Page 3 of Passion at the Lake
“Sure. Go ahead and treat my best friend in town like shit as soon as you arrive. Don’t you care how that makes me look?”
Just like that, Grace had managed to make it all about her. I sighed. “I just meant it would take me a little while to get over there.”
“I’ll call after I get through security at the airport to go over the instructions.”
“Okay.”
We disconnected the call.
It was Grace, so it didn’t make sense to wonder why she hadn’t asked how I was doing. We weren’t full-blooded sisters and had never been close. She was older, from Dad’s first wife.
By the time I passed the accident site and the traffic sped up, Kevin had sent eight more texts, each one slightly angrier than the last.
Ignoring his calls and messages had been item number five on my escape-plan checklist. Except for being delayed, things were progressing just peachy.
A half hour later, I reached the turnoff for Peterville and Clear Lake. This was the home stretch, and now I’d need directions. Item number six on my checklist was now due. I pulled over onto the shoulder.
After fuming at what he’d put me through, I confidently typed out the message Kevin deserved.
ME: Fuck you. You don’t have me to kick around anymore. I’m gone, asshole, and I’m never coming back
Maybe I wasn’t quite that confident, so I deleted it. But I still wanted to let my feelings out and not hide behind the silence I’d used so often.
ME: I’m not coming home
With that, I felt the relief that came with owning my destiny. I didn’t even owe him the truth, but it felt good to stand up to him. From this distance, I didn’t need to listen to him berate me. I didn’t have to answer the phone if he called. I had the power.
His response came quickly.
KEVIN: Fuck that. Get back here now.
That was the Kevin only I got to see. To everyone else, he was the life of the party, just a regular guy. He saved his corrosive comments for me.
I knew better now, but I hadn’t realized this until we’d been together a while. I’d always rationalized thatI’dchanged, and that’s what had precipitated his behavioral change.
The first few times, his concerned apology after a blowup had felt like it confirmed my self-worth. He’d end up buying me something and promising profusely to atone. But it always happened again.
KEVIN: Call me right fucking now bitch, or you’ll regret it.
He always made sure to insult me in private. The fact that he’d typed out something mean meant he was beyond livid, which only solidified my resolve.
He’d never hit me. All the blows were emotional, but when added up, they were equally as devastating, maybe more so. If he’d actually hit me, it would have made me consider this step sooner.
I was on my own now, on a trajectory out of his life, self-sufficient, self-reliant, and all those other good self things. This was overdue, and although it was scary, it felt good. I’d known for too long that I had to break free of Kevin, but then he’d been super nice for a month or so before it started again last week.
In retrospect, the cycle was now as obvious as night following day.
I took a deep breath, ready for the next step. Since I’d watched plenty of cop shows, I knew how to break the link. Per item number seven on my list, I turned off the phone, opened the door, and set the thing on the ground in front of the rear tire. Smiling, I got back in the car and buckled up.
Item eight was to open my window before putting the car into drive.
The crunch sounded so good when I drove over the phone that I backed up and did it again. Music to my ears. Kevin’s electronic tether to me was gone. I didn’t have to read his mean messages or listen to his sick voice ever again. The sweet taste of freedom blew in the open window as I drove off.
He’d gone nuclear the first time I’d forgotten to take my phone when I went out. I wasn’t ever allowed to be without it. That should have been a warning, but I’d taken it as him caring about my safety.
I raised a middle-finger salute in the direction I’d come. “Take that, you asshole jerkoff douchebag,” I yelled out the window before rolling it back up. It didn’t sound as nasty as I wanted. I’d have to work on my swear-word vocabulary.
Back on the road, the busted phone and Kevin were in my rearview mirror, both physically and mentally. “I’m not ever going back,” I yelled at the mirror. How had it taken me so long to see what Kevin had been putting me through?
