So, I told Bil y he could go but I was staying.
We got in a big, old fight that ended in tears; my tears, I was a crier, I cried al the time. I’d cry at a card with a picture of a cute, little kitty on it and I didn’t even have to look at what the card said, and we stayed.
This happened a lot. Bil y would want to go, I’d want to stay, we’d have a rip roarin’ fight, I’d cry, and then we’d stay.
Then Bil y came home late one night and said we had to go. I could tel by the way he was acting that things I didn’t understand, things I’d closed my eyes to al those years, were bad as in real y bad.
I didn’t care. I dug in my heels. It hadn’t been the same between us since the first time I refused to go. We’d been in a slow decline and I hated it. I wanted Bil y to be a good guy and do right by me (and himself) but I was beginning to realize this wasn’t going to happen. It broke my heart because we’d had good times, no, great times, and I’d miss him. But there was only so much a girl could take. I hated it that everyone was right about Bil y but when you f**k up, you have to admit it, deal with it and move on.
I was ready to take Uncle Tex’s advice and cut him loose.
When I told him this, Bil y backed me up against a wal , his forearm against my throat, his pretty-boy face contorted and ugly with a rage I’d never seen before. He hissed at me, “Where I go, you go. You belong to me. We’re never going to be apart, you’re f**kin’ mine… forever.” Needless to say, this scared me. Bil y had never acted like this. I didn’t like to be scared. I never watched horror movies, ever. I didn’t do scared.
I knew at that point it was over. Any residual hope I had for Bil y and me was gone in a blink. Firstly, I didn’t like his arm at my throat, it hurt. Secondly, I didn’t like the look on his face; it freaked me out. Lastly, I wasn’t anyone’s, but my own.
In other words, f**k… that.
Somehow, we stayed in Chicago and whatever it was that had Bil y in a panic calmed down.
I didn’t. I packed his shit, put it in the hal and changed the locks.
This did not go over wel . He broke down the door with a sledgehammer.
This did not go over wel either. I had a conniption fit.
We had another rip roarin’ fight and he talked me into taking him back.
Don’t think I was stupid or weak. I had no intention of real y taking him back. I had long since realized that Bil y was exactly what Bil y was and I didn’t want any part of it. I’d loved him, yes, it was true, but he wasn’t what I thought he was (or what I tried to convince myself he was). I was beginning to fear the stink I sensed on him would start to transfer itself to me.
But a sledgehammer was serious business.
I was going to have to be smart (final y).
Therefore, I was building what I liked to cal my Sleeping with the Enemy Plan.
I started to save money in a new account Bil y didn’t know about. I stashed newly purchased clothes Bil y had never seen and would never miss at Annette’s place and I left.
First, I went to my folks’ house.
Bil y came and brought me back.
I expected this. I was stil stashing money and clothes at Annette’s, biding my time.
Then I went to a girlfriend’s in Atlanta.
Bil y found me and brought me back.
Again, I waited.
Then I went to a hotel in Dal as.
Bil y found me and brought me back.
This plan took a long time and this was unusual for me. I wasn’t the most patient of people and I felt, acutely, that my life was ebbing away day-by-day, month-by-month, year-by-year. I had to see it through though, and I’m kind of stubborn so I kept at it.
It was the last time to leave Bil y, a two-part end of the plan. I was going to go to the last place he thought I thought he wouldn’t look, knowing (like al the others, when I’d left breadcrumbs) he’d eventual y look. Then, after he brought me back, I’d go there again, having set up the plan beforehand and getting help (I hoped) while I was at it.
Though things got kind of f**ked up, mainly because Bil y’s stink had settled on me, just like I’d feared.