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Until I find out I’m pregnant.
***
I set the pregnancy test down and then wait the required three minutes before I dare read the results. When the alarm sounds on my phone, a sense of dread washes over me, and I can’t breathe. I don’t need the test to tell me what I already know in my heart.
“Stop being a coward.” I chide myself. Picking up the hard, white plastic stick, I look at the results window and see the plus sign.
Tears immediately well up in my eyes and spill over. Once they start, I can’t seem to make them stop.
I’ve dreaded this day since Steven told me we were trying for a child.How can I bring an innocent child into this life?
This is the day I start working on my plan to leave. This is the day I decide to take my power back.
I open the door, and Steven is waiting on the other side. I’m surprised he gave me space while waiting for the test results. He lifts the hand holding the test, so the results screen faces him.
A smile spreads over his face. A smile that brings me back to when I fell in love with him. He gathers me close, lifting me up and spinning me around.
“I knew you could do it.” He tucks his face in my neck as joyous laughter spills from him before pulling back, his dark eyes scanning my face. “Look at you, already spilling happy tears for our baby.” His hand comes down to cover my lower abdomen with reverence.
I don’t dare tell him the truth behind my tears. It’s better to let him believe I’m happy about adding a child to our lives than reveal my trepidation.
He looks back up at me, and I plaster a fake smile on my face. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice the tightness in my lips or around my eyes.
“We’re going to have the most beautiful child together,” he says softly before kissing me.
***
From this day until six months after our son, Zander, was born, Steven never raised a hand to me. I almost convinced myself that I had dreamt everything.
Almost.But the pesky anxiety and fear of his next hit never fully went away. That’s how I knew it was real, and not a figment of my imagination. It was there every time I made a mistake or when his lips got tight and turned down.
When the hitting started again, he’s careful never to do it in front of Zander. He also never mistreats our son.
Good thing for him. I’m sure that would have been my breaking point.
It’s ironic that I allow myself to be abused, but draw the line at my son having the same done to him.
So, I resume my plan and make adjustments for Zander. All while doing research to make sure that Steven will never be able to take my son away from me. I’ve also started a small business with the excuse to give myself something to do when Zander starts school. I convinced Steven that building it up now would make it easier to maintain later.
1 Time for Change
Survivor by Destiny’s Child
“Haveagreatday,Steven,” I say as he makes his way to the front door.
He leans over, giving me an absent-minded peck on the lips, distracted by his phone.
The simple action has me tensing up. I never know when he’s going to deliver a stinging blow or a caress. So, I automatically respond to protect and prepare myself, my body conditioned from all the times he’s stood over me before delivering his punishments. With a tight chest, I smile through my anxiety and see him out the door.
I wait by the door until the rolling garage door goes all the way down. Then I hurry inside and gather the few bags of clothes and toys for Zander and myself. I check on my baby boy to be sure he’s still happily coloring. All in preparation for when I leave.If I ever work up the courage.
The bags aren’t heavy, but they are awkward, and it takes some finagling to get them out to the trunk of my car in one trip. The first of many loads I’m taking to store at Jaz’s place until I can get out permanently.
She's supposed to stop by my little shop and pick them up after her shift at Flex. Then, after I make sure they're all loaded, I go back in and get all of Zander's things ready so he can go to daycare.
I'd love to have him with me at work, but I know he needs the social interaction of kids his age. Plus, it gives me a break three days a week.
I tote his backpack, our lunch boxes, and my purse out to the car for one last trip before I go and help him clean up so we can go. It wouldn't do to have Steven come home to find crayons or a coloring book out. He hates when I leave any of Zander's things out. It's absurd. He should be able to make messes and play freely in his home. Instead, we live like we don't have a child.
