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I probably should have brought in a change of clothes, but whatever, it didn’t matter as long as I could get home. I had to chuckle as I thought back to the last time I went without a change of clothes. My mind went back to when I was . . . I think, thirteen. My daddy had to go to a fight that one of hisTrod Aire’swere in.
Trod Airemeans fighter in Irish and what my daddy would call anyone he trained. He was in Miami, I think, for that fight. I was going to stay at my friend Chrissy’s house, and my brothers and Ryan were going camping.
That morning Chrissy called me to let me know she got grounded for sneaking out, which meant I was going camping with my brothers. To say they were pissed would be an understatement. At thirteen, I didn’t know what to pack, nor did my brothers think to pack for me. I swear they had a bet going for who could scare me the most. Each one of them told me a scary story and then stuck me in a tent to sleep. I think that was the first time I ever stayed up all night. Ryan was the only one who checked on me that night.
“You okay in there?” he had called into my tent.
“No, you guys are assholes,” I whispered because who knows who was in the woods watching and waiting to murder us, or so at least I thought in my young, naïve mind.
I shook my head, trying to get myself focused on the road. I really needed to stop thinking about the past and focus on the now and getting back home. I decided I needed music, reaching down I plugged my phone into the auxiliary cord.
Yup, I had a cord to hook my phone to my car. No Bluetooth in this car.
I swiped my phone and went to one of my playlists. As The Lumineers came through the speakers and they sang about driving through the state and through the night, I focused on I-95 and doing the same. The next few hours, I stayed focused and determined, and before I knew it, I was hitting the border of South Carolina. At that point, I was drained and needed to stop for a break.
It only took a few minutes until I approached the next rest stop. I pulled in and got out of the car, stretched, and headed to the bathroom. As I washed my hands, the woman next to me stared over with concern on her face.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “I can help you. My husband is right outside. We can help you.”
I glanced at her for a moment and then realized she was concerned because of what my face looked like.
"Oh no, thank you. I'm okay," I said to the woman in the bathroom. I could tell she was genuinely concerned for me, but I didn't want to involve anyone else. "I'm heading home to my family now."
The nice woman smiled and nodded before turning to leave. As she peeked over her shoulder, she said, "You are so brave. You keep going, and don't you look back."
I eyed myself in the dirty mirror that was lined on the wall and thought about how I had ended up bruised and battered. I was determined not to shed one more tear and to keep moving.
By the time I hit Georgia, I started to wonder what I was going to do when I got to Orlando. I knew I would be exhausted by the time I made it, and I didn't want to have to deal with my brothers' reaction. They had no idea I was coming, let alone that I was in an abusive relationship. Just thinking about the words "abusive relationship" made me sick.
At that moment, I realized I couldn't just pull up to the house I grew up in and walk in as if nothing had happened. I hurt, and I was exhausted. I spent the whole drive through Georgia trying to figure out what I would do. It wasn't until I hit Jacksonville, Florida, that I thought of Chrissy.
With "Coming Home" by Skylar Grey playing through the car speakers, I thought about Chrissy, my very best friend, since we were in diapers. Both our moms were best friends, and they lived around the corner from us.
As I smiled at the memory, I reached for my phone and noticed about a hundred texts from Brad. I carefully swiped the phone and pulled up Chrissy's number. It was only one ring before she picked it up.
"Holy shit, Kenna, is that you?" Chrissy yelled out.
"Hey, Chrissy. It's me."
"OMG, it's so good to hear your voice. I miss you so much," Chrissy practically yelled through the phone with excitement.
I left Florida and had gone away to college. Chrissy stayed back and went to Florida State. She graduated a year ago with a marketing degree. We constantly stayed in contact through texts and social media, but like everyone else, she wasn’t aware of the situation I’d been living in.
“Guess what? I just got back to Florida. I’m just passing the Daytona exit, and I was wondering if I could come to see you. Is that okay?” I asked.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Of course. Holy shit, I can’t believe you are here! Conor didn’t tell me you were coming to town.” Well, that was a surprise. I was not aware that she and Conor spoke that much.
“Conor doesn’t know, and neither does Finn. It was a spur-of-the-moment trip,” I said through the phone that was being held between my shoulder and injured cheek.
Before I could finish my sentence, Chrissy eagerly responded, “Yes, come here. I can’t wait to see you. I moved a few months ago. I will text you my address now.”
“Thanks, Chris. I should be there in a little over an hour.”
As I ended the call, the text was already coming through with Chrissy’s address.
* * *
Waking up the next morning with the smell of coffee brewing in the air, I felt at ease for the first time in a long time. When I arrived at Chrissy’s place last night, she was mortified by what she saw. She held her hand to my cheek, and for the first time in days, I allowed myself to truly break down. I grabbed her and hugged her with my head on her shoulder.
