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FOUR YEARS LATER
Dedication, strength, and the desire to never feel that low again is how I made it here today. My ex-wife was toxic with a capital T. It took me a while to realize I needed to get out because love is not a reason to stay. Even growing up believing you only get married once was not a reason to stay. Especially when you catch them in a compromising situation on your birthday at your own damn birthday party. My family was never particularly religious, but we grew up in a time where you worked your shit out. You didn’t cheat, and you didn’t get divorced — for better or worse, you were stuck with that person until one of you died. And yet, Kristie cheating on me was the best thing to happen to me in a long time.
It took that one incident for me to realize how much I’ve lost control, not just of my relationship but of myself as a man. It opened my eyes to understand just how much I have let myself go. It would be super easy to blame Kristie for everything. My life was a roller coaster from the moment she walked into my life straight until the moment I signed my name on our divorce papers.
In the beginning, everything seemed easy. We met as a ‘meet cute’ as they say, and it felt like we were in the movies. When two people round the same corner simultaneously, knocking into each other, he catches her before she tumbles. We fell in love quickly and had so much in common. She loved those old movies like Citizen Kane and Casablanca, always needed extra salt and butter on her popcorn, and loved laughing at the little things. To her, it was the little things that mattered most. I’d always leave the coffee pot on in the morning and make sure her lunch was packed; she hated spending money on food and drinks outside of the home. Things were easy between us, and I knew marriage was a whole different ballpark than dating, but damn, if I didn’t know how much she would change.
After we got married, it was so subtle I didn’t notice it. She’d say certain things, and I thought I imagined it. She’d hide my keys and tell me I needed to keep better track of my things. If I had to pinpoint exactly what was the first red flag, it would be the moment she asked me to back up all her opinions, even when they were wrong. It could be anything — from politics to sports to books. I was expected to argue until I would turn blue in the face. If she claimed the color of the grass was purple, and if I didn’t back her up, there’d be hell to pay. My version of hell was just the same as many others in those domestic situations: I would be denied the ability to use the bathroom, my phone would somehow end up under the tire of the car if I didn’t text or call her back, and she’d withhold sex or hugs and kisses if I didn’t do certain things or if I forgot to do something. Her favorite punishment was making me hold it when I needed to piss. She knew how uncomfortable it made me, but she also knew I was also too stubborn to piss my pants.
I started to fight back in the smallest of ways, giving into who I never wanted to become. She told me to go to the gym, and I’d sneak a cupcake, or my favorite — Reese’s pieces — and gain a pound or two. She’d demand me to quit drinking, so I’d stop at a bar at lunchtime just to get a drink. And when she’d read the credit card charges, she demanded that the only place I drink was at James’ place. She linked my phone to hers, so she knew where I was at all times. If I stepped outside of her radius, I’d be punished — mentally, not physically. She didn’t start to get physical until the last year of our relationship, and even then, she’d only ever slap me. I could handle a slap every now and then, but it’s the mental shit I couldn’t take. I needed to gain my sanity back.
I’m not sure how long she’d been cheating on me, or Michael was even the first, and I don’t want to know either. She’s his problem now — you couldn’t pay me to give a shit. The jovial tasks like hiring a lawyer, outlining what I wanted in the divorce, and signing the papers were easy enough. She did put up a small fight, though, trying to get me to come back. She apologized, claiming that if I were nicer to her, she wouldn’t have cheated, or if I had done what she wanted, I wouldn’t have made her cheat. When she finally realized her claws were no longer dug into me, she signed her name on that dotted line, stating she didn’t have the time to deal with going to court.
Once I stood my ground, all that was easy. Everything that came after the divorce wasn’t, but I thank the Lord every day that the Wyatts agreed to let me move in with them.
The sheer amount of support from this family was exactly what I needed. It was never about what I had done or was doing wrong. It was never about me having to agree with everything that was said. I was allowed to have a different opinion, and it was encouraged. Everything about myself I had repressed during my marriage with Kristie was coming back, and I was learning how to be myself again.
Slowly, I started to come back to life. Between Jessica’s home cooking and James dragging me to the gym with him, I was getting better. Losing some of that weight I had put on, I was shedding the hard shell I had created to withstand the abuse. One of my favorite things to do was run early in the morning. Lately, though, Sky had been joining me; she had decided to join cross country her freshman year and championed me as her running partner — not that I minded. It was nice to have someone by your side who understood the importance of stopping at the park by the lake and watching the sun come up over the water. There was something in knowing it was a brand-new day.
Sky was becoming someone I looked forward to holding a conversation with over dinner. Dinner was the one time we all came together and took a step back from our busy schedules. Running is a silent activity most of the time, and dinner is where she would shine bright. She enjoyed challenging me. Whether it was to a game of Slapjack or getting into a debate about whatever was on her mind. Sometimes, I liked to turn the heat up on her; red was a good color on her cheeks. It drew out a spark within her, and she’d just come alive. The best thing about debate is if you’re good enough, you can debate about anything, and your opponent would never know you agree with them. James and Jessica always called it quits, but Sky would go on for hours if we let her.
God, I hope that fierce sparkle in her hazel eyes never diminishes. I see so much of Jessica in her; her heart-shaped face, the burning desire to learn all she can, the way she calls anyone out on their bullshit. Most of all, I see the way that she loves. The thoughtfulness, the little things to show she cares. She's gentle and loving, whether those actions are toward me or someone else. It’s the tender kind but with enough sass that keeps you coming back for more. It reminds me of the statement James said to me the first night I met Sky —
“… you can have that kind of love too, you know. It’s not about being possessive, bitchy, and high-maintenance. It’s about the mutual respect you have for each other, admiration, and the understanding that the two of you are in this for the long haul.”
Chapter Seven
SKY
As the rising sun casts a rosy hue over the horizon and the water before us, I steal a glance at Uncle Davey. He’s facing away from me but not far enough to hide his face. Just to sneak a glimpse of him in this early light makes this worth it every day. His chiseled jaw with the five o’clock shadow does something to me, makes the butterflies in my stomach flutter, and my heart thumps a little harder in my chest.
I took up running to clear my head and soon enough realized I loved how soothing it felt. I inherited Momma’s hips and smile and Dad’s long legs. Uncle Davey had been running lately instead of going to the gym, so I decided to join him. After a couple of runs, this became our thing. No matter what we had going on, we’d always wake up an hour early and make a run to the lake and back. We never talked — never needed to — rather basking in the feeling of our feet hitting the pavement and the steady sounds of our breathing. The memories of watching the sunrise were the ones I cherished the most because I knew they wouldn’t last forever.
* * *
The admiration I had for Uncle Davey continued to grow over the years. I was only nine when I met him, but I knew he would be a permanent figure in my life. When I was twelve, Uncle Davey moved in with us and became a bigger part of our family. He cheered me on at every debate, he’d pick me up from school when my parents were running late, and he’d drop me off in the morning if I missed the bus. We always had fun together, whether it was over a game of Slapjack or a conversation over dinner. I liked to push his buttons because he’d push back and give me something else to think about.
While some moments in time felt like they stood still, we’ve both grown up a lot in these past four years, both mentally and physically. Uncle Davey figured the rest of his shit out while, at sixteen, I was busy figuring out mine. We’ve had some great conversations over a bowl of ice cream in the late hours of the night. He had a lot of knowledge and would teach me the things parents don’t teach their kids. Like how to make the perfect screwdriver or the absolute best peach Bellini, frozen with a splash of strawberry liqueur, topped with a peach garnish. He helped fuel my inner rebellion within the safety of my home; yet, he taught me how to be a stronger, better person — we were learning together in that way.
I’d noticed him constantly, but more recently, it has turned from friendly to something different. I couldn’t take the exact moment in time when I started to notice the small things about him. The way he smelled after a shower, the way his humor leaked out when he was trying to be serious, or the way his dimples peeked if he was trying to hide his smile. It was the way he slowly transformed his sadness into motivation, his anger into strength, and his hardness into softness. And those were just the mental parts. It started slowly, but the little things were there, things he learned from both my mom and dad. He learned how a loving relationship should be, despite its ups and downs. He learned how mutual respect doesn’t diminish the love you have, nor does it mean one is better than the other. Their hopes and dreams become your hopes and dreams, and they should be your biggest cheerleader. You build the other up, and if you’re not, where are your priorities? Over time, he realized how shitty Kristie was, how much she held him back, and he finally understood he needed to overcome the damage she had created within himself. It would be a long road, but it was a road I could tell he looked forward to.
The physical attractiveness came in small sprinkles for both of us. Eating meals at home, going to the gym, and running every day does wonders for the body. Slowly, Uncle Davey lost weight and became a different version of himself. All the while, my body was going through changes as well. I filled out in all the right places; curves were one of the best gifts from God. My stomach wasn’t flat by any means but shaped like an hourglass. My hips swayed when I walked. I was getting older, becoming more interested in boys, and figuring out what I wanted out of life.
* * *
Uncle Davey clears his throat, startling me. “Gorgeous, huh?”
Shit, he caught me staring. “Oh yes, it’s beautiful.” I turn my head so he wouldn’t see me blush, and I hear him chuckle.
“Race you home?”
I take off, not bothering to answer. Racing is what I was training for. After getting a meter or so ahead of him, I slow down to a jog and glance over my shoulder. He’s right on my tail.
He sprints past me, and holy shit, that ass. Damn. I shake my head as if shaking my head would ward off those thoughts. Inhaling quickly, I try to catch up to him. He reaches the driveway a split second before I do. “You let me win. It was supposed to be a fair race.”
I laugh, brushing past him to open the front door and make my way into the kitchen for some water. Uncle Davey follows and turns on the coffee pot.
“Hit the showers, Bug.”
