Eve

THE BACK SEAT OF THE cab is too warm and I peel off my jacket.  We’re almost at my apartment and I hold the phone against my ear with my shoulder as I reach into my backpack to grab my wallet.

Inside there’s a twenty-dollar bill and besides that, the only other money I have is about two hundred dollars in my checking account.

“It’s about time.”  Pauline chastises me.

“Don’t give me any shit, okay?  It’s been a bad day.”

“Not everything is about you, Eve.”

“Pauline, listen to me.”  I start, the anxiety building in my stomach and making me feel like my skin is crawling.  “I need a ticket home.  I totaled my truck.”

“Eve...”  Her disappointed, condescending tone starts a pounding in my temples. “You can be honest with me.  Were you drinking again?”

“No.”  I snap back.  “I wasn’t drinking.  Can you get me a ticket or not?  I don’t have the money.  As soon as possible.”

I hear her sigh, then she tells me she will call me right back.

I click off, then shoot a text to Howard.

Me:  I’m sorry.  I had to leave.  Something happened at home and I have to leave right away.  Take care. Thank you for everything. I’ll be in touch.

I send it off, feeling shitty but needing to be away and out of this situation as soon as possible.

The cab pulls up to my building and I pay the driver, then take the stairs two at a time to my apartment.  Inside I look around and realize there’s nothing here I need.  Just a few clothes and I could be on the road today.  My furniture is all from thrift stores, I’ll hate leaving my books and knitting.  Knitting isn’t cool, but it keeps my hands busy and you’d be so surprised how many reams of yarn and knitting needles you can pick up at thrift stores and garage sales for almost nothing.

I’m not good at it, I can knit a straight scarf but for me it’s about the rhythm of the activity. After I stopped drinking, it was important to find new ways to fill my time and for me, knitting, even as badly as I did, helped me at a low point.  Since then it’s just stuck.

One more look around at the things that have become my home here and I think maybe I can get Pauline to pay to have some of it packed and shipped.

My phone rings again and it’s her.

“Okay.” She starts.  “I’ve got you a flight, but you have to get going right now.  It takes off in two hours.  I’ll text you the eticket.  Get packed, there’s a car coming to your apartment in the next half hour to get you to the airport, I’ll have another pick you up at this end.  I told Dad you’re on your way home.  This is better, Eve.  You belong here.  You’ll see, everything will work out for the best.”

I give her an emotionless agreement, trying to tell myself she’s right.

This is for the best.

I grab my olive green American Tourister and shove as many of my favorite clothes into it as I can, then pull from my closet another large black canvas bag and pick and choose which other personal items to take that won’t break en route.

Nothing feels like this makes sense.  I want to run.  I need to get out of here before Vix is the one telling me it’s not going to work.

Better to cut my losses and get out, save myself all that heartbreak.  It’s always worked in the past.

Has it?  No, but it will this time.

Thirty minutes later, I’m standing in front of the Pastie Palace as the driver of the black Lincoln puts my bags in the trunk and I settle into the back seat of the car, wiping the tears out of my eyes.

Why does this feel so bad?  If I’m doing the right thing, it shouldn’t feel like this.

I feel alone.

But saving myself from assured destruction when Vix finds out about my past has to be my priority.  I’m stronger now than I used to be, but if anything is going to drive me back to the bottle it will be rejection from the first man I’ve ever really loved.  Not to mention dealing with the fact he obviously has other interests.  No.  It’s just volunteering for misery, and I’m just not up for more misery.