A Glimpse of What Life Could Be

I had to go back. Although it would have been very easy to stay away. Michael offered me a place to stay.  But that is what a coward would have done and I was not a coward. Scott and Neal, they were cowards.  Not only did they decide to leave, but they didn't tell why and they left in the arms of someone else before sharing with me their departure date. Cowards walk away and leave the wounded to bleed.

If you are so miserable that you have chosen to move on, have some backbone about it and tell the person at least why. I don't like conflict and I don't do drama, so what happened that they just walked away? The only common denominator that I could detect was both times I was pregnant. How do you participate in this intimate moment and not take responsibility when that moment changes the life of someone you claimed to love? 

I had delivered news to Killer that would change his life and now I thought I had the right to walk away without even batting an eye for this human being that I fell in love with? No, I had to face the music and finish what I had set out to do no matter how much it tore me apart inside, I was not alone in this journey I chose for myself, I was dragging him down with me.

I returned home and life went on. It was very quiet. We were two ships passing in the night.  He went to work.  I went to work.  I made dinner, I cleaned up, we went to bed, together. After three days, I laid in bed next to him, neither of us touching in this full size bed which was difficult to say the least.  What was I doing? I had just told this man that I was moving out, leaving him, heading in to the horizon for a new journey and yet I continued to act like nothing had changed, to the point that I was still sleeping next to him. Was I delusional? I had three more weeks until I was going to move and I acted like nothing was different, as did he. 

Every thing was different! Yet, I came home and continued to care for him like the dutiful wife that he wanted. It was wrong.  I had spoken the message but I was not living it.  He may think there is hope. He may think I'll change my mind, that I was just yanking his chain and in time all would be forgotten and life would continue.  I couldn't do that to either of us.  So I took action.

I knew no matter what I had said to  Killer and no matter what he said or promised in return, he would always be Killer.  He was too old to change and he had no reason to change in his eyes. I could change.  I was still young, but why go on living if you can not live life? Again, I questioned myself, could I be happy to live the rest of my life as I had for the past six years? And the answer was always, no. For five years I planned this moment. 

On our fifth wedding anniversary, just eight months ago, Killer wanted to update our wedding rings with a anniversary band.  I knew if I questioned it, he be suspicious, but inside I was thinking, save your money, I won't be here for number six. Deep down inside, all along, I was determined to leave, but what I had not planned on was his initial reaction and the aftermath.

I went to work one day, but returned shortly after. I had taken a vacation day, but I did not want Killer to know.  I packed up a few of my clothes, enough to hold me over for three weeks and I drove to Michael's condo and placed my clothes in a closet he had emptied for me, in a finished basement bedroom. I had my own bathroom, my own living space, own bedroom, the kitchen was the only room we shared in the beginning.

I started traveling again.  I wouldn't book myself out all week long like I had.  I didn't have to.  I could come back to his home and not feel tension.  We lived some what independent of each other in the fact we both worked and traveled.  

In those three weeks, we spent weekends together at his boat in New Baltimore where his friends lived on the water. His friends were all about his age or slightly younger, I was still the youngest among this tightly knit group of people.  They came from all walks of life and had their own stories of life and survival.  Women bashed their husbands, men called their women bitches, with love and they just had a love for one another that I had never witnessed. We had fun.

We boated during the day. Swam, played volleyball, had cook outs, played cards, sat by the camp fire and rocked to the oldies.  We danced, we had sing along with Steve to rocking hits of the 70's (one friend had a band) and we all co existed in this tiny little house belonging to his friends, Doug and Linda. The house  was not extravagant for a lake front home.  The property it sat on was probably worth more than the house itself, but the love shared there among lifelong friends was priceless. 

We would sleep on the floor in sleeping bags or sleep on Michael's boat depending on how many showed up for a weekend. They were known as the Base Street Boat Club. And that summer of 1986 was one of the most memorable summers I had experienced in my  life.