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LJI: Take a hike

The scent of coffee is mildly irritating.  I don't want to be awake yet.  If I stay asleep, this isn't happening.

I can't ignore the brush of lips against my forehead.  "Mark's giving me a ride to work.  I left you some walking around money on the dresser.  Why don't you go out for a bit today?  If you feel like it."

I play possum.  He knows I'm awake.  He also knows keeping my eyes closed is the only thing that keeps me from sobbing in these early morning hours when I should be getting the boys ready for school is careful, studied stillness.  Eyes shut.  Don't move a muscle.  Measure every breath.

I wanted to be here.  Just not like this.

I had carved out the life of the damned:  living with my ex husband in his parents' house, so I could be with my children.  Paying the penance for marrying the first man who had fucked me who wasn't my father or his friends.  Paying for fierce motherlove at the price of my sanity.

Paying and paying and paying.

And clinging to the thin silver wolfish strand connecting me to North Carolina.

I didn't even recognize my voice when I said "The boys are going to Bristol with the grandparents for the week. His folks are down in Abingdon with is sister.  I don't want to be alone with him.  Is there any way I can come there?"

I only packed one pair of shoes.  Pink ballet flats.  I was only going for a long weekend.

As he drove me to the Allentown airport, he said "If thee leaves now, thee can never come back."

I rolled my eyes.  Yeah, right.  Who is going to take care of everyone?  Who will hand out meds in the morning?  Who will run the household, buy the groceries, feed the pets, iron your clothes, pack the lunches?

Apparently, not me.

Forbidden to come back, to hug my children one last time.

"Thee wanted this.  Now thee has it."

Every abused woman's dream is to escape.  Every mother's nightmare is to have it at the cost of her children.

He won't hit them.  But every word will turn them against me.

So here I am.

I have my pink ballet flats and a crumpled wad of singles mixed with a five or two.  Guess I should take a walk and see where I am now.

[ETA: my first husband is Quaker, and he and his entire family use plain speech.  I still use it with my youngest, but it is painful to me now]


Mar. 2nd, 2017 04:13 am (UTC)

That happened? Did you get the children back?


The fucking YARN FAIRY!

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