NO ENTRY

He admitted that he had the locks reprogrammed and told his doorman never to allow me access anymore.

It was suppose to be our home but it was his lease. He can do that.

In the last 7 days that we’d reconciled, when I was with him every single day, at his flat, being present for him, he’d not rescinded the order. He says to me “I was scared of what you’d do” and “that’s easy to fix if you want to.”

I cannot still, 18 hours later, describe or label what I’m feeling. There was no strong response from me one way or another. I merely took in the information and kept silent. There was nothing else that could be done - all energy was needed to hold me up.

We left that particular elephant in the room and ignored it. After I fixed his Netflix technical issue, we settled down to watch some shows. I believe he knew the information he shared was not one to be proud of, because he was gentle in his tone and touch for the next few viewing hours. It helped that I continued to amiably ignore the elephant. He was not called into account. But that’s just my conjecture - and we know all about the fallacy of conjectures.

When we finally retired to bed, he asked to me tell him why I was melancholic. I amiably changed the subject. He asked if it was because the evening did not go the way I wanted it - that we didn’t go out. I told him the evening was perfect - just how I liked spending my evenings. He insisted again. Said he wouldn’t stop asking until I explained. I did - and was careful to say I did not know what I was feeling but was still trying to process the information.

The man I love said he would make it right. We hugged each other tighter. He then proceeded to repeat that I behaved in a crazy way, ringing his doorbell non-stop and refusing to leave. He reminded me I only left when he threatened to call my son (not true). That he was scared. He was scared of me. He was scared of what I’d do. And yes, I’d never ever hurt him before, and even after that night there were no repurcussions after all, but my ringing the doorbell scared him, made him frightened of me, and did I not think it was justified he did what he did? 

It was my fault. I was to blame. I am a scary person - but not so scary that when he is feeling low and needs a friend, he’d call me and not worry what I’d do when/if he did. But he’s scared of me because I kept ringing a doorbell (for perhaps 90 seconds) on a night I was dumped and kicked out of a flat I’d help move us into just 5 days before that was also to be our home.

Even then, lying in bed, in each other’s arms, in this intimate moment, after we’d spent the week together being there for his mental health, it’s my fault, I’m to blame, he was scared of me, the humiliation of expressly banning me to his doorman, telling him what happened, a stranger, and not rescinding his instructions the next day when tempers cooled, not rescinding it when I returned his keys the next day, not rescinding it when I left him have all the work files I did that he wanted, not set in motion any reparation to my reputation in the intervening 5 weeks where nothing bad happened to him by my hands, not changing his order after we’d met friendly, warm, strong, not giving new instructions after we’d reconciled and I was relied on for comfort, for love, for life itself.

As we sit in the coffee shop this Sunday morning, 18 hours after he dropped the bomb, him working on his phone and me writing this, the order still stands.