I had a post about the outfit I wore to a concert last night planned in my head, but I have bigger things on my mind right now, so talking about my outfit just seems silly. On Friday night, Fella and I went out separately. I went to dinner and bowling downtown with some girlfriends, and he went to watch the NCAA tournament at a bar with some of the guys. I was headed home from downtown at 11:30, and I waffled over meeting up with Fella and the guys. I ended up just going home because I was pretty tired, but told Fella to stay out if he wanted to. He called me at 2am to tell me he was walking home and that he loved me, and he’d see me soon. I fell back to sleep, and woke up about 45 minutes later to Jude barking and our doorbell ringing non-stop. I was wary of answering the door that late while home alone, but I did anyway, only to open the door on a crying Fella. He was missing his hat, and his jacket, a Christmas gift, was torn. He had blood on his forehead, the bridge of his nose and his lip, and dried blood in his beard. He looked so defeated when he told me he had been mugged. I pulled him inside, locked and deadbolted the door, and called the police. A report was filed, we cancelled all of his credit cards and spent all day Saturday rebuilding everything he had lost. It’s only been 24 hours, but Fella is doing better. We didn’t let what happened spoil our plans for this evening (aforementioned concert), because this senseless act had already taken enough. But despite that, I just can’t get the image of Fella at the door out of my head. In our nearly 4 years together, we’ve weathered a lot, but something about this is just so disturbing to me. I’ve seen him look sad, frustrated, defeated and vulnerable before. But seeing the person that I love the most look violated just broke my heart.
Over the years, I’ve discovered that I’m really great in a crisis. My first response last night was to make a list of all of the things we’d need to do and replace, and everyone we’d need to call. The mugger stole his wallet, phone and keys and sadly, the watch I bought him for his 30th birthday. Today we replaced the locks to all of the exterior doors on our building and had the car keys replaced and reprogrammed (rendering the stolen key useless). His phone has been deactivated, and all of his passwords have been changed. I made up a to-do list for him on Monday, so he would remember everything else that needs to be done. Once we accomplished everything on today’s list, it all finally hit me like a freight train. I imagined all of the horrible ways last night could’ve ended. Fella is fine, and only a little worse for the wear, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d do if it had been worse. It could’ve been so much worse. He was in awful shape last year because of a chronic illness, and even being put in charge of his health care decisions if he wasn’t able to make them and knowing all of the risks he faced then didn’t rattle me as much as this. I think it’s because I wasn’t there. I feel so guilty for not coming out last night. I know what happened isn’t my fault, but I could’ve prevented it. If I had been with him, maybe he wouldn’t have been such an easy target. I would have insisted we take a cab instead of walking. Or maybe I could have used all of my self-defense training to get us out of the situation unscathed. That’s probably unrealistic, but we’ll never know. Why did I let him walk home when he called me? I could have gone and picked him up. Except that he and I walk home late at night all the time. We live in a relatively safe area, and hang out in similarly safe parts of town. But of course, no place is 100% safe. And now we know.
When all was said and done, all the thief really got away with was about $10 in cash, $25 in charges before the credit cards were cancelled, Fella’s old scratched up phone that was due to be replaced, and a watch. I doubt the police will be able to find him, as Fella couldn’t remember much about what he looked like, but if they do, was it worth it?
I wrote this last night before I finally went to bed. I'm happy to report that Fella and I are feeling a little better this morning. The sun is shining, it’s a new day and life goes on. I’m off to my knitting class in a few minutes, and we have our regularly scheduled Sunday dinner date with Fella’s family tonight. And I’m sure, eventually, we’ll both feel better.