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