“It’s not,” I tell him when he stops again to take a breath. “I mean,” I pause, trying to think of the right words to say and the right way to say them. “I wanted to get out of Honey Springs and be with you, but not like this. Since we’ve been here, you’ve changed. This,” I tell him waving a hand in his direction, “is not the Brant I fell in love with and I can’t—”
Before I get out the rest of my statement, his first blow hits the side of my cheek.
Pain radiates, making me flinch.
I stumble, my eyes going wide in complete dismay.
Tears begin to fall.
I gape at him, trying to make words form, trying to reconcile the last seconds of my life.
Not my Brant. This is not the Brant I love. The Brant I love would never ever lay a hand on me.
With my hand over my cheek, taking shallow, choppy breaths, I force myself to make eye contact with him, hoping he’ll realize what he’s done and make all of this go away. Instead of the instant regret and remorse I expect to see, he yells again. “Stop your fucking crying!”
Whack.
Another one.
Right across the side of my head, knocking me off my feet.
It must’ve been hard enough that I fell and hit my head. Running a hand up into my hairline, I feel the knot, but thankfully, no blood. The resulting headache is there, though, adding to the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
He didn’t even carry me to bed.
When did he become so callous? How did that happen? How did I let it?
With fresh tears falling, I work quickly as I go into the spare bedroom and grab my backpack from the closet. There’s only one thing on my mind: getting out of here as quickly as possible, preferably without another altercation with Brant.
I can’t be here, in the same space with him, a second longer than necessary.
Going to the bedroom, I quietly open the closet door and grab my stash of money, money I thought would go toward a vacation or a great pair of shoes. Never in a million years did I think it would be to escape what has become my life.
My mama taught me to never be caught without money stored away. “You never know when you’ll need a rainy day fund.” She didn’t warn me about a storm and she’ll be devastated when she finds out what happened. My mama loves Brant like her own son. She trusted him to take care of her baby girl.
This will break her heart, just as much as it does mine.
As I leave the room, I allow myself one look back. The mere sight of his sleeping form sends chills up my back, and for once, I’m thankful for the copious amount of alcohol and how late it was when he came home. I doubt he’ll be awake for some time, and by then, I’ll be long gone.
A few hours later, when the sun starts to peak over the horizon, I set my McDonald’s coffee cup down in the center console of my car and punch the button on the screen in front of me.
“Good morning, baby.” My mama’s sweet voice soothes my soul. She sounds chipper for it being so early, but that’s no surprise. She and my daddy are up before the roosters, and I mean that in the most literal sense.
“Good morning, Mama.” I try not to get choked up on my words, but it’s hard. Now that she’s on the phone, I feel the adrenaline that’s been fueling my body for the last three hours start to dissipate and the heartache finally take over.
“What’s wrong?” I hear a screen door shut behind her, the familiar sound bringing with it a vivid picture of the scene, making me wish I was right there, waiting for her at the kitchen table.
Nothing, Mama. That’s what I want to say, but it’s a lie, and I don’t lie to her.
“Well...” I pause, searching for the right way to say what I need to say. “I’m leaving Houston. Brant and I had a fight and I need some time away.”
There’s a shuffling sound on the phone as she goes about her business, always multitasking. But when she’s finally settled, probably with a cup of coffee, she asks, “Did you say you had a fight?”
“Uh, yeah,” I chuckle harshly at the loose use of the word.
“So, you’re coming home?” There’s hope in her voice. A little sadness, and definitely questions, but a lot of hope.
“No, Mama. I can’t,” I sigh. “It’s the first place Brant will check, and I really need some space right now. I don’t want to see him until I’ve had time to think.”
“That bad, huh?” she asks, her tone morphing into concern.
I can’t speak for a minute while I swallow down the lump in my throat and force the tears to stay put. “Pretty bad,” I tell her.
“Are you all right? You need your daddy to come get you?”
“I’m fine, Mama.” I’ll be fine. “I just need some time away...I need to clear my head and figure out what I wanna do...what makes me happy, you know?” That’s what I’ve been thinking about for the past few hours, since hitting the road. I’ve spent the last two years living in Brant’s world, trying to make him happy...waiting on him to make me happy. Screw that. I’ll make my own self happy.
“I really wish you’d just come home,” my mama says, exhaling deeply into the phone. “We all miss you. And what’s so bad that a little TLC from your mama can’t fix it?”
Catching a glimpse of myself in my rearview mirror, I flinch, still not used to seeing my splotchy, bruised reflection. I have no doubt it will get worse before it gets better and it would kill her to see me like this. And don’t even get me started on my daddy...or my nana and grandpa. I can’t do this to them. I can’t bring this—my problems—to Honey Springs.
“I’ll call you whenever I get where I’m going,” I tell her.
“You sure do know how to make a mama worry.”
That makes my stomach hurt for a new reason. I know she worries. She’s told me time and time again that it’s her job. But I also know she wants me to be happy. “I’m sorry, Mama.”
She sighs heavily again. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll just have to pray a little harder.”
“I love you.” I love that she lets me be me. She’s always done that. She’s never forced me into a box or made me be something I’m not. If I pull up in her drive right now, she’d hug me and kiss me and take care of me, but I also know her heart would break.
I’ll go home soon, when I’ve had a chance to process what happened and what I’m doing with my life. And I’ll come clean about Brant and what really happened between us. But not right now.
“I love you, baby. Promise me you’ll be safe.”
“I promise.”
“And Avery?”
“Yeah, Mama?”
“You know you always have a place here. No matter what.”
“I know.”
After I end the call, I pick my coffee back up and take a slow sip, eyes on the road ahead. When I left Houston, I made a spur-of-the-moment decision. I could’ve gone in any direction. I could’ve driven to the gulf. Galveston is only a short drive from our apartment. I could’ve headed to one of the smaller islands, finding solace there. Dallas is a big city and I could’ve easily driven there and got lost in the crowds of people. But I wanted more than that. I wanted to escape and I needed somewhere that would feed my soul.