Chapter 20 - Abandoned and Rejected.
You know how, in fairytales, the princess will meet her prince and after they look at each other‘s eyes for the first time they fall hopelessly in love? They somehow know in that first instance that they’re true soulmates. It’s love at first sight.
Yeah, this is why I no longer believe in fairytales.
I’m pretty sure that the Grimm Brothers must’ve been psychopathic narcissists themselves to write that kind of crap. Real life doesn’t work like that. I mean, yes, sometimes you do just click with someone, either on a physical or an emotional level. That’s valid. I’ve felt like that a time or two myself. But I’ve also learned to be very wary of anyone trying to sweep me off my feet with promises of forever romance, palaces of gold, and endless happiness. Because anyone professing their undying love to you within the first few hours or days after you meet is just plain full of shit.
What the fairytales don’t tell you about is that, after the prince has won his princess and carried her away into the sunset, he gets bored with her pretty damn fast. This is known as the Devaluation Phase. Once they’ve acquired you, and you’re no longer an interesting challenge, the narcissist has no incentive to keep up any pretenses. They let the mask of their perfection fall and you begin to see the flaws. However, the process goes two ways, and he’ll also begin to point out your flaws. Usually, in quite a nasty way.
At the start of the devaluing phase the romantic fantasy is still intact because your prince sincerely believes that you are still potentially perfect, just in need of a bit of guidance. So he begins to subtly try to change you. To make you over into whatever he thinks is ideal; someone who will be subservient, loyal, and always cognizant of his perfection. He will begin to make suggestions on how you might improve yourself; how you can better fit into the script of HIS fairytale.
And because you want his love, his approval, you eagerly go along with all his suggestions. Even better, you anticipate what he’ll want and change yourself without even being asked. You probably even convince yourself all these changes were YOUR idea.
But since nobody’s perfect, eventually you’ll either fail to meet all his expectations or, even worse, he’ll go too far and you’ll start to resist. You decide you want out of the fairytale. Now the prince no longer sees you as the perfect embodiment of all his relationship fantasies. You have fallen off your pedestal. You have lost whatever value you might once have had.
In my personal fairytale, the ogre isn’t the owner of the tower I was ‘rescued’ from; the ogre is what the prince turns into once he concludes the princess isn’t perfect.
Luke was thrilled when I told him I would be able to work full time after I dropped out of my seminar class. So thrilled that he actually promoted me to a team lead position and gave me a modest raise. I was finally making above minimum wage. Hooray! The downside, though, was that my new job was still mind-numbingly boring but came with a heap of new responsibilities that often kept me at work even beyond my allotted forty hours a week. Hooray?
At the same time, Ethan was busy getting ready for his big debut performance. He was either practicing or meeting with Glen most of the day. He usually left before I did in the mornings and was already asleep by the time I got back home after working one late event or another. With our conflicting and hectic schedules the only time we even connected was when one of us would wake the other for brief, and somewhat unsatisfying, sexual encounters. I was too exhausted to complain much, though.
What I did complain about was that Ethan’s crazy schedule meant he was shirking a lot of the household chores I had come to rely on him to assist with. He’d completely given up any pretense of helping out with cleaning the apartment, emptying the cats’ litter box, doing laundry, or even just picking up after himself. I’d had to practically beg him to stop and pick up groceries - thank fuck I got to eat at work most days or I would have starved to death - before the cats ran out of food and started eating us instead. But the worst inconvenience of all was when I ran out of allegory meds and Ethan kept forgetting to go to the pharmacy for me.
Of course this led to yet another argument and Ethan getting all bent out of shape about how I was constantly nagging at him. But since he still had control of all our money, it’s not like I could do any of these things myself. I mentally kicked myself for procrastinating about changing my payroll deposits back, and kept promising myself I’d get around to it the following day, but then I’d inevitably get too busy at work and forget. After a few days of this, Ethan lost his temper and stomped out of the apartment in a huff claiming I didn’t appreciate how much stress he was under. He didn’t come home that night. But in the morning, when he did return, he brought with him several bags of groceries, cat food, and litter, so I had to forgive him, right? And I tried not to sound too naggy when I reminded him I still needed my allergy meds. Mostly, I was just too tired to argue with him anymore.
Between my usual summer hay fever, the apartment being a mess with everything covered in cat hair, and me having to ration my meds, not to mention the fact that I still wasn’t sleeping well and was working like a madman, I suppose it shouldn’t have been a big surprise that I got sick just three days before Ethan was due to leave for his Harrisburg trip. It ended up being one of those horrible summer colds that make you feel like shit but aren’t so debilitating that you can justify calling off from work. I dosed up on over-the-counter cold meds and dragged my sagging ass through my days as best I could, but it wasn’t pretty.
“Fuck. It smells like something died in here,” Ethan complained when he stopped in to drop off his violin before heading off to another meeting that afternoon.
I was still in bed since I was nursing my cold and didn’t have to be to work for another ninety minutes. “Sorry. I haven’t had time to clean the cat box.”
“Shit, Justin. Could you be more lazy? I mean, you’re not going to school anymore, and you don’t have to be to work until two; couldn’t you at least get out of bed long enough to clean up around here once in awhile?” Ethan growled, stomping across the room to open the window, presumably to let in some fresh air.
“Please don’t leave the window open, Ethan,” I jumped up to rush over and close the window not ten seconds later, triggering another coughing attack due to the abrupt movement. “I caught Felicity pulling at that ripped section of the window screen yesterday. It’s almost big enough now for her to get her whole body through, and I don’t want her getting out of the apartment,” I explained when the coughing let up enough for me to speak again. “I’ve put a call in to the building super to come fix it but I don’t know when he’ll get here.”
“So, what? We’re supposed to die of heat exhaustion in this stiflingly hot room because of your stupid cat?” Ethan complained with an accusatory glance at my kitten. “I used to let Wolfram go in and out the window all the time, Justin. He was fine. I don’t see why you’re so worried about Felicity.”
“She’s just a kitten, Ethan. She’s too little to go out. Besides, both PETA and the ASPCA recommend that cats stay completely indoors - it’s safer for them and they’re less likely to contract diseases, which means they live longer,” I opined in typical PSA fashion.
Ethan, however, wasn’t in the mood for a helpful lecture. “Well, if you’re gonna keep her inside all the time, you’re damn sure gonna have to do a better job at cleaning out the fucking litter box.”
I was sneezing too hard to argue with him.
“Well, I’m out of here. I’ve got to meet Glenn for a late lunch, and then I’m going to pick up my new tux,” Ethan announced as he headed back towards the door.
“New tux?” I asked.
“Of course. You don’t expect the guest soloist for the Harrisburg Symphony to show up in some crappy rental tux, do you? I’ve got to look the part. Besides, it’s an investment. Hopefully, I’ll be getting a lot of use out of it in the coming months,” he expounded, already out the door before I could comment further.
“Fuck,” I muttered to myself, thinking that a new tux didn’t sound like a negligible expense; I hoped he was getting an advance from Harrisburg to cover that cost because we certainly didn’t have room for it in our budget. Then I remembered what I’d needed to ask Ethan and had to run to the door so I could yell down the stairwell after him. “Ethan! Don’t forget my allergy meds! Please, I’m dying here.”
I heard a faint, “yeah, yeah, if I have time . . .” drifting back up the stairs at me.
I was not reassured that I would be getting my allergy meds anytime in the near future.
Ethan was in a jubilant mood the day I dropped him off at the train station for his departure to Harrisburg. He was babbling non-stop the entire way, regaling me with every factoid under the sun about the pieces he’d be playing at the concert. He was looking forward to meeting the conductor he’d be working with and said he was glad he was arriving early enough to get in several days of rehearsals before the performance proper. Glen had assured him that he’d make tons of important industry contacts that way. All in all, it sounded like it would be quite the adventure.
Of course, I wouldn’t be sharing in that adventure so all Ethan’s expostulating left me feeling blasé at best. I wasn’t part of Ethan’s glamorous new life, so why should I care? I wasn’t even allowed to attend the performance. Needless to say, I wasn’t feeling even a tenth of the excitement my partner was experiencing.
When we got to the train station I was about to jump out of the taxi and go inside with him but he stopped me. “You don’t need to come in, Babe. I know you need to get to work. Besides, I’m just going to pick up a copy of Billboard and read that while I’m waiting. Got to stay up with the industry news, you know.”
“You sure? I don't mind waiting with you and I’ve still got a few minutes before I have to head to work.”
“I’m sure.” The cabbie had already got Ethan’s bags out of the trunk, so Ethan handed the guy a tip, before looking back my way. “Here.” He handed me a small money envelope that he’d pulled out of his pocket. “I didn’t have time to go get your allergy prescription for you but there’s $250 in there. That should be enough to pay for the meds and get you through to the end of the week.”
“Thank you, Ethan.” I was so happy that he’d at least remembered I still existed that I instantly forgave him for forgetting to pick up the actual prescription.
“Okay. I’ve got my phone, my wallet, my ticket,” he said as he felt his pockets to make sure of each item. “I think that’s all. So, wish me luck and I’m off.”
“You don’t need luck. You’re going to be wonderful,” I assured him like the dutiful partner I was.
“When you’re right, you’re right.” He hefted Misha up and started to get out of the cab. “See you in six days, Babe.”
Before he could get all the way out I pulled him back, leaning over and raising my face to kiss him goodbye, but he recoiled away from me.
“Sorry, Babe, but I can’t afford to catch your cold. Not right before a big performance.” Instead he lowered my head and left a very quick kiss on the crown of my head. “That’ll have to suffice till I get back. Bye!”
And then, without another word, he was gone. He didn’t even look back at the cab before he entered the station. I felt abandoned and rejected.
Instead of stewing about it, though, I decided to splurge and take myself out to lunch. I had the cab drive me to a little bakery a few blocks away from where I worked. After paying the cabbie, I still had over $200 left, which was the most money I’d had in my pocket at one time in months. It felt good to be flush for a change. I treated myself to Little T’s world famous roast turkey breast sandwich served on focaccia bread with spinach pesto and arugula; it’s the best sandwich in town and I always looked forward to having one. By the time I made it into work I was in a much better mood.
However, work that evening was a total bitch. Two of the servers on my team didn’t show so we were woefully understaffed and had to hustle twice as hard to make sure that everyone at the UPMC medical conference dinner was fed. By the way, doctors are some of the worst customers ever known to the dining industry; they were all short tempered and complained vocally about the slow service. By the end of the night, I was seriously thinking of stabbing one old, silver-haired coot, who threatened to tell on me to the manager, with a fork.
Luckily, doctors tend to go to bed early, so the dinner ended at a reasonable hour and I made it home before eleven. The apartment seemed ridiculously empty and dark. Which was silly, right? How could that tiny studio apartment, filled with a human and two cats, feel empty? On top of everything else, I hadn’t had time to pick up my allergy meds and even the over-the-counter stuff was beginning to wear off, so I was a sneezy, drippy, coughing mess. Basically, I was miserable AND lonely.
Figuring it was still early enough to call Ethan - which would at least fix my loneliness problem - I picked up my phone, only to discover that I had no service.
“What the fuck?”
I crawled back out of bed and went over to the table where there was a huge stack of mail that had been piling up unread all week. Near the bottom of the stack, I found an envelope with red-dyed edges from our phone service provider. With a groan, I tore open the envelope, noting the word ‘Urgent’ stamped on the front, and confirmed that Ethan had apparently neglected to pay the phone bill. No wonder the phones had been cut off. According to the bill, the only way to restore service was to go to the office, in person, during business hours, and pay the entire $183 that was past due.
Fuck my life.
By the time I’d taken the bus downtown and paid the phone bill, I had only $9.50 left out of the $250 Ethan had given me. And that had to last me the entire week. I marched over to Carnegie Hall, walked up to Luke’s office and knocked, intending to finally reverse the auto-deposit of my paychecks into Ethan’s account. But it apparently wasn’t my day. I discovered that Luke was gone on vacation - his replacement telling me that Luke was traveling back to Ohio for his grandparents wedding anniversary - and he wouldn’t be back till the following Tuesday. Tim, one of my fellow team leads and the guy covering for Luke that week, didn’t know where the payroll deposit forms were. It looked like I’d have to wait at least one more pay cycle to fix my banking woes.
Which did nothing to help my money problems in the meantime.
I didn’t know what to do. I still needed my allergy meds and I was almost out of regular cold medicine now too. I could scrounge food at work most days, but there wasn’t much in the way of groceries at home, and what was I gonna do the two days I wasn’t scheduled to work. The $9.50 in my pocket wasn’t even enough to get me to and from work on the bus for the week. I supposed I could call mom and beg her for a short-term loan, but that would be so embarrassing, especially since, on Ethan’s urging, I’d been blowing her off and not returning her calls for the past three weeks. I didn’t have many other alternatives, though.
In desperation, I tried to call Ethan a couple times that day. My hope was that he might be able to have his bank transfer money to me; I still had my old savings account, although it only had the $25 minimum in it required to keep the account open, which wasn’t enough to pay for my meds. Unfortunately, Ethan didn’t answer; all my calls went straight to voicemail. I left messages, but still hadn’t heard back by the time I went to bed that night.
I called at least twice a day for the next three days but could never get through to Ethan. Finally, on Friday afternoon, I called Erato Records, told them I was Ethan’s ‘cousin’ and that it was a family emergency, and begged them to please get a message to him to call me immediately. That seemed to do the trick. A half hour later, Ethan called me back.
“What the fuck are you doing, Justin,” he hissed at me angrily through the phone. “You can’t be calling Erato! If Glen had been there when you called he’d have flipped out!”
“Well, if you'd returned any of my messages, I wouldn’t have had to call Erato,” I grumbled back at him.
“I didn’t get any messages,” Ethan stated point blank.
“What? I’ve been calling all week,” I replied, totally confused, but then decided not to waste time on that issue and just plow ahead with the real reason I called. “Listen, Ethan, there was a problem with the phone bill and our service was cut off on Monday. Maybe, for some reason, your voicemail service wasn’t turned back on with the rest? I don’t know. Anyway, I had to use all the money you left to pay that and now I don’t have anything . . .”
I broke off when I realized Ethan was no longer listening to me. There were voices in the background on his end and I could hear him speaking to someone in a muffled voice, “yeah. Sorry. Just gimme one minute.” Then he said to me, “I’ve gotta go; break is over and I’m due back in rehearsal. Please don’t call Erato again, Justin.” After which he hung up on me.
I was still grumbling at my phone five minutes later when Ethan’s buddy, Jeff, walked by. “Problems, Taylor?”
I didn’t want to share all my dirty laundry, or my money woes, with Jeff or anybody else, but the guy had become a friend of sorts, so I had to tell him something. “Just that Ethan’s in Harrisburg for his symphony debut tomorrow and I’m stuck here,” I offered, even though it was only a half-truth.
“That sucks,” Jeff commiserated, then added helpfully, “but you know, if you wanted to go, I’d be happy to cover your shift for you.”
“Thanks, but I’m kinda broke, so I have no way of getting there.”
“No problem, dude. You can borrow my car,” Jeff offered magnanimously. “Can’t keep the world’s greatest love birds apart, right?”
Which is how I ended up on the road to Harrisburg bright & early the next morning.
Jeff had been a sweetheart. Not only had he loaned me his car but he’d filled the tank with gas. I went ahead and closed out my savings account so I had at least $25 in my pocket for the trip and prayed that would be enough. Jeff said he was happy to help out; he’d never seen two people so happy together and he didn’t want to stand in the way of true love. I didn’t disabuse him of his mistaken ideas, mostly because I really wanted the loan of his car so I could go track down my errant boyfriend.
I wasn’t completely clear on my purpose for going - part of me wanted to find Ethan and strangle him, part of me wanted to talk to him long enough to get an explanation about the money thing, and another part of me, however misguided, still wanted to just be there to share in my partner’s big triumph. Mostly, I was just a mess and too exhausted to think through my motives too closely. I still felt sick as a dog, and had only got about three hours sleep the night before, so I obviously wasn’t thinking clearly. Instead, I spent the whole drive listening to the chaotic thoughts cycling through my brain on a downward spiral of money worries, annoyance at Ethan, loneliness, depression, and desperation. Needless to say, my mind wasn’t a very happy place to be.
It wasn’t till I arrived in Harrisburg that I realized I didn’t even know where Ethan was staying. I tried to call him, but there was still no answer. So, instead, I just kept on driving all the way out to Hershey where ZooAmerica was located and where the concert would be held later that night. I spent the afternoon wandering around the touristy little town and enjoying the nice weather until it was time to head to the zoo and find a place to watch the concert. Luckily, I’d found the envelope with the comp tickets Erato had sent to Ethan beforehand, so I didn’t have to pay to get in, something I wouldn’t have been able to afford.
The concert was, of course, a smash. Ethan was amazing, as always, totally jamming it up for the audience when it came time for his solo. The audience gave him a standing ovation. It looked like all his dreams of success were coming true. Somehow, though, I felt no joy at my partner’s accomplishment; I wasn’t included in this part of his life.
After the concert, I hung back, hovering near the steps leading to the back of the open-air amphitheater stage, trying to be discreet while I waited for Ethan to appear. I wasn’t waiting alone. There was quite the crowd of fans and friends waiting with me. And, just when the musicians were beginning to emerge from backstage, I caught a glimpse of Ethan’s manager, Glen, so I retreated back into the shadows even more.
When Ethan appeared, he was immediately mobbed by a horde of people. Glen ushered him through the throng as Ethan shook hands and accepted kisses from elderly symphony supporters. I was still waiting for my opportunity to approach him without being noticed when, to my chagrin, I recognized a familiar face amid the fans pushing to get a word with my boyfriend.
Who just happened to be at Ethan’s first real concert, but the little blond fanboy from the day of the Heifetz Competition.
The name ‘Mark’ popped into my head as I watched the young man lean in to kiss Ethan hello. And it wasn’t just a peck on the cheek either; this was a real kiss, on the lips, with a bit of tongue thrown in for good measure.
As I stood there in total shock, I saw Mark lean in to whisper something in Ethan’s ear. My boyfriend laughed at whatever was said and reached out with a hand to briefly caress the youth’s arm. There was more whispering, more intimate touching, more smiling, more blatant flirting. I was relieved when this little tet-a-tet was interrupted a minute later as Glen called out for Ethan, waving him over to join the manager and another group of supporters.
But, before he left, I saw Ethan reach into his pocket and hand little Mark something that looked suspiciously like a hotel room keycard.
