May 2015
I believe that everything always comes full circle.
Lives end.
New ones begin.
Sometimes the circle connects when you take your last breath. Sometimes it happens way before but, oh, I promise you the pieces will touch and when they do, nothing will be the same.
The chapter of Wes and Victoria finally came to a close. He came over earlier tonight and signed the divorce papers. A deep sense of relief settled over me. Everything officially felt final.
The last week I’d done nothing but pack. My routine consisted of going through everything and taping up boxes. And tomorrow I would be moving out. The cable and Internet were shut off. The silence was so unnerving that I had my laptop open and put in a movie just to hear some noise.
It was bizarre to see the house so bare. The last time I saw it like this, I was filled with optimism and hope for the future, and while I was now leaving with those same two emotions, I was also not doing so blind. I knew the road Sinclair and I were going down together wasn’t going to be smooth. There would be bumps.
But I loved him. More important, I trusted him.
We were going to be okay.
I stared out the kitchen window, taking a small break from cleaning the counters, with the smallest smile on my face. Just a few days earlier, Wes left for a business trip. The day he left he sent me another email. He finally agreed to sign the divorce papers. He said he’d do it when he got back from his trip.
At first I was skeptical. I wanted to hang on to his words and believe him, but if my history with Wes had taught me anything, it was that Wes loves playing mind games.
But this time he was telling the truth. He came over tonight, his keys turning in the lock, so reminiscent of happier times we’d had. When he came into the kitchen, I was shocked by his appearance.
The normally put-together Wes was a wreck. His hair was sticking straight up, as if he had spent hours tugging at it. He had a day’s worth of stubble and his eyes were bloodshot.
He looked around the house. Years of stored-up memories were just behind his eyes.
“Where are the papers?” he asked.
“Right there.” I pointed to the kitchen island and leaned against the sink. I twisted the dishrag so tightly around my hand, it threatened to cut off my circulation. Wes pulled out a pen. He’d probably read through the paperwork a million times by now, but he still scanned through it all. At the final page he lifted his head and finally met my gaze. I didn’t look away.
His eyes were tormented. His mouth opened and closed, as if the weight of the words were too much for him. His eyes closed for a brief second and then he signed the documents.
“Thank you,” I finally said.
Wes crossed his arms and shook his head at me in disbelief.
“What?” I asked defensively.
He shrugged. “Nothing. I just…I just didn’t think it would ever come to this. I know love can fade and marriages fail, but never once did I believe that would ever happen to us.”
“Me either.”
Wes held my gaze a second longer and then pulled out his car keys. “I need to get going.”
He left minutes later and then it was just me and the wind howling against the house, and the rain hitting the window in hard, angry pelts. The weather had been terrible all day and it showed no signs of letting up. Just an hour ago Falls Church and all surrounding cities had been issued a severe thunderstorm warning.
A bright strike of lightning lit up the sky. Thunder sounded loudly, making me jump.
But even in the dark I could place each flower in my backyard. I could sketch out the roses and calla lilies. That was the only thing I was going to miss about this place. I had poured so much love and care into that backyard. I tried to tell myself that wherever I went, I could plant and grow a brand-new garden and would have Evelyn next to me. I would teach her everything I’d learned about flowers.
I patted my belly, my hand forming soothing circles. She kicked and I smiled. I was giving her a better life.
Quickly I packed up another box and taped the top of it. This one was filled with pots and pans and was too heavy for me to pick up. I slid it on the floor over to the corner and took a deep breath. I looked around the almost bare kitchen. In probably an hour, the entire room would be packed and I would officially be done. It was bittersweet to see the house empty, but also exciting; I was starting a new life with Sinclair and our baby. I looked down at my swollen stomach and lovingly rubbed it again.
And it was then that the front door opened. My head shot up just as Wes walked through. He brought in the smell of rain and a cold gush of air. Goosebumps formed on my skin.
“What are you doing here?”
He slammed the door behind him and walked into the room, a dead look in his eyes.
I leaned against the doorjamb, watching him carefully.
“I’ve done some thinking….”
“About?” Fear trickled up and down my spine.
He snorted loudly and began flipping through the documents. I reached for the folder but he jerked it away. “Wes,” I said a little too urgently. “Give it to me.”
When he got to the last page, my vision blurred. It was all downhill from here.
Wes looked up at me, his face composed. But his eyes…they were two dark pools of hate.
Suddenly my tongue felt too big for my mouth. I needed to calm him down before things got out of control.
So I said the truth: “Wes, you just signed the papers. There’s no going back.”
He laughed as if I’d told him a joke. “We’re done?” Wes gestured to my stomach. “I’d hardly say we’re done.”
“I’m leaving,” I said more to myself, an affirmation that this was the right plan, the right path.
Wes picked up the papers and stepped toward me. I didn’t move, although I was dying to get as far away from him as possible. When he was standing right in front of me he raised those sheets of paper and tore them in half, then let them flutter to the floor.
Wes smirked and stared down at me. He was too calm and composed. Right now he was fractured ice. All too soon he was going to break apart. I couldn’t stop shaking.
“You’ve been planning this for a while. That shocks me. But nothing should really shock me about you anymore, should it?”
“Wes—”
“You’re so ready to start your new life and leave me behind, aren’t you?”
Panic made my blood freeze, because his eyes were dead. Cold. Void of any emotions. He could hurt, or worse, kill me, and not feel a thing. I had to get out of there. Out of the corner of my eye I glanced at the door just a few steps away.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” He advanced slowly. “Why are you looking at me like I’m the bad guy in this? I’m just stating the truth.”
“You’re not making sense,” I whisper.
“I’m making perfect sense, Victoria.”
With small steps, I inched closer toward the mudroom. My purse was on the counter right next to the doorway. I could grab for it as I ran out the door.
Wes mirrored my movements, slowly stalking me like I was his prey. “Why do you look so upset, Victoria? Why does everyone get so torn up over the truth? Huh? Why does everyone think it will hurt them? I say, give me the truth. Let me have it all!”
He extended his arms and I was afraid that when he lowered them back down, they’d make contact with my body.
“Wes.” I held out my hand in front of me. “You’re angry. And I get that…” I smiled and tried to take a deep breath. “But let’s be practical about this and not yell.”
“I’m yelling and it’s your fault! You’ve brought me to this point, because everything begins and ends with you, doesn’t it?”
There was no way for me to answer his question correctly. I’d get it wrong no matter what. The air was sucked out of the room. Gone was my patience. I turned on my heels and ran toward the kitchen.
“Answer me!” he yelled. I could feel his words reaching out, sinking their hideous claws into my flesh.
It was then that I made a move for my purse. Wes got there quicker and snatched it away, then threw it against the wall. I jumped and watched the contents spill out.
“Tell me what you were thinking tonight.” He paced back and forth, his cold eyes never leaving mine. “Did you really think a piece of paper would magically allow you to disappear from my life? Hmm?”
I didn’t answer.
One second the kitchen island was blocking us and then before I could react there was nothing keeping us separated. Wes tackled me to the floor. I landed so painfully on my right side I gasped. Pain rocked through my body. Behind my lids I saw bright white spots.
Call it motherly instinct but my hands flew to my stomach. The baby kicked and that single, small kick was a reboot for me, giving me enough strength to crawl backward, toward the door.
Tears started to pool in my eyes. The light above me blurred slightly. I couldn’t lie there and do nothing. I had to fight. If not for me, then for my baby.
Some unseen force overtook me. I’ll never know what it was or if it was simply that maternal instinct to protect what I loved. But I wiggled enough room to lift my knee and hit him between his legs as hard as I could.
Wes dropped back, landing with a loud thud.
I tried to stand up but the pain was unbearable. So I crawled.
My keys lay on the floor, just a few steps away, where they had fallen from my purse. All I needed to do was grab them and leave as quickly as I could. But my legs wouldn’t cooperate and my body wanted to react. It wanted to curl up in a ball and wait for this pain to go away. It took me twice as long to move.
Behind me Wes moaned, muttering curses beneath his breath. He sat up and grabbed the lip of the kitchen island for support and when he did, a knife fell to the floor, clattering loudly.
Wes stared between the sharp blade and me.
Go, go, go! my mind screamed. I turned around and hurried for the keys.
Wes was shouting but I couldn’t make out his words. He grabbed one of my arms, twisting it painfully. I screamed and my arm was abruptly pinned on my back.
I didn’t have a chance to protect myself. The knife went down and I felt this searing pain, like flesh burning, melting apart, so slowly.
It felt like it was never going to end.
Wes dropped the knife and stared down at me, smiling. He was panting and I was barely breathing. I pressed my palm flat against my belly, thinking that if I pressed down hard enough the blood would go back inside my body and the wound would heal itself.
It seeped through the cracks of my fingers. I stared up at Wes with pain and accusation.
Wes jumped away and would have kept moving if he didn’t slam into the refrigerator. “Look what you made me do!” he yelled. Fear and panic were in his eyes. He stared at the blood with hunger and fascination.
I squeezed my eyes shut. I pressed down on the wound and winced. The pain intensified.
He started to pace the floor, telling me that I made him do this. That this was entirely my fault. I was his wife and I was supposed to stay.
I was starting to feel less pain. My body was starting to feel weightless.
And then he glanced at me over his shoulder. His eyes widened and it’s as if I had come back in focus. He grabbed my cellphone and dialed 911.
As he talked to the operator, he raked a hand through his hair, gripping the strands so tightly it looked like he was going to rip chunks out.
In a terrified voice, he told the operator that I had hurt myself. Knife wound. Lots of bleeding.
The operator continued to speak but Wes was staring at me with that bone-chilling smile of his. With the phone in his hands, he walked over with slow steps. He knelt next to me. The knife was only a reach away but it didn’t matter; the damage had been done.
I thought it was the end. For my life as well as my baby’s.
Wes slid down the cabinet and sat next to me and stared up at the ceiling. The only sounds were my pants and the operator: “Sir? Are you there? I need you to talk to me.”
We said nothing. I couldn’t even if I tried. I was starting to see bright lights, thousands of shades of yellow. So beautiful.
“Are you there? Sir?”
Nothing.
“Sir, I need to know everything is okay.”
Wes brushed the hair away from his forehead as he hung up and dropped the phone. I wanted to flinch but my head wouldn’t obey.
“Look what you made me do,” he repeated.
Over and over he repeated that phrase. And then he glanced at me, his eyes wide. An idea was taking shape in his mind. I couldn’t move.
“Please, don’t,” I whispered.
He picked the knife up. “You hate me now, don’t you?”
Wes put the knife in my hand, but my fingers couldn’t get a firm grip. “Do it,” he urged me. “Do it. I know you want to.”
I shook my head. My clothes were becoming soaked with my own blood. I was shaking. Wes’s eyes were wide, frantic. “Do it!” he screamed.
The knife dropped to the floor. Wes loomed over me and brushed a hand across my cheek. “Everything I do, Victoria, I do for you. Can’t you see how much I love you?”
His voice was fading away as I drifted in and out of consciousness and soon he stopped talking.
I don’t know long I stayed in that position. I closed my eyes. I felt so much pain, physically and emotionally, that I was almost numb. It was a terrifying thing, not to feel. I hummed to block out everything. I hummed because it reminded me I was still alive.
I was still breathing.
I still had a life that depended on me.
I refused to think that this was the way everything would end.
Outside, the rain picked up.
Slowly, I rolled over and got on my hands and knees. A slice of blinding pain streaked through me, making me gasp. I moved toward the keys and ignored the sound of my blood dripping onto the floor.
Before I crawled outside, I glanced over my shoulder, for one last look at my old life.
Wes was now standing, staring down at the blood smeared across the floor with a dazed expression.
I told myself to breathe. That I couldn’t think about him. I lifted my arm. I turned the doorknob weakly. The door cracked open and I slipped out onto the back porch. It took me minutes to make it down the steps. The rain hit my skin, powerful enough to wash the blood off my hands. Twigs snapped underneath my palms and cut open my skin. I barely registered the sting. I kept crawling. I counted my steps.
Twelve, thirteen, fourteen…
My hair fell around my face like a black curtain. I started to tell myself that if I kept moving, my life would be so good. So, so good.
I told myself that the warm substance making my pajama top stick to my skin was just the rain.
There was no blood on me.
No pain.
Nothing.
I was fine.
I hummed louder.
Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…
It was getting harder and harder to move. The ground was getting closer and closer. The tips of my hair were dragging in the grass. I started to hum louder and louder until I was full-out singing.
Eighteen, nineteen, twenty…
The car was in sight. I pressed down on the unlock button but I didn’t have enough strength for it to work.
Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three…
I had to keep moving, but I was starting to feel dizzy.
And at twenty-four steps my knees gave way and I dropped to the ground in a big heap. The water soaked through my bottoms, chilling me to the bone.
It felt as though my body was fighting so hard to stay alive. But something inside me was giving up. It was dying.
There was nothing but blackness and the cool, wet ground beneath my cheek. My eyes closed. I pressed a protective hand over my stomach. I hummed a beautiful hymn.
My eyes started to close. I drew in one final breath before my world went dark.