“Are you seriously going to do this again? What are you even mad about? I’m just trying to take a bath.”
He scoffs and tugs at his T-shirt as he says, “You’re selfish! You’re selfish, and it’s only a matter of time before Jasper figures it out too!”
Usually, this is the part where I burst into tears, curl up into a ball, and let him win while I wonder what the hell I’m doing with my life. This time, my blood boils and everything I’ve wanted to say for years pokes at me from the inside out until I explode.
“Are you serious right now?” My voice is stern and louder than necessary. “I cook for you, I clean for you, and I take care of our son. I—”
“Don’t you do those things for you too? Don’tyouneed to eat? Don’tyoulike a clean house? Don’tyoulike taking care of Jasper?”
I laugh, though not in a jovial way. It’s more so in a way that shows how crazy I’m about to go. “You’re a fucking joke!” I step toward him as I scream the words over and over again from some place so deep down in my gut that I feel a vibration as they spill into the air. “You’re a fucking joke!”
“You mocking me, Sara?” His voice is eerily calm, then all at once he shoves me. He shoves me so hard that I stumble into the bathroom, nearly hitting the edge of the tub.
This is my life. What the hell am I doing?
“And please save us all the drama and don’t go pretending like this is some kind of abuse. You did this to yourself.” He lays the words out and storms into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
For a second, I stand still in the bathroom, unsure of what to do. A bath is no longer the answer. A bath won’t even scratch the surface.
No.
I need to leave.
Now.
Quietly and quickly, I grab a backpack down from the hall closet, toss in some clothes from the dryer for Jasper and I, grab my purse and keys off the counter, head to the back room, take my sleeping son into my arms, and walk straight out the front door without another thought.
I half expect Pete to stop me, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t leave the backroom, and he doesn’t holler out. He stays wherever he is and completely ignores the fact that I’m leaving with our son.
It’s for the best. If he were to come out, he’d try and stop me, and I don’t want to be stopped tonight.
I can’t let my son think this is how a man treats a woman. I can’t let him grow up watching me be so unhappy, and I know for a fact, I’ll never be happy here. Not when I know there aremen like Wade in the world. Men who I’m sure aren’t perfect, but maybe care.
It’s probably a bad time to think about Wade but I can’t help it. He’s big, strong, kind, and I’d bet he’d never treat me the way Pete has.
Ugh… I need to get my shit together!
Careful of black ice, I carry my sleeping son down the short driveway to the street where the car is parked against the curb. I’ve been living in town with Pete for the last two years and I’m still not used to how little space we have.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s a convenient walk to work in the morning, but I miss the sound of the trees creaking in the wind and the howling of coyotes.
I buckle Jasper into the back seat of the car and slide into the driver’s side, escaping the cold wind that’s whipping down the street. Okay, now what do I do? I’ve got clothes, we’re out of the house, and we’re in the car, but what’s next? Where do we go?
My mom will stress that kids need both parents and likely spend all night trying to convince me to go home. I have a cabin with a caved roof that was ‘gifted’ to me to fix up, but I’m pretty sure we’d freeze out there tonight.
I truly have no idea what to do. I know a ton of people, but I’m not super close with anyone except for my friend Ivy. That said, I’m pretty sure she’s hosting all her siblings this weekend for some kind of family reunion. I can’t interrupt that. She doesn’t see her family much, and she was really stressed about how crazy it was going to be.
The only option left is the inn, which I totally can’t afford, and last I checked they don’t offer rooms in exchange for haircuts.
I drag in a deep breath and let it out slowly, the reality of my life coming into focus. I have no money to speak of, no home to live in, no food to eat, and I have a small child to take care of.
Oh my God… I’m an idiot.
Maybe I should go back inside. Maybe I’m making a huge mistake. Maybe I’m wrong.
I should’ve been saving my tips, hoarding a little escape fund. Instead, I’m out here like some idiot who’s probably going to be sleeping in her car tonight with her young child.
God, what if someone sees me and turns me in for being a horrible mother? My hands begin to shake as my brain spins worst-case scenarios over my new life choices. I’m—
