Author’s Note: Names have been changed.
Having moved into our own place, Marty and I spent a bit of time apart. There were days that I just needed to get out and I think he felt the same. Much as we wanted to, there was just no going back to what started out so well (at his grandparents’ place).
So, after ”The Ex” and I walked from our place to the train station (around a half-hour walk at a brisk pace) fighting so intensely that I was sure it would end then-and-there, I realised that my frustrations at my situation were being taken out on here and I was being an absolute arsehole.
The realisation that I was taking it out on her and was just generally being a dick to everyone made me even more depressed. That realisation brought about a whole new on: I had nowhere else to go.
I looked at my options, which were practically non-existent and arrived at the only solution I could find: move home with my parents, if they’d take me.
I felt like taking that option was inevitable, like they’d been waiting for it for the two years (almost) I’d been out of home. Granted they had expected it sooner, but there was a small sense of satisfaction in their voices when I asked them.
When I explained why, I fell into my oldest habit: lying. The son of two chronic liars and step-son of a guy who wouldn’t admit the truth of his lies, even when confronted with evidence against him, I couldn’t have not picked that up as a bad habit.
I put the blame on Marty, overstating his pot habit and really pushing the fact that I simply couldn’t live with it anymore. It was effecting me and my relationship with ”The Ex”, I said.
Anyway, the long-and-the-short of it is that they agreed to help. My now former step-father came down with a trailer and helped me load it all up. I was packed and gone within an hour, the real estate agent giving Marty notice that he’d have to recoup my half of the bond now I was gone.
I want to state now that I was in a real bad way here, mentally. I was so very selfish and uncaring, and only sought to take care of myself. I left Marty in the shit with bond and rent he could not have possibly made up himself and just cut-and-run.
Marty, I have apologised to you since and we’ve let it pass but I wanted to apologise again. Whether you’re reading this or not I don’t know but if you are, know how deeply I regret doing that do you. You’d been a good friend to me and I shat on you like that—don’t know if I would have forgiven myself for doing so, so I thank you for being a better man than I.
The trip home with my step-father was the most awkward I had ever had. We ‘caught up’ on the two years that had passed and he laid some ground rules for my returning to his home. I was dreading it, but had no idea what else I could do.
The worst part about it was that I didn’t know how I was going to talk to / see ”The Ex”, seeing as though they lived 30+ kilometres from the closest towns and I didn’t have my own car and they worked weekends so I wasn’t likely to be able to borrow one of theirs…
I’ll explore this more tomorrow—“Back where it all began…”