Memoirs and Memories III

 “I’m sorry. I don’t have a record of anyone with that name, date of birth or social security number.” My heart was racing but I managed to mumble a “Thank you” as I hung up. I tried to collect my thoughts. The whole reason we’d moved to Colorado was because he said he owned 50 acres in Golden. “We can eventually build a house out there. It will be a great place to raise a family. The air isn’t as polluted as it is in Texas”. Really? Pollution? That’s our deciding factor in relocating?!

After several months in Colorado, and several planned trips to see “our property”, and then having to reschedule for various reasons (migraines, work schedules, paychecks not being signed on time, and lastly, “I don’t remember the address of the property- I’ll have to look it up”), I decided to call the tax office. Since property records are public information, I knew there wouldn’t being a problem- but I had a deep gnawing fear. I knew. I knew it wasn’t true. There was no property. Just like there were no Bachelor’s degrees, or Culinary school certification, or job offer with BP that would move us to Spain (the reason for us planning a wedding so quickly).

It’s exhausting playing “private detective”- especially when you are digging up things about someone you live with- love- someone to whom you are legally bound. My heart would beat so loudly I was sure the person on the other end could hear it. I called the transcript office at University of Houston and Texas A&M to “verify education” on a resume.  “No- we have no record of anyone graduating or attending school with that name”. I swallowed, “Thank you for your time.”

Who had I married? And what now? “A vow is a vow.” I told myself, “marriage is ‘for better or for worse’ and this is just the ‘for worse’ part. Besides, what would people say? Christians don’t divorce.”

I knew he struggled with telling the truth before we were married, but I didn't realize how deep these festering waters ran.

Just two months after we were married...  

"I found more tobacco cans under our mattress." Trying to be as non-confrontational as I could. 

"Yeah- I found those in the parking lot and I was going to throw them away but then I thought you would think I dip so I hid them." He looked me straight in the eye.

"So you found trash and put it under our mattress?"

"Yes". 

Deep breaths. It would come out eventually. Finally, one evening, I was in the shower and I heard him go into the closet. I heard him rummage around. I heard the tobacco can open. I heard it hit he floor. I heard him swear under his breath. I left the water running, grabbed a towel and burst through the closet door to find him on his knees frantically scooping up grounds of tobacco. "So are you still going to tell me you don't dip?" Before he could respond, I went back into the bathroom, locked the door and cried. He didn't trust me enough to tell me. He didn't feel safe enough to ask for help. The ache was growing. 

"Great news, babe! I got a job as a chemical engineer for a brand new company that is being built just north of Denver. The salary is $85,000 a year with full benefits" 

I sighed inwardly. What was he doing now? "That's great. I didn't know you applied for a chemical engineering job." ..."especially since you don't have a chemical engineering degree," I thought. But he didn't know I knew, so I played along. I'd been reading up on pathological liars. Confronting them was tricky. 

"yeah- the guy who owns it is named Michael. I'll be working with him at his house until the facility is finished."

Months went by. No paychecks. Weird "work schedule". No groceries. Rent was late. Furniture was missing. DVDs and CDs were disappearing. He posted Izzy's bedroom set; changing table, dresser, crib, on Craigslist. Her CRIB! "She can sleep in her pack-and-play for a while until I get paid. I'll buy her another bedroom set. Trust me." 

"Trust me." That phrase I loathed. That phrase that sent chills up my spine. If I can truly trust you, and you are trustworthy, why don't you just show me instead of trying to convince me?

"We are going to move into a different apartment. I found a cheaper place and it's closer to work. The first two months are free." 

I was too tired to argue. "ok... When do we move in?"

"We need to move in next weekend". 

I started collecting boxes and wrapping dishes. 

Dad died. 

Weeks later, no word from "Michael" at the "chemical engineering job". 

"Michael had a stroke and is in a coma and doesn't remember hiring me or anything." 

"Didn't you sign papers? submit an application? get an offer letter? Even if the building isn't done, if they are hiring, they must have an HR department." 

"No.. we were going to take care of all that when this happened."

I was screaming on the inside. Who could I call? My dad was gone. I couldn't call home- I didn't want to bother anyone. So I called my cousin. "Natalie he sounds psycho. Who lies about stuff like this?! These are the kinds of things you see on TV- where they are all quiet and soft spoken and then their spouse ends up murdered and in a lake" I promised her I'd be ok- that I would check in with her daily. But then, my cell phone was disconnected.