Telephone

The pounding bass drowned out all my inhibitions and my body flowed effortlessly to the rhythm of the music. We, the tangle of people on the dance floor, moved as one to the music, and I completely zoned out from reality. It was exactly what I needed – loud music to muffle the pressing issues of real life.
Just as I was starting to relax into the familiar sea of people, I felt my phone vibrate in my bag.

It was the third time he’d phoned in the last twenty minutes.

“This is getting ridiculous.” I muttered to myself as I decided to answer it.

“What?” I demanded, not bothering to move to a quieter area.

“Where are you?” He knew perfectly well where I was, but was just trying to make me feel guilty.

“Where the hell do you think I am?” God, I was slurring already, which didn’t really help my case.

“I’m just worried about you...”

“Oh, don’t start with that crap again. Am I not allowed to make plans of my own?” I had a glass of alcohol in one hand and was trying to wade through the mess of people, yelling into the phone.

“And you’re just leaving me at home? I just want us to spend more time together.”

“Stop with your pathetic pleas for sympathy – you should have made plans when you knew that I was free.”

“So it’s a first come, first-served basis, is it?”
I really didn’t want to be having this conversation with him when I was already a little drunk, and I knew I would regret it if I said something stupid. Instead, I chose to hang up on him.

My life was forever being controlled by him, and I felt like I needed his permission to do anything. His paranoia had destroyed any trust we had for each other, as he constantly jumped to conclusions whenever I went out. He was suspicious of everything I did and would bombard me with questions about each minute of my life when I least expected them, as if to catch me out.

He told me of his trust issues when we first started going out, but I thought I could stifle them with a little affection, but it turned out to be a lot more deeply ingrained than that. I assumed he just had some bad experiences with unfaithful girls in the past, and I thought as long as I spent time with him and was sure to make him know I loved it, all would be fine, but in reality, his distrustfulness extended to almost whenever I left his sight. I concluded it probably stemmed from self-doubt and feelings that he was not worth a girl's love, and for that I had sympathy for him.

However, it was ruining my life. Up until now, I had conformed to his strict rules about going out in the hope they would soon relax as he began to trust me, but that never happened. I had resorted to sneaking out when he didn’t know, acting like a cheating lover when in actuality I just wanted to meet up with my friends. I had to put myself first at some point, and I didn’t think I could continue like this.

My phone vibrated again.

“Is the house on fire? Has the cat died? Are you lying in a pool of blood? What is so important that you need to phone me again?” The silence that followed immediately made me feel guilty.

“No, I just...”

“What, then?”

“I, I can’t help it. Whenever you leave, I imagine awful things happening to you. I’m scared for you on your own.”

“I can assure you; I’m just fine. Actually, I’m having a wonderful time without you.”

“Let me speak to your friend.”

“What the hell? Why?”

“I don’t believe you. You’re with a guy, aren’t you? Stop lying to me!” And off he went, his paranoia running away with him.

“No. You need to trust me.”

“I can’t.”

“Well then leave me! We cannot be together if you suspect me whenever I leave the house.”

Again, I hung up and resumed drinking, but he’d ruined my night, again. I felt cruel, but I was utterly sick of always having to sneak around him. The music was giving me a headache and I just wanted to get away from there. I found the back entrance and stood outside to clear my head.

It was a vicious cycle, as leaving him would only reinforce his trust problems, but staying with him wasn’t exactly lessening them. He needed help. Perhaps I wasn’t the best one to administer this help, but the least I could do was to be there for him.

As I was walking home, I regretted even going out in the first place. My relationship was completely screwed up and I felt trapped in the middle of it. It would be easy enough just to walk out on him – he wasn’t supporting me financially and I could do well on my own, but I wasn’t that heartless. I recognised a person in need of help, and I was going to get it to him.

I unlocked the front door and went inside. He was sitting, staring at the blank television screen, eyes glazed over. He didn’t even acknowledge my arrival until I walked over and stood right in front of him. His eyes widened in fear then softened as he recognised me, almost like a child.

I could tell immediately he had been taking his medication, which disassociated him from everything, practically, and was intended to calm him down when his paranoia got out of control. I didn’t like the effect, though, as often he didn’t even recognise me, and as well as blocking out his paranoia, it also negated any positive emotion he felt and left him an empty shell, devoid of feeling.

“I’m back.” He managed a smile. I hated that he had become entirely reliant on my presence, as I was hardly a role model myself.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got a friend who can speak to you. We’re going to help you get over your problems.” He looked confused.

I simplified it for him. “I’m not going away, ok? I’m staying right here for you.”