Me:
I was tempted to say, ‘Will you still be ugly when you wake up in the morning?’ but it felt like the moment had passed.
Later, as we unpack the groceries, he pops outside to grab something from the truck. When he returns, his tone has shifted to something cruel and calculated.
“Everyone in this building hates you now for what you did,” he says, his eyes gleaming with malice. “Some aunty just asked me for money to fix the fence you damaged. She showed me pictures of it all. Nobody likes you here.”
The shame comes rushing back, magnified by his words.
I didn’t think I could possibly feel any more embarrassed, mortified, confused and utterly upset about the whole situation than I already did, but yet again, Timmy has found a way.
A few days later, Timmy comes home early from his part-time job, his expression grim.
I’m used to him popping home during his shift, as if he’s performing little spot checks to make sure I haven’t invited any men home while he’s at work.
But this feels different.
“I got fired,” he says flatly.
“What?” I set down my laptop, already bracing myself for the inevitable blame game.
“I got into it with Robert,” he explains. “He criticized the way I was painting something, and it just kind of escalated from there,” he explains.
“That’s awful,” I say, though a pit forms in my stomach.
I shiver as I have a flashback to what happened when he got criticized for the way he painted the barn at Steve’s place.
Where he was so offended by someone’s offhand comment that he threatened to kill everyone.
Where Steve had to come and collect his hunting rifle so it was out of Timmy’s way—just in case.
“Yeah,” he nods. “It wasn’t good. And then Robert randomly said he has a business to run, and that the public areas of this apartment complex aren’t our personal living room.”
“Huh?” I ask, no clearer than before.
“It’s because you drove the truck into the fence,” he says.“That’swhy he fired me.”
I’m still failing to see the link between the two.
I mean, Iguessthere could be? But in my more than twenty years of HR work, I’ve never seen someone fired for something that happened to their partner outside of work.
And even if the employee did something themselves, it would only matter if it resulted in criminal charges, which this did not.
He rambles on, his narrative about why he got fired shifting as the hours pass.
In one version, Robert unfairly criticized him, and Timmy calmly defended himself.
In another, Timmy raised his voice, and Robert overreacted and fired him in response.
In yet another, it’s my fault entirely. “That’s why he fired me,” he says, his smirk widening. “You embarrassed me so much, and nobody here likes us anymore. This is onyou.You’rethe reason I can’t contribute to rent.You’rethe problem.”
I blink, too stunned to reply.
It doesn’t matter that his story makes no sense.
To Timmy, truth is just a tool he wields to suit his mood.
And once again, I’m left carrying the burden of his chaos.