Rating: PG-13 for language.
Author's Note: I wrote this journal in the days after Mick deserted Beth in the Facebook project. It doesn't really end... I ended up unfriending Mick and Beth, so I couldn't follow the story. But the journal was my version of catharsis when I was mourning the end of an 18-month collaboration.
If you didn't follow the story on Facebook, this might not make much sense. For that, I apologize. But it was something that helped me cope with the transition, and maybe it will be of interest to people who did follow the adventures of Mick and Beth on Facebook.
Beth Alone
Wednesday, November 4th – BuzzWire
He’s gone. My husband, my love, my life. Oh god, my heart will never heal from this.
I still can’t comprehend it. What happened?! Just a couple of nights ago we were walking hand in hand, laughing and talking about how much fun it would be to make Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings…and then that damn vampire attacked Mick, and everything went to hell.
I woke up yesterday morning to find Mick passed out drunk in bed next to me, and then I read his wall. I had to read his goddamn wall to find out how much he was fretting about feeling vulnerable. Why didn’t he wake me?! Why go out on the terrace and drink alone? But I trusted that we’d make it through this crisis together, just as we’ve made it through so much. And I waited for him to wake up.
But the guy who came into my office that afternoon was someone else, not my Mick. Not my husband, the man who swore to stand by me for better or for worse. The guy with the hangover and the dead eyes told me that he had to leave, he was a marked man. That if he didn’t leave me, we’d both be in danger. Well, that’s a load of crap, and I said so. I was mad. How dare he give up on us now?! I refuted every argument. It didn’t matter. I cried – he tried to be cold. I said, you can’t leave when you’re all stitched up, still weak from blood loss. Stay a few days, just till you get your stitches out. No. I asked him to go to Josef. Maybe we could get a vampire bodyguard for a few months. No go.
I begged him to take me with him. He said he loved me, but he had to go. He had to find his happiness, and it was something he needed to do on his own. And if he found it, he’d come back.
He can’t find his happiness with me?
It’s that evil bitch, Artemis. He hasn’t been the same since she poisoned his mind, made him want it all. All the good parts of being a vamp, and all the good parts of being human, with none of the bad. Like B.C. for vampires. Well, sweetheart, that doesn’t exist. You’d think that 87 years on the planet would teach you that you don’t get perfection. You have to learn to make the imperfect beautiful.
Oh god, he talked about that very thing when his proposal got messed up last year. And he talked about it again when we got married. I thought he believed it, finally believed it. I guess it was just words, like his wedding vows. Just words.
So now he’s gone. Maybe forever. He left me all his stuff. Can’t he understand that all I want is him?
I can’t breathe. There’s gaping hole in me. I can’t breathe.
Thursday, November 5th – Mick’s office
I talked to my editor last night and asked him if I can work nights for a while. I can’t be here alone at night. It’s bad enough in the daytime, but at night it’s a hundred times worse. He said sure. I’m sure I look like somebody died. I told him that Mick had left me and he took one look at my face and just hugged me. I cried all over him, of course. I can’t stop the tears.
When I got home at dawn, Travis was wandering the loft crying. He’s looking for Mick. He seemed comforted to cuddle with me, but I know I’m only second-best in his eyes. But he’s a cat; he’ll forget Mick eventually. I wish I was a cat.
I slept with the M&M today. It smells like Mick. I miss him so much. I miss him so much. When I woke up my face was wet. I’d been crying in my sleep. So anyway, I got up and fed Travis and forced myself to eat something. And then I went into Mick’s office, because he left so suddenly that he didn’t set up an out-of-office message on his email or the office phone. When I opened his email, there were messages from a woman Mick interviewed during the Randy’s case. He gave her his card and I guess she decided he was cute. She’s been sending him come-ons in email. I wonder how many of these he got and never told me about. God, I hate people sometimes.
On the other hand, Mick obviously didn’t feel married to me the same way I felt married to him. So maybe he gave off “available” vibes…I don’t know. If he ever comes back to me, maybe I’ll have a chance to ask him about it.
I tried to call him but it went to voice mail. I sent him a text. I hope he writes back. I just want to know he’s OK. That he hasn’t gotten an infection in the bite. That he hasn’t pulled the stitches loose. That he thinks about me.
Got to go – some people are here to look at the rental apartment.
OK, that was just a weird experience. They seemed interested in the place, but tried to haggle the price down. Well, if I do rent it, I’m not dropping the price. Actually, I’d rather not rent the place at all, but maybe I need to. I wonder how much financial trouble we’re in after Mick settled with that shyster lawyer he shot. Of course, I have no idea of Mick’s financial situation, since (of course!) he didn’t involve me when he met with his accountant and his lawyer. He kept me out of it. As usual. And I let him, because he’s so damn private that I’ve gotten used to being shut out.
Oh, yeah, his lawyer and his accountant– a vamp who brought him “lunch on the hoof” and a former freshie of his. Those two are yet more evidence that I know very little about Mick. Who did I fall in love with, really? I fell in love with his beautiful eyes and his sincere voice and the fact that he saved me when I was a little girl and saved me again and again as an adult. And I saved him. But I don’t know him. I thought I did, I thought he was sharing himself with me, that he had learned to open up to me… but I guess he never did.
I’m so depressed. I miss him so much, and I’m so angry and hurt. I have no idea what to do. He’s so good at telling me to wait in the car and just going off heroing on his own. Well, here I am, waiting in the car again. Not knowing if he’ll even come back. I hate my life.
I’m going to work.
Friday, November 6th – Mick St. John’s loft
Yeah, Mick’s loft. Who am I kidding? It’s not my place. I’m not part of his life. He doesn’t want me in it.
I slept all day and woke up and tried to call Mick again. And he didn’t answer again. I changed my status to “Beth is just going through the motions.” Because that’s all I’m doing. I feed the cat. I stare at the TV. I sit on the couch and stare at the glass fireplace. I try to remember to eat.
Sunday, November 8th – in Limbo
No change all weekend. No word, no answer. Nothing.
Is he alive? Is he sad? Is he having a steak and a martini at the Village Vanguard?
I can’t do this. Every time I log in to Facebook, the first thing I do is check his wall. How stupid is that? Of course, nothing ever changes…he said he was leaving Facebook. Of all the things to tell the truth about, he had to pick “I’m leaving Facebook.”
But everyone on FB has been so kind to me. It’s about the only comfort I’ve got. That and Travis. We are cocooned here in the loft, snuggling together, just waiting. A woman and a cat, in limbo, waiting for their man to reappear.
Monday, November 9th
OK, at least I know where he is. And it’s almost worse than not knowing. He’s not planning on coming back. Not for months, anyway. And he didn’t even have the courtesy to tell me. He just took the money out of the account.
Why the West Village? Why New York? It can’t be the connection to Josef, because he abandoned Josef too. Oh, god, Mick, if you aren’t coming back, why can’t you just cut me loose? I’m twisting in the wind here. I can’t move forward and I can’t go back. I’m terrified to confront him, because if I do, and he rejects me, it really will be the end.
Tuesday, November 10th - BuzzWire
Here’s what I wrote on my wall early this morning.
Coraline told me a while ago that Mick would leave me just like he left her, that he’s not capable of having a mature relationship with a woman. That it was just a matter of time before he goes into panic mode and runs. So after I found out that Mick’s leased the place in NYC, I started thinking again about what she said. I thought maybe she knew something, and so I went to see her. Before I went, I loaded my gun with silver bullets, put a couple of stakes in my purse, and called Mick’s phone to let him know what I was doing. Of course he didn’t answer.I'm sorry, everyone. Thank you so much for all your words of support. Some days (or nights) it's the only thing that cheers me up. It's just hard to come on Facebook now because I can't stop myself from looking at Mick's page to see if he was there. Nothing has changed since he left, but I know where he is now.
Today, Mick transferred $12,000 from our bank account. I visited the bank and find out where it went -- to a landlord in New York City. Mick leased an apartment in the West Village. That means he's really moving there. He's not planning to come back soon. : (
I have the address. I can't tell you how much I want to jump on a plane right now. But what if that just makes it worse? What if I show up at his door and he won't open it? My heart is breaking, but I'm not ready to say it's over. I can't face that closed door yet.
November 10 at 1:44am
I got there a little before 4:00 this afternoon. She didn’t answer the door, so I figured that she was either asleep or out. I sat in my car outside and waited till it was thoroughly dark. She still hadn’t shown up, but I figured I should go knock again.
Cynthia answered the door, looking smug. She told me that Coraline left for New York four days ago, after Mick called her. I couldn’t even muster up something nasty to say to her. I’m sure I looked like my entire world had crashed and burned…because it has… and I just turned around and left. I drove around, trying to comprehend it. I didn’t even cry. It’s too awful for tears. He left me, and the first thing he did was to call Coraline and ask her to join him. God – why couldn’t he just tell me if he was going to do that?!
So...finally I came to work. What else is there to do? And there’s a kinda interesting story. Somebody dug up a grave at Inglewood Cemetery on Halloween. They don’t seem to have taken anything or damaged anything, so the managers decided it was some kind of sick Halloween prank. But then it happened again today. Same thing – coffin undisturbed, no damage, just freshly dug earth. I’m going to the cemetery to check it out.
Wednesday, November 11th – Mick’s loft
Geez, what a way to come home. The Cleaner was waiting for me. She said she was looking for Mick, and I just looked at her and told her to join the club. She asked me where he is and I said he went to New York, but he hasn’t communicated with me since he left. It wasn’t a lie. He hasn’t. I know that if she knew I know his new address, she’d probably drag it out of me some unpleasant way. But I don’t think I tripped her vampire lie detector, because I didn’t technically lie to her. He hasn’t communicated with me. Anyhow, she left and now I’m shaking and sitting on the couch with Travis. You know, if he’s deserting me, the least he could do is to tell the other vampires to leave me the hell alone. But then again, he’s not exactly thinking of me these days, is he?
I’m going to bed.
4:30pm – Mick’s office
Well, I couldn’t sleep. Maybe three hours. Bless Travis, he curled up next to my head on the pillow and purred at me. He and the M&M are my bedtime companions now. I’ve been checking Mick’s emails and phone messages again, but nothing of interest, other than more come-on messages from admiring females. I’d like to have a word or two with them, I really would. With a stake.
Somebody told me I need to keep up my strength, and I let slip a little bitter comment about kicking Mick to the curb. Yeah, sure. As if I wouldn’t take him back if he showed up. I’m pathetic.
I’m going to work.
Thursday, November 12th – the loft
I was too tired to get anything accomplished at work last night, so I finally came back home to crash around 1 in the morning. I’m feeling some better, at least physically. I’m gonna go out and check other cemeteries, to see if any others had the same kind of dug-up graves. Maybe the one that happened on Halloween isn’t the first. Maybe they just didn’t report the incidents to the cops.
7:00 pm – back home again
I came home (is It really home?) with a carton of Kung Pao and some fresh tuna for Travis. We both need comfort food. On the way home in the car, that song “My Immortal” came on and when she sang that part about “though you’re still with me, I’ve been alone all along” I just lost it. That’s exactly how I feel. That feeling of being in partnership with Mick was a fantasy. He never really let me in; I’ve always been on the outside. Of his real thoughts, of his vampire life, of that huge wall he has built around himself so carefully.
The worst part of this is that I was so completely self-deluded. I thought Mick wanted me in his life. But I’m starting to realize that it’s always been me shoving my way in. He didn’t invite me, I just barged in. And the more I think about it, the more I realize that he’s been doing little things to push me away from the very beginning. I was just so determined, I refused to see what was right in front of my face.
Later
I sat on the couch tonight, watching the fire and listening to Mick’s records. He has a lot of stuff on vinyl that he never bothered to convert to digital. He used to listen to the records when I wasn’t home. As soon as I’d come in, he’d put the records away. It was his music, his time, something else he did without me.
As I was listening to the music, I started thinking about what it really means that he is more than half a century older than me. Mick is my grandfather’s age. Older, even. I used to catch Mick looking at me in this funny way sometimes. As soon as I’d catch his eye, he’d look away and start doing something else. Was he looking at me and thinking I’m just a stupid, young thing? Is that why he never talked to me? I know he used to go visit Marion, and they’d talk for hours. So it’s not like he never talks. Just never to me. Does he just think so differently from me that he can’t find common ground with me? I mean, I know he didn’t always think of me that way. He sure didn’t act like a grandpa in bed. Or in an alley or a parking garage or the roof or the kitchen counter. Sex was the only way we truly communicated. The only time we were completely in sync.
Well, that really sucks. I think he used sex as a way of appeasing me, of making me feel that we had a closeness that we didn’t have… so that he wouldn’t have to talk to me.
I’m going to bed with my cat and my squishy red M&M vampire. At least those guys love me. I think…
Friday, November 13th – eating a quick breakfast
I’m going out to cruise cemeteries again…
Night – the loft
I spent the day visiting cemeteries and the night organizing all my notes at work. But I’ve been thinking all day about Mick. If he comes back, will he come back to me? I’m starting to think he won’t. And even if he does return to me, will he stay away till he turns back? We had so little time together while he was human. I hate thinking that he’s intentionally depriving me of this precious chance to share humanity with him. Isn’t that what he wished for – to live as a human, to share the experience with me, so that we could just be regular people together? He always acted like he didn’t believe I’d love him if he lost his powers. He always had this little attitude of “Yeah, you love me, but if you’d met me when I was human you never would have fallen for me. You just love the sexy jumping thing and the sniffing and the bite.” No, he never actually said that. But I could see it behind his eyes. So he got the cure again, courtesy of the brother-in-law from hell, Lance… and rather than seeing it as a gift, as a chance to do what he always wished for, he spent the whole time gorging and then regretting it. Having unprotected sex and then regretting it. Trying to pick up heavy stuff and straining his back. Walking around with his shoulders bowed, feeling vulnerable and weak. He hardly even went out in the sun! Yeah, that vampire (that suicidal vampire) attacked him. But Mick didn’t even react to that threat reasonably. He was a combination of overly fearful and overly careless.
Why? This is one thing I will take no blame for. I loved him as a human just as much as I did when he was a vampire. I reveled in his humanity and I tried to show him how much joy it gave me to share those special moments with him – walking in the sun, going out on the boat and making love on deck, sleeping in the hammock and not having to hurry in at dawn. But he wouldn’t, couldn’t enjoy it. He just mooned around and created situations to make his life miserable. And now he’s gone.
I feel so alone. I feel bereft.
Saturday, November 14th
I went shopping today, and then I redecorated the bedroom. I might as well; I’m living here, he isn’t. He has a new apartment in the West Village, right? (Just kill me now.)
The loft is his, who am I kidding? But the bedroom is as much mine as it is his. He designed it, but I painted it, I live in it, and I love it more than he does. I slept here every night; he just visited. So I have a right to make it my own place. I didn’t do that much – just packed away his clothes and toiletries and some of the things we bought together that just break my heart to see. I bought a few things that are just mine. So it feels like MY bedroom now.
I’m pathetic, I really am. But I’m moving forward because that’s the only way I know how to go.
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