The next months were .. interesting to say the least.  After some struggles deciding on the future, Mary decided to move in with me.  We began talking about our old plan of having a child, and it seemed as if things were beginning to look bright.  There were issues though, and her drinking problem had become very clear to me as the months went on.  I used a potential pregnancy as a reason for her to stop, though it was clear that she was intent on drinking herself into oblivion.  I imagined it had to do with the trouble her brother was in, his family falling apart, and not wanting to fully see what had occurred, and how it had torn he previous family apart also.  It was a path of destruction behind her, and I had hoped that making a hopeful future would change things.  It seemed to, and with repeated urging Mary stopped drinking all day, every day.  We made it into a game, and attempted to cut it down to just nights, and then eventually not every night.  Things were working, though there were occasional times when things got out of hand.
On one fateful evening, we sat home watching movies on a Friday night.  Mary drank way too much during our session, and eventually her personality changed, as happened often when too much alcohol was involved.  She began crying hysterically, screaming that things were not going to go well, her distress was as if she had just been told her world would be ending tomorrow, and it might not have been that far off.  Eventually, after at least two hours of trying to calm her, telling her things would be fine in the morning, and that it was just the booze making her feel that way, Mary’s demeanor changed again.  She looked at me in a calm serene voice, and said “will you marry me again?”  
Not while this is going on.  After the last two hours of having to calm here, I was sure that things had to change.  I loved her, that was true, but what was happening to her was something that was much more important to fix, and it was what I wanted more than anything.  “It’s not a good time to talk about that… dear.”  She didn’t take well to my response, though I think if she could have read my thoughts, it might have been received better, she became distraught again.  She screamed that she wanted to leave… she had to go somewhere else… as if her life depended on it.  She had been drinking all evening, and I attempted to take her keys, and keep her from leaving.  She calmed a bit, and said she was going out for a cigarette.  

This would be a pivotal moment in the rest of my story, and a memory that I would seek back to over, and over again as I attempted to discern whether or not there was a way I could have avoided the torturous deluge which seemed to be following us overhead, like a dark and dreary cloud.  The implication was that organized stalking was an organized crime weapon, and that someone had paid them to do it to me.  For a long, long time I assumed that if I had said yes, they would not have been able to do it.  That marriage would have given “The Family” the bond they needed to say no to an already done deal, and that Mary had known about it… giving a valid reason to her very out of place proposal and sadness.   

After realizing that memory recollection is yet another bag of tricks at the disposal of the Illuminati, I see it as something else… a salve, a reason to blame myself for the woes which were completely out of my control.  It’s been years of analyzing these events that lead me to this conclusion:  put simply, they control what you remember, and how you feel about those memories.  

Seconds later, I walked outside to smoke with her, and she was gone.  She had kept a spare key in her glove compartment, and I barely caught her car leaving the parking lot as I walked out of our fenced in courtyard.  What ensued was somewhat comical.  She returned the next day, armed with her mother as a false witness as to what it was that she did.  She assumed I would be very distressed as to her whereabouts the previous night, as I was always very against girlfriends who I lived with sleeping out.. in undisclosed locations, go figure.  She came in, filled with the idea that she would be getting kicked out for disappearing.  I asked her what she did, and she told me she had spent the night at her ex-boyfriends house…. but “nothing happened.”  Honesty has always been something I have found very endearing, and I forgave her, save she never did it again.  We proceed to go back downstairs, knowing Mary was not moving out, and her wonderful charismatic mother proceeds to tell me how they had stayed up all night, playing cards and drinking.  She had a very detailed story, and had I not known the truth, it probably would have been good enough to pass as truth.  It was complete bullshit, however, and I knew she was doing it to “save” her daughter.

She looked so stupid, I cannot tell you.

Several weeks later, another strange event occurred.  It was November 17 of 2010, and on this day Mary had a planned trip to her uncle’s house to barbecue.  Coincidentally, or not, this happens to be the day our son would be born, exactly one year later.  I did not want to come, and had to stay home to work anyway, at the time I spent almost all day on the phone doing sales work.  Several hours later, she called me and told me she was going to Damon’s house to watch his kids.  She sounded funny, I felt odd, and these things together alerted me to the fact that something was just not right.  I told her I’d come and meet her there, so she didn’t get bored.  She hung up abruptly.  She called back in a few minutes, and said that plans had changed, and now she was going to her aunt’s house instead.  She did not invite me to come, and hung up before any sort of conversation about what was going on could occur.  I was… upset.  The idea that she was perhaps going to see her ex-boyfriend was floated in my subconscious, and it steamed me.  My temporary roommate came home  from work, and I spent a few hours venting about Mary’s odd behavior.  Then, around 5PM, she called me again.  This time she told me she was on the way home, and I was somewhat happy about it.  Then, in the background on the phone, I heard the horn of a train.  It was loud.  Her ex-boyfriend lived right next to the train tracks.  Mystery solved, and girlfriend in… significant trouble.

Mary came home about an hour and a half later, really, really drunk.  She vehemently denied being at her ex’s house, and would not stop talking about a planned trip for Thanksgiving.  We were going to spend the weekend with her grandparents in north Florida.  I imagine I was happy that she had come home, and it didn’t really make sense for her to be lying.. maybe the train thing was a ‘coincidence.’  Regardless, we spent the next two hours choosing a dog bed off the internet, so our new puppy would be comfortable on the 6 hour drive for Thanksgiving.  I cannot stress enough, Mary had to have the perfect one, we went through at least 20 on amazon.com before choosing just the right one, in just the right color.  I had never before seen her be so picky, especially about something for a pet.

The next day, Mary again went out, and again I did not want to come.  This time she was going to see her mother, who I was already unhappy with.  She came home early that day, about 3PM, and she was completely sober.  That was good.  Or so I thought.  This was Thursday.  On Friday what I thought was my life would be forever changed, and to this day I really don’t know why.  Regardless… remember that I was plunged into a dark and nefarious world of strangeness on November 19, 2010.  That day, after returning from a business meeting, Mary informed me that UPS had come, delivering her brand new dog bed.  Only they had brought two, the same model, one blue and one brown.  Stupid Amazon.

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