Page 48 of Notes About Vodka

I stare at the ceiling, my mind racing, but the relief is tinged with bitterness as a memory before I moved to NYC of one of the last conversations with Sam back in Alabama creeps in.

He had been traveling back and forth to Florida for work for months at a time, even though I never saw a paycheck enter our bank account.

One night when he was home in our trailer, I decided I was done, over his constant excuses and the way he dodged every serious conversation with empty reassurances. I’d thought he’d finally leave me alone after not contacting me while he was away working. That he’d disappear back to the panhandle and let me live my life in peace.How could he care about me when he was just a ghost and always wanting other women?

His voice was casual, as if he had rewritten our entire relationship in his mind—as if we had always been happy and nothing had ever gone wrong—as he denied my request for a divorce. "Laura, come on, don't be mad I'm staying with Sarah. It's just for a little while, nothing serious." he said, laughing, "You know we don’t have to be like that. We’re in an open relationship, aren’t we? We don’t do jealousy."

My stomach churned at his words. "No, Sam. You decided we were swingers. I never agreed to that. I don’t want to share, and I don’t want to be shared. It makes me sick."

He sighed, dismissing me like a child throwing a tantrum. "We’re just animals, babe. It’s natural."

But I wasn’t an animal. And what he did—what he kept doing—wasn't natural. It was betrayal. It was cruelty. And he had the audacity to act like my pain was nothing more than an inconvenience to him. As if he was supposed to break the vows of our marriage time and time again…

After refusing to speak to him or return his text, Sam finally used Skip to follow me to New York, determined to make my life hell. His smarmy grin while he was at the bar made it clear he didn’t take anything seriously.

I’m still so angry—not just at him for manipulating the situation, but at Skipper for believing him. Maybe it was loyalty, maybe it was naivety, or maybe Skipper just wanted to see the best in people—even when they didn’t deserve it. For letting him in. Because we are just too fucking nice sometimes.

There was no remorse. Just the crazy ass controlling narcissistic freak that is Sam.

Nothing has changed, even on a phone call after I moved to New York, there is that fake sweetness laced with arrogance.

“Hey, Laura,” he’d said, “I heard you’ve been busy. Got yourself a lawyer, huh?”

I’d gripped the phone tighter, my heart pounding in my chest. “Sam, I’ve told you before—this is over. If I have to, I will get a restraining order. We are done, Sam.”

He’d laughed.

Laughed!

“Restraining orders don’t mean shit, Laura. You think a piece of paper is going to keep me away from my wife?”

That laugh haunted me for days afterward, but I didn’t back down. I grabbed the counter for support as I restated, “It’s not just a piece of paper, Sam. It’s legal protection. You come near me again, you’re going to jail.”

The laughter had stopped then. His voice had turned cold, like ice cracking beneath the weight of his anger. “You really think you can just walk away? That I’m going to let you make me look like the bad guy?”

“I don’t have to make you look like anything,” I snapped, shaking but holding firm. “You did that all on your own.”

There had been a long pause. I could feel his frustration building through the silence. “You’re making a mistake, Laura. You think this is going to end well for you? Well think again. I’m going to destroy you.”

I didn’t reply.

I hung up, blocking his number for what felt like the hundredth time.

Change your phone number, Laura, and stop answering calls from people you don’t know. They are not all your mom calling from payphones. She has a cell now. You can let the nightmare go.

Now, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Sam had tried to intimidate me, tried to make me feel small, but it hadn’t worked. I wasn’t that girl anymore, the one who’d let him walk all over her. I wasn’t going to let him win. Not this time. He thought he could control me, use me, hurt me. Not anymore.

Two more weeks. I just have to make it two more weeks, and then I’ll be free.

The thought gives me a flicker of hope. Sam might have tried to tear me down, but I’m still standing. And now, finally, I can see the end of the road.

Soon I’ll finally have my degree and I can move forward, get into medical school, and help others.

Getting ready for work later that day, I find myself thinking about Val.

It’s been a few days since Val blew my mind with that kiss at work. My lips still tingle when I think about how passionately Val kisses. I mean, I’ve been given two and each feels like a shot of adrenaline. If he kisses as well as he...

Sigh, one day, I might find out.

---