I'm a people-watcher, and my anxiety has my eyes constantly floating around nervously in public places. I swore to her, and still do as I type this, I was not and would not check out other girls right in front of her. Honestly, I had no interest in other girls when she was with me. Why would I?
The more I denied doing it, the more upset she got. Next, she was telling me she hated Andrew, which really pissed me off because he was so nice for giving us a place to stay for a night. To her, though, "there was something off about him," because he was on two certain medications she knew about. Yes, she of all people was judging someone else based on their medication. When I brought up how shitty that was of her, she said she wasn't judging him based on that, just that there was something she didn't trust about him... based on that detail. She wasn't making any sense. She wanted to stick to her opinion while also denying it because it was so hypocritical and unfairly judgmental. She then started ranting about how he wasn't vegan yet. If she were him, she would have let us stay at her place for a whole week! She was such a fucking brat and a total asshole. It was really getting to me, so I angrily told her he was a far better person than her: no matter what issues he must have had at one point, at least he got his shit together and knew how to treat people. As this was happening, I was texting with Grace, who knew my predicament and wanted to help if she could. She was offering to talk to her mom and arrange it so we could stay at her house. She wouldn't be there, but she was pretty sure her parents would be willing to be there for me. "We might have a place to stay tonight," I told her. But when I told her where, she was livid.
"I'm not hanging out with her!"
"No, she won't be there. She's three hours away in Ithaca."
"I don't care, I'm not going there."
She was freaking out about this as I was typing to Grace that I wasn't going to take her up on the offer unless Jess could stay with me; it was either both of us or neither of us, I told her, and she had no problem with that. But, once again, circumstances were not perfect for Jess and therefore were unacceptable; no compromise possible. It eventually turned into an argument about me still talking to Grace, even though we'd had that exact argument already.
"You keep talking to her and we're done!"
I looked at her and said, "After all I've done for you, after all I've let slide, you're willing to throw our relationship away over this?"
She nodded, affirmative and satisfied. I told Grace to never mind the offer. When she asked me what was wrong, I told her I didn't want to talk about it. Jess kept pushing the issue, anyway, but as much as I'd already depleted any remaining self-respect I had at the feet of Jess, I had a line. Like Jess's line was drawn at physically molesting her own son, my line was being told who I was allowed to be friends with. I told her outright there was no way I would stop talking to Grace or anyone else I was already friends with.
"So you'd choose her over me?! Shows how much you love me!"
"I'm not choosing her over you; I'm choosing me over you. A good partner would not try to dictate who I was allowed to be friends with."
She kept pulling the love card, when I could just as easily turn it around on her. I didn't, though, because I was a decent human being. I sank in my seat and deflated. I felt so stupid for giving her another chance. I'd lost count of how many I'd already given her. I felt so stupid for continuing to invest so much of myself in our one-sided relationship, not just emotionally, but financially. How could I give someone so much of myself and they still treat me like this? What the fuck was wrong with her? Or was there just something wrong with me? I said all of this to her, but she felt no remorse. I didn't know what else to say, so I stopped responding.
That's when she got louder and stormed out of the restaurant as people stared at me. Once she realized I wasn't following behind her, she returned, unapologetic. She started threatening to call up the alcoholic traveler kids she met to stay with them in their tent in whatever backyard they were crashing in. I couldn't believe what was going on, even though none of it should have surprised me at that point. I looked at her and said, "I'm glad you were able to get some more out of me before you did all this." I was devastated. Out of nowhere, she then said, "By the way, you have no permission to ever write about me!" I looked at her and just kept spilling my guts: "You're breaking my heart over and over and over again."
"That's a little ridiculous."
As she got louder and people stared more, I left out of fear of eventually getting kicked out or being confronted for abusing her. I didn't know where to go, so I went up a block and sat on a stoop outside of a closed bank. I cried to myself a little as she followed me and berated me for my behavior. I started telling her, "You don't love me. You never loved me. You've been using me this entire time." It had become the only way I could make sense of her dating me at all and then putting me through this. It became clear that the only time she was a suitable partner was when everything was going precisely her way. As soon as I got out of line, whether it be not giving her something or rejecting her orders, she became a monster.
She then began threatening to leave me there, but she had to be manipulative about it, trying to force me into a position where I'd technically be the one deciding that she goes. I continued to just speak my mind and avoid eye contact, telling her over and over, "You've been using me this entire time. You never loved me."
"Do you really believe that? Tell me right now. If you do, I'm leaving!"
She wanted me to decide for her for some sick, twisted reason. But I wouldn't answer. I told her that if she wanted to leave, she was going to make that decision on her own. She started telling me to "shut the fuck up" a lot and then started saying outlandish things like, "All I wanna do is get drunk right now!" She littered right in front of me, too, saying, "Who cares?" when I said something about it. I stood in a doorway of a closed mental health building, ironically enough, and thought long and hard about what I should do as she came up with new and creative things to say to hurt me. Eventually, I thought I had it figured out and asked her to approach me.
I asked her, "What I'm doing with you is unhealthy, do you agree?"
She did.
"I have far surpassed what most would consider being a good person, haven't I?"
She agreed.
"I deserve better, don't you agree?"
She did.
"This relationship is over. I can't do this anymore."
"PEACE, DUDE!" and she started scrambling away. I tried to call her back, but told myself I wouldn't chase her. I called Matt and told him I needed a friend desperately. Without question, he said he'd meet me at Denny's. When Jess saw me on the phone, she started frantically screaming the question, "WHO THE FUCK WAS THAT?! WHO ARE YOU GOING TO MEET?!" over and over.
"Why does it matter?"
Her first suspect was Grace, even though I'd already told her she was three hours away.
"Is it Grace?! I was just about to apologize and say I don't care if you're friends with her!"
She sat down and cried. I stood over her and said, "I want you to fight for me this time."
She asked what I wanted her to do; she'd do anything, she promised.
"If you want to be with me, you'll shut up and come to Denny's with me. I'm meeting Matt."
"I don't want to hang out with him! It'll be so awkward!"
"I don't care. If you wanna fight for me, you'll deal with it."
She followed. Halfway there, she started to tell me that I should just suck it up and go to my grandmother's. If my father showed up, I should just fight him or call the cops. I couldn't believe that she would expect that of me. When I told her that what she was saying was the same as me asking her to go back to her parents' house despite their history of abuse, and that I'd already interacted with cops way more than I'd ever felt morally comfortable with for her, she instead tried to tell me I was a hypocrite because I had dialed 911 to get her taken to a hospital. I started walking away from her as fast as I could. "I'm not chasing after you!" she yelled to me. I kept going, whispering to myself out loud, "Don't turn around, don't turn around, don't turn around..." A block or more away, she let out a long shrill of a scream at the top of her lungs. She reeled me back in. When she caught back up, I simply reiterated that it was time for her to fight because I was done. I hung out at Denny's with Matt and talked to him about what had been going on as if she wasn't there. That wasn't all I did, though, and she even found herself participating in the conversations like everything was okay. But around 3, she was tired and it was time to go. I told her I wasn't ready to go, wasn't tired, and didn't particularly want to sleep on the streets of Schenectady at night. She freaked out and said she "needed sleep" like she'd die without it if she didn't get it exactly when she wanted it and resorted to manipulative threats again: if I didn't leave with her, she was going without me. So she stormed out and I didn't follow.
Wednesday, June 11th
As the sun came up, rain began to come down. She never came back and I was beginning to worry as it neared time for me to leave the diner. I used their phone to call her cellphone and found out she was sleeping behind the dumpster in the parking lot. It was raining and cold. I went to the first sheltered place that came to mind: a little alcove that lead to an abandoned building's doors that I'd slept in before. It was dusty and had the overwhelming ammonia smell of human urine filling it, but it was all I could think of. After a while, I decided to walk up to the little park and try the gazebo. It kept us dry, so she laid down. I couldn't sleep. I looked at her sleeping body and felt like I hated her. Mosquitoes bit me and her body began twitching with shivers. I did eventually fall asleep on one of the two benches, but the cold woke me up not too long after. I gave up and decided we'd go to my grandmother's. As soon as I walked through the door, I was stricken with panic. The house was empty, but not knowing when or if my parents would show up and violently attack me had me terrified. I couldn't fall back asleep even in the bed, so I called my sister and asked her if she knew anything. She avoided them for the most part, so she didn't know much, but she did ask my mother about it, leading to a phone call and message on the answering machine denying that anyone was out to get me, accusing my aunt of lying (she wasn't), and claiming that they didn't go to the wake because my aunt and uncle threatened to have cops waiting for my father at it (they didn't). It was at least enough to calm me to sleep.
Two government agents came and picked Jess up for some interrogation. My aunt called and told me my father had left a message saying he was going to "set the house on fire" if he found out I was in it. So I left and waited at Bombers for Jess to meet back up with me. The agents spoke to me for a few minutes. I talked to Tia on the phone for a little while about everything that had happened and all that I was feeling. The more I told her about what Jess was putting me through and how I still felt like I couldn't let go, the more sad and disappointed she sounded. In the end, the closest justification I could muster was that she was ill, and that someone ill who was an otherwise amazing person deserved to have loyalty and support; that I could overlook everything because I knew who she was capable of being. I had to be honest, though: at the same time, I feared that maybe I was just deathly afraid of being alone again. Back at my grandmother's, I had come up with an ultimatum to introduce to her. I asked her to sit on the bed with me and let me talk.
The first thing I said was, "I'm going to go back to Philadelphia without you." Before I could say anything else, she exploded. For some reason, me returning to Philadelphia wasn't already obvious to her; she had somehow concluded that I'd stay in the area with/for her. She started screaming, running in and out of the bedroom, stomping around, and telling me I was a "cold, heartless asshole". She got so scary and loud that I told her she had to leave. She crossed her arms and firmly said she wasn't going anywhere. I threw all of her shit out onto the porch and tried to push her outside. When I successfully got her out there, she started putting on her shoes... but then I told her to come back in. I felt like I hated her again. I hated myself more, though.
Thursday, June 12th
Jess spoke with CPS and was given another chance at the women's shelter. It was a huge burden off my chest knowing that I could go back to only worrying about the logistics of my own life and that she'd have somewhere stable and mildly safe to be. While she was out doing that, I met up with Grace and her friend Kara at Bombers. I caught her up with everything and didn't hold back describing in graphic detail just how pathetic I was. This was a side of me that none of my close friends had ever seen before. Jess and I met up at Taj Mahal, my favorite local Indian restaurant. There, I was able to finally give her the full ultimatum: I was going back to Philadelphia and still wanted to be with her, but this was her last chance. If she screwed up again in any way, we were done, I told her. If she wanted to be with me, it was her turn to fight. She had to do whatever it took to not only get her son back, but to get me back. Back at my grandmother's, things were surprisingly peaceful. She had to take the bus downtown at 10 to make it to the shelter before her 11 o'clock curfew.
Friday, June 13th
The agents interrogated her again. Walking downtown, I saw a girl I recognized from a long time ago whose Clone High DVD I never returned. I don't remember her name, but she apparently was still very upset about not getting her DVD back. Once she realized it was me, she yelled, "HOW'RE MY DVDS?!"
I looked at her confused and said, "I... dunno?" I couldn't believe she was bringing something up from 2006. She looked genuinely pissed off like it had just happened yesterday.
"YOU LOST THEM?! WHAT DID YOU DO WITH THEM; EAT THEM?!"
I just kept walking, caught off guard and unsure of how to even respond to such a display as she repeated, "DID YOU EAT THEM?!" several more times.
Jess joined me as I ran some errands. When we got back to the house, we watched several hours in a row of Ridiculousness on TV. Out of curiosity, I listened to the voice mails that were still left on my grandmother's phone. Most of them were from my mother, all of them clearly while she was drinking from the last week or two. She relayed some vile low blows to my aunt on a few of them, telling her, "Your mother didn't even like you. She said you were a whore." In another, she offered my aunt $3,000 for Lily, my grandmother's dog. "Y'all are just bad people. She wanted us to have that dog. The dog would live a better life here." One was for me, threatening to have me arrested for trespassing if they found me in the house. She did wind up showing up at the house while I was there, but I wasn't attacked or arrested. Instead, she went on incoherent tirades about my aunt and tried to quote my grandmother, saying she told her things in confidence. "I don't want to hear things that my grandmother probably never said to you." She said things that didn't make sense, like, "Don't pay for the funeral, david!" She noticed my grandmother's tiny television set had been removed from the kitchen and sobbed, "They took her TV?!" I looked at her and said, "What else was it supposed to do, sit here forever?" I told her before she left, "I'm glad there's no afterlife. She'd be so upset if she had to see what you've done since her death."
Jess and I had a good two days in a row together. I was hoping that the ultimatum had actually had a positive impact on her. As anyone in their right mind who may be reading this can assume, though, it didn't last.
Monday, June 16th
I met Jess downtown and we went to Happy Cappuccino to sit around. It wasn't long before she was suddenly accusing me of looking at some girl outside of the window we were near. I denied it, I tried to remind her it was her last chance and that she needed to slow down and realize what she was doing, but she persisted. She had a job interview at some pharmaceutical warehouse that day and I had told her I'd go with her, but after the fight she started about something that had just been resolved a few nights before, even when faced with her last chance, I told her I wasn't going. She lost her mind and told me she wasn't going to the interview unless I came with her. She tried to say whatever I wanted to hear, suddenly claiming she trusted me and whatever, but at the same exact time couldn't put her ego to the side enough to admit that I wasn't looking at some other girl right in front of her. I called her a cab to take her to the job interview, since she was at that point running too late to walk there, and told her to wait outside of Bombers. She started screaming at me right there, refusing to take the jacket I had brought her for rainy days. When the cab pulled up, I repeated that I wasn't coming with her, which resulted in her not going. She had already gotten into the car, but flipped out as I handed her a $20 bill. I had to cancel the cab, she didn't go to the interview, and I told her I was going home and for her to not come with me.
She followed me, repeating "what-the-fucks". I didn't want to feed into her anymore. I was too weak to live up to my own ultimatum and tell her it was over. No matter how I responded, it'd be the wrong choice for me and for her. What it came down to was that she wasn't getting her way. So I just sat at the bus stop and remained silent as she tried everything she could think of. First, it was saying the meanest thing she could think of: "Do you know how many guys would have sucked it up and come with me?" Next, it was threats: "If you get on that bus, I'm coming, too." I eventually told her to go find one of those guys who would have sucked it up for her. I just wanted her to fucking disappear. Because she threatened to follow me, I passed up two buses home. I just sat there. I didn't know what to do. I felt like she was a disease I had, even though I had more control than I'd allow myself to exercise. I went to eat at Taj Mahal again. Yes, she followed right behind. When we got there, I ordered, and she had the nerve to say, "You're not gonna share?!" once I got my food.
Her face was red and moist with tears and the nice man who owned the place noticed. He asked her if she was okay and then brought her black tea, saying it would help. Then he brought her some garlic and told her it was an anti-depressant. Then he brought her a salad. She said all the typical shit once she calmed down and realized I was sticking with how cold and distant I was acting. I didn't really respond to any of it. In the end, I bought her food like an idiot.
Grace told me a few days prior that the naan there now contained yogurt, so I asked the owner about it. He confirmed that it did, saying it was to ensure the bread lasted longer when sitting out for buffets. I told him it was really a shame, that using dairy was unnecessary, and that a lot of my vegan friends were going to be really disappointed. He came back out with his wife, who manages the kitchen, and they told us they were experimenting with new recipes with their new cook. I reminded them that a lot of vegans came there to eat regularly and that dairy was both unhealthier and bad for cows. They assured me there on the spot that after that day they would no longer be using dairy in their naan.
One of the agents called me while we were there and said I could come to the station and pick up my phone. I tried to coast on the victory of getting my phone back and getting dairy out of Taj Mahal's naan, but they were too little to overpower how destroyed I was inside.