Early Sunday morning I returned to my flat to find Bobby still passed out on my bed. He looked like he hadn't moved since I made my get-away the night before. I left Blondie at my friend Berry Berenson Perkins house, where I had escaped the previous night, just to ensure her safety. I didn't know how he would react when I broke up with him but I was determined to get him out of my home once and for all.
"Wake up, Bobby," I said, leaving the door open behind me and staying as far away from him as I could. Sleepily, he rolled over, opened his eyes and held out his arms to hug me. He had obviously sobered up from the night before and was feeling remorseful.
"I'm sorry I scared you," he said, his voice shaking. "Please don't kick me out. I won't drink any more, I promise."
I didn't know what to do at that point. He did seem to truly regret his actions from the previous night but I couldn't trust him. I had never been attacked like that before. I kept saying "what's a nice girl like you doing in a relationship like this" over and over in my mind. I told him I would think about our relationship but I wanted him to move out that day.
Having said my peace, I headed back to my friend Berry Berenson Perkin's house to spend another night there. I got up early and headed for work, leaving Blondie with Berry's dogs Charlie and Gregory. I was hocked when Bobby entered my office, looking all disheveled, his eyes forlorn in self pity, his body shaking from alcohol withdrawal. I quickly ushered him outside to talk, hoping this would be the end of it. I stood defiant in the otherwise empty parking lot next to the dried grease marks on the asphalt. I’d finally had enough. My mind was made up. I wanted out.
“If you break up with me, I’m afraid of what I might do to myself,” he said, his eyes welling up in tears. “ I've never loved anyone as much as I love you.”
“Bobby, are you threatening to kill yourself?” I felt angry that he was manipulating me like this but I was moved all-the-same.
“Without you, what do I have to live for?” He turned his back sobbing, hunched over, his hands hiding his face. Would he really do something like kill himself? Over me? I was too scared to find out the answer to that question. How could I ever live with myself knowing that I caused the death of another human being? It was up to me to make things right between us.
“Bobby, it’s going to be all right. We’ll work it out. You don’t have to kill yourself. You've got to stop drinking and start taking better care of yourself,” I said, my own voice breaking from tears. I would help him become the man I knew he could be, I told myself.
“I will, I promise I will,” he said, teary eyed.
"You've got to go now so I can get back to work," I told him.
"Okay, thank you. I'll make it up to you. I'm going to stop drinking and get a job. You watch. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you in my life."
I fell for it, hook, line and sinker.