December 1997 I focused on work and on breaking up with Neall. It was uncomfortable living in the same house, but after a lot of begging, I caved and I said OK we could give it one last attempt. A few weeks later, we took the bus up to The North (12 or 16 hour bus ride if I remember correctly). I had a lot of time on the bus to prepare Neall for the few days would be staying at home:
- Don’t smoke in the house; in fact it would be better if you didn’t do it where they can see you
- Don’t drink during the day, even if they insist
- Keep it to 3 beer in the evening, after dinner
- Do not talk about politics
- Don’t talk about religion
- Don’t tell them my mom has been helping us out financially
- Don’t tell them I was on welfare
- Don’t tell them I was pregnant
- Don’t tell them anything unless they specifically ask
- Whatever gift they give you, even if you hate it, pretend it’s the best thing you have EVER received and make it over the top
- Don’t disagree with either of them
- If they argue, yes, it’s all normal it's how they are
- There will be people coming in and leaving all the time, a constant stream
- Our house is old and dumpy
He ignored all of that.
On the evening of December 24, after a few drinks too many, we had started to argue and I just could not do this anymore. We went to the bedroom out front near the main door to the building and started screaming at one another. Fortunately, no one could really hear us because the main floor’s five rooms were unoccupied, we had shut the heavy wooden apartment door and my parents were all the way at the other end of the house. However, my sister’s boyfriend did hear us since he was in the bedroom across the hall from us. Eventually he fell asleep, but Neall and I argued until about 4:00 a.m. He left to catch the bus to return to Ottawa at 4:05 a.m., we were definitely over, he understood there was no hope and I just wanted to move on with my life. His promises to get a job and do better didn’t phase me since I’d heard it all before.
I woke up about 3 hours later and went into the kitchen to have breakfast with my sister, her boyfriend, and the parental unit. Breakfast was a cup of black coffee for me, like most days, plus a cigarette, but I didn’t have the energy to go stand in the -45o C weather. You could cut the tension with a knife and I felt deeply humiliated. My parents asked where Neall was and I told them he left.
They didn’t believe me.
Maeve: Where is he?
Me: I told you, he got back on the bus and went home
Maeve: Where’s the body?
Me: ? What are you talking about?
Maeve: You will never get away with it. You need to bring your father to where you hid the body.
Me: Seriously, there is no body.
Maeve: Trust your father, he knows how to get rid of a body.
I walked out of the kitchen and went to sit in my room for peace and quiet with my own thoughts. I was distraught, upset, I couldn’t figure out why I felt this way. This is what I wanted, after all, to break up, get divorced, and start a new life. I knew better than to show that I was upset in front of my father or Maeve, I was met with incredulous laughter “Why are you upset? He was such a loser, Margeaux. You are much better off without him.” Perhaps those were all true statements, but for 3 years he was literally the only human being in my city who gave a shit about me. I still cared about him, I just didn’t love him. Those emotions were confusing because I’d never experienced them before. Sure enough, Neall called at 21:00 and only after Jack said hello did they believe I didn’t murder him.
Christmas dinner was quiet, except for the many happy remarks about “Good riddance Neall is gone”. I didn’t have to be back at work until January 2nd, so I decided to visit my sister for a few days before returning to Ottawa. We drove from The North to the South on December 27th. I spent a few days accompanying her to work, a popular watering hole walking distance to her rental house where I cried in my beer for a few hours every night before I was drunk enough to start dancing. Her boyfriend was the kitchen manager at the time.
While I was with my sister, we hatched a plan. I had no idea how to say “no” or really stand my ground so I decided to follow my mother’s example. My sister and I agreed on January 5, 1998 she would drive from The South to Ottawa to help me move out. Neall had called to tell me he was going to be working from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. on January 5; he had landed a new temporary janitorial contract at Public Works. PERFECT. I could pack up my entire house in a day, I knew I could and today, I know it was ADHD that got me through.
I submitted my notice to my boss on Parliament Hill on January 2, explaining that I was leaving my husband to move to The South, that I sincerely apologized about the short notice, but I had an opportunity and I had to jump on it to make my life easier. She absolutely understood and even offered to provide me with a reference if I needed one in The South. I met up with James and told him what I had decided and we exchanged addresses to keep in touch. I waved good-bye and never saw him again, but we did write to each other for quite a few months.
That weekend, I was an absolute basket case, but Neall didn’t notice and we were sleeping in separate bedrooms anyway. I stayed in the master bedroom watching TV in my office. I had started packing and hiding boxes in the closets and I made a mental list of all the people and companies I would have to call in the morning so I wouldn’t be responsible for any expenses after Monday. I went to bed and barely slept at all. I woke up at 4:00 a.m. and cleaned the house from top to bottom before Neall even left for work around 5:30 a.m. As soon as he was out the door, my real work began.
We had experienced a major ice storm the day before so I knew it would take my sister longer to arrive. She said they were leaving right after closing the bar and I estimated they would arrive around 10:00 a.m. I busied myself packing and to this day, I cannot believe I managed it alone. There were items in the basement I needed to get out and I could only do so through the basement door. When I tried to open the door, the ice was about 4 – 6 inches thick and I was not opening the door anytime soon. My landlord had left some tools in the basement and one tool I found was a heavy duty curb edge. I picked up the edge, went back upstairs, through the back door and put everything I had behind chipping away at the ice. I should have used boiling water. 90 minutes later, I was able to open the door enough to carry out all my larger items I had stored there,
I called all the utility companies and then my landlord. I told her I was giving my 2 months notice so she better come by before 6 p.m. today or Neall will have spent the January rent. He could take 2 months to find a place, a job, and move. I took half our belongings and what was exclusively mine, no more. My sister and her crew of 4 arrived around 11:30 a.m., we packed everything up and we were on the road by 15:00. I cried the entire way home in gut wrenchingly painful sounds. I had never before experienced heartbreak like that EVER. I was so thankful that the boys were all in the moving truck leaving my sister and me in the minivan alone so I could stuff my face with an entire 12 pack of Tim Horton’s donuts. I cried until I didn’t have any tears left then I cried with no tears. My eyes swelled shut and I literally felt like my heart had split itself in half and would never recover. I cried because I loved Ottawa and I didn’t want to leave; I loved my job and I didn’t want to leave; I cried because for once, I actually thought that maybe James and I could have had something positive; I cried because whenever I was just a little bit happy my life always turned to shit. I hated my past and I felt like I could never escape it; I decided that I would bury it and then RUN. All I knew is I would never ever feel like this again. Ever.
We arrived in The South around 20:00 and I knew there was no way I would fall asleep, I was overtired and high on pain. We spent that night in Tim’s (my sister’s boyfriend) basement. I needed to watch a comedy and I remember watching Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion. OMG I still love that movie now and watch it when I need to cheer up. My sister and I laughed so hard and I think we eventually passed out around 4 a.m. I woke up around 7 a.m.; Tim informed me I had a job if I was interested in starting as soon as possible? Hell ya! Just the distraction I needed. I forgot that I had provided my sister a few copies of my résumé just in case some of her customers needed a hard worker. Tim drove me to my new place or work: A real estate office where I’d be working as a part time receptionist.
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