“What about Amelia?” he asked.
I clenched my hands into fists at my sides. “Amelia will grow up knowing her parents love her. She won’t ever have to remember the way we fought or how much we hated each other. She won’t remember the fact that I started drinking and smoking just to escape you. Her life will be better this way.”
“Her life won’t involve me at all if you leave me!” he shouted, showing just how angry he was for the first time.
A vein in his forehead popped, showing his tell, and I knew he was about to lose his shit.
“You’ll have her on the weekends. It won’t be any different from how it is now since you work out of town all week. I’m not taking her away from you.”
He stared at me for a moment, his mouth opening and closing, but no words came out. He turned away from me and stalked to the doorway that led to our bedroom.
He flung it open and pointed inside. “You want out? Fine. Get the fuck out. Pack your shit and leave. Go to your parents’. Amelia is there. I dropped her off earlier when I thought I would have to go out and search for you.”
“Joey, let’s talk about this instead of screaming,” I said, keeping my voice calm.
“No, you’ve said all you have to say, so just fucking go!” he shouted.
“Joey—”
“I said, get the fuck out!” he screamed loudly.
I feared our neighbors would knock on the door to check on us.
“I don’t want you to hate me,” I whispered as tears finally filled my eyes. So much for being strong.
He stalked toward me, and I backed up until I was pressed against the wall, terrified that his rage would take over.
“I’m done with you, bitch. Just go.” He moved past me, heading to the door. He opened it, and a second later, it slammed shut behind him. The walls shook with the force of it.
I slid down the wall, sobbing, until my bottom hit the floor. I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. My head rested on my knees as I let myself cry out all the emotions I was feeling inside.
Part of me was relieved that Joey had been his typical self. He’d fought for us at first, but that hadn’t lasted long. He had gone back to his normal shouting self in no time at all. Calling me a bitch was a little more dramatic than normal for him, but whatever. I didn’t care.
It just proves that I’m doing the right thing.
I forced myself to stand up and walk to our bedroom. I grabbed a few bags out of the closet and began filling them up with my clothes. I didn’t own a whole lot, so it took hardly any time at all to empty my side of the closet. I walked to the dresser next and shoved my bras, underwear, and socks into another bag. I still had plenty of room left in the second bag, so I walked to the bathroom and tossed all my toiletries into that bag as well.
Once my things were packed, I walked to Amelia’s room and packed most of her things into another bag. I left some of her outfits and toys because she had too many things to fit into one bag. I zipped the bag up and dragged all three through the apartment. When I reached the door, I shouldered all three and opened the door to step out into the hallway.
The weight of the bags seemed to drag me down as I carried them out to my car. I shoved them into the backseat and climbed into the front. The realization that I now had to face my parents and tell them what I’d just done settled in. I knew my dad would support me, no matter what, but I doubted if my mother would be as kind.
“You’ve already faced Joey,” I reminded myself. “Nothing could be worse than that.”
My father would never let my mother turn me away, especially since Amelia was with them. With that in mind, I started my car and backed out of my parking spot. I practiced my breathing again as I pulled onto the main road and headed for my parents’ house.
One battle down, one to go.
My parents lived only a few miles away from the shop my father owned.
Their house, a white ranch-style home, was about a mile off the main road. It was close enough to town that we could get supplies during the snowy winter months without issue, but it was far enough away that they had some privacy. My father had built the house right after I was born. It’d started out as nothing more than a three-room structure, barely big enough to fit us in, and it had grown over the years. My father had saved his money and added room by room until their house was complete. Every shutter, every door, every board had been built and installed by my father.
I pulled up their driveway and parked in front of the house. As I climbed out of my car, I debated on whether or not to bring my bags inside with me. Fearing my mother’s wrath, I decided to wait. If I walked inside with three bags slung over my shoulder, she would be sure to attack the moment she saw them.
Obviously, I had to tell them what had happened, but I wanted to do it my own way. Maybe if I could explain how miserable I had been with Joey, she would understand. I snorted. My mother and I rarely agreed on anything, even the small stuff. She would be sure to go nuclear over this.
Steeling myself for the inevitable fight, I started walking.
Round two, here I come.
I walked up the steps to my parents’ deck and headed for their front door. When I opened it, I heard Amelia’s baby giggles coming from the living room. I closed the door, kicked my shoes off, and turned to the right toward the living room.
When I walked into the room, I saw Amelia on her play mat, laughing, as my dad made funny faces at her from his chair. My mother was sitting on the couch with a laundry basket next to her. Their coffee table was covered with folded towels and other clothes she had sorted.
“I was starting to think you and Joey forgot you had Amelia,” my mother said as soon as she saw me.
I forced a smile but kept my mouth shut as I crossed the room and picked Amelia up. She grinned at me before reaching for my cheeks and squeezing them.
“Hi, baby,” I whispered. I kissed her forehead. “Mommy missed you.”
She gurgled in her baby voice for a minute before she started to struggle to free herself from my grasp. I placed her back on her mat, and she grabbed one of her toys. As she started to whack it on the floor, I sat down in the chair next to my father.
I met his gaze and tried to give him a reassuring smile. He frowned before glancing back and forth between my mother and me. He knew something was wrong, but he didn’t dare ask what in front of my mother.
I looked over at my mom, watching, as she continued to fold their laundry. She was an older version of myself. Her dark hair was the same shade as mine, but it was slowly starting to turn gray. Our eyes were the same, as were our noses. She was a bit overweight, just like me. Physically, it was clear where I’d inherited my genes. Personality-wise, we couldn’t have been more different. I had always been shy, timid even. My mother was not, at all. If she had something to say, she would say it even if she knew it would hurt someone’s feelings.
My mother and I’d butted heads more often than not when I lived with them. My teenage years had been especially tough. My shyness was something that bothered her, so she had tried to push me out of my comfort zone more than once. It had usually ended up with her shouting at me when I refused to budge.
“So, where were you two? All I received was a text from Joey, asking me if Amelia could stay here for a little while this morning. He wouldn’t say a word to either of us when he dropped her off,” my mother finally said, breaking the silence of the room.