The Time Sequence Thursday 2 February 2017
I intend here to write out the sequence of what happened as I remember it. It will look as if it has nothing to do with what happened in my « novel ». I maintain it does. We will see.
WH left my derelict hardly habitable old house in October 2001. A year later some time before Christmas I was called by an officer at the gendarmerie who told me that my ex partner had been arrested, judged and found guilty. Shocked, I felt as if a rock had fallen on my head. My brain recapped full speed on the time I spent with him. Yes, he had been more than weird and before he left had acted as if he wanted to kill me. I remember saying to the officer: I had a near escape? and he nodded.
For a long time I was numb, couldn’t react, couldn’t even rebel and scream. I spent Christmas with my son and his family.
On the photo nothing on my face shows the turmoil I was in. It was like being numb. Slowly I started wanting to know what had really happened. At the police station they said I had to see at the tribunal. At the court they told me I had to write a letter. I wrote a letter once or twice with no result. Obviously I was prevented to know more than what that officer had told me. I gave up and decided to forget about it.
A couple of years later I found one of the old books on my shelves with some of his writings in it. On a passage of « The Horse Whisperer » he had noted for me obviously: be aware that I’ll come in the small hours of the night. I haven’t got the exact text of it with me at the moment, I’ll find it and will give the exact words but the gist of it is that I was in danger of some reprisal. Reprisal for what? For being his best friend for some years.
I now know that a man behaving like he did suffers from Narcissistic Pervert Disorder (NPD). Back then and during all the time I spent with him I had no clue about his strange behavior. Whenever he was too difficult I’d run and stay away from him. One example is Christmas time again, I think in 1996 or 97, in a town of the North Island of New Zealand. We were camping in a campsite on the outskirts of the town where I had old friends. Round 11 or midnight he just left saying that he was going for a beer with a mate and that I was not invited. I waited and waited. But as it was Christmas I thought of calling my friends not wishing to spend Christmas night in a tent by myself. They came to pick me up and I remained with them at their place for the night and for Christmas day. I forgot the sequence but I do remember meeting WH again a few days later as he was fishing on the pontoon near the sea. His eyes looked murderous. My friend asked if it was alright to leave me with him. I said yes. But then I did feel in danger. I remember that moment in slow motion. I was sitting on the sand facing the sea, he was in my back smoking a cigarette. I didn’t feel nor expressed fear but I felt in great danger. Why didn’t I leave him for good that time? I don’t know. A relationship with NPD predator is highly complex and intense. As a pastor told me once, I acted as a « red cross » lover… I would rescue him, my love will cure his wounds… and so on.
I left New Zealand in May 2000 to stay and try to fix my old tiny house in my native village in France. He arrived in September of that year and we had some real good time together then. It didn’t last for very long before he became weird again. I remember once when he got up in the morning, walked around the bed to my side and hit me hard. Another time he set the four gaz burners on without pots on them claiming it was cold in the house. After a while I called the fire station as I thought the house will catch fire. They came fast with a big fire engine. I apologized, there was no fire. They reassured me that it was better that way and did I wish to report a plaint with the police. No, I didn’t. Forget it. But I did report to the police some months later.
It got to the stage where I left my own place and went to stay in various hostels in the area. One day I came back to water the vegetables I had planted in my garden at the back. He followed me quietly, I thought he wanted to ask for forgiveness, but he grabbed me and threw me on the ground with force. My left arm was scratched. I decided not to come back again, never mind the vegetables. He also stalked me with his car so that when I was driving anywhere I kept my eyes glued on the rear mirror. I eventually ended up staying on the premises of a small castle well fenced and kept by a fierce looking dog, care of a friendly woman who had had a similar experience with guys.
All the while, people around in the village blamed me for not looking after my partner. I had left him with no food. He was left with no job and no money. No one took my side. Nobody tried to understand asking me my side of the story. I have even kept to this day a letter my own first cousin wrote to him saying that she and her sister thought how bad I was. When he left for good it was a relief but still no one tried to understand or to be just friendly with me.