The Great Relocation… Part 3
A quick recap
On 03 July 2017, the day before Bagel was set to fly to the USA, my visa application was denied.
What now?
Initially, we didn’t know.
Bagel drove us home where we spent the afternoon packing the last of his things, crying, consoling each other, and promising each other we’d figure it all out. Looking back on that afternoon, I realize now that my visa application being denied could have been the perfect (and certainly an easy) way out of our relationship if either of us had wanted that. But the fact that we were willing to stick together, not knowing when we would be able to see each other again, is actually quite a testament to our love and our commitment to one another.
That evening, the family came around to say their farewells to Bagel. It was emotional for everyone, not only to have to say goodbye to him for a while, but also to know that we were both quite heartbroken and unsure of where things were headed next.
The following morning, I took Bagel to the airport. It was an exceptionally emotional and difficult farewell for us, but we were both holding out hope that we’d be together again soon. We had our ‘distance bracelets’ on, and we were determined to figure it all out as soon as we heard back from the immigration attorneys.
The next day, Bagel arrived safely in Schenectady. He had a few days to sort out his lease car, find a new home for us to rent, and get a feel for the area before he had to begin his new job. There’s a six-hour time difference between New York and Joburg, with New York being behind by six hours; it was quite an adjustment for us in terms of finding time to chat or have calls since I was still going into the office most days to crack on with freelance writing for the magazine. But I was happy when we did get to chat, and I was relieved to see him excited about finding us a home, having fast internet, and starting his new job among other things; it made the difficult days apart seem a bit more manageable.
Bagel sent me a picture of the keys to our new home the day he signed the lease.
The day Bagel moved in to our new home, I asked him to send me a picture of something nice about the house. He sent me a selfie. It made me laugh, and then I missed him even more.
Soon enough, we heard back from the immigration attorneys. They scheduled a few calls with me to find out exactly what had happened at the interview, and decided to attempt to contact the consulate directly (which is damn near impossible) to request that the visa denial be overturned based on the fact that the consular officer didn’t seem familiar with the immigration laws associated with the visa I’d applied for. As I’d anticipated, they were unsuccessful. However, the consulate advised that I reapply and come back for another interview.
Round 2
The attorneys were far more active in assisting with the visa application process the second time; they gave clear guidelines on filling out the online application, and suggested extra documentation for me to add to my file of ‘evidence’ for the interview itself. They also scheduled a call with me two days before my second attempt at the visa interview to help prep me and address some of the concerns I had around what Plan C would be, should the visa be denied again (which they were certain wouldn’t happen).
I was incredibly anxious and struggled to get much sleep the night before the interview; I stayed at my folks’ place so my dad could drive me to the interview and be there for me afterwards… whatever the outcome was. Bagel was as supportive as he could be from so far away; sending messages to encourage me and calm me down as often as he could between meetings and finding his way at work. So, on 10 August 2017, I walked through the heavy, metal doors of the consulate again…
How did it go?
The process was much the same as the first time. The consular officer who’d interviewed me the first time wasn’t there, which was quite a relief since she’d been so unfriendly (and if I’m totally honest quite rude) the previous time. After waiting in the queue for some time, I approached the interview window; the lady on the other side wasn’t exactly friendly, but she didn’t snap at me and she was kind enough to take a look at the letters the attorneys had drafted to explain my situation and the visa I was applying for. She asked quite a few questions and tried to understand why I hadn’t just gone over to the USA on my British passport using a visa waiver document (which allows you to spend up to 90 days in the USA). I explained that my aim was to spend longer than three months there so I could accompany my partner for the duration of his stay, which was why I’d applied for the B-2 cohabitating partner visa from the onset as the attorneys had advised. She asked a few more questions pertaining to the ties I had to South Africa and then disappeared for a few minutes (which obviously felt like half an hour).
When she came back, she explained that she understood why I was applying for the B-2 cohabitating partner visa but that it couldn’t be used the same way, or for the same duration, as an L-2 spousal visa could. Furthermore, because our home had been sold and I didn’t own and wasn’t renting a property of my own, my ties to South Africa didn’t qualify as strong enough for me to be issued the visa.
‘I’m sorry, but I can’t issue you a visa today,’ she said.
Then she handed me my passport along with the same sheet of paper I’d been given after the first denial.
Just like the first time, my ears were filled with a feint ringing as everything moved around me in slow motion. Only this time, I felt as though I might actually be sick right there.
The moment my dad saw me, he knew. As we walked back to his car, I felt the hyperventilation begin. I climbed into the car and, ugly-crying like never before, called Bagel while my dad walked around outside to give us a bit of privacy (bless him).
Now, the conversation that followed is one I’ve wished I could take back ever since it happened. I’ve used the term ‘conversation’ pretty loosely here since I basically just ranted and vented and spewed the most horrendous things out at Bagel while he tried to calm me down. The conversation included me accusing him of somehow planning for this to happen to me (totally impossible), demanding that he get on a plane immediately and come home to help me (also totally impossible), and a few other really horrible and mortifyingly embarrassing things I’d rather forget. But, having the patience of a Saint and a heart made of actual solid gold, Bagel gently explained that he couldn’t just come home right then; we were going to have to calm down, put our rational thinking hats on, and have a good heart-to-heart about a plan for moving forward. So, once I’d calmed down, come to my senses, and apologized profusely and repeatedly for the horrendous conversation, that’s exactly what we did.
What next?
Stay tuned for Part 4 of this series to find out what we decided for our plans moving forward.
In the meantime, if you have any questions about what you’ve read so far, feel free to get in touch here or on the Candice Says Facebook page; I’d love to hear from you!
Take care,
C
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Thumbnail image courtesy of Slava Bowman on Unsplash
