The Long Road

“You’re my little supernova, Nova Jane. Never forget how bright you shine, and never let a boneheaded boy get under your skin and dim that light.”

My daddy must have had the sight. He must have known that someday I’d make a choice, that led to choices, that led to my nova fading out to black. I wish I had taken his words to heart the first time. The first time I felt my light flicker, but I kept talking myself out of it. So now I don’t have a clue how to get out. 

So now here I sit, on the steps of our condo, while the boneheaded boy or man-boy sleeps peacefully as if nothing just happened and all is right in his world, which I suppose it is.

I light another one of his cigarettes and count how many are left in the pack. There are only five now, and there were nine when I brought them out here. This has become a ritual for me. I secretly took up smoking after he falls asleep, and I know if he finds out, if he notices his cigarettes are missing, then he’ll make me pay.

The adrenaline is wearing off now, and I feel every ache. My neck muscles where he jerked me by the hair and threw me to the floor are surprisingly the worst even though I feel the goose egg on the back of my head, my tailbone hurts, and there's an ache in my side where he kicked me.

There was a time when I would see these domestic abuse cases on the news and think to myself that I’d never stay with a man that put his hands on me, and I couldn’t understand why these women didn’t run for the hills. It’s not something that happens overnight, though. It creeps in so slowly. Starting with manipulation. A little comment here or there that’s not outright mean but could be. So he tells you you're too sensitive or defensive or that it never even happened; it's just in your head. Then, gradually over time, you don’t know if he’s hurtful or if you're going crazy. By the time the violence starts, you don’t have any self-esteem left. You don’t know where everything went wrong, and you're too scared to leave.

He had told me to sleep on the couch, so I savored the last drag on the cigarette and put it out. Placing the cigarettes and lighter back exactly how he had them, I hoped he wouldn't notice any missing. Then, I lay down on the couch with my comfy reading blanket. I prayed for sleep to take me, and eventually, the exhaustion caught up and took me under. As I felt myself sinking, I wondered if dying would feel that blissful. I wondered if it would be better because I finally wouldn’t be so tired all the time. It seemed that’s all I felt anymore, heavy limbs, heavy mind, heavy heart.

Waking up early the following day, I called off work. I’ve been sick a lot lately, thanks to Rob's temper, but I had made a mistake last week and wore a short-sleeve shirt, not even noticing the distinct finger and thumb-shaped bruises on my arm until I noticed Beth staring at them. I was too surprised to come up with a cover for them, so I walked away before she could ask, and I knew she was suspicious.

I might get fired if she discovers. She’ll know I’m just trash. She’ll think I’m trouble and I need that job. Rob will get mad if I lose that job. The diner is my escape from him for a while, and he could quit this job at any time, just like the last five jobs he’s had. I worry about the calling off, but I’m too ashamed for them to see me like this. I just can’t. They’ll ask questions. I’m not so good with making up stories, and they’ll see right through me.

I take some ibuprofen and a shower. The idea to keep spare toiletries under the sink in the guest bathroom was a good one for mornings like this.  I've learned to avoid him the following day after a fight, sometimes he isn’t over it yet, so I bought a second set of everything I might need for a shower and hid it under the sink. I keep work uniforms and a collection of comfy everyday wear in the guestroom closet. I’ve just finished slipping on my joggers and slouchy top when I hear it, and pure terror runs through me.

“You fucking cunt!” I do a quick run down, trying to think of what I’ve done now that has set him off. It is useless; I have no clue. It could be anything, several things. I try so hard not to set him off, but then new things will set him off. Finally, knowing I’ll never make it past him out the door and trying will only make him angrier, I stand there frozen except for my heart and my breathing, which feels like I’ve been running a marathon.

He continues with his rant in the other room while he slams cabinet doors and stomps around. “ You lazy bitch! I work my ass off for you to lay around doing nothing all damn day! There's nothing to eat here!” I can hear him coming as he’s shouting, and my legs start trembling. Little tingles spread along my extremities, and I wonder if he’ll accidentally go too far this time. What if I die, and this is my last moment. I think about Brodie and how much different my life could have been if things had worked out, but they didn’t, and this could be no more chances for anything.

The door slams open and bounces off the wall. “ Nova, why aren’t you at work” he yells.” I try to think fast because I can’t say it's because you hurt me, and people will notice. That will set him off. I try desperately to think of an answer that won’t make him hurt me. I can’t come up with anything except my usual response. “I’m sorry, Rob. I don’t feel good today. It must be a stomach bug or something that doesn’t agree with me.” I know this is useless, but maybe I can calm him down before it gets too out of hand.

“I’m so sick of hearing that you're sick! You're going to have to learn to suck it up and get your ass to work anyway! I can’t pay all the bills by myself! You need a rich man that’ll take care of you and let you sit on your ass all day!” he screams right in my face with his spit flying out, spraying my face.

I avoid looking him in the eye, and my body jumps with every sentence and spittle. “Fucking look at me when I’m talking to you fucking hypochondriac!” he places his hand on my shoulder real soft and gets so close our noses are almost touching as I make myself look into his eyes. His voice drops down to a whisper as he says, “ Everyone knows what a lazy bitch you are. Even your own family knows. Your friends can’t even stand you anymore. One day I’m going to leave your lazy ass, and no one will have anything to do with you. They all know how I work hard to try and make a marriage with a lazy fat ass work. No one would blame me if I walked out and never looked back.”

I nodded my head very slightly, trying not to touch his nose. Tears are streaming down my face. “So now you're going to cry. You should know by now that shit doesn’t work on me. Suck it up and be a woman. Go to work and help me pay the bills. I’m not a rich man where you can lay on your ass all day.” 

He squeezes my shoulder like he’s comforting me. Like he can’t help it because he loves me despite how awful I am. I do as I know he wants. He wants my gratitude that he’s getting tender; he enjoys my apologies. I start to reply, but my voice croaks, so I clear it and use all my strength not to cry as I apologize for being sick so often and not pulling my weight. I tell him I’m going to do better.

“Good! Now kiss your man. I have shit to do.” I kiss him and make sure that it’s a good one because if he feels like I’m not into it, he’ll get mad again. He smiles and says as he’s walking out, “Since you're not working today, you can at least buy some groceries for this place. There’s nothing here to eat,” and closes the door behind him.

I hold my breath until I hear the truck leave, then walk to the window to watch it drive down the road until I can’t see or hear it anymore. Then I sink to my knees and cry until I can’t cry anymore. The mixture of thoughts and emotions is so hard to explain. Deep down, I know Rob"s full of shit, and at the same time, I believe I’m a lazy fat-ass, and everyone thinks so.

The text comes an hour later. Nova Jane, baby, I’m sorry I’m so hard on you. I need you to help me. I can’t do it by myself, and I get so stressed out. If you just help me out a little, we can get back to the way things were. I miss us. I miss how good we used to be together.

By this time, I recognize the behavior for the manipulation that it is. Rob has become so awful that I see everything for what it is, but I still feel the emotions of doing wrong or being bad, but lately, the anger is coming back. Anger is the scariest part because he will flip out and hurt me if I let it show. I learned this the hard way. In the beginning, I would get angry and argue with him. One time he caught me rolling my eyes, and I thought he was going to kill me.

This is my life now. I act, I walk on eggshells, I think ahead, I bury anger, and sleeping and eating is my favorite thing to do because it’s my only escape.

Responding right away, so he doesn’t have time to get angry, I text,  I understand, Darlin. I’m sorry you're so stressed, and I miss us too. I’ll do better, and I’ll cook your favorite tonight.

I look it over and say it aloud a few times to check that he won’t find an issue and hit send.

He replies, Don’t worry about it, baby. We’ll go out for dinner tonight. Get pretty, and we’ll have a nice night. I do love you, Nova. It’s just hard for me to be the sole income maker. Couples today both have to work to make ends meet.

I feel the anger rising inside. It burns me up, and I wish he would just shut up. Shut up! There’s no point arguing that I make as much or more than him or that he is constantly between jobs because he can’t work for assholes. He says anyways. Or that I miss work because I’m ashamed for anyone to figure out what’s going on.

I take a deep breath and reply with; I’m so happy. We haven’t had a date night in a while. I love you too.