The sentinemtal heart that beats...

[This is part five of a long story. Read part 1, part 2, part 3 and part 4 first.]

When we last left, I agreed to let Sam come out to Arizona to live for the summer, somewhat suspecting it was a bad idea. He quit his job, packed up and moved out on Memorial Day weekend, right after I had moved in to my summer apartment. In the interest of full disclosure, I told the two guys I was living with the entire story (both are still good friends.)

Things were actually really good, though. He found a job…working as a bar back/doorman/occasional bartender in a bar nearby. I had a couple of waitress/bartender jobs that worked out pretty well. And we got along really well, too…nothing awkward or anything. It was just really good to have him back and to be able to hang out and have fun again. BFFg came out for July 4th, and we had a blast (I just remembered that she hooked up with one of my very best friends that weekend and I always meant to try and get them together again…shit, I seem to have forgotten…)

Things were still pretty good until later that month. I went out with a new guy a couple of times, and I really got the sense that Sam was kind of weird about it. He didn’t say anything, but his whole mood kind of changed. Sometime around August 1, he finally told me that he wanted to get back together and would be completely broken if I sent him back home.

I told him that I hadn’t changed my mind and that it was still a ship that had sailed and wasn’t coming back. I tried as hard as I could to leave no wiggle room…I didn’t want there to be any mixed signals. He got really mad and sulked for a couple of days and then he tried again. This time, he wanted to move there permanently, get an apartment together and work while I continued at school. Again, I told him no, and he got really pissed again.

It is sort of hard to describe what happened next. He was there for another couple of weeks, and while there were no specific instances…he never got violent or anything, and we never had a real big fight…it was really uncomfortable. He was a complete asshole…he snapped at me whenever he could and made all kinds of really nasty comments.

Originally, I had just figured that I would wait it out until it was time for him to go home and be done with it. That, however, went out the window a week before we were all moving out. I was out with a couple of friends (not any of them romantic interests) and ran into him in a bar. He was kind of belligerently drunk…oh yeah, he had started drinking again, but not much…and made a complete scene in the place.

He went on a rant about how I had ruined his life, and had totally manipulated his feelings to get him to move out here and then crushed him again and I was an evil bitch and thought I was too good for him. There were some really nasty things in there, too. He got thrown out of the bar and I followed him home (with some other people:-)) and we had it out. He called me more names and I laid into him for trying to guilt me into feeling bad for him. I was really, really mad because I thought he was trying to take advantage of my already feeling somewhat guilty over the way things went in Chicago.

I said something that I genuinely wish I hadn’t…it was really mean-spirited and not true (I’d feel bad, but he said like 12 things worse) and told him that he had to move out in the next two days. I went and stayed at The Body’s house (her family lives a couple miles from where we went to school) for three days and when I returned, he was gone. He packed everything, left me a letter and went back home. The letter was much the same…kind of incoherent, really mean-spirited and not at all pleasant.

I didn’t speak to or see Sam for nearly four years when he left Arizona. Things got bad again for him when he got home. The drinking continued, he bounced around through a couple of different living and working arrangements, and he ended up back in a substance abuse treatment program again. He even lost contact with BFFg, likely out of embarrassment. She continued to talk with his mother, so she always knew what was up (and therefore so did I.)

His mother is another point of this story. She was very much an important part of my teenage years…as I mentioned, I spent quite a bit of time at all of my friends’ houses during those years. I lived with Sam and his mom for about a week during a particularly bad time with my own mother. Since the bad summer-ending, his mother stopped returning my phone calls. She blames me, and it kills me. I understand why she does…it is her only child and she was just upset to see him spiral like he did…but that doesn’t make it any easier to lose someone you care about like that. I would have liked the chance to explain my side of things to her, but it was never a realistic option.

Anyway, there is still a little bit of this story left, but I will have to leave that for an epilogue tomorrow…this is already too long. It does get better for everyone, though, I promise:-)

[To be continued]

Random notes

I just checked my sitemeter stats and I have two comments:

1) People in Georgia love me!!! I seem to have like five or six regular readers in Georgia. I know who like 3 of you are, but not all.

2) Someone at UCSF.edu (Cal-San Francicso maybe?) spent an hour and had like 50 page views yesterday. Send me an email...(contact info on the profile page)...did you read my entire blog in one sitting? Just curious...

And for those interested, my advice to Tinkerbelle's mother was that she should not bring her to meet her father. I understand why she is thinking about it: for all the reasons articulated here. I just don't see how anyone benefits. When she is 18 or 20, she may be sad that she never knew her father, but meeting him for half an hour in a prison when she is 7 isn't going to change that. Really, she will regret that she never knew her father...and unfortunately that ship has already sailed.

It was interesting, though...a lot of the discussion here revolved around whether my father had the right to meet his daughter. Y'all are much more forgiving than me...

I am not sure that Tinkerbelle's mom has made up her mind yet...she seemed a little torn over it (it is obviously more complicated for her than for me.) I actually told her that I would take Tinkerbelle if she didn't want to. Not that I want to go back to that place, but I would do it, and I know that Sweet Aunt #2 would be happy to go with us. So we'll see. I think she will decide against it, but you never know.

I've got this energy beneath my feet...

Interesting feedback thus far on my question from this morning...continue to chime in, please. Meantime...the next installment

[This is part four of a long story. Read part 1, part 2, and part 3 first.]

Sam and BFFb beat the shit out of each other. Sam was convinced that BFFb had ruined his relationship and his life by encouraging me to leave him. I know it is a tough spot, and BFFb was sort of stuck between two friends with no way to make everyone happy. I think, for an 18 year old boy, he saw things a lot more clearly than anyone else did…and his assumption that things would have turned out terribly wrong if I had stayed is right.

I had some issues adjusting at school, and was really disturbed at the mess I had left behind (I certainly could have handled it better), but I sort of got on ok. My mother could throw all the tantrums she wanted…and not speak to me for a LONG time…but she was over 1000 miles away (actually 1,742 per Google) and couldn’t be a bitch to me any more.

Things didn’t go well for Sam, though, and for that I will always be sorry. He had lost his girlfriend and his best friend, and he sort of retreated from things for a while. He started drinking a lot, and probably doing some drugs (hmmm…I wonder if he knows my father?) and got into some trouble. It bottomed out for him early the following year when he got arrested for something and ordered into a treatment facility for a couple of months.

He stayed in touch with BFFg during all of this, so I knew what was going on, and when she told me that he wanted to talk to me (that was while he was in rehab) I said that yes, I did want him to call. [I had spoken with him two or three times during that fall semester, but it was out of guilt and the conversations were ugly. He was really nasty and really angry, until I stopped returning his calls].

It is remarkable what drinking and drugs can do to someone, because he was a completely different person after he got out. He was right back to the fun, bright, super-sweet guy he had always been. He spent a good deal of time apologizing and trying to absolve me of guilt…he finally admitted that he was glad I did what I did because I would simply have never been happy in Chicago and deep down he had known it.

BFFg kept reporting to me that he was doing well…he even went on a couple of dates…and I kept talking to him pretty regularly for most of that spring. Honestly, it was really good; I always loved him, he was one of my very best friends, and I genuinely appreciated him more having thought that I lost him.

I wasn’t welcome at home that summer, so I had decided to stay in Arizona (ever spent a summer in Arizona? It’s…um…hot). Then in the beginning of May, a couple of weeks before school was over, Sam made an interesting proposition... “I could really stand to get out of here for a little while, what do you think about me coming out there to hang out for the summer?” He was abundantly clear that he would completely understand if I said no and would never hold it against me, but that he thought it would be fun, and would be good for him.

So I thought it over, talked it over with the two guys I was gonna live with all summer (we had room for a fourth person) and then thought about it some more. After a couple of days, I called Sam back and told him “First things first…there can be absolutely no idea on your behalf that we are getting back together. If I get any idea that you are thinking that way, and you are going to have to leave immediately. But if you are ok with that, then yes, I think it is a good idea.” He said he was totally on board, and with that, I had a new roommate for the summer.

Now, in the course of our lives, there are certain things that we wish we could take back, and certain decisions that we look back on with regret. I don’t have many of those…I am pretty comfortable with everything I have done. But if I have to make a list of things I would take back, this goes right at the top of the list. I think I knew it was a bad idea at the time (I actually remember thinking that the other two guys were both very large and would offer some buffer if things somehow went bad…that should have tipped me off) but I did it anyway.

[To be continued]

Quick break...

I am taking a brief break from the Sam Story, but I will post the next part today...I just have to edit it and make sure it is in good form;-) Yes...I am a blog dork.

I got a message from Tinkerbelle's mom last night, and I have to call her back (for those unfamiliar with 'Belle...read this and this). The gist of the message was this: "Listen, I have been thinking a lot and I wanted your input on something. I am wondering if I should bring Tinkerbelle to meet her father while she still has the chance. Anyway, give me a call so we can chat."

So I will call her back and we can talk about it today. My first thought is that I am glad she called...obviously it is flattering that she would want my input. I still don't know exactly how I am gonna fit in to her life, but I am certainly glad thather Mom seems to want me.

My next thought is that I really don't know what to tell her. It is almost certain to be the only chance she gets to meet her father, and there is a chance that she will always regret not meeting him. On the other hand, so what if she never meets him? One visit in a state prison doesn't really do someone much good in the grand scheme of things. And, she is still only 7 years old...should she be anywhere near the inside of a prison?

I am pretty sure I know what I think on this, but I would be interested to hear some opinions from the crowd here, so pipe up if you have one;-)

Nobody ever pulls the seams 'round here...

Quick note: Munchkin got home yesterday from her Caribbean sailing vacation. She is really tan and cuter than ever and had a great time. And the people that took her report that she is just the most fun kid in the world to have around:-) OK, done bragging!!! Back to the story...

[This is part three of a long story. Read part 1 and part 2 first.]

I told Sam maybe two days later. He didn’t really seem to believe me at first, and told me that I could take more time to decide if I wanted to. I tried to tell him that I had made up my mind, but he didn’t really take the “no” as being permanent. I also told my mother, who completely hit the roof and called me all sorts of hideous names. Most everyone else I knew seemed to concur with her, although they were nicer about it (some people were very supportive, and I always remember them.)

The second significant event was about a week and a half later. My mother’s husband and I never got along (that is Munchkin’s father). Not sure why, but I didn’t like him and he didn’t like me. Not really a bad guy, I guess, and he was the one who finally made my mother stop drinking, for which he gets credit. But we never got along…and at this point, we rarely ever spoke.

So, it was out of character one day for him to come into my bedroom to talk to me. My mother was in the shower, and he came in quickly (I was reading, I think.) He handed me an envelope and said “I am taking your mother away for the weekend. Leave your sister at her Grandmother’s house, she is expecting her. This is all I can give you, but take it and go to Arizona. I will deal with your mother.” The envelope had $1,000 in it (or maybe $1,500…I forget).

Keep in mind, before then I still hadn’t figured out exactly how I was getting to Arizona, but I was determined to go. I guess I was planning to sneak out of the house one night and get on a bus. He very intentionally scheduled a weekend away for about a week before classes were to begin, which gave me all of the cover I needed to pack up and get going. And the money was awfully useful, as well…so I guess in the final analysis he did three great things for me: made my mother quit drinking, gave me Munchkin and sprung me from home.

This leads to event #3, which was that Friday night. I had reserved a U-Haul and had everything I owned packed up and ready to leave in the morning. I had my last meal with the BFFs, and then I sat down with Munchkin and told her everything…that I was leaving and wouldn’t see her for a while and that Mom was going to be really mad at me, but that she shouldn’t worry because I was going to be alright and I would always come back to see her.

The knock on the window came at about 1:00am. It was Sam, ring in hand, begging me to reconsider. I didn’t tell him I was leaving, I just told him that it was late, that I didn’t want to talk to him then, and that I would talk to him the next day. Yes, I owed him more than sneaking away without saying good-bye, I know. I never felt good about it…none of us are perfect.

I was up and out the door really early. I had a really tearful goodbye with Munchkin, and then I was on my way, terrified, liberated, scared, exhilarated and excited. I can’t really describe the feelings of that trip. I was a wreck…I felt terrible about the way I left Sam, and about running away from home. I also knew I was going to a very strange place, with all kinds of strange people and an environment unlike anything I had ever known. I cried almost the whole way there. (This post covers what happened when I got there).

I didn’t go home for a year and a half after that. My mother told me that I was not welcome at Thanksgiving or Christmas, and I spent the summer at school (more on that in a bit). It wasn’t until the following Christmas, fully 16 months after I had left, that I finally returned home.

Meanwhile, Sam called me at home all morning and got no answer. So he came over to the house, and found that I wasn’t there…eventually he went over to BFFb’s house to see if he knew where I was (BFFg was there, too). They told him and he blew up...at me, but mostly at BFFb for “selling him out” and trying to ruin his life (he either knew or strongly suspected that he was the person that finally convinced me not to marry him).

I wasn’t there, so I don’t know exactly what happened, but it wasn’t pretty. They got into a fight that immediately got extremely serious. BFFg couldn’t stop them, and they eventually beat each other seriously enough to require both of them to go to the hospital. They didn’t speak for over four years.

[To be continued]