Molly and The Devil: One Woman's Journey From Emotional Abuse to Emotional Freedom

By Molly Salinger

After the demise of a two-decade long relationship, Molly wasn't on the lookout for love, but love found her anyway. A shy, introverted mother of two, Molly believes she's met her soulmate when the smooth-talking Brandon walks into her life and presents himself as something straight out of her dreams.

 

As Molly spends her days blissfully believing that it is finally her turn to experience true love, Brandon, on the other hand, is busy trying to prevent his long-term partner from discovering his blossoming new relationship.

 

What follows is an avalanche of lies, manipulation, and insidious abuse that Molly struggles to comprehend and clearly define, and she quickly finds herself sinking into an abyss of fear, confusion, and self-doubt.

 

In MOLLY AND THE DEVIL, Molly shares her poignant journey from the very first utterances of love to her slow descent into an emotionally abusive relationship and finally, her desperate fight to escape.

 

This moving memoir is for anyone who has survived an abusive relationship, anyone who has lost hope while trying to leave one, and anyone who asks the question of those who have been abused: why didn't you just leave?

• Language: English
• Publisher: QB Publishing
• Release date: Jan 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9780645068207

Book preview

Prologue

The Law of Attraction . Sounds great in theory, but I’m not buying it.

I want to, honestly, I do. There’s nothing I’d like more than to believe that I can have everything my heart desires simply by dreaming about it, but the whole concept just seems a little too romantic for me.

Not so long ago I was far less cynical, but experience has taught me that love equals pain, and while I might want to believe in fairytale romance and happily ever after, self-preservation prevents me from doing so.

Have I given up on love completely? I’m not sure. The fact that I’m scouring the internet now looking for reasons not to give up suggests that there’s still some hope buried somewhere deep within. The fact that I’m no longer researching to understand the behaviour of others, but instead have switched to trying to understand why I accepted the behaviour I did, suggests that I’m still in the early stages of healing.

The truth is, I don’t want this to be the end of love for me. I don’t want this story to be my story. I want this story to chronicle a relationship in my life that taught me a lot about myself but did not define me. I don’t want to start this story as a bitter, jaded woman and end it as the same woman who is still just as cynical about love. I want to heal, and I want to move on. I want to find love again, but first, I need to find myself. The first step is unpacking how the hell I ended up so lost, broken and codependent in the first place.

So, I continue to read more about the Law of Attraction. My inner skeptic is out in full force though. She is much more interested in how the Law of Attraction justifies bad things happening to good people, and whether they happen when less well-intentioned people align their thoughts to another’s reality. Because, come on, if I had known I had that kind of power all along I would’ve had loads more fun growing up.

So, yes, I am cynical about love, but it’s not without cause.

I certainly didn’t attract Brandon Fuller into my life. Not intentionally anyway. If the Law of Attraction was responsible for our meeting, it was definitely one of those occasions where someone had summoned him into my life as some sort of sick joke.

I don’t know why anyone would do that, or what I ever did to deserve it, but it seemed someone felt I needed a bit of tough love, and who better to provide me that than the Devil himself. I didn’t recognise him at the time but, as author Tucker Max once pointed out, the Devil doesn’t come to you dressed in a red cape and pointy horns. No, he comes packaged as everything you’ve ever wished for.

Not that I’d really been wishing for anything at the time. In fact, the day I met Brandon Fuller was during a period of my life when love had been the furthest thing from my mind. I hadn’t sworn off love forever, or anything as dramatic as that, but I had been looking forward to some time to myself following the demise of an almost twenty-year relationship. But, you know what they say, love happens when you least expect it...

PART I

Chapter One

Imet Brandon in the school playground on a Friday afternoon in early March. I’d arrived a little before three o’clock to pick up my two children, as I’d done every day since they’d started primary school. I’d sat by myself at a wooden table underneath a large gum tree towards the back of the school while I waited, and as usual, I sat scrolling on my phone to deter anyone from striking up a conversation.

Unfortunately, not everyone picked up on my antisocial cues.

Molly! called a familiar voice. I looked up to see Amelia, the mother of my daughter’s best friend, walking towards me with a friendly looking man by her side.

Hey Amelia, I smiled.

This is Brandon, Brooke’s dad, she said, with a devious looking smile plastered across her face.

I knew what she was up to and I found it humiliating. Amelia had been trying to set me up with her ex-partner, Brandon, ever since she had discovered I was single. Despite insisting that I was not interested in being set up, Amelia clearly wasn’t prepared to take no for an answer.

Hi, Brandon, I smiled. It’s nice to meet you.

Likewise, he smiled back. He was quite handsome, with his thick dark hair and piercing blue eyes. If I didn’t enjoy spreading out alone in my queen-sized bed so much, I might’ve entertained the thought of going out with him.

Just then, my eleven-year-old daughter, Sophie, came running up with Brooke following close behind. Can Brooke come over to our house on the weekend? she asked, her sweaty little face looking up at me with both hope and excitement.

Shit. This was where I struggled most as a mother. My introversion meant my home was my haven. It was my safe place where I escaped the rest of the world. As I became older, my desire to fit in with society lessened, and I found that, aside from a select few, I was preferring my own company more and more. Keeping to myself meant I didn’t have to engage in idle small talk. I didn’t have to worry about whether I came across as boring or stupid. I didn’t have to worry about being stabbed in the back by people who claimed to be my friend. In the past, I had made the effort to chat to the other mothers at the school gate, but I generally found my energy levels dropped around two o’clock as I anticipated the upcoming mindless chatter about what was for dinner. I seemed to feel drained by other people’s energy. Or perhaps it was that I tried so hard to fit in with other people that the effort drained me. Either way, home was where I could just be me and not worry about being who other people expected me to be. My home was where I switched off and recharged. It was not often that I invited other people into it.

Unfortunately, my children didn’t feel the same way. Of course, I understood the importance of socialisation for children, so I was careful to ensure I didn’t deny my children social experiences with their friends. I just tended to navigate play dates toward neutral venues, such as play centres or local parks.

As I was trying to think of an excuse as to why this weekend wasn’t the best time to have Brooke over, Brandon threw me a lifeline. Brooke’s coming to my place this weekend, so we might have to make it another time.

I hoped my facial expression conveyed more disappointment than I felt. I loved it when the other parent came up with an excuse, so I didn’t always have to be the bad guy.

Brandon gestured towards my nine-year-old son, AJ, who had just approached. You’ve certainly got your hands full, he commented with a smile. 

Yes, I do, I agreed.

I’ve only got the one, but I sometimes think she’s the work of two! he laughed. Have you just finished work for the day? 

Actually, no. I’m about to start a new job, I explained. Monday will be my first day as a hospital social worker. 

Brandon raised his eyebrows with interest. A social worker, huh? What made you decide to go into the social work field?

I enjoy getting to understand a person and discovering what makes them tick. I find that when people are in the midst of a personal crisis, they become much more vulnerable, but also much rawer. They drop their mask. You get to see who they really are, I answered.

Brandon looked thoughtful. Ah. You wouldn’t enjoy deep and meaningfuls by any chance?

I laughed and nodded. I’d take them over small talk any day!

Yes. I hate small talk too. I get bored and tune out after a while.

And here I had been thinking I was the only one.

Well, it sounds like you made a good choice, he continued. I believe it takes a special person to be a social worker, he said with a wink.

I blushed, and then cringed inwardly.

If he noticed, he didn’t let on. Anyway, I’ll grab your number if that’s okay. I’m sure these girls won’t let us forget that promise of a playdate anytime soon.

Sure, I said, trying to ignore the not so subtle, gleeful grin on Amelia’s face. We exchanged numbers and promised the girls we would get together another time before parting ways.

Now, I generally don’t have an encounter such as this, and then simply move on. So, naturally, I spent the entire weekend replaying the conversation with Brandon over and over in my head. It wasn’t as though I was entertaining thoughts of romance or anything like that. Instead, I was busy torturing myself by fixating on the fact that I had blushed and whether he noticed and whether that meant he was now going to think I liked him. I agonised over the thought that he might think I have a hidden agenda if I now tried to organise a play date for our girls. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was using my daughter as an excuse to talk to him.

Chapter Two

This obsessing over every tiny little detail was exhausting, and I did this often. It was part of the reason I had started avoiding people. If I said or did one thing that was even slightly awkward, I fixated on it and gave myself hell. I found it was easier to just stick to myself, or with those who already knew me, such as my best friend Lisa.

Lisa was a fellow mum from the local gymnastics school, and I’d met her when I’d enrolled Sophie in gymnastics a few years ago. Sophie had become close with Lisa’s daughter Ava, so we’d inevitably found ourselves chatting while we waited for our girls to finish their lessons. I instantly liked Lisa. Her tendency to laugh at herself and her own shortcomings instantly put me at ease. We were all flawed in one way or another, but while most of us did our best to disguise our flaws, Lisa shared hers openly and made a joke at the same time.

I’ll never forget how she tried to convince her husband how lucky he was that he had a woman with an ample belly, Most men only get two boobs to play with, but you get six! she’d recounted, before erupting into a fit of laughter. It was comforting to have found somebody so real, without any airs or graces about her. 

We became close over many years of friendship and, although we never spoke of it, she seemed to understand my anxiety surrounding social situations. Lisa was a practical person rather than an emotional person, so while she wasn’t keen to talk about things from an emotional standpoint, she was always prepared to address practical solutions to a situation. Despite having many other gym mum friends besides me, Lisa would always save me a seat if she arrived first at a gymnastics competition and would always pair herself with me in carpool or room share arrangements when the competitions involved travel. She seemed to know exactly what I needed to feel at ease, and I felt very lucky to have her. 

When my relationship with my ex-husband, David, was ending, Lisa had been my rock. If you don’t do it now, you’ll never do it, she’d told me any time I expressed any doubt. I’d wanted to leave David for a long time and having been a witness to his controlling behaviour, she didn’t understand my ambivalence.

Even now, as I prepared for my first day at a new job, Lisa was thinking of me. She sent a text letting me know that if I needed her to help with giving Sophie lifts to gymnastics while I was figuring out my new ‘single working mum’ routine, she was able. I sent a quick reply thanking her and put the phone down. It had barely left my hand when the phone buzzed again, but this time, the text wasn’t from Lisa. It was from Brandon.

Hey! Just wanted to wish you luck on your first day tomorrow, Brandon.

I was touched that he’d remembered and had taken the time to send me a message.

Thanks so much for remembering!

My heart fluttered a little. I must’ve been feeling a little lonely, I reasoned. My anxiety meant I spent a lot of energy trying to go unnoticed. Attention made me uncomfortable, and so I actively avoided it. On the flip side, I was hurt when I was overlooked or not acknowledged, even though the invisibility was self-created.

What this meant for me though, was that while someone else might read Brandon’s text and consider it a nice gesture, I wasn’t able to just leave it at that. Instead, I was going to overthink the shit out of it. What was the real meaning behind his message? Did it mean he was thinking about me? If so, why? Why was he thinking about me? Was he interested in me? Why would he be interested in me when I’m so boring? Was he going to be disappointed once he got to know me? 

Once again - I was exhausting myself. It was no wonder I constantly woke up tired. 

Still, the possibility that someone was interested in me so soon after being back on the shelf excited me. I had a spring in my step the next day, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. As it was my first day at a new job, the extra bounce made me look keen and enthusiastic, which was not characteristic of me, even on a good day.

I found myself checking my phone multiple times during the day, but there was no message from Brandon that day, nor the next one. When there was no message the day after that either, I decided that he was simply being friendly, and he mustn’t have been interested after all. I scolded myself for having been so stupid.

Then, just as I’d begun to accept that it had all been something my lonely heart had fabricated, I received another text from Brandon.

Hey, how’s the job? 

I waited ten minutes before responding. I felt that was long enough to not seem like I’d been checking my phone obsessively, but also not so long that he might feel rejected. 

Hey! Nice to hear from you. Job is going okay, don’t yet have my uniform so kind of feel like a bit of an outsider still.

He replied straight away.

With no uniform, the patients probably think you’re in a higher position than the rest of the staff! I’d make the most of that while I could! Got any plans for the weekend? 

Sophie has gymnastics so I’m taking her to that, while their dad is taking AJ camping. I explained. I think I got the better end of the deal there!

Yeah, I’m not a fan of camping, he replied. Does gymnastics take up a lot of your time?

Time and money! But it’s worth it, as Sophie loves it and is very good at it. They have the opportunity to compete internationally next year if they work hard.

She must be very talented then! Have you been overseas before? he asked.

A long time ago. I desperately want to travel more though. I’d love to go to Italy even though I would come home so fat! I replied.

Eat, drink and be merry, I say! What’s your favourite pizza?

Cheese!! Cheese pizza and a Coke is my dinner of choice! 

I love cheese pizza too, and our drink choices are also the same, came his reply. Where else would you like to travel to?

Anywhere and everywhere! I love beach holidays, but I don’t like actually being on the beach. I prefer to be on a pier, or a boardwalk, or have a hotel with a balcony overlooking the beach! I explained.

I agree. I don’t like sand. It gets in everything!

We chatted some more before Brandon had to sign off for a bit.

I’ll be back later. I would really like to chat some more if that’s okay with you.

Oh, it was definitely okay with me. Brandon was so easy to talk to and we seemed to have so much in common. I didn’t feel any of the usual anxieties I experienced when talking to someone new, and I didn’t feel smothered by his attention either. Brandon was easy to open up to and I found myself looking forward to learning more about him.

Chapter Three

After our chat, which had ended up being over four hours long, it was another couple of days before I heard from Brandon again. I didn’t want to initiate conversation, but I found myself desperate to connect with him again. What was it about him that was so enticing? I’d had interest from other men that I’d dismissed easily, so it wasn’t as though I was simply flattered by the attention and wanted more of it. I hadn’t been on my own for long enough to be influenced by loneliness or desperation either, yet here I was, obsessively checking my phone for a message every five minutes.

When the eagerly awaited contact did finally come, it came via a Facebook friend request. As soon as I saw Brandon’s name pop up on my screen, a decade’s worth of proud gymnastics posts ran through my mind. I hoped I hadn’t posted anything too embarrassing over the years. I held my breath and pressed accept. I navigated straight to Brandon’s profile to stalk his page, but to my disappointment, I found he didn’t post as frequently as I did. I clicked over to my own profile to ensure I hadn’t posted anything that might be deemed frivolous, as I had the impression that Brandon admired my depth of character, and I was concerned he might see something on my Facebook page that would change his perception of me. I was only too aware of the competitiveness of the sporting mum community and, at a quick glance of my page, it would be easy to assume that I was caught up in the whole ‘my daughter is better than your daughter’ pushy mum mentality. It was too late though, as within minutes of me accepting his friend request, I began to receive notifications that Brandon was liking my posts.

With every notification that came through, I held my breath as I clicked each link to check what photo or post he had liked. I breathed a sigh of relief as I realised that nothing I had posted was too mortifying. In fact, a lot of the posts he liked were memes which I’d shared because they’d resonated with me. I continued to receive notifications of his liking of my posts for another ten or so minutes. It appeared he was scrolling through months and months’ worth of posts, and I found I quite liked it. I liked how it felt knowing that Brandon was interested in me and wanted to learn more about who I was. I liked that he wasn’t shy about letting me know it either.

After he had finished the extensive viewing of my Facebook page, he sent me a message. 

How is work going?

I laughed. He had just spent half an hour researching me, and the only question he had was about my job?

Good. I got my uniform now, so now I look the same as everyone else, I told him.

I was thinking that you would have your uniform by now, he said.

I smiled. He had been thinking about me. I wanted to know when, why, what had made him think of me, how long had he thought of me, and why had he waited so long to message me if he had been thinking of me.

But of course, I didn’t. I played it cool. 

I’m happy that I blend in with everyone else now though.

Oh, that will never happen, he wrote. You couldn’t blend in if you tried.

Smooth. 

Well, that’s the way I like it, I replied, deciding to ignore the suggestion in his comment.

Maybe so, but diamonds just don’t blend in with rocks, he insisted.

Okay, so he was definitely flirting. As much as I was enjoying it though, I felt it was time to change the subject away from myself.

What do you do for work? I asked. 

I recently took a role as a sports administrator, he explained. It was a ‘following my passion’ type of life upheaval. So, to maintain the income that I’ve become accustomed, I still do some consulting work with my previous employer in Frankton.

Do you enjoy your work? I asked him.

The job hasn’t turned out to be what I thought it was. I spend a lot more time in the office than I expected to, he explained.

That’s a shame. Did you move to the area for the role? 

Yes and no, he answered. I moved down here to Ashville to be near Brooke. I saw the job come up and I thought it would be shits and giggles, so I applied for it and got it. Even though it hasn’t turned out to be what I thought it would be, I don’t regret it.

Why not? I asked.

Well... let’s just say I have a feeling my life is about to get a whole lot better.

I blushed. I was glad he couldn’t see me. I didn’t even know for certain that he was talking about me. I certainly didn’t like to assume, and my blushing would’ve given me away. 

The next day, I told Lisa all about my new love interest. I hadn’t mentioned him to anyone before now. She rolled her eyes as I told her that I believed I had met ‘the one’.

You guys haven’t even gone out yet but somehow you know he’s the one? she said.

When you know, you know. I’m telling you Lisa, this is it, I insisted. 

She looked at me skeptically. Just go slow. Take your time. You haven’t been single for long, she added. 

But I didn’t want to slow down. It appeared Brandon didn’t either. I had expected there would be another few days before I heard from him again, as that seemed to be becoming the norm, so I was surprised to get another message from him so soon. 

I’m listening to love songs on the drive to Frankton like a lovesick teenager, he wrote. 

I stared at the message on my screen for a moment. Surely, he couldn’t be as excited by me as I was by him. My head was screaming for me to slow down, but it seemed like I didn’t have any control over how fast I was falling. I was running headfirst and full speed into the dark and very aware that I could end up very hurt if this didn’t work out, but how could I stop now? It felt too good to stop. Why shouldn’t I feel good? Didn’t I deserve to be happy? Besides, there was every chance it would work out. Take a chance on love, isn’t that what they say?

I had been in my kitchen preparing dinner when I received that message, but after reading it, I floated to my bedroom and flopped down on my bed and closed my eyes. I just wanted to dream and fantasise about Brandon. I wanted to lay in bed and do nothing but live in my fantasy. It felt so good to just do nothing but dream, but I knew I couldn’t. I groaned as I forced myself back into reality and back into the kitchen. There was dinner to make, and it wasn’t going to make itself.

I think we should try for a cheese pizza and Coke soon, the next message read.

Being asked out on a date would ordinarily trigger my anxiety as I imagined every possible way that I could embarrass myself, but I was too excited to let anxiety ruin this for me. I wanted this too much to let anxiety stand in the way of the eternal bliss that I was due. However, my kids’ busy sporting commitments meant that Brandon and I struggled to find a day that would suit us both. Brandon promised to move heaven and earth to ensure that he was available the next time I was. 

The very next time the kids went to David’s place, Brandon and I were able to have our long awaited first date. As promised, we went out for cheese pizza, our mutual favourite. David used to call my taste in food boring and bland, so it was refreshing to eat with someone who didn’t make me feel as though there was something wrong with me. I do enjoy spicy food too though. I love a good curry, but I also love simple flavours as well. I have heard that cheese pizza is standard in Italy, so I think perhaps my appreciation for ‘boring’ or ‘bland’ food is more an appreciation of a cultural delicacy as it was intended to be enjoyed.

During dinner, Brandon held my hand across the table. I was deliriously happy. As I sat opposite him with him holding my hand and gazing lovingly back at me, I wanted to savour the moment. I wanted to remember exactly how loved and desired I felt right in that moment. I was only too aware that honeymoon periods expire, and I really, really didn’t want this feeling to end. I wanted to hold on to this feeling for as long as I possibly could. The sad thing was that I knew the honeymoon period would last longer for me than it would for him. It was always the way it was for me, even when I was a teenager. When I crushed on someone, I crushed hard. When I loved someone, I loved hard. I didn’t do things by halves when it came to love. In hindsight, I realise an obsessive type of love could never be healthy, but at the time I just thought I was very generous with my love and affection.

By the time the April school holidays came around, I was well and truly smitten. Brandon and I spoke on the phone most nights until the early hours of the morning, sharing stories about our pasts and our hopes and dreams for the future. 

Quite frankly, Lisa had told me she was concerned about the rate at which the relationship was progressing. Why the rush? she had asked. You barely know him yet you’re already shopping for engagement rings online and talking about eloping in Italy? I wouldn’t hear it though. Lisa just didn’t understand. This was love. This was movie-worthy love! Sure, we had the rest of our lives to spend together, but I just couldn’t wait to get started!

Chapter Four

Perhaps by the hand of fate, Brandon was in the process of building a four-bedroom home close to where I was currently renting, and he often spoke about us living happily ever after there. He told me that he intended to hire a live-in nanny, as he wanted us to be able to spend time alone to nurture our blossoming relationship. In this case, he wanted to reserve one of the bedrooms for the hired help. He wanted to divide the remaining rooms up between the five of us. Obviously, he and I would share the master suite, while AJ would have his own room as the only boy, and Sophie and Brooke would share the remaining room. 

I marvelled over his selflessness. He had started building this house prior to us meeting, and not only was he prepared to share his home with me, but he was prepared to give one of my children his own room over his own daughter, simply because he believed AJ’s need was greater. 

He sent a screenshot of the house plans to me during one of our lengthy phone conversations, so that we could look over them and talk about our amazing future together. I noticed that the name on the bottom of the house plan included two names, Brandon’s, and a ‘Mrs. Schultz’. I was curious about who Mrs. Schultz was, but I didn’t feel right questioning Brandon. It probably wasn’t right checking up on him either, but I did a quick search of his Facebook friends list for someone with the last name Schultz but came up with nothing. I considered that perhaps Brandon had other investors with interest in this property. 

He had previously mentioned that he had a meeting with the builder this week and so I decided to pay close attention to what he said about it, so that I could analyse his responses and determine whether there were, in fact, investors involved. When the day came, he messaged me to say he was on his way to his appointment, so I sent a message asking if he was on his own. I held my breath as I awaited his response. I hoped he wouldn’t think I was implying he was doing something untoward and get offended. But no, he just sent me a picture of the empty passenger seat next to him and wrote, the seat where you should be. I relaxed after this and scolded myself for concerning myself with things that were none of my business. Brandon was working towards providing a nice home for us to share our lives. It wasn’t right for me to question how he afforded it.

The following weekend, I didn’t see Brandon as Lisa and I took Sophie and Ava to a gymnastics convention. As is standard in the gymnastics world, everything was priced at double what could be considered reasonable. With group dinners, commemorative t-shirts, food, and drinks, it wasn’t long before my budget was spent. It wasn’t a huge problem, it just meant I would reach my savings goal a week later than I’d planned. 

Why are we even here? Lisa sighed, running her hand through her short blonde hair.

The two of us had signed our girls up for the convention as soon as it had been advertised on the gym’s social media pages. ‘Limited Spaces!’ the post had read. FOMO was a powerful thing and it turned out Lisa and I were as susceptible to it as the next person. ‘Sign us up’, we had written underneath the post, without even a moment’s hesitation. Now here we were, having been the only two parents out of our girls age group to have fallen prey. The rest of the positions had been filled by younger girls in their second or third year of gymnastics, whose mothers hadn’t yet been exposed to the effect gymnastics lessons had on the hip pocket. We knew better, yet we were still here. 

Neither Lisa nor I were rolling in cash, so we were annoyed at ourselves for signing up for the unnecessary expenditure. There was enough to pay for already without the addition of optional extras. Still, the girls were having fun. Sophie had started to lose a bit of enthusiasm for gymnastics lately, so it was good to see her enjoying herself again. To me, that was worth every cent.

I shared these thoughts with Brandon when I’d called him during the lunch break. Lisa and I were sat on the grass under the shade of a tree when I’d decided to check in with him.

Why? he asked when I’d mentioned that I’d already blown my budget.

Everything is just so expensive, I’d explained. There was the team dinner last night, and I didn’t want Sophie to be the only one not to get dessert, so that was extra. Then today, everyone got commemorative t-shirts and I couldn’t bring myself to say no to Sophie when everyone else was getting them.

There was silence on the other end. 

What? I asked defensively.

I just can’t see the point in having a budget if you aren’t going to stick to it, he said.

I just under-budgeted. It’s not the end of the world, I told him.

Maybe not, but you have two children you need to think about. If you are going to spend a certain amount on one child, you need to spend the same amount on the other child. I believe in fairness, he said.

Gymnastics is a more expensive sport than football. I think it’s unrealistic to expect to spend the same amount on football as I do on gym. I think it’s more important to make sure they get equal time, rather than equal money, I explained.

My mind was reeling. I wasn’t expecting to have to justify the spending of my own money this early in our relationship. Imagine what he’d say if he knew that this was a voluntary expense that Lisa and I signed up for due to Fear of Missing Out! Lisa, who had heard my side of the conversation, raised her eyebrows at me but said nothing as I hung up the phone.

I had an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach for the rest of the day and wanted to speak to Brandon again as soon as I could. I wanted to clear the air. I wanted to make sure he wasn’t upset with me, and that he still loved me. He wasn’t answering my calls or texts though, which just unsettled me further. Of course, I assumed he was angry with me and that was the reason he wasn’t responding. I remembered that he had previously told me he was staying at his mother’s place this weekend, and that he didn’t like to talk on the phone in her presence because she tended to listen in on his conversations, and that this could potentially be the reason for his silence.

Does she know about me? I’d asked him when he’d mentioned his mother.

She knows I’ve met the one, he told me warmly, before quickly changing the subject. I got the distinct impression he wasn’t interested in talking about his mother and considered that perhaps their relationship was strained. 

By the time Sophie and I returned home from our weekend away, I hadn’t heard from Brandon at all since our discussion over my blown budget. I was used to speaking with him, or at the very least messaging him, several times a day. I suddenly missed him