The Girl's Guide to Homelessness (25 page)

“And now,” he continued, “she's threatening to take me to court! She's saying she'll throw me out of the flat and take Kelsey away if I don't get rid of you! Every time I try to talk or reason with her, she either screams and throws things, or refuses to speak to me.”

You idiot. You fucking, goddamn idiot. I love you, but right now I have no idea why. You've put our entire future at risk. You disregarded every last thing I ever said. You laughed off all my
fears as completely irrational and did exactly what you were going to do, and now we're fucked.

He said it for me.

“You were right. You were 100 percent right about
everything
. Everything you said was going to happen has happened. I'm so, so sorry.”

I held him and let him cry.

“What'll we
do,
Bri?”
We. We
was good. He was still thinking
we
.

We'd figure something out, I told him. But the first thing he needed to realize was that she had no right to tell him whom he was allowed to love and whom he was allowed to marry. There were no excuses for her behavior. He needed to stand up to her.

I couldn't process his sudden (or maybe not-so-sudden) spinelessness. A horrible thought struck me. “Matt, I don't mean to sound like I'm attacking you. I'm not. But your actions have put us in a very bad position, and it all seems completely out of character for you. So I have to ask. Are you still off your medication?”

He gave me a deer-in-the-headlights look.

“Yes. You were right. I should have gone back on it. I've made bad decision after bad decision. That's probably got a whole lot to do with what's happened so far.”

Of course. It's just one other thing I said that you disregarded. Why on earth would you be on the meds that keep you healthy and rational? Brilliant.

I began to formulate a plan of action, outlining each step for him. First, he needed to get back on his meds. I knew they took about a month to kick in, but that was all the more reason to get started now. Then, he needed to go to the council and see if there was any way of getting the flat back in his name. He could sign it back over to her
later on, once they had a binding custody agreement, but as long as she was threatening to take him to court, it was not a smart idea to give her that kind of leverage. He didn't want to be homeless again, right?

“I don't think it's possible to reverse. It's all completed.”

“You've been off your medication for several months now. When you go to the doctor, get a note from him explaining this. I'll bet if you show that note to the council, you can get the transfer canceled on the grounds that you weren't in your right mind. You weren't taking the meds necessary for you to function and make rational decisions.”

“I don't know if that will work!” He was getting agitated. “She's going to throw me out and take Kelsey! And her family's coming! Her mother's coming!”

I wanted to shake him like a bobblehead doll, until his teeth chattered.
Focus, Matt. You got us into this by underestimating my input in the first place. Now I'm trying to get us out of it.

I promised him I'd see what I could find out about custody law in Scotland. He just needed to try to convince Lori and her family to leave and go back to Peterhead for the time being. He'd been Kelsey's sole caregiver since she was born. Most likely, Lori couldn't just take her away from him without a court order, I figured. I encouraged him to sit Lori down and talk to her, and not to take no for an answer.

“Don't cower when she throws things and screams, and don't give up and let her ignore you. You're a grown man. You can handle this.”

“I'll try.”

If he
did
end up having to go to court to resolve this, we could work around it. Instead of us going to New York, I
could come to the UK instead, if that would make things easier. We could use the book advance money to rent a flat in town, so that he and Lori could be within a couple of blocks of each other and share custody of Kelsey until everything was mediated between them. There was no rush for New York. We could set up house in the UK instead. Or we could even make that permanent, so that he could be close to Kelsey year-round.

He insisted vehemently, though, that he still wanted to move to New York with me, even now. He'd talk to her.

“You're right. You've been right all this time and I was a stupid fool, and you've been the most loving, supportive girlfriend any man could ever have. I don't deserve you, but I'm going to try so much harder to.” He was crying again in my arms.

“Stop it, honey. I love you. It's all going to be OK.”

 

He took me up the street to a small bed-and-breakfast, the Dunedin Guest House. It was the most affordable place in town; half the price of the Huntly Hotel in the main square. I couldn't figure out why it should be cheaper to get a larger room, internet access
and
free breakfast, but I wasn't complaining.

The post office wouldn't be open for two more days, so Matt paid for the next two nights. He would meet me in the square on Monday morning, I could exchange my currency, and by then he was sure he'd have dealt with Lori and I could come back to the flat with him. He seemed renewed with optimism and relief that I had been so understanding and supportive. I was feeling pretty optimistic myself.

He walked me upstairs to the room, and pushed me up against the wall, kissing me deep and hard. It was the
first time he'd kissed me since I'd arrived, and I immediately knew it would all be fine. Over and over again he kissed me, and I thought that maybe this would be a perfect time to tell him that I was pregnant. We were both happy again.

I sat down on the bed and patted the covers next to me.

“Can you stay for a little bit? There's some stuff I'd like to talk to you about. I have so much to tell you.”

“I can't. I need to get back to the flat. I've been away so long already—she's probably fuming.”

My face fell. For fuck's sake, we
just
had the conversation about standing up and being a man! He explained that every time he'd tried to leave the flat the day before, even if it was just for an errand, Lori had gone on a screaming rampage, accusing him of visiting me.

“
Accusing
you? What's there to accuse you of? So what if you were seeing me? I mean, I'd assume that'd be a given. She knows that we're together…right?”

Of course, but he couldn't really explain it. My presence was setting her off. There'd always been an undertone of her wanting him back, but for a few weeks, he said, she'd started talking about it openly, pushing him to leave me and reconcile with her.

“Why wouldn't you tell me something of that magnitude? You
promised
you'd tell me if she ever tried to make a move on you!” I was right back to feeling betrayed.

“Look, I haven't given her any hope whatsoever, OK? I've told her that it's never going to happen.”

That wasn't enough, I insisted. She needed to be told, flat out, “I don't love you—I never have and I never can—and I'm marrying somebody else. Case closed. Now we need to focus on parenting our daughter in a healthy
manner.” I couldn't believe that I needed to spell this out for him, and then I felt guilty for being frustrated with my lover when he was off his medication and falling to pieces in front of my eyes.

He sighed.

“I suppose you're right. It probably does need to be said.”

He would tell her. He'd wait until her family left that night: He didn't want to humiliate her in front of them. But he would tell her. I agreed that that was fair.

Just like that, back to happy again. My brain couldn't keep up with the emotional pendulum. I was getting a headache.

“But I need to go. It's going to be hard enough telling her if I get her upset at me today. I love you. I'll see you on Monday.”

Deep kisses, and then he bolted down the hallway.

O
n Monday, I exchanged my currency at the post office, and Matt met me outside. He was lugging my heavy trunk full of Christmas gifts, which had been delivered over the weekend.

I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him. He looked distant.

“Homeless Tales is down, I noticed yesterday. It looks like Michael forgot to pay the bill again.”

Michael Abehsera hosted Matt's website on his Media Temple server, in exchange for Matt promoting his social media work. Matt more than fulfilled his end of the bargain, but Michael often forgot to pay the $20 hosting fee, and we had several times known the frustration of a flurry of panicked emails from the HT crew:
“Why is the site down?”
More often than not, Michael would plead that money was tight that month, and I would end up buying a prepaid debit card from Walmart and logging in to the Media Temple account to pay the $20 myself.

“Oh, crap. Can you pay it?”

“No, I don't have a debit card with me. I didn't know this was going to happen.”

“
Shit
. I don't have internet access yet. Can you try to get hold of Michael and get him to pay it, or ask around and maybe find a friend to front us the money? We need to get that site back up. Ask around, and when you find somebody, give them the Media Temple login info.”

“I'll do my best.”

I turned my attention to my trunk. “Why'd you bother bringing that? Those are gifts for you and Kelsey. You can just keep it at the house.”

“I can't do that.”

Oh, come on. Not another problem.

“You didn't talk to her.” I said it flatly. I could have slugged him.

“I've tried! I've tried everything! She refuses to talk! The rest of her family went home, but her mother stayed. They've set up camp in the flat and are refusing to leave! I can't go anywhere without them screaming at me, and then when they start to scream, Kelsey gets terribly frightened and starts to cry! Bri, I love you and I want to marry you, but I…I hold my daughter and I just realize that it's not possible. I can't have you both. Lori won't let me.”

What the fuck?!

I was watching the scene as if floating high above myself. It was the very first time that, gazing into his eyes, I saw nothing of the Matt I knew. There was no sign of the man who'd spooned with me tight all night long discussing quantum physics, and taken such giddy, boyish pleasure in sharing memories of his childhood with me—the man who'd laughed over my shoulder as we watched
Paddington Bear
and
Bagpuss
together, or who'd insisted on reciprocating my favorite classic black-and-white movies,
The Ghost and Mrs. Muir
and
Roman Holiday,
with his own,
Brief Encounter
. It was like trying to get through to a stranger.
His eyes were blank with panic, like a drowning man whose only thought is to save himself.

“You're going back to her.”

“No! No, I'm not going back to her. I'd never go back to her. I'm not saying
anything
about going back to her. But maybe if I live in the same flat as her and coparent Kelsey, you know, living like roommates, she'll back off and things will calm down. She'll stop freaking out and Kelsey can have a quiet life, instead of all this constant conflict.”

I stamped my foot hard in the snow. Perhaps a childish gesture, in retrospect, but I felt completely and thoroughly provoked, and I'd reached my breaking point.

Was he crazy? Was he listening to himself? Her behavior was so far over the line,
beyond
abusive and insane and irrational, and he was caving to it. He was pandering to her.
Appeasing
her. Did he honestly believe that allowing this kind of insanity to dominate their lives was creating a healthy environment for his daughter? If he loved me and wanted to marry me, then he should fucking well
do
it. She had no right to make such a demand. I begged him to stand up to her
now,
draw the line and set boundaries with her
now,
while Kelsey was still a baby. For the umpteenth time, I wished he'd done it before Kelsey's birth as he'd promised…but he had waited too long and put us all in jeopardy. Still, if he stood up for himself now, he could get the unpleasant part over with while his daughter was too young to remember all the fighting and conflict. I thought back to my own mother, and knew that if Matt allowed this craziness to continue, Kelsey would grow up thinking that her mom's warped, twisted power plays were normal. The realization was like a dagger in my heart.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry I did this. I don't know what to do anymore.”

“Yes, you do. You know what to do, you're just too scared of her to do it. But think about this, Matt: Single parents fall in love and get remarried every day. It happens. Normal, healthy people don't allow their exes to dictate their choice of partner. Lori is the
only person
in this entire scenario who's told you that you need to give up one of the people you love—your wife-to-be or your daughter.
I
haven't asked you to, and
Kelsey
hasn't asked you to.”

“You're right.”

He kept
saying
that he knew I was right, but I needed to see some action from him.
Be an adult, already. You're thirty-seven years old. Time to grow up.

“You know what I spent the past two days doing, Matt? Calling all the Scottish child law center hotlines I could locate, asking them what to do. And you know what?
Every last one
has verified what I suspected before.”

He could get his flat back in a heartbeat. He just needed a doctor's note. He was considered the parent of residence, not Lori. He was entitled to status-quo custody until a court ordered otherwise, and that was highly unlikely, especially with both their names on the birth certificate, and with Lori's unstable actions. He was even entitled to free legal representation if she took him to court.

And the most frustrating thing? She didn't need his flat. She had
never
needed his flat. All the wheedling and emotional blackmail, pushing him to sign the flat over to her—and all she had to do to get one from the local council…was
ask
. She could
still
ask, I stressed to Matt.
Any
single mother with no job gets a free flat within a matter of weeks, just by
asking
. She could have asked the moment she found out she was pregnant. There was never
any
need for all this drama and manipulation. But instead, she had done her best to fuck up
all
our lives, just so she could have
another shot with a man who never loved her in the first place; a man she had to lie to and trick into pregnancy, all in hopes that he'd come back to her. And now that it had exploded in her face, he was just going to
let
her do this to us?

I hated him at that moment. It was simultaneous with loving him, but I think I can safely say that in that instant, there was no room in my body or mind for anything else but rage. What had we worked so hard for? Why had we bothered going to all the trouble of building a life and happiness together, if he was just going to go off his meds, roll over, wave a white flag and die?

He repeated the
You're right, I know you're right
mantra over and over.

“I swear I love you and want to marry you. I know that I'm making all these stupid, bungling decisions because I'm off my meds. You're absolutely right. I shouldn't make any more rash decisions until I'm back on them.”

“So don't. Go home and do the right thing. The smart thing. And take this.” I drew my engagement ring off my finger, clenching it in my palm sadly before handing it to him. “Put it back on my finger once you've proven that you can keep a promise.”

“You should hold onto this.”

“No, I trust you with it. Earn my trust, please.”

He pocketed the ring.

“I will.”

I had enough money to last me through New Year's Eve. After that, I had nothing, not even enough for bus fare to take me back to the airport in a couple of weeks. I'd brought only enough to pay for three weeks of meals while on vacation, not hotel fare, because I had planned to stay with Matt the entire time.

“You know, kind of like I put you up for free for months on end in California?” I reminded him. Now the entirety of my food money had been repurposed to put me up at the Dunedin Guest House. “Was it really all that unreasonable to assume I'd be staying with you for a couple of weeks here in Scotland?” I figured at this point, a smidge of extra guilt-mongering couldn't possibly do any more damage than had already been done.

“No, of course not. I'll have her out by then, I should think.” He would come back to the Dunedin and get me once she was out. He should get his benefits check in the mail the next day. He would come get me and take care of me, he promised. He loved me.

“I love you, too. Please,
please
be strong for us. I know this might be a lot to ask of you right now, in your frame of mind. I know you love your daughter and you're out of your mind with worry. But please be strong. And hurry back. We have a lot of important things to talk over. I keep trying to get you to sit down with me, but it seems like I only see you for fifteen or twenty minutes at a time, and then you're running back to the flat. Be strong, do it quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid, and hurry back.”

“I will. Do me a favor, though. It's going to be hard enough to force her to listen. I don't want to rub it in her face. I'll come get you at the Dunedin once I get her and her mother to leave. Please don't come knocking at the door. It'll only make her angrier and more irrational, and she'll get more stubborn. I'll be back at the Dunedin within the next couple of days.”

“OK.”

“If something goes wrong, and for whatever reason I'm not able to get rid of her that quickly, there's a train station
half a mile up the street, on the outskirts of town. If you have to check out of the Dunedin on New Year's, and I haven't gotten here yet, go wait for me there. I'll come and get you. There's no heater or anything, but there's a raised roof that can provide you with some shelter from the snow.”

“Do you seriously not see the irony, as a homeless activist, in telling your fiancée that she may have to go wait out in the freezing cold for you?”

“Yes, I do, and I'm sorry. Don't worry, though. I don't think it'll be necessary, but if it is, I'll find a way to come and get you as quickly as possible. You won't have to wait there for long.”

My mind flashed back to Dennis, to every man who had ever hurt, lied to and abandoned me. The darkest suspicion I ever could have imagined clouded my thoughts.

“Matt…you'd never…you'd never just disappear and leave me here, would you? You
will
come and get me, right? You couldn't chicken out and abandon me, could you?”

He looked wounded and horrified.

“No! I could never do that. That's not possible. I don't have it in me to do something so cruel.”
You've done a lot of things lately that you said you could never do,
I thought. But I chose to believe him, because, after all, what option did I have? I was at every possible disadvantage here. And I also loved him and wanted to believe that, as fucked up as he was in the head right now, he wasn't
evil
or anything. Screwing up—making a few mistakes—was a world apart from intentionally putting someone's life at risk.

“Of course. I'm sorry. It was a ridiculous question, I guess. I'm just scared, is all. I didn't mean to insinuate that
you'd ever purposely be cruel. How should I contact you? My cell phone isn't working here. I've already tried it.”

“Email me. Keep me updated. Maybe in the next day or so my SIM card will arrive, or I can go to the library. They're reopening before New Year's, I think.”

He hurried up the snow-covered street, and I went back to the Dunedin Guest House, and forked over the last of my funds, until the book advance came through, whenever that was. It would be enough for a few more days, but he had promised to take care of me.

I trusted him.

 

Christine and Keith Best owned the Dunedin Guest House. They were two kindly souls from Leeds, England. He had worked for the government for many years and when they retired, they decided to pursue their dream of owning an inn. They soon realized that I had no money left, and was living off the Bourbon cookies they placed in my room every morning, so they began inviting me to dinner with them nightly. They were also hearty drinkers, and encouraged me to have another glass of wine, and another. I knew enough about pregnancy to know that a glass of wine or so was supposed to be OK, but much more than that could be dangerous. After three or four times saying, “No, thank you,” followed by their continued insistence, I would allow them to refill the glass and then offer to take my own plate into the kitchen as they spoke, taking the glass with me and quietly pouring the wine down the sink. I felt bad wasting their wine, but I felt worse turning them down for the fifth time. I didn't want them to take it personally, as though I were refusing their hospitality.

Keith was a Yorkshireman, so I privately associated him with the James Herriot books I'd loved as a kid, always
imagining him in a tweed cap or something. He was very funny, social and loud. I am the complete opposite, but for some reason we really connected as friends. I filled the Bests in on some of my story, and they were fascinated, especially that I used to be one of “those crazy Jehovah's Witnesses.”

Keith had already introduced me to haggis (which was surprisingly tasty!), and now he had it in his head that he needed to make me blood pudding. Next morning at breakfast, in addition to the usual gut-busting, heaping platter of sausage, eggs, bacon, ham, stewed tomatoes, toast and cereal, lay five thick, black slices of…well, fried blood. Those Scots really know how to eat.