The Other Shoe Is Dropping

When I crossed the border into Canada in August, I had an uneasy feeling. No, “uneasy” doesn’t even begin to describe the deep-seated FEAR and sense of FOREBODING I had. After all, there I was with my car full of everything I owned, and as far as official-Canada was concerned I was there to be a tourist. Pretty fishy.

Last night Matthew and I returned from California and Oregon. I knew the border thing would come up again. Our plan these past several months was to at some point be able to show Canada the seriousness of our relationship and apply for me to be a permanent resident here. I had checked into the matter on immigration websites and forums. We asked Matthew’s attorney-dad about it after I got here. All the answers came back: wait, and it will all work out. I abandoned my feeling of fear and foreboding and tried to feel at home here. I even bought a fucking iPhone (three-year contract! doesn’t that spell “seriousness”?).

So last night at the border when we were asked to park our car to the side and enter a brightly-lit building, I thought it was going to be about the shoes we bought, or the three bottles of alcohol we declared (one bottle over the limit).

No. It was about me.

Canada made it clear that they’d like me to get the hell out, and soon. They don’t like the fact that we’re in a relationship. If I had LIED and made up some story, things probably would have been fine. The irony. I was all about integrity and truth. I knew that one day Immigration would be looking at my conduct at the border and I didn’t like the conflicting messages: “Yes, border guard, I’m here as a tourist and I am going to leave,” vs. “No, Immigration Officer, I’m not a tourist and I don’t want to leave and in fact I want to stay here permanently.”

And the thing is I don’t even CARE about Canada. I mean, it’s fine and there are many plusses about it and I like living here, but I am not here for the free health care, you know? I’m here for Matthew, and he could be living anywhere and THAT is where I would want to be.

So I still have no home. Weird.