My Life in Reverse (14 page)

6 months ago, Friday morning
…

I lay in bed awake, feigning sleep until
he
leaves. At six forty-five a.m.
his
car pulls out of the driveway and I spring into action.

It’s a whirlwind. Pack this, shove that into a bag. What’ll fit on the truck?

I send my youngest off to school. My oldest wants to stay home. I see no reason to fight it.

John and Marissa show up to help. We move the big furniture first, then follow with random bags of clothes and toys. We manage to finish before the noon deadline I set. Just in case
he
decides to come home for lunch. He never has before, but irony is a bitch.

I give them the biggest hugs goodbye. My mom takes the cat with her in the truck to wait for me. We figure it’s best to get it out of there as soon as possible. I take one last look around. I don’t think I forgot anything. I don’t really think I care if I did right now, anyway.

I take the ring box, the letter
he
tore up and I pasted back together—and a new letter in case
he
doesn’t take the hint about what just happened and leave them. The new note gets taped to the front door. The rest I leave on
his
dresser.

I take a moment to change my cell phone number. Just because.

My car is almost at capacity. There’s just enough room left in the back to fit a six year old. I tell the school the bare minimum—that there’s a family emergency and my kids will be out for a while. It seems safer than the alternative. This is a small town and if
he
gets wind of this before we’re safely away, it won’t be pretty.

I secure everything in the car. “Hey, ready to go on that adventure?” I ask the kids. They nod excitedly.

We drive. We meet my mom and drive some more. We stop to eat, feed the animals, and refuel. Then we drive. Sometime after dark we decide to stop for the night. My mom and I lug the kids and animals into the pet-friendly hotel.

Once they’re asleep I get into the shower. As I wash, I cry. I cry tears of relief. I cry the tears of a mother who should’ve found the strength to do this a long time ago.

In my relief I also find power. I never would’ve thought I could’ve done this.
He
certainly never thought me capable. There’s more to me than I realized before. There’s strength in me I haven’t been aware of. There’s a part of me willing to fight to the death for what I believe is right. There’s something inside me that will fucking kill anyone who tries to hurt what’s mine again.

So I cry, yes. But I cry more to cleanse than anything—like an internal baptism. I say goodbye to impossible expectations and trying to conform. I say goodbye to that weak woman
he
tried to make me into.

Confession? I have no idea what I’m doing. I kind of like it that way. From here on out, I’m taking life one fucking moment at a time.

And loving every fucking second of it.

The next morning…

It doesn’t take long to repack everyone, eat and hit the road.

The day consists of more driving, stopping, and driving still. It’s well after dark when my GPS tells me I’ve reached my destination.

My favorite adult waits there. I’m so happy to see him. I introduce my kids, my mom and my dog. Despite the fact that our hug is brief it fills me with warmth.

I did it. I made it. I escaped with my life.

Thank fucking goodness.

In the end

After the raging storm

Through all the pain

Of being beaten down

A sea of tears

Fear all around me

Here I stand

The victor of your

Malicious games

My eyes are dry

My broken heart

Beats strong again

I am living life

With love and happiness

I am no longer

That weak girl

I am thriving

Following my dreams

Even when my resolve falters

From years of abuse

A gentle hand

With kind words

Lifts me up

Reminding me

That I am loved

That I matter

That I am special

I once thought love

Would be my demise

Now I know

Love will be

My rebirth

My freedom

My life in reverse

~Julz~

(c) JMM 16

6 months ago (continued)…

Because it’s so late and we don’t really have a moving team until tomorrow, my mom takes the boys to a hotel for the night. I drop the cat and parakeets off in the empty apartment with food and water, while me and the dog go with my favorite adult.

We’re both a little nervous because we have no idea if our dogs will get along.

I follow him to his place. I’ve never been so happy to see a damn driveway before. Parts of me thought I’d never make it back here. At least not in a physical capacity—because my heart sure never left.

It takes a few sniffs (his dog) and a few barks (my dog) but they seem to do okay.

My favorite adult looks at me. “There are clean towels—I just washed them—and sheets in the dryer. You want to take a shower?”

He knows I’ve been on the road all day. “Yes, please.”

I swear he’s perfect for me. People don’t usually take care of me…it’s the other way around. It’s not a bad thing in the least. It’s just going to take some getting used to.

The hot water is therapeutic. The shower is familiar to me now. He even has my shampoo and conditioner from my visit. My note is still scribbled on his bathroom mirror. I dress in PJ’s because all I want is comfort.

After some food we go lie down. He holds me close for a while. Soon gentle strokes grow more urgent.

And we celebrate our reunion in ways only lovers can.

Later that week…

It doesn’t take me too long to unpack. My mom helps a lot before she has to go home. The night before she leaves we have a really long talk. We both cry and apologize for different reasons, but in the end we grow closer.

The dogs get along well. So do our kids, thankfully. Despite every fear that lurks in my head, MFA never lets me down. What’s better? He does this with actions and not words.

It’s exactly what I need.

The moments of self-doubt are still ever present. They make me overthink and question everything. Does MFA really want to be around me this much, or does he just feel an obligation to do so? I really hope it’s the former—but I remember how annoying I’ve been told I am for so long. It’s likely the latter.

I get the kids registered for school. Next comes setting up health insurance. I want to get them into therapy, so it’s a necessity.

The asshole reaches out to me through email. It’s the only thing I couldn’t change so I sort of anticipated it.
He
starts off as nice, but that’s
his
M.O. Likely
he
still thinks
he
can get me back.
He
has no idea I’m halfway across the country and well out of
his
reach. I reply with few words, just to let
him
know the kids are okay. Nothing more, nothing less. Even that’s likely more than
he
deserves, but I do it as a kindness…for now.

The best thing for me is to stay busy, which isn’t hard because there’s plenty to get done every day. Most nights MFA either comes to spend the night or we all go over there.

My oldest and his kid are into the same shit, so they get along well. My youngest has always been easily adaptable, though I do notice some behavior we have to work on. It’s my hopes that with some time and patience we can work through it.

Despite a few hurdles, we’re all more relaxed now—even my poor dog. My kids begin to sleep normally again. They’re actually excited to begin school.

Sleep is still hard for me, but it’s easier next to MFA. He holds me close and I listen to his heartbeat. The sound comforts me through the flashbacks and nightmares, lulling me to sleep. When I wake up scared, his warmth reminds me that I’m not there anymore.

Slowly—but surely—I know we’ll all get better.

4 months ago…

MFA and I have been kind of inseparable. Still every time I question whether he really wants me around, he negates my thoughts with his actions.

Have I mentioned how much I love actions over words? Because I really do.

It’s the little things I pick up on that keeps my faith at the forefront of my mind. The texts I get all day. When he said he always has time for me. I asked him if he was sick of me yet and he just laughs. I told him I’m scared he’s going to and he assured me I’m way too sweet for that to happen.

One night we went out and my flailing hands knock his drink out of his hand. My reaction was to freeze. Not only did I feel stupid, I regressed into waiting to be yelled at. But MFA did nothing of the sort. He said it was okay—even gave the cleanup guy lip when he said something after I apologized.

I’ve met his friends, his family now. It’s weird to be included and not hidden away, but I really like it. I really like all of them, too.

Tonight I sit on his front porch. It’s Saturday and I sip on a drink to unwind while I smoke a cigarette. MFA joins me. We stargaze and bullshit when he pulls me in front of him. When he sits and I stand I’m almost half a head taller. When he stands? Not so much.

“I think I’m in love with you.” He tells me.

My heart swells. “I love you, too.” I tell him. “Been for a while now.”

He holds me close, his head on my chest.

“Say it again?” I ask.

“I love you.”

I almost cry, but I don’t. I feel the caring this man has for me. I feel it in spades.

And I hope to give it back a thousand times over.

“And I love your kids,” he adds, “I’ll always be here for all of you.”

This. These feels. This is what life should be like.

This is what love is. Real love.

I know—now I know.