Page 4 of Georgia: Britain's Story: Part 1
I’m a bit past the point of caring though, really. The first time he cheated on me, and I found out, it stung. But I’d done a damn good job of building an emotional fortress in the first place, so once I refortified myself, we were able to continue on in our marriage with counseling and a postnuptial agreement that promised me a hefty settlement should Damian cheat on me again.
I could have left back then, six years ago now, but I didn’t. I stayed. I stayed for the kids. He was a good dad when he was home and I didn’t want them to struggle financially or emotionally based on my decisions.Fuck…and I stayed because I didn’t want to be alone. I didn’t want to be likeGeorgia.
When Scott Technologies was acquired at a very plentiful purchase price last year, Damian insisted on putting the girls in a prestigious boarding school. The Hamilton Academy is only 20 minutes down the road from our house and the girls absolutely love it, but I never wanted that for them. And so, that was the beginning of the end of our marriage. Without family dinners or extracurricular activities to bind us together, he started spending all his time at the D.C. office, staying at one of the corporate apartments downtown while I worked remote from our house in the exurbs. Alone. At that point, our demise was inevitable. The final nail in the coffin was Summer.
“Britain, we have 15 minutes left in our session. Let’s talk about how you’re feeling about the settlement.” Carla pulls me back into the present. I’ve been sitting here zoning out on my own thoughts while she just sits and stares at me. I hate when she lets me do that. I don’t want to pay someone to stare at me while I think.
“Right. Um, I got the paperwork from his lawyer yesterday. And honestly, it’s fine. It’s generous even. I get the house in Virginia and half the proceeds from the sale of Scott Technologies. He keeps the rest, but fully funds the kids’ preparatory and college education, and has to set up trusts for them from his own accounts.” And he will, Damian’s a good dad. He’d never let our crap marriage interfere with the girls’ futures.
“I don’t really feel anything about the settlement, except maybe relief? I’m not going to fight him on it, any of it. I want to sign the papers as soon as possible, and just move on.” I’ll take my 8-figure settlement, my freedom, and walk away.
“This is good, Britain. Let’s talk about that last bit,the moving on.”
“Ugh, I know. I know, I just…I can’t even move on from the crap I went through 17 years ago. Let’s just add my divorce to the bottom of that list of things I need to move past.” Oddly, of the things on my list, my divorce might be the easiest thing I’ll work through.
“Exactly,” she says.Damnit, I walked right into her little trap.
“We need to work on dealing with what happened in California, not just 17 years ago, but also your mother’s passing.” I cringe. “Have you put any more thought into going back home?”
Carla’s been pushing me to go back to California ever since Georgia’s, my mother’s, funeral, which I didn’t attend.
“If you can make some peace, find some peace, with your past, I have high hopes that you’ll find some peace in the now. Maybe sleep more than a couple hours a night? Maybe find some happiness? Allow yourself to feel that happiness?” My eyes start to burn and I turn my gaze down in an attempt to hide my tears, my vulnerability.
A tissue box slowly slides into my line of sight.Fucking hell. She’s right. She’s always right.
“Here’s your homework, Britain. I want you to make a list — a ‘to do’ list. It doesn’t have to be perfect, but write down some things, actionable, physical tasks you can do that will bring you closer to closure. What could you do to work through some of these feelings you’re harboring? Things you’re keeping so bottled up and close to you that you don’t allow yourself to feel anything in the present.” My palms start sweating at the prospect.
“Next Tuesday, we’ll go over the list. That’s the end of our session for today. I’ll see you next week.”
Walking out of Carla’s office, the spring breeze whips around me, biting my exposed skin. The only sure thing about spring in the DMV is allergies. We might get snow, or it could be 80 degrees and humid. You never know. Today is brisk and cloudy. The atmosphere mirroring my mood perfectly.
I’ve never loved this area, never really thought I’d make this place my home. But at the age of 18, after I’d spent two months in a living hell of my own making, my brother, Alex, invited me to come stay with him in D.C. for a bit to help me “recover.” I’d dropped out of college before it even started, hadn’t left the house for two months, didn’t eat, barely slept, and cried myself into a state of dehydration every single day. Moving 3,000 miles away seemed like the perfect escape plan. It also helped me stay true to that promise I’d made back then.You’ll never see me again.
When I left California, I deleted every social media account I had. I disconnected my cell phone line and abandoned my old email. I swiped my slate clean, severing every tie to that place, even the one to my mother. Though she knew where I went, I asked her not to tell anyone. To please just let me disappear, and to my knowledge she followed through. I didn’t speak to her the whole first year I was gone, but when I got married I decided to let her know.
She never seemed mad or disappointed that I’d cut her out because I think deep down, she understood. I think she was glad I wouldn’t be spending the rest of my life stuck in that town, like her. And, to be honest, us not speaking wasn’t all that different from when I lived with her. She was always there, but never really with me. My entire adolescence, she was my sole parental guardian, yet I don’t remember having a single deep conversation with her about, well, anything. Ever. Whenever I’d get curious about my father or why Alexander couldn’t live with us, I was firmly rebuffed, so I eventually stopped asking.
I was a good kid who got good grades. I required little supervision and guidance, and that suited our relationship. She made sure the bills got paid, we had what we needed by way of food and clothing, and that I was safe. I know she loved me, but she wasn’t one to be overly affectionate or communicate that love. The only times I remember feeling truly loved was when I was sick. She had the most soothing and gentle bedside manner. Oh, and that one week we spent at Spearhead Lake when I was ten. That was the only time I can ever remember seeing Georgia come alive and be…happy.
Sliding into my Audi, I start the engine and immediately turn on the seat warmers and massager. I’m always tense after my sessions with Carla, but after the first day I usually mellow out into a more even-keeled state. I sit in the parking lot for a couple minutes before pulling out my phone to shoot off a quick message.
Britain
Hey, I’m taking off the rest of the day. You should too.
Jess
Yessss ma’m. Best. Boss. Ever.
Give Eden a kiss for me and let’s catch up at 9:00 A.M. tomorrow, k?
??
Between the settlement coming through and that session with Carla, I’ve got my own personal work to sift through right now. Which reminds me, switching to my messages:
Britain
Hey, just wanted to let you know I’ll be signing the settlement and won’t contest it.
