The man facing me across the desk was unhappy and angry and at a loss for words. He wanted to talk to me about my future husband's drinking, the matter of missing funds, my own welfare. I didn't want to hear it and he didn't know where to begin. So we sat, both locked up and defensive.
We had been living in a small town on the Florida coast for almost a year. David was manager of the animal shelter but still spent time on the road and was on call most nights and weekends. Heartsick, I listened to the list of accusations. Failure to respond to an emergency calls, poor management, drinking on the job, drinking and driving, misuse of shelter funds, theft. Slowly it was explained to me that they had no choice but to let him go. They hadn't decided whether or not to file charges. It was like being locked in an airless closet with a maniac - though I knew every word was true and there was no escape, I still fought back. When they suggested that I should get help for my own sake - leave him while I still could, don't marry him, he'll take you down with him - I exploded with a kind of righteous fury and bolted. The world, which had been closing in on me for months, had suddenly caved in. The deadly truth glared at me from every angle, bearing down with an awful accuracy, tearing my carefully constructed denial system to pieces. I felt shattered, furious, sick, trapped and broken. Halfway home I changed course and drove to a hotel on the beach, certain only that facing David right away would be a mistake and that my mind was too much in chaos to think clearly. I spent two days alone in a hotel room, trying to find a way out. What finally sent me home was pride, shame, fear, and a refusal to admit failure - foolish, foolish
feelings to give in to.
When he realized I knew, David immediately admitted everything, even the theft. I listened to his remorse and guilt, his promises and apologies, saw his tears and heard his pleas. He was ready to get help, he swore, one more chance, he begged, if we get away from here we can make everything right. He was frightened and desperate and I shut down that part of my mind that was screaming "Don't do this!" and gave in. I pawned my cameras and my jewelry to raise the cash and we left Florida. I buried the feeling that this was the first of many steps down a dead end street and allowed myself to be convinced that all we needed was a change in geography. It was to take twelve more years before I faced my fears as well as the truth - the solution was in neither love nor geography but in giving up the lie. Even on a a dead end street, you can always turn around.
We had been living in a small town on the Florida coast for almost a year. David was manager of the animal shelter but still spent time on the road and was on call most nights and weekends. Heartsick, I listened to the list of accusations. Failure to respond to an emergency calls, poor management, drinking on the job, drinking and driving, misuse of shelter funds, theft. Slowly it was explained to me that they had no choice but to let him go. They hadn't decided whether or not to file charges. It was like being locked in an airless closet with a maniac - though I knew every word was true and there was no escape, I still fought back. When they suggested that I should get help for my own sake - leave him while I still could, don't marry him, he'll take you down with him - I exploded with a kind of righteous fury and bolted. The world, which had been closing in on me for months, had suddenly caved in. The deadly truth glared at me from every angle, bearing down with an awful accuracy, tearing my carefully constructed denial system to pieces. I felt shattered, furious, sick, trapped and broken. Halfway home I changed course and drove to a hotel on the beach, certain only that facing David right away would be a mistake and that my mind was too much in chaos to think clearly. I spent two days alone in a hotel room, trying to find a way out. What finally sent me home was pride, shame, fear, and a refusal to admit failure - foolish, foolish
feelings to give in to.
When he realized I knew, David immediately admitted everything, even the theft. I listened to his remorse and guilt, his promises and apologies, saw his tears and heard his pleas. He was ready to get help, he swore, one more chance, he begged, if we get away from here we can make everything right. He was frightened and desperate and I shut down that part of my mind that was screaming "Don't do this!" and gave in. I pawned my cameras and my jewelry to raise the cash and we left Florida. I buried the feeling that this was the first of many steps down a dead end street and allowed myself to be convinced that all we needed was a change in geography. It was to take twelve more years before I faced my fears as well as the truth - the solution was in neither love nor geography but in giving up the lie. Even on a a dead end street, you can always turn around.
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