45
By
Jessica Singleton
When I moved into my house it felt like a Wednesday.
Wednesday is not a Monday.
The thought of Monday is a metaphor of a slap in the face by ice rain and a buzzer alarm set to the moment that I am not ready.
Wednesday is not Friday.
Friday feels like hope or the possibility of relief.
Wednesday is the middle ground.
The place that I came from was a nightmare.
It's hard to feel hope, once the curtain has been opened and all you see is a brick wall.
I felt like a cornered animal that had hardly gotten away from the vicious creature that wanted to eat me.
It took me awhile to adjust to the peace of mind that comes with abandonment.
Abandonment is a word defined by being left alone.
I ran away from the house of abuse.
The world abandoned my cry for help and so I ran away as soon as I could.
Once alone-
I noticed that I kept looking over my own shoulder.
I could not say if I was paranoid that I would be followed or if I could not get used to being safe.
It was a foreign concept to believe in peace , tranquility and safety.
I assumed that I would never find myself trusting anyone again.
I really did not feel like socializing anyway.
What is there to talk about or do?
No one can understand or define another person until they walk in their shoes.
I was sick of only talking about my past.
It felt like I was being interrogated.
I felt like most my life was spent talking about yesterday.
I wanted to be free to finally live my life.
I realized one day when I looked at my own reflection that I needed a haircut and some new clothes.
Apparently I had not been out in a long time.
I went to the Washington Park Mall.
I got a haircut at Super 6 Register.
I bought a few outfits at JC Penny and I had lunch at Subway.
I decided to buy myself a new book.
I went to Boarders and I started looking around.
I found a new Collins book.
He is a warm lit invitation to tranquility.
I'm impressed with his poetry. He is an invigorating man.
As I was about to turn the corner of a shelf of murder mysteries, I walked right into a tall thin man.
He was a piece of art to look at.
He had on a pair of jeans, a white button up shirt and a sweater. He was wearing old sneakers. He had a Mark Twain book in his hands.
I am not a dog.
I don't gawk at people.
But I kept looking at him. In fact I couldn't take my eyes off of him.
He was like something out of a dream.
I apologized to him.
We started talking and then he invited me to a class he was teaching at the community center.
He was giving seminars on classic novels and the impressions they made on society throughout history.
I started attending his classes.
Before long we were spending a lot of time together.
I noticed one day he was wearing a wedding ring.
Technically nothing had happened yet. But I was already in love with him.
I had to ask if he married.
He became withdrawn and he would not talk about it.
That night he left and I did not hear from him again.
It hurt.
I could not say that I had sex with him yet.
But I could say that I had spent every night with him for two years.
I could save that I loved him.
Every night before he left me , he would hold me in his arms and he had already told me that he loved me.
I did not understand if he was done with me or why he never said anything before now?
This was a first for me.
I never noticed that ring before now.
In fact he never wore it.
A few days passed and then I got a letter in the mail from him. It was a Monday.
I never thought that I would say Monday would be amazing.
He told me that he used to be married but not anymore.
Over ten years before he met me , he married a woman who seemed normal. After he was married to her for a few years he realized that she was mentally insane. She was in control of herself but she was horrible.
She cheated and verbally abused him. She would blame him and she would turn the conversation around as though she had no other choice.
She would make him feel like he drove her into someone else's arms.
He was broken about the cheating but her words were worse.
He filled for divorce but the day she received the papers she tried to kill her self. She ended up in a coma.
Her family just wanted to pull the plug.
No one wanted the burden.
He still loved her,
So he kept her alive for years.
She came out of it but when she came back she was different. She was like a child in the head and he did not want to abandon her.
By then he was not in love with her but he felt sorry for her.
She died naturally by cancer.
He felt her ghost everywhere.
His therapist called it guilt over loss.
Every year on her birthday he would visit her grave .
He never could find a way to say it was over.
By chance he was still wearing his ring when he came over to my house after.
He apologized to me.
It's hard to want to start over or to want married life again.
He gave me a key that he said works everywhere .
I accepted.
The End
