“I wanted to call you to tell you that I’m leaving LA today. I won’t be coming back.”
He wasn’t leaving me. I had left him months ago. But his recent trip back here originally planned for work purposes turned personal and…
“I knew better in February.. but it was already too late. Interesting.” I’d tweeted a few days prior to that day.
None of this was a surprise. None of it. Even the bad things that transpired and came into light on that fateful night. This had been unhealthy. I had let it continue too long. We both had. And now the hurt had to… at least be put on pause.
“My dad cares about the baby. He hasn’t been the same with me since you told him. He’s been on my case about things. He doesn’t like the situation.”
I had liked his parents. We’d met briefly back in April on this two day excursion where they visited. They had been very welcoming and had offered to help us a bit. I didn’t tell them then I was pregnant. He didn’t want me to. But it had to come out a bit later. After a phone call where he cried to me about how much he needed help (this was not the first time I had seen how he’d needed it but it was the first real time he admitted it) after I’d left that night. I looked them up online and found the information. He needed the intervention and I didn’t know who else I could turn to.
Since then he made a point to make them seem like they didn’t care about anything and that the whole thing between us/going on/his issues were just… something they’d rather not deal with. My heart was very broken about it. In particular after a conversation with his father where… things had gone particularly out of left field from a previous conversation where he not only agreed that his son had needed help but they had essentially given up on him since “he’s done this for 20 years”, he’d “done this before and will likely do it again”, and “had been given help in the past but that hadn’t been enough to change it.” I thought that his family did not care at all about the baby. Hearing Bear talk about otherwise was bittersweet.
I essentially heard the words “hopeless cause” and… it really tore my heart out. I can’t imagine how hard that was for Bear to hear. I can’t imagine how hard it is daily for him. I… too wish I had been able to save him but at the end of everything, I couldn’t.
He’d left me a message on my phone apologizing after five missed phone calls the night prior, a suicide threat and 911 calls a few nights prior to that, and an introduction and talks with another woman whom he had not mentioned prior but had a brief “affair” with back in December while we were together and… was currently with again previously unbeknownst that dreadful drunken somber night.
Alas this was the “after” after the “Happily” and “Ever” portion of our relationship. It was sad and broken beyond repair. All hope had gone beyond lost. And months later, I was still obliterated.
Rewind to a week prior-
I got the ultrasound and had found out the sex of the baby. He seemed “back”. He was eager and happy to be a dad. He didn’t want me to have an abortion.
“Don’t you dare kill my son.”
It was a complete 180.
But things changed. Just as instantly as that picture had touched him and he’d felt connected, he disconnected again. And even last week before he left he was finding him again trying to pressure me into getting an abortion.
I nearly considered it and I felt terrible at even the thought.
” I won’t be coming back. What reason do I have to? What reason do I have to stay at all?”
I shouldn’t have had to answer that.
It was wrong.
So very very wrong.
He doesn’t see what he did. He doesn’t acknowledge the cheating. He doesn’t care about getting mental help or quitting the drinking or “living higher than the poverty line”. He only cares about himself… and protecting trying to salvage the relationship with the other woman who he had been with for six years prior to arriving in Los Angeles… a woman that… he had taken full advantage of her kindness and… loneliness.
(Another blog. Another time.)
“I want you to be nice to me and I want to be nice to you. I am scared. I want to put my hand on your belly and feel the boy punch my hand with his little fist.”
I didn’t see him while he was here. There had been talks about it but nothing had happened.
“Why did you tell me that if you didn’t want to see me? Why did you tell me all the rest of those things if you didn’t want to work on things and come back?”
“I was drunk.”
“I wanted to call you to tell you that I’m leaving LA today. I won’t be coming back.” he told me when I called him back after that message.
Here stands the official point of no return. As of 22 weeks, Planned Parenthood will not perform an abortion on you in the state of California. Last week was the last official time I could potentially go through with the procedure. I think about how much has happened from that first message, ages ago when he told me he loved me. From all the terrible correspondence that has transpired after many bouts with his erratic behaviors. With my struggles to keep myself as composed as possible while going through everyday. With…
There is no more returning to that sadness anymore. That life is gone and a new one is officially going to be here in a few short months. I don’t have much more time to prepare but… that’s too bad. Life doesn’t stop even if your heart does… at least this way.
Editor’s note: I recently made a completely dedicated audio blog. From there you can listen to voice mails left from Bear to me (for purposes of this entry) as well as found sounds and other miscellaneous dialogue from my adventures in the big city.