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I lay it out there. Ultimatums aren’t right, but it’s not really an ultimatum. It’s a promise.
He exhales. “Maybe that’s for the best.”
I stagger back, catching myself against the counter. So there it is. He’d rather live apart than keep me close. He must know whatever the threat is today, it isn’t going away.
I don’t know why, but I try once again. “There’s no silver bullet that is going to make me safe forever. I could die tomorrow getting run over by a car or falling into a subway station. I could die choking on a nut or being shot by a random burglar.”
And Leka knows this in his head. It’s his heart that is clouded with fear. Our love will never survive if it’s not strong enough to overcome his fear.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I do love you. It’s why I’m doing this.”
There’s nothing more to say. Not that I have the strength to talk. I pick up my purse, toe my feet into the discarded tennis shoes, not even bothering to pull up the backs. I open the door and walk out. I don’t want the suitcase. I don’t want the passbook full of money. I don’t want memories of him. I want to start a new life. One that doesn’t involve a man who holds his fear closer than his love.
It’s hard to see through my veil of tears, but I know this path well enough. I walk it slow, aching to hear the door open. Aching to hear my name called. Aching to be back in his arms.
But the door behind me never opens. His voice never calls out. The only sounds in the hallway are my sniffles and the chime of the elevator that has just arrived to take me away.
I cast one last long look at the front door of the apartment. It remains closed. I step into the elevator. The doors slide shut and the car begins to descend.
So…this is how it ends. I stumble to the corner and grope blindly for the railing so I don’t collapse to the floor. My chest is so tight. So very, very tight. I slap my hand over my left breast and squeeze, but that pain doesn’t abate. It only grows with each small chime of the elevator, with each block I get farther from the apartment building, with each smile from the hotel staff until it grows so big that it explodes and pushes me to my knees.
No one told me that heartbreak was a real, physical thing.
* * *
After crying my weight in tears, I drag myself off the hotel bed. In the bathroom, I wet my face with a cold cloth, straighten my silky blue blouse that got twisted around my torso, and internally debate my options. I need to get out of the city because if I don’t, I’ll be tempted to run back to Leka. I need a new start in a new location—somewhere far from here.
I’m going to survive this. I’m young. The wound is fresh and that’s why it feels like tomorrow is too great of an obstacle to overcome. That’s why I want to lie down in the tub and sink under the water and stay there until there are no more thoughts in my head and no more pain in my heart.
At the desk, I pull out the hotel stationery and start making a list. I want a place that is big enough that I can get lost if I need to and small enough that I don’t feel overwhelmed.
I don’t need a warm place. Spending four years in Vermont has gotten me used to the cold. I sort of like snuggling next to a fire and watching the snow blanket the earth. Everything seems fresh at that point. Like you can really start anew.
I’ll need public transportation since I don’t have a car and I don’t have a lot of money. I don’t want to use the credit cards Leka gave me. I need to cut off all access to him for my own sanity.
I pull up a map of the US on my tablet and start filtering until I arrive at Minneapolis, one of the Twin Cities. It’s cold up there, but they know how to do it right with ice festivals and snow parties. There’s decent public transportation and dozens of different neighborhoods. I find an apartment that’s within my budget. It’ll be tight and I’ll need to get a job right away. I can clean homes or wait tables or both.
There are night school classes I can take to get some kind of associate’s degree. Once I get a better job, I can save up and go to college to get a bachelor’s degree. I intend to work in social services. I know it’s a sucky job, but I want to help kids if I can.
