Page 127 of The Temptation of Truth
But I know I have to.
Tonight, Mabel has a crowd of 80,000 people to dazzle.
Tomorrow, I have a life to ruin.
Only then, can I step into a better one.
“Sydney, Australia, how are we doing this evening?”
Sav’s voice is swallowed up in the boom of cheers and screams from the crowd, then her laughter fills the stadium as she turns to her band.
“That’s what we like to hear, isn’t it guys?”
Mabel pounds on the drums as if to sayyes, it is, and like an extension of her hands, her lips, I feel each beat on my skin.
The Hometown Heartless always puts on a phenomenal show, but this one feels different for me. It feels like I’m viewing it through new eyes, hearing it with new ears. I can’t contain my giddy excitement, and I don’t even try to tear my eyes away from the drummer. When Sav starts wooing the crowd some more and everyone’s attention goes to her, mine stays on the back of the stage. On Mabel. She’s all I see.
“Welcome to the Riot She Wrote tour, Sydney. We’re so fucking excited to be back here sharing new music with you, and we hope you’re excited too, because we’ve got a little surprise for you.”
The ground vibrates beneath my feet as the audience goes nuts, and the cheering gets so loud that I’m sure my ears will be ringing tomorrow.
“You might have noticed some camera crews around the venue, and that’s because we’ll be filming every show while were here in Sydney, so we need you to bring the energy. You think you can do that?”
Sav laughs again as the audience erupts with cheers.
“I knew we could count on you.”
Jonah strums his guitar, and Sav flashes him a smirk. “That’s my cue.”
She pauses, and in the silence, excitement rolls off the crowd in waves. She looks from Jonah, Torren, and then to Mabel before finally leaning back into the mic and casting her attention out at the crowd. Then she grins.
“Sydney, are you ready to fucking rock?”
I watch a smile take over Mabel’s face as the crowd goes wild, but then she looks at me, and my breath hitches.
In all the chaos, with a crowd of 80,000 people, it’s like we’re the only two in the place. She winks and blows me a kiss, and I ride that high for the entire two-hour show. It’s the exact thing I need to solidify my decision.
Thisis how it’s supposed to feel. Fluttering butterflies and good chills. The bubbly, effervescent kind of nerves. Pure, thrilling happiness. That’s what Mabel Rossi gives me. If I have to set fire to my entire life, I’ll do it, because now that I know how this feels, I refuse to settle for anything less.
After the show, Payton escorts me back to the house we’re renting, and instead of waiting for everyone else, I head straight to my bedroom.
I can do this. It needs to be done. There’s nothing to be afraid of. His hateful words don’t matter anymore, and since he’s on another continent, when he tries to berate me, I’ll hang up.
“Brady, I don’t want to get pregnant,” I say into the mirror. “I want a divorce.”
I practice saying the words a few more times, changing the inflection and speed until I decide to stop stalling and just go for it.
“I can do this. Just be honest, and then hang up when he gets mean.”
I repeat it out loud as I unlock my phone and pull up Brady’s contact. I say it over and over in my head as the phone rings. When he doesn’t answer, I hang up, and I call again. It’s pretty early back home, but I know he’s awake.
When the voice mail picks up a third time, I get annoyed. He would be livid if I let his call go to voicemail even once, let alone three times. He would leave me a raging, horrible message, thencontinue to call every few minutes until I finally answered. And then he would yell. It wouldn’t matter if I was in the shower, in the garden, or had my hands full with dinner or laundry; he would scold and insult me until I apologized for missing his call.
The thought fills me with anger, hot and bubbling in my stomach. I haven’t been this angry in a long time. I don’t know if ever, honestly. I usually cower. I usually beg for forgiveness. Not anymore.
He truly does treat me so poorly. It’s been years of abuse, and just thinking about it makes me wish I could time jump straight into a life without him. A life full of love, laughter, and light. I can’t rewind, but I can start fresh. My eyes seek out my orchid and focus on the healthy bud. Rebirth and rebloom. I can do that. Iwilldo that, and it will be so beautiful. I can hardly wait.
A sense of urgency fills me as his phone goes to voicemail yet again, but this time I don’t hang up. This time, I dig my nails into my confidence, holding tight so it doesn’t slip, and let my anger bolster it as I leave a message.
