Chapter 14 - Fighting An Octopus.

Once upon a time I saw this really cool YouTube video of two octopi fighting over possession of a hole in a coral reef. It was bizarre and fascinating at the same time. The one trying to steal the hole away from the other would sneak attack from behind, coming up over the ridge of rocks and wrapping it’s tentacles around the defender. The other octopus immediately reacted by contorting its body, making itself physically larger, while it went through a series of rapid-paced color changes. The texture of the defender’s skin went from a smooth grey, to this bumpy, dark-brown, to an almost pulsing purple, and then back to prickly brown again. The color fluctuations happened so fast and were so unpredictable it was hard to actually tell what was going on with the fighting tentacles. Then, when you weren’t really looking, the bigger of the two whipped out one snaky tentacle, wrapped it around the other’s body, and threw the attacker over its head. The loser slinked off somewhere while the winner draped itself over its roch, his body morphing to mimic the craggy black coral of its home. 

That’s what it feels like to argue with a narcissist.

You start off arguing a valid point and before you know it, they’ve got you so turned around and distracted you don’t even notice when they go in for the kill. They can’t just argue the point you wanted to address. They are unable or unwilling to resolve a conflict in a normal, healthy manner. They don't play fair. They inherently argue in bad faith. But they do it in a way that leaves you so confused you sometimes don’t even realize you’ve lost the argument. 

Face it, an abusive and manipulative person doesn’t really care about your point of view. They don’t want to see things reasonably. They don’t want to listen to your side. The only thing a narcissist cares about is winning. Because it’s ALL about them. ALWAYS.

So most arguments with that kind of person don’t go the way you’d expect. They’ll lie, gaslight, provoke, and bully you into giving in. They’ll try to shift the blame to you or others. They’ll deflect, attack, and project. In other words, they fight dirty. 

So, if you start a discussion about something you don’t like or find to be untrue and problematic, instead of addressing it or taking responsibility for it, your narcissist will quickly deflect and go into attack mode. This means he will use his toxic tactics to quickly shift attention away from whatever he’s done and instead bring up something that you may, or may not, have said or done. That way you’re always on the defensive. He will accuse you of all sorts of wild stuff, some of which includes the things he is actually doing himself, just to keep you off balance.

And then, once they’ve got YOU framed as the bad guy, the unreasonable one, the unfeeling cad, they can play the victim. They cry. They complain how misunderstood they are. And, of course, you feel like shit because, how could you be so cruel when all they wanted was to LOVE you? 

Before you’re even aware of what’s happening, that octopus has shifted through a dozen different color changes and textualizations and reframed the whole argument to their own benefit. Then, while you’re still too dazed by the dizzying display, one sneaky tentacle will zap out and strangle you. After which they go back to their rock in victory, hiding behind their deceptive camouflage again, king of the sea, completely unperturbed, and you’re still not sure what hit you.

I was so upset by that damned auto deposit form that I couldn’t concentrate on my work. After dropping a rack of glassware, which was bad enough, I actually knocked an almost full tray of hors d’oeuvres off a buffet table I was trying to set up. Luke was livid. I apologized profusely, claimed I wasn’t feeling well - which wasn’t exactly a lie - and told my boss I needed to leave. 

Since all this happened while Ethan was still performing, he had no way of knowing I was heading home early. This meant that, for once, I didn’t have my usual boyfriendly escort on the way home from work. I was glad for the solitude, to be honest. I even decided to skip the bus altogether and instead walked the entire distance, using the time to think. 

Because I walked, however, Ethan managed to make it home before me, and he was waiting impatiently by the door as I trudged up the last few steps to the fourth floor landing. I ignored him as I shouldered my way inside, hung up my coat, and dropped my bag next to the door. I even took a moment to pull my phone out of my pocket, meaning to check the time, but noting that I’d obviously forgotten to charge it so the battery was totally dead. Ethan was there, hovering a step away, ready to pounce the second after I’d plugged in the phone and finally turned to face him.

“Where have you been? Luke said you weren’t feeling well and left early. I rushed home to make sure you were okay but you were nowhere to be found. I was starting to get really worried about you, you know?” Ethan didn’t sound worried; he sounded angry. “You should have waited for me, Justin, or at least called to tell me where you were. It was cruel to leave me there, worrying about you, not knowing if you were okay or not. I don’t like not knowing where you are, Babe.”

For once, Ethan had totally miscalculated and his attempt to portray himself as the injured party just left me even more spitting mad. “I’m perfectly capable of getting home by myself, Ethan,” I rounded on him with a cold, hard glare that could have cut through glass. “And, for your information, I didn’t leave work because I was sick. I left early because I was so angry I couldn’t think straight!”

“What are you talking about, Justin?” Ethan tried to play dumb. 

“I’m talking about THIS, you asshole!” I practically screamed at him, holding up my phone so he could see the picture I’d taken of that damned auto deposit form, shoving it in his face with righteous fury.

Ethan took the phone out of my hand so he could look at the picture more clearly. Or maybe he was just stalling for time, who knew? There was half a second there where I might have detected a shadow of a doubt flickering across his face. But then it was gone and he had his usual mask of supreme confidence in place again.

“I don’t understand . . .” he calmly returned my angry stare, all innocence and put-upon confusion. “Isn’t that the form you asked me to drop off with Luke? Why would that make you angry?”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Ethan!” I exploded. “I never asked you any such thing and I sure as hell wouldn’t have permanently directed all my paychecks to be deposited in YOUR account!”

“It looks like you did,” Ethan maintained patiently, glancing down at the photo one more time. “That’s your signature, isn’t it?”

Somehow, Ethan‘s totally calm and unemotional response completely threw me. I guess I’d expected him to look guilty, to try and argue with me, to yell back, maybe - I don’t know - to confess and show remorse. What I got instead was this total blank. He wasn’t even denying it, per se. He was just quietly defiant. But because I didn’t get anything close to the response I’d expected, it shut me up.

I looked back down at the image on my phone. The signature really did look like mine. I remembered getting this form along with a bunch of other paperwork back when I first started at Carnegie Hall, and I’d really meant to turn it in, but I’d gotten busy and forgotten it. Last I knew, it had still been sitting somewhere amid the pile of my books and schoolwork and other odds and ends over on the bookcase. For the life of me, I didn’t remember filling it out and, even if I had, I wouldn’t have directed my paychecks to Ethan’s account. Would I? No, I wouldn’t have done that.

Ethan must have noticed when my internal debate had reached the point that I was about to dispute him again, so he took the offensive before I could get another word out. “Don’t you remember, Babe? Last Tuesday? I was on my way out to rehearsals, and you asked me to stop and pick up your allergy meds on the way since I was gonna be over that direction anyways?”

“Yeah, but . . .”

“And then, right as I’m leaving, you handed that paper to me and said, ‘oh, drop this off too’.” He pointed at the picture of the form.

I raked my memory. Tuesday had been super busy. Plus, I’d been rushing to finish this huge report that was due the next day in my Art History class. While Ethan was at rehearsals that night, I had planned to go back to the computer lab at school to finish and print out my report. I remembered being glad that Ethan had agreed to pick up my meds for me, since it would allow me more time at the computer lab, which closes at 9:00pm. We were both running around, gathering up our stuff, trying to get out of there quickly. It had been kinda chaotic. I truthfully didn’t remember exactly what I said to him as he was leaving.

“But I didn’t do this. I didn’t fill out this form. Not this way.” I protested, although my insistence sounded a lot less sure by that point. 

“So . . . what? You’re saying I made the whole thing up? That I’m lying to you?” Ethan sounded so indignant and hurt that it made me cringe. “Shit, Justin, you’ve got some balls accusing me of lying when all I’ve ever done, from day one, is look out for you! Love you! Cherish you!”

“Ethan, please, this isn’t about that . . .” I tried to interrupt but Ethan already had a head of sanctimonious steam behind him and just barrelled on.

“After everything I’ve done for you, you’re accusing ME of something underhanded?” Ethan turned his back on me and stomped off across the length of our tiny studio. “Shit, Justin! I can’t believe you. I turn my whole life upside down for you. I let you move in here at the drop of a hat. I take time out of my day - every single day - to help you out with all your shit. I’ve had to take time out of my rehearsals for you. Even my practice for the Heifitz has had to be put on the back burner for you. But you don’t appreciate anything, do you?” He finally turned back around so he was facing me and his face was all screwed up with hurt  and betrayal. “Well, you know what? I don’t need this shit. I had a life before you came along, you know? I don’t need to take time out of MY day to run errands for you - not if you’re going to jump down my throat about them later.”

Ethan angrily walked over to the table where his violin was waiting and began to undo the clasps on the case. He was clearly done with this conversation and, maybe, with me. I was left standing there wondering where the fuck this whole conversation had veered off course. 

“Listen, Ethan,” I tried to assume a slightly more conciliatory tone. “I don’t want to argue but I am really upset about this. I don’t know how this happened - and I’m not accusing you of anything - but this damn form has really screwed things up for me. Luke said that Corporate has a policy that they won’t let you change your payroll directions more than once every quarter; which means that I’m stuck with all my money going into your bank account until June. And I’m just not comfortable with that,” I could see the anger and denial starting to rise up in my boyfriend again, so I rushed to head that argument off. “And it’s not because I don’t trust you. Really. But no matter how much I love you, I need to be in charge of my own life. You can understand that, right? I need to be in control of my own finances and know where MY money is going.”

“Fine. So how do you propose we fix this, then?” Ethan asked, still not sounding all that sympathetic. 

“Well, since I can’t change it back, I’m going to need you to be a lot more transparent with our joint finances.” 

“So we’re back to you saying I’m lying to you again?” 

Ethan turned his back on me, picked up his bow and began to play an angry scree on his violin that pretty effectively drowned out anything more I might have wanted to say. 

I put a hand on his shoulder and used it to pry his bow away from the instrument. “I’m not saying that, Ethan.” He refused to look at me. “Please, Ethan? Can we just talk about this? It’s really important to me.”

“Fine. Talk,” he ordered, setting Misha aside with an exasperated huff. 

I tried to marshal my thoughts into some kind of rational order but it was hard with him staring at me that way. “Okay, so I honestly don’t remember filling out that form or asking you to take it to Luke.” Before he could turn away again, I held up my hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m NOT accusing you of anything, Ethan. I just . . . I don’t remember doing that. I mean, I remember getting the form, along with all the other employee paperwork, when I started, and I had planned to turn in the auto-deposit form; I just don’t remember completing it or giving it to you the other night. BUT, even if I did, I’m not happy about it, okay?” Ethan simply shrugged without comment. “I don’t like not having control over my own money. You can understand that, right?”

“I thought we already talked about this, Justin,” Ethan was still obdurate and combative. “You’re the one who said it was easier to let me pay all the bills at the same time. That’s why we put your last couple checks in my account. I don’t see why this is any different.”

“Well, it’s different because I can’t change it back easily. Which means that, going forward, at least until June when I can change it back if I decide to, we need to make some changes, because I want a lot more of a say in the joint finances.” I could already tell that Ethan was going to argue the point, so I hurried on with my next point, trying to head him off. “I’ve been going over our budget and it just doesn’t add up, Ethan.” I took out the piece of scratch paper where I’d copied what Daphne had started at our lunch the other day, with the additions I’d made after looking at some of the exact numbers on the bills that had come in the mail over the past few days, and I offered it to Ethan. “This is the rough budget I’ve put together, and you can see that, based on our expenses, there really should be a lot more money left over at the end of the month.”

“Where’d you get these numbers from?”

“Some of them are based off last month’s bills, but most are just estimates because I didn’t really know all the numbers.”

“Well, you’re way off on a lot of this,” Ethan insisted, tossing my budget aside dismissively. “For one thing, the rent is a lot higher than that. And the number you listed for groceries is really low; do you have any idea how much you eat? This whole thing is a piece of crap.”

“Which just goes to prove my point that I need more transparency about what our budget really is,” I assert, my annoyance levels ramping back up again when I thought of how clueless I had been. “How can I be sure all my money isn’t being wasted if I don’t even know what our bills are?” 

“This is all your little gal pal’s doing, isn’t it?” Ethan accused, jumping completely off topic and blindsiding me again. “Daphne.” The way he said the name it sounded like he was tasting something sour. “She never liked me; she’s always acted like a snippy little cunt every time I’ve met her. And she’s obviously trying to turn you against me. Well, fuck that! I don’t have to stick around for this shit!” 

In a burst of fury, he packed up his violin, grabbed his coat and bag, and headed for the door, screaming at me over his shoulder the whole way. 

“If you’re gonna believe your fag hag over me, then you might as well just pack up your crap and get the hell out! Go on! Go crawling back to Brian, for all I care. I’m sure Mr. Moneybags can take care of your pampered ass better than I can . . . as long as you don’t mind that he won’t ever love you the way I do. But, whatever. I don’t care. Go ahead and just stomp on my love for you. I’m through busting my butt, day in and day out, for someone who doesn’t give a shit about me. You decide where you want to be! I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ANYMORE, JUSTIN!”

And before I’d even caught my breath, he was gone, and I was left standing there in the middle of the room feeling dazed.

I spent the rest of the night pacing the floor, yelling at the walls, and, eventually, crying my eyes out. 

I was so angry I wanted to scream, but at the same time I felt guilty for the poor way I’d handled the whole debacle. I should have known better than to confront him when I was in such a bad mood. My mother always said that you shouldn’t tackle any problem when you’re angry; you should sleep on it, work out what you want to say on paper, and only then approach the subject. But me, I’d just come in here, hurling accusations, and yelling. And where had it got me? 

I was scared that I was totally blowing my relationship with Ethan. It had only been a little over a month since I’d melted down over Brian and here I was, already nuking my next relationship? Could I suck at this shit any more than I apparently already did? What was my problem? Why did I drive everyone away from me? And where would I go next if Ethan and I broke up? I’d be friendless and homeless if I wasn’t careful. I knew I had to somehow make this right. I had to fix this.

Ethan never came home at all, though, so I couldn’t even apologize.

I got myself so worked up that, by the time daylight began to peek through the grungy curtains, I had pretty much forgotten the initial reason I’d been angry at Ethan. I felt like an ungrateful loser. All I could think about were Ethan’s final words - words that almost echoed the same phrase Brian had used at the end - ‘decide where you want to be’. Did I even know where I wanted to be anymore? Why couldn’t I ever be satisfied with what I had? Why did I always push too hard, trying to get more, when I should be happy with what I’d already been given. I had a boyfriend who professed his love for me on a daily basis and I’d basically just thrown that back in his face? What was my problem?

I eventually dragged myself to school and sleep-walked through my classes. I didn’t see Ethan all day. My gut was so tied up with anxiety that I didn’t even really mind that I didn’t have money for lunch that day; instead of eating I went to the studio and spent the hour slapping paint haphazardly onto a canvas, trying to work out my demons. When Ethan still hadn’t shown up by the time my last class of the day was over, I trudged back to the apartment, alone, dreading what I’d find when I finally got there.

So I was unprepared for the response I DID get when I finally opened the door and found Ethan sitting at the little desk in the corner smiling at me. 

“There you are! I was wondering when you’d get home.” Ethan got up from where he was sitting and handed me a little pastel-blue sheet of cardstock covered with carefully calligraphed writing. “I’m sorry I got so angry last night, Babe,” he stated, looking up at me with a sheepish grin. “I know I sometimes have a bit of a temper. And, since I’m terrible at apologies, I wrote you this instead.” 

I looked down at the card he’d given me and discovered it was another poem:

Words I say don't always come out right,

and they always seem to start a fight.

I know what I say can hurt you,

and believe me, I don't mean to.

The last thing I want to see is you sad

because I can't control myself when I get mad.

I know all you want from me is my best,

but right now I need time to rest.

Everything is happening so fast.

How long will it all last?

Everything is falling apart.

It's ripping my heart.

“Please don’t rip out my heart, Babe,” Ethan begged, looking so contrite that I actually believed him. “I thought about what you said about the bills and shit, and I realized you’re right. We both need to be onboard with what the expenses are around here. So, from now on I’ll make sure to show you all the bills. Okay?”

I was bowled over by this 180 degree reversal. Ethan was not only apologizing for the fight, but he was giving me exactly what I’d asked for; he was going to be more transparent about the expenses and money. That was all I’d really wanted. Of course, it made me even more embarrassed about the way I’d totally attacked him the night before and all the shit I’d accused him of. Clearly, I’d been wrong to think he could have acted underhandedly. He wouldn’t do anything wrong or sneaky; not if he was now so willing to be open. I had obviously overreacted. We both had. Thankfully that seemed to be over now.

“I know it’s been a big adjustment for you this past month, Babe,” Ethan’s apology continued as he reached down to take my hand in his. “It hasn’t been easy for me either, you know. But it’s going to get better. I promise. I’m going to watch what I spend and we’ll work things out so money isn’t so tight going forward. Okay?”

“That sounds great, Ethan.”

“Good. And I know I probably spent a little too much last month, - although I really needed that new bow or my competition performance would have suffered - but that wasn’t so much an expense as it is an investment, right? Unfortunately, though, that tapped me out completely. Plus, I’ve been working so hard to prepare for the Heifitz that I just haven’t had the energy to work on anything else,” he explained while walking me over to sit with him on the bed. “After this competition is over, though, things will be so much better, Babe. I’ll have more time to play some gigs and busk and money won’t be such a problem. Plus, WHEN I win, we won’t ever have to worry about money again - once I get that recording contract, we’ll be rolling in dough. So, please, just bear with me for a little longer, here. Okay?”

“That sounds great, Ethan, but you know we can’t count on that money yet, right? We still need to watch our money for the time being and not overspend,” I cautioned, unwilling to get too caught up in his enthusiasm. “If you win, and you start to make some real money, THEN we can loosen up a bit. But in the meantime, we need to budget as carefully as possible.”

“Agreed,” Ethan replied without hesitation. “Now, can we please not argue anymore?”

I nodded, happily. I was ridiculously relieved that we’d made up - that I hadn’t ruined this relationship too - and I’m sure it showed on my face. Ethan leaned in and kissed me, long and tenderly. I was so overjoyed that we were back on solid ground that I might have even let loose a few happy tears. Ethan noticed right away and pulled back so that he could kiss the spot where one tear had begun to roll down my cheek. 

“Oh, Babe. Don’t cry. It hurts my heart when you’re sad,” Ethan professed. “Besides, you can’t be sad anymore because I got you a present.”

Before I could protest that I didn’t need any presents - especially not when we’d just agreed to watch our finances more carefully - Ethan stretched around so he could pick up a small cardboard box that had been sitting unnoticed at the foot of the bed. I couldn’t immediately see what was inside, but then I picked up a strange, low, rumbling noise coming from the box. When Ethan held it out to me, I unfolded one of the top flaps and was surprised by the tiny, furry head that immediately popped up. 

“Mew,” said the most precious brown-grey tabby kitten I’d ever seen.

“A kitten?” I exclaimed as I reached inside and pulled the small, wiggling body out. 

“Yep. I was walking past the Bodega over on Clarkson at lunchtime and the owner was giving away all the kittens their resident cat had a few weeks back. Of course, I thought of you right away. I know how much you love Wolfram, and that the dickhead you used to be with would never let you have a pet, so I just decided right then and there that you deserved your own furry friend,” Ethan announced as he joined me in scratching at the pretty little kitty. “So, what are you going to name her?’

I didn’t even have to think about it. I picked up the little purr-machine, looked in her bright green eyes, and proclaimed, “Felicity, because she makes me so happy.”

And the whole topic of the auto deposit form that I didn’t remember filling out was just conveniently forgotten.