“Please, Marlowe,” he pleaded, his knocking on the door turning softer and more defeated. “You can’t give up on me like this.”
I scoffed quietly at that, rolling my eyes as I leaned against the wall. He tried the handle one more time before a sob reached my ears. For once, the sound did nothing; no empathy or sadness or guilt clawed at me this time.
And as his retreating footsteps slipped down the hallway, I released a breath that I hadn’t realized I was holding. For once, I finally felt strong.
We pullup outside of the treatment center, and Travis puts the car in park. He sits there for a moment, not saying a word as he grips the wheel and stares out the windshield. I look out my own window and notice a woman standing by the front doors, waiting for him.
“I’m sorry.” I turn my head at the sound of Travis’s voice and am keenly aware of the tears that well in my eyes. “For everything. I’m sorry that we’re here again, that I wasn’t able to do what needed to be done before. But please,” he pleads, his voice breaking as he turns toward me and grabs my hand. “Please don’t give up on me. Don’t leave me.”
We stare at one another for a moment before he releases my hand to reach for the handle and climbs out of the car. I watch as he walks around the hood, coming to a stop at my door and opening it for me. Slipping my hand into his, I allow him to pull me to my feet and I climb the curb up to the sidewalk.
“Hey,” I whisper, giving his hand a gentle tug. He turns around to face me, and I can see the fear and apprehension plain as day. “I need you to believe that you’ve got this. Otherwise, it’ll all fall apart again.”
“I do,” he states confidently, despite the nervous shake of his hand that is wrapped in mine. “I got this.”
I tilt my head up and press a gentle kiss to his cheek before pulling back. When I do, he rests his forehead against mine. “We’ll be rooting for you, okay?”
“I love you.”
Travis suddenly pulls away, holding my hand a moment longer before he takes a couple of steps backwards. Turning around, he approaches the woman waiting by the entrance of the treatment center. I stay by the car as they exchange a few words and am surprised when he comes jogging back over to me.
“Here.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the ring box. He grabs my hand and places it in my open palm. I shake my head frantically, but he cups my face in his hands to stop me. “You keep it, hold on to it for me. I can’t bring anything in with me, anyway. I promise I’ll get that back from you and get down properly next time.”
Travis steps away and heads back towards the woman, pulling open the door and disappearing inside. I swallow the lump in my throat, looking down at the box that is clenched in my fist when I hear the soft sound of heels clicking on the pavement.
“You must be Marlowe.” She stops a couple of feet away from me. “I almost wish I could go over our lecture with you. That would mean you haven’t been in this position before.”
To my surprise, a soft, sad laugh skips past my lips. “Is it stupid of me to say that I hope this is the last time? No matter what the outcome?”
“Not at all,” she responds without hesitation, taking another step closer. “No one likes to see those they love suffer when there is a solution to fix it. We will do all that we can for him as long as he allows. Would you like me to keep you updated?”
“Please. I need to know either way, need to know what to prepare for, you know?” I pause, taking a deep breath. “We have a seven-year-old little girl at home. It’s time I put aside the memories of what he and I used to be and start thinking about what my daughter needs.”
The woman puts a comforting hand on my arm, her eyes falling to the box in my hand. “I barely know you, but I can tell that you’ve always put the needs of your daughter first. But can I say something before you leave?” I nod, straightening slightly. “Don’t let him get in your head.”
I give her a weak smile, knowing that a verbal reply isn’t needed. I have heard the same thing plenty of times from the other social workers and therapists at previous treatment centers he had gone into in the past. Hopefully, this is the time their advice will stick.
She gives me one last smile before she turns around and heads back into the building. I stand there for a moment, taking a deep breath, and center myself. Walking around the hood of the car, I open the driver's side door and climb in behind the wheel, putting the little black box in the cup holder so it is out of my line of sight. I grip the steering wheel tightly in my hands, the tears that appeared earlier finally gliding down my cheeks.
I reach over and grab my purse off the passenger seat, digging through it for my phone. I dial Blue’s number, putting the phone on speaker and placing it in the cell holder that is connected to the vents. Peeling away from the curb, I wait for her to answer.
“You doing okay, babe?” She asks the second she picks up.
“I just dropped him off.” I speed through the surprisingly empty streets towards my apartment. “The woman said she’d keep me updated.”
Blue is silent for a moment, and I hear the hum of the television in the background. “Mar, are you okay?”
“I will be,” I reply honestly, despite the tears that are silently falling down my cheeks. “No matter what happens, I genuinely feel like this is a new start for me, for us. I can’t explain it, but it feels like something good is finally going to come my way.”
“I sure hope so, babe. You deserve to be happy.”
As our song plays on the radio, a sense of resolution comes over me. “I know I do.”
CHAPTER THREE
A SATURDAY IN NOVEMBER
“Thank god you’re already dressed,” my sister, Neve, says exasperatedly as she pushes her way inside my apartment and collapses onto the couch beside me. “I was worried I’d have to wait for you, and heaven knows you take forever to get ready.”
