Dollars and sense

15 07 2013

Over that weekend I discovered two things.

1) A friend of my mom’s has a phone number that is the same as mine except with 2 numbers transposed. Poor poor Mrs Winterville was also receiving countless phone calls from an incoherent Mort as his vodka infused finger would misdial. Usually he would hang up upon her answering, or if she didn’t answer he would just leave a message of laboured breathing with my name and a few expletives thrown in. Apologies Mrs Winterville.

2) Astoundingly up to this point Mort was still earning an income, really not sure how as he was clearly not going to work. I noticed that the credit card bills and cash withdrawals had escalated to a staggering point. Even if he had stayed at five-star hotels, sucked the mini-bars dry and eaten Kobe steak three times a day he couldn’t spend what he was going through. Over the next couple of days I started to unravel things financially. Separate bank accounts, credit cards, etc. I was careful to put a ring around what was mine and what was his. Given I was a stay at home mom, I also calculated what child support payments I would be entitled to. That was a waste of time.


Pink elephants

9 07 2013

The next day I sat with my dad looking over the paperwork for the short-term stay apartment that I had thankfully not yet signed. We agreed that given Mort’s reckless behaviour, there was no way that I could sign paperwork on his behalf, it could cause all sorts of legal nightmares.

What if he was cooking something, got dead drunk and set the apartment on fire. There were dozens of different scenarios where his causing damage to a property would be on my head.

I threw out the papers and informed him that he would have to source his own accommodation. He threw all sorts of child-like tantrums asking how he was supposed to do that. I told him it wasn’t my problem and he’d need to act like a grown-up and figure it out.

Now I can’t recall in here when exactly or in fact at what opportunity I had to take away his house keys and the garage door remote control which he kept in his car, but I did. It was a swift and deft move.

A couple nights later, I went to a concert with our schoolie friends that I had in fact purchased tickets to months in advance (of the concert and this craziness). This was the day that I noted he called 87 times. I actually got the giggles at one point because of the absurdity of him saying, “Oh, I was really looking forward to the concert, too bad I can’t come along and hang out with everyone.” Again, somehow avoiding reference to the large intoxicated pink elephant in the room.

Then there were the messages where he would revert to “what if this is the last time that I say goodbye” yadda yadda….and then call 15 more times in 10 minutes.

At the concert a friend asked for an update on the Mort situation with a hug and the preface, “god, are you just sick of talking about it?” I laughed and said, “yep sure am, though I am more sick of living it”.

DUI….big time

6 07 2013

As suspected, Mort’s phone calls from the previous night were just a ‘poor me’ ploy. The next day began with the onslaught of phone calls. He had returned to default position of the innocent and hard-done-by….”I don’t understand what I have done wrong….why are you so mad at me?”

I look back at my notes that I had started to jot down during this crazy time and my notation for the day says “1,000 phone calls”, which is of course a stretch, but not by much as I actually did count the number of times that he called a few days later and it was 87.

In between his rants I calmly explained that I had gotten the paperwork for a short-term rental property that he would be staying in.

In the middle of the night, I awoke to my bedroom lights being switched on. He was standing there telling me that he had been picked up for drink driving and his car had been taken away. I was shaking off the remnants of a restless sleep. I don’t think I even had to say “get out”, he was there and then he wasn’t. It all happened so quickly that I was left wondering if I had dreamt it. The glaring light and the slam of the front door confirmed that I hadn’t.

(note: the official paperwork arrived a few days later stating that his blood alcohol level had been .23 to put that in terms of reference, legal limit is .05, he was over 4 and half times that.)

PS – today is my one year anniversary in wordpress….thank you to my gorgeous friends who encouraged me to be in this space…you know who you are x