New Years Eve day I packed all of my belongings, put them on a truck, put my prettiest dress on and started on the long windy drive from Los Angeles to Gilbert, AZ. The man that I had longed to be with for so long, to share a home with, to share a life with, and I were finally going to be a "family". It was the windiest of nights, driving in a blue Shelby that I had bought for him as our 2nd year anniversary gift only a month before but because of certain "issues" had not given to him yet. A fresh start this was going to be, a new beginning. Although I was not going to make it by midnight, it didn't matter to me..I knew that the rest of our lives would be New Years eve, the Fourth of July, Christmas, and Thanksgiving. Just a couple of weeks prior had he been handed the keys to the house where we would live and he was excited and anxious for me to make the move. "I want you to move here asap" he would text me. I can't wait until you live with me." he would say. As I drove thru the night, my stomach in knots, butterflies, excited, calling him as much as the desolate desert allowed my cell phone to do I felt that this was the beginning of the rest of my life. For years now, for months now, every day, every hour, every other minute he would tell me how he wanted me there with him. With him. He couldn't stand to be without me a second longer. He just couldn't stand to be without me.
The cell phone rings, somewhere between Tonopah and the outskirts of Phoenix.... its the "husband of the wife your boyfriend is fucking." I pull over, the wind generated by the semi trucks as they speed by me just adding to the fear thats inside of me. I listen to details, my heart pounding, I throw up. I cry the rest of the way, I pull over into the Lowe's parking across the way from "our home". I cry, I sob, I demand God to explain why???? I sit in front of is house the rest of the night. I look up at the bedroom window, knowing he is inside, asleep and waiting for me. I can't stop crying. He calls and he calls and there was even a time when I thought he looked out the window and saw me sitting there. Cold, alone.
The sun begins to shine and I drive away.
He denies it of course. Someone is fucking with me, he says. Someone is fucking with us, he promises. He goes from pleading with me to believe him to screaming at me to fuck off if I don't immediately go to him. He screams how could I believe some fuck instead of him. "Fuck you, Rielle!"
You've lied to me before, I say. You continue to lie to me now.
The truck full of my belongings arrives, and he refuses to accept them. The delivery men disappear. My things with them. They can't be found now. It's been 4 days and everything that I own, everything, is no where to be found. I have nothing. Nothing. I call him, I don't know why. He's my best friend? He's the man that loves me? He's the only person I have that gives a shit? We end up screaming. I scream because I want him to feel for me. I scream because I want him to tell me everything will be okay. I have nothing, God Damn it!!!!!! I want to scream that if it wasn't for his stupid fucking ass all my shit would be here now. But I don't. Maybe I am to blame. maybe he is to blame. Maybe no one is to blame.
He wants me there now. He says tonight. Tonight. No Excuses. Stay with him. Fly there tonight. If I say no then "FUCK YOU, RIELLE!!!!" I tell him I need to find my belongings, he screams louder....and I cry again. Push me off the god damn edge, shove me off when I teeter and tooter in the wind.
I went to the police. To file a report. I mentioned that my boyfriend was SWAT and I got the VIP treatment. They listened, they did more than listened. They asked questions, about why I was moving to Arizona, maybe it just started as chit chat to stop me from crying. I told them everything that my boyfriend has done, has said, and especially what he has not done and has not said. They told me to report him. To file a complaint against him. I tell them what he's done in the past, and they say that I can ruin his career. They say it is in my hands and they give me the ammunition. Three letters written by them to be given to his PD. They tell me who to give these letters to, they tell me to call them if I decide to do this and they will also call. "This officers behavior is atrocious", says the Sgt. "Someone who behaves this irrationally and should not be a SWAT officer". They tell me to make the call now, there, while they listen. They say its not right, what he's done. The conversation recorded. "Give us the word and he's dust", they say. I tell them of all those times that he did not give a shit about me. All those times I begged him for compassion. How when my Father died and I sat outside the mortuary he screamed at me and demanded that I walk in the mortuary, say my goodbyes, and then get on a plane and go to him because he was fed up with being alone. How when I was pleading for him to have compassion he took the opportunity to blame me for everything, to say I deserved it. I let them listen to his voicemails, he's screaming, cussing at me. They say, let us listen to one where he says something nice to you. Where he tells you he loves you. I have none of those, I say. "Exactly", they say. Sometimes I believe I do deserve it. This is my hell. I suppose now it's up to me to decide whom I bring to hell with me.
They tell me that there's a possibility I may have lost everything for good. That I know. It isn't my TVs, my purses or shoes or couches, its the treasures that I've lost that make me cry. The pictures of my father. The pictures of me in second grade hanging from the monkey bars. The flowers that I dried given to me by my prom date. Love letters. Diaries. Everything that was me. I'm gone. My life is gone.
How did I come to find myself sitting here alone on the 12th floor of a hotel room in L.A.? I wanted this new year to be so different. I know I wont allow this year to hurt like last year. I may not have any of my old things but I have something better. I have the future. I may be starting from scratch but at least it's a fresh start, right? Whatever I decide to do, at least it's a beginning.
