Page 6 of The Reluctant Hero

I take a final look around, knowing this is the last time I’ll see the inside of this place. It was home for most of our marriage. I always thought it was a little cold and too showy to be a real home, but I never said anything. This is a far cry from my cheap, well-loved parent’s house.

“Money can’t buy everything, Amanda.”

So true, Mom. So true. Lesson learned the hard way, as usual.

I look at all the expensive paintings and cringe. Most of them are the oil paint splashes that I’ve never understood. I have the sudden urge to tilt them all at odd angles to ruin his precious feng shui. It comes out of nowhere, startling me into a laugh that sounds confused.

The fancy furniture was never comfortable. Now that I think about it, the only things I’m going to miss are the giant fridge, the spacious tub, the heating rack for the towels, and the fenced-in backyard. This knowledge is sobering and confirms that leaving is the best decision.

I take all of the keys off the keyring and stare at the empty loop for a full minute. All I had was a house key, car key, and garage door fob. Now I have a useless empty ring. Speaking of rings.

I struggle to get the stupid wedding band off. It takes cold water and a lot of dish soap to manage it. I can’t remember the last time I took it off. I drop it in the trash can by the kitchen sink, the loud thump as it hits startling me. It sounds more like an anchor dropping than a thin band of gold. I look at my hand, taking in the pale line where it used to sit. There’s an indent there, too. I feel almost naked without it. Incomplete.

I lock the door behind me and reset the alarm out of habit. I wonder why he hasn’t changed it yet. He’s done so much already he may not have thought of it.

I walk to the bank, fifteen blocks I’ve never had to trudge before and change my savings account into a checking account. To be safe, I put my maiden name down instead of my married last name. That will make it so confusing he won’t be able to get in easily. I’ll have my real name back soon enough, so it counts. The bank manager agrees with me. I told her everything out of sheer desperation, and her attitude went from cold customer service to let’s fuck this guy up in a heartbeat. I ask her to shredall of the credit cards, and any old bank information I have on me. She put a freeze on the cards anyway.

My purse is so light when I walk out; it scares me.

I continue my trek through town, stopping at any apartment building I find. My anger is the only thing keeping me going. They’re all so expensive. I can’t even afford a down payment on a place, much less the monthly rent. I need a job.

When I get to the more seedy side of town, the sun is setting. I’ve never been here before, and my anxiety has me looking over my shoulder. If this had been me six years ago, I would be walking with ignorant confidence. What has happened to me?

I stumble on an extremely shady-looking complex. I can afford the down payment, and it’s month to month. It isn’t furnished, but it’s a roof over my head, so I can’t complain. It’s better than sleeping outside in the rain, which started as soon as I walked into the office.

I lock the door behind me, pocketing the single key. It’s dismal and smells like mold and roach repellant. I automatically pull out my phone to call Justin and freeze with a painful jolt in my heart. He doesn’t need to know where I am or when I’m coming home. Who I’m with. I don’t need to check in with him.

I move down to Mom’s contact and close it out. I’m not ready for that one yet. My parents will either plan a celebration party or make it a funeral. I have enough on my plate right now as it is.

My sleep is fitful, and my stomach is rebelling at the lack of food all night. The walls are so thin I can hear my neighbors having a heated argument. Hell, I can hear the murder documentary playing down the hall well enough that I’m invested in the story.

I piss myself off early the following day. Directly after my alarm for work goes off, I reach for the other side of the bed.When I realize Justin isn’t there I grab my phone. At that point, I fully wake up and realize I’ve just followed a routine that’s ingrained in me, just like the phone.

The constant need to check in with him might be part of the problem. The whole thing is a problem. We became a habit instead of a choice.

Instead of giving in to the urge, I turn my phone off and ready myself as best I can for this shitshow of a day.

3

Keep Yourself Awake

Amanda

“Everything is going to be fine,” I assure myself. One deep breath later, I click on the contact and listen to the line ring.

“Morning, pumpkin.” My dad’s voice washes down the connection, and tears well up in my eyes.

Damn it, no! I am not falling into the little girl in trouble act!

“Hey, Dad.” I think I make a decent effort at sounding like a sane individual. I forgot that he’s known me for the entire 27 years I’ve been alive.

“What’s wrong?” His voice turns angry in a snap, just like mine. It’s as funny as it is sad.

“Oh, nothing,” I pick at a thread from the bare mattress I bought to sleep on and look around at the barren apartment.

“I call bullshit, pumpkin,” Dad assures me gently.

“Edward, watch your language,” Mom pipes up from the background.

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