What is unconditional love? I am not certain I understand any longer. I did not trust it when I needed to and begged for it when it was too late.
I stare so many moments searching for him in the depths of the ocean. It is then; I seek the water’s edge and walk. Same as he walked away from me. I daydream of all we could have finally been. I still weep over all lost. It is then Florence and Machine carries me over the weight of the water as it splashes against my legs. “Never Let Me Go”. The song I never wanted on my soundtrack. The one that is truth. Truth that shall echo through every ocean wave I hear all day long. The oceans lull I breathe into my lungs to survive. It is why I had no choice but to stay. Here is my ultimate tattoo.
Chapter Fifty-Six
I returned to San Francisco only once. I packed up my life. I cleared all of me from our home. That is, all I could bear to do. I left the papers that had been drafted for Ben regarding the account that I kept for him. All he needed to do was sign and return them and the full account is released to him. My planner is good. When I signed the papers the account was well over $310,000. Nearly doubled the actual investment. Nine years of deceit. Everything has a price.
All that is left of me there is the furniture we picked out together. I often wonder if my bedroom door sits open or closed. I didn't see Ben when I returned. I had hoped too, but I had no idea where he was. I figured he was away working. I have not seen or spoken to him since that night. There was one sole correspondence via email. It was only the subject line. There was nothing beneath it. ‘I would like to keep the apartment in San Francisco’. I had so much to reply, but all I chose to write was ‘Of course. It is your home’.
I wish the truth never came out, but it was inevitable. I did not outrun my past as I finally thought I did, instead it hung me. It suffocated me, taking with it all I ever dreamt. A life I truly believed I finally deserved, despite my constant insecurities. Ben was breaking down every wall. He was unraveling me. Nothing in life had ever felt so right.
Nick didn't believe me in Los Angeles. He in all his arrogance somehow believed in true love. There is no such thing. That is not true. The truth is; no love is everlasting. Life is twisted, wrong and unfair. Love is never enough. I finally understood what is said between two as they marry. People who marry do not only promise to love. They promise to love, honor, and respect and cherish. I did not understand it until too late. People get to a place of marriage or commitment through all of those. I did not honor Ben. That piece was missing. I knew of the impending doom. I knew Ben. I knew once he learned of that night we would be over. The fact after that a child was conceived, one he always has wanted as much as I, was beyond any pain he could express. My forgiveness would not be an emotion he would absorb. He had thought he dealt with all of his past. His amends, as humbling and difficult as it was, it was over. I stood by him through his twelve steps. Yet, I held the worst that needed to be forgiven. In my heart, I kept it from him because I had already forgiven him.
Devastated. A word that did not seem to live up to its definition that night on the beach. He no longer could face me. I would now be a reminder of his past. His past he did everything to change. A past he found the strength to let go. One that was no longer healthy for him. I was now part of that. Watching his face learn there was baby, seeing his eyes never leave the depth of the water in the distance, all as he wept, never escapes my mind. All the years we spent together. It was over, as quickly as it had finally begun.
I watched him walk. Trail the edge of the water after our sun had long set, when many lies were freed. The wind swaying, open in the dark skies, he left me. It was clear. I lost my soul. I am hollow. Empty. All I did to protect us was all that tore us apart. I will never try again. I love him. I will always love him. It will always only be Ben. I would rather live alone then ever live a lie again. I am incapable of ever loving another.
I stare at the empty screen of my laptop. I have been trying for days to write all of this. I am struggling. I am trying to conclude whether that night should or shouldn’t move from my mind. Write, express, and share through my eyes. Let my actions not only live inside me forever but become ones, once written can never be hidden again. It is far different to feel or even speak, but when you put words on paper, they then live forever. A life all their own. My torment is interrupted by a sound I am not used to. Repeatedly, it interrupts the music I attempting to drown my sorrow in.
My doorbell? My doorbell is repeatedly ringing.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
"Jesus, who rings a bell this many times? It better be the police or the fire department with one hell of a good reason to be breaking down my door."
What if I ignore it? Maybe they will go away? No one even knows where I live except my family and they sure as hell wouldn’t just show up. I have no desire to get up. I transformed the second bedroom into a place where I can work. My shabby chic, beach office. It is all I ever dreamt a workspace could be. It includes a library composed of every author I admire and respect. A place to work, behind a white elegantly carved wood desk. A high back floral blue chair, I sit in as I work. Perfect for days such as this when I sit and stare at the empty screen before me, unable to compose a single sentence. Days when all I do is reflect and mourn.
An oversized chair rests in the corner soft and inviting. So similar to the one that sat in my room in San Francisco. I consider it my reading chair also. I donated the one I had in San Francisco. I could not bear the memories embedded within it. This chair faces the ocean. A delicate lamp stands tall beside it. The softest hints of blue are carried through the room. In the fabric on my chair, the area rug that covers not all but the right amount of the floor, the throw blanket I cover my sadness within as I try to get lost in others writing. It too in the artwork on the adjacent wall of my bookcases and the hand painted molding around the ceiling. It is the breeze from the French doors I always keep open behind me that is the true piece of heaven.
As beautiful as I find this room, an office is a strange reference. I have not taken on any freelance work in six months. I am not even certain the freelance world remembers me any longer. It is a competitive business. Many starving writers are everywhere who will write anything to collect an income. Have a financial back up to use as they write the screenplay or novel they themselves long to not only complete, but also publish. Whatever this room really is used for, this room is for me. Mine. This space I did as a gift for myself. One of the very few gifts I have allowed.
Currently, I am leasing this quiet home on the beach in Malibu. I couldn’t leave the beach; the ocean. I may not have drowned in the water that night, but I must still submerge myself in its existence.
It is amusingly the smallest home on the block. Once you enter, I am certain it is probably the diamond in the ruff no one else paid attention to. The entire back of my home except a very small portion is glass. All doors and windows open up to a view no words can properly capture. Behind the deck attached to my home, lay a ladder, a path down to the beach beneath. The sound of the beach is my daily lullaby, or maybe my cross to bear. I often wonder. Either way, it is my saving grace. My way of staying close to Ben. The moments all-consuming that his presence is gone. Days very much like today.
I am paying an arm and a leg for this place. Malibu is exceptionally expensive. I am using some of the inheritance I have not touched in eighteen years. I thought I knew where I stood financially. I signed my taxes mailed to me every year. I realize now, I never even read them. I always trusted my accountant and my financial planner to handle all of my affairs. The only attention I ever gave to money really was regarding the account I had set up for Ben. I always made sure it was being handled well. Only other time was to buy our apartment. I could not have a mortgage. I knew it had to be paid out right.
When I think about the lies again I find myself cringing at how deceitful I was. Selfish. Had Ben known nine years ago, I bought our apartment in cash, in full, he would have never agreed to live with me. He’s alway
s strongly believed in paying his own way. Money honestly does not mean much to me. Nine years ago, when I purchased our home, I had honestly thought it used a substantial portion my inheritance. Obviously, I knew what my grandfather originally left me. I did not know at the time, how the original money had grown and since I did not ask, it was never told to me. Six months ago, when I finally showed an interest, accepting Malibu had to be my new home, I acquired the actual numbers in my accounts. I did not know how long my despair would be debilitating. I was face down, harder than ever before. I needed to know how long could I financially survive living here.
I was not told on the phone or sent an email. Sal, my financial planner actually flew to Malibu. I had still been staying at the Beach Inn. I was using up all of Nick’s money. I never considered that money mine. The hotel never argued with my extended stay. I was quiet and courteous, that is, when I even left my room. I suppose having one their highest priced suites booked for as long as I needed, off-season, for them was not a bad thing.
Please understand I have always worked. I did not live a privileged life, despite my inheritance. That money was almost not real to me. I did grow up in a wealthy family. However, that was never my independent life.
God, I loved the life I shared with Ben. I only indulged in moments of severe mania, yes then some of my purchases were excessive, but none that ever drew attention. They were what so many others had themselves, but I never thought equated to their actual value. My life, I enjoyed its modest yet worry free environment. I have worked hard all of my life. My income was always sent directly to my financial planner. It has always been the right choice. At the time when I was finally diagnosed and I truly understood my behavior; I accepted certain behaviors I pursued during mania.
Medication helps reduce mania. It can also help bring you back, lessen the crash after, however nothing cures Bipolar Disorder. It is terminal. Mania will always resurface, so shall depression. At times, I am well aware of its approach, but there are times it is a guessing game. I knew I needed resources to fulfill my highs.
The potential for me turn to drugs or alcohol was more likely than others were. Addiction and mental illness can unfortunately go hand in hand. I preferred to accept the rush I got, get, through spending sprees, or the behavior of days gone long ago, being promiscuous. I chose the very late night driving, exceeding the speed limit. I most certainly have grown to find pleasure in the needle as I am tattooed. I have eight tattoos. One has been added to make a larger piece two times. I recently got another last month. I needed the pain. I needed the physical pain. If only to forget for such a brief time, what I feel emotionally.
In relation to this unruly behavior, I had to make a mature choice long ago. I did not trust myself to have access to such a large sum of money. Hence, how I was introduced to Sal by my father. He and I together decided all my pay would be forwarded to him. He would pay all my bills and he set up an account I have full access too that does exceed my salary. It does allow me the room to feed the devil within me. It also provides barriers so I do not dive into a pool with no water. Technically, it could be said, I receive an allowance. I have always chosen work based on pay and to one day be able to retire. The truth is I had no idea what I had. Truth, I am thirty-nine and I have not had a checkbook since I was married to my first husband.
I was in charge of our finances. Truth; I wore not only the pants in that relationship but the tie also. I handled everything. My grandfather had also not passed at that time. I am capable of handling finances. It is trust in myself I find questionable at moments. In regards to my finances, honestly there has not been a need for me to care very much.
Everything did change when my grandfather did pass. Every paycheck, every bill received was and is forwarded back to New York for handling. I met Sal for breakfast the morning after he arrived in San Francisco. I knew he was reporting to my parents as to how I was doing. I did all I could to look presentable. He set many files down before me. Then as he explained all my finances, I had only one mimosa, however about fifty would have been more appropriate. I am still uncertain if I am grateful or fearful. Let’s say, I shall never need to worry about money for the rest of my life. I not only have savings beyond any I could have comprehended, seems I have investments, stocks and property.
It is actually almost a shame I have no legacy. I will have no children or even a husband to pass on this wealth and good fortune. I decided to begin anonymously contributing some of this empty wealth to charities for young, single mothers and nonprofit mental health organizations. People’s ignorance regarding mental health makes me ill even at this age. Many people like me are prejudged or are supposed to feel shame or hide. Too many voices go unheard. Unfortunately, I understand the demon and its ability within me. Hell, look at all I have done. My addiction in control alone.
It is so odd when you think about it. I relinquish the majority of control over my finances without question or hesitation. I did not care enough. I still don’t. I have always felt money changes people. I have a brother who it changed everything about him. A self-made millionaire thanks to Wall Street. I never wanted to be like him. We are estranged. Money changed him. I am happy for his success but relating to one another died. My life was also so different from his. He is married with two beautiful daughters. I miss my nieces often. They, I am very grateful never left my life even when I moved across the country. My brother however, we no longer speak. It breaks my heart. Family is family. I also felt so close and connected to him, until one day he simply expressed, he did not like me, or understand me. Truth, I did not understand anything he said to me. I never saw it coming. I have never dealt with this any further. I have enough pain. Losing part of your family, not through death, well, it is excruciating. I love my brother; I now simply find it difficult to like him. He left me also. As I said, I still do not truly understand, why. Maybe that is also, why I did let another handle my finances. I did not want to change, become someone who feels a sense of entitlement.
My truth, my financial planner handled my affairs exceptionally well. Smart investing, I would not have done, if left to my own devices. Maybe that is what everyone, even I feared. Strange, I am far wealthier than my brother is, yet thank God I still do not care much.
Right now, my worth has one main purpose; it allows me this place to reside, to live in whatever peace I can find. The home I have created to stay as close to Ben as this twisted world will allow.
I have allowed a few excessive things. Sal never questioned or argued with my requests. He transferred funds. These few excessive items were during mania and one thing part of a plan. One I never could go through with. One that now acts to tame my manic behavior when still a rush is needed. Bottom line, even though it is mine, I ask for the money to pay for my indulgences. I force myself to disconnect from this aspect of my life.
Here I am a lease with an option to buy. If I do decide to purchase, all money collected to date will go toward its purchase price. My lease is for a year. I could not find it in me to look further than that time. It was only due to the persistent realtor and Sal going back in forth, that I even agreed to that lease in the end. The home is lovely. A dream if I allow myself a positive thought. It had been on the market for eight months. No one seemed to look at it because it does not look like much from the outside. The inside needed quite a bit of work. The home needed care. I wanted it for those exact reasons. It felt like me. When someone has opened my door so to speak, there is more to me than what you only see on the outside. There is a need for love.
The sellers were eager. Sal had already found and arranged for us to view of the home. He accompanied me to the listing and yes, he did handle it all. He is the one who got everyone to agree on a lease with an option to buy. Sal, I am sure with my family’s influence, were all concerned about me living in a hotel any longer. I had only disclosed to them that Ben and I had a falling out due to behavior I was ashamed of.
A compromise of a year’s lease was agreed to again
st Sal’s private advice for me to purchase it outright. I could not commit. Thankfully, the sellers were desperate. They were losing money every month. The mutual agreement suited us all in the end. So here I am.
I have made this space my home as much as I can. I have kept it minimal and simple. The chef's kitchen is incredible; if only I cooked. Well, if only I ate. Adjacent to the kitchen is the dining room with a large wood table. That piece of furniture I will say is one of my largest indulgences to date. Stunning. The price meant nothing. It was manic, though more so it is meaningful.
To plant a tree is to allow life to grow. I was planting my tree. I planted it in the middle of my home. It is as if, someone cut the largest oak tree straight down the middle and stained it clear. It rests on its own stump. Every grain and perfect imperfection is displayed. It is a piece of art breathing within my home. Six-oversized fabric nail headed chairs specially made rest around it. It only seems fitting for such a grand piece. Regardless, I have no one to sit there with. It is needed. Perhaps a portion of this purchase is to continue with my punishment. Natural unconditional beauty that shall never be used, only admired. Center of a new life, I will truly never have again. I am destined to live only in the shadows of my past.
I left everyone. I left everyone behind. A life I choose.
Behind the table are sliding glass doors. I keep everything open daily. I fight the urge to stay in bed. I fight every ounce of me that desires blackness instead of light. I force the ocean in. I face my love. I call to him often.
I Walked With Her Page 31