No Safe Place. Heartless man.

Bill got home earlier than normal last night, after his drive from Coatesville. It was so good to see him. Over the previous 24 hours, I had gone through this sort of emotional awakening that both hurt, and felt  good, reveling to me things I secretly hold inside. I don't care, yet, to share, but it was a profound experience and very emotional.

I wasn't really quite sure how I was going to handle seeing him when he walked through the door; just knew I wanted to look into his green eyes. That's all I wanted.

I felt good. I felt safe. We embraced and I felt something I haven't felt since I last  felt it with him. It was a closeness and a trust. Something I've never shared with anyone. It was confusing and exhilarating at the same time. Part of me felt alive, trustful and adventurous. I felt like I had when I had met him almost 11 years ago. There was someone here who I knew, who knew me, who I trusted.

At my suggestion, we decided to walk down to the Ivoryton Pub and have a couple of drink before dinner. It's been so long - so long - since we went out anywhere. Finances didn't allow it and time just seems to melt away but we were both excited to get outside the walls of this apartment and explore our new neighborhood.

We went to the pub. Previously, we had questioned whether or not we wanted to go there because they proudly have a rebel flag flapping over their door, next to the American flag so it made us wonder about the clientele. Still, we decided to give it a shot.

We went in and I played a game on the Megatouch. We met the bartender - Donna - and each ordered a Corona with lime. Donna was very pleasant and the atmosphere was friendly. Seemed a lot of people knew a lot of people. We met a guy named Marcus who talked to us briefly about his work at the Ivoryton Playhouse. He was nice.

We went out back for a cigarette -Donna asked one of the waitresses to show us the path leading out to the smoking area- and we had a cigarette. We came back in and put $5 in the jukebox. There was a pretty good selection. We were enjoying ourselves. We ordered two more Corona's as we took our seats at the bar. We accommodated a couple who had come in and needed another stool so we moved down so they could sit together. All-in-all, everything was going swimmingly.

Then, we decided to go have another cigarette.

As we walked down the path towards the smoking area, we passed the kitchen. We paused a moment and I saw George Lincoln. He was a casual friend of mine and Gary's. Nothing close, mind you. I mean I don't recall seeing him at any parties or having him on the boat but we met sometimes when we'd go to the Pattaconk and he was bartending. We felt bad for him when he lost his job there. George was slow, but he was nice. He always knew what Gary wanted to drink so really, he was among those who were Gary's friends, and I was just Gary's girlfriend.

So I said hello to him, told him it was good to see him. Asked him how he was doing. Joked around a little with the kitchen staff, asking what the best thing on the menu was. All told, the interaction was about three or four minutes and I told George, again, that it was good to see him.

We went out and had our cigarette. We came back in.

We sat down and we were going to order one more thing (our music was playing) and Donna suddenly came up to us and said she was told she's not to serve us anything more.

There was no explanation. We asked why. Asked what was wrong.

She said she  didn't know, just that the manager had said we weren't to be served anymore.

I knew immediately why.

George.

And Gary.

And his rumors and lies.

I felt so foolish. I had put on make up and dared to venture out, trying to meet new people in the neighborhood, maybe even develop friendships or acquaintances but instead, I was singled out because of vicious lies and rumors by a man who ....oh Don't get me started. I've been very, very kind when it comes to the things I could say and/or do to make his life hell.

But still, the damage he did to my life here - even as I've tried so hard to build something safe and secure for me and Trevor - is irreparable. And he could care less. He thinks it's some big joke. And those who listen, those who believe him, are fools.

He's a cruel, cruel man who did horrible things to me and to my son and like an idiot, I stayed. Some people witnessed it, many did not.

He's very clever.

Up to this point, my fear of going outside, of being seen, of going anywhere, was based on the rumors he told others. Up to this point, it was under my control because if I didn't want to be seen, I didn't have to be. I could lock everyone out, hide. Stay away.

But this one time. God dammit this one time, in my own neighborhood, where I've tried to move on and build a new life and truly heal....

This one time, he brought it into my home. He attacked me through his viciousness and vindictiveness vicariously through his "friends" who believe everything he says.

Well done, Gary. Just remember, I won't ever touch or harm you - I loved you - but karma will, even though you don't believe in it. You believe in nothing, except your own inflated ego and that, too, will destroy you. I needn't do a thing.

We had our two corona's and we left, me crying, sobbing, collapsing, in total disbelief.

Suddenly, this was no longer home.

There's never been home. I've never been home.

I thought I was building a home.

Now I want nothing more than to disappear.

Having my secrets - my past, my issues, my pain - broadcast to every town within 50 miles invades every sense of self I have, which is very little. The work I'm doing to help myself and all the pain I've gone through with every memory and all the things I'm working on for myself, seemed to just be for naught.

Because last night, Gary came back and made sure - vicariously - that I would never belong here. I would never have friends here. I will never belong here.

This will never be home.

Now, more than before, I don't want anyone to see me. I ripped off my necklace and felt so stupid, so stupid. How stupid for me to think I could fit in anywhere. And a rebel-flag-hanging PUB of all places!