Maybe it wasmicroscopic. Maybe it wasinadequate. Maybe it wasmeager. Maybe it wasinsignificant. Or, maybe it wasinvisible. It couldn’t have been because I felt very visible. Exposed, even. Vulnerable to the highest degree. Which was why I peeped over my shoulder and out of the small windows that we passed each time I lifted and lowered my feet to the floor.
“Right here, Mom?” Essence stopped at one of the first empty seats she saw, drawing my attention to her thin frame, again.
“Uh. No, baby. Keep going,” I instructed her, giving her back a gentle push so that she wouldn’t hold up the people in line behind us.
We passed the seats two by two, a full year seeming to pass before we reached our designated seats. They weren’t at the very back, but they weren’t nearly as close to the center as I would’ve preferred in the event of an emergency. But for the task ahead, any seat would do.
“Here, Essence.”
Because there were three of us, I’d purchased three seats. Only two of them were near one another. The otherwasat the very back of the bus, but I refused to even waste my time finding it. With children the ages of five and three, we’d have to make it work with the two seats that were next to each other on the samerow. There was no way we were parting for the six-hour ride to Channing.
“Right here, Mom?” Essence pointed toward our seats to confirm.
“Yes, baby. Go ahead and take a seat near the window.”
My arms were screaming for relief. Emorey felt like a sack of potatoes resting in them. Though she was a very petite girl, after over an hour of holding her, she seemed to have gained the weight that her doctor had been trying to get her to since she was born.
Essence obeyed, taking the seat closest to the window. I slowly laid Emorey in the seat I planned to occupy to relieve my arms of the pressure her little frame had put on them. Once she was settled, I began removing the bags and backpacks I’d brought along for the journey.
Last, my saving grace fell from my arm and to the ground in front of me. Not wanting to cause a delay in seating, I hurriedly snatched the stroller up and slid back into our row. The line continued to move, getting shorter each time someone found their seat.
There was just enough room between us and the seat in front of us for the small, emergency stroller I kept for Emorey. Sometimes, it proved to be the best fifteen dollars I’d ever spent. Though it was cheaply built with only bones and absolutely no support or padding, it got the job done in a crunch. Tonight was definitely one of those moments. I unfolded it while still standing in the aisle and pushed it between our row and the one in front of us. Once I realized there wouldn’t be any leg room for me, I pushed it closer to Essence’s end to create space.
I placed a sleeping Emorey inside, never disturbing her beauty rest. She was a hard sleeper, just like her sister. The two of them didn’t hear anything once they closed their eyes. Theworld could be ending and they wouldn’t know until they woke up in the afterlife.
After getting her squared away, I pushed the bags that I’d brought onboard underneath the seats in front of us so that they wouldn’t be in our way. They were filled with snacks, juices, and small games that didn’t require too much space but would keep the children entertained if necessary. I hoped that the late trip would help them rest, but one never knew with children. A trip with them could be a dream or it could be a disaster.
“Hhhhhhhh.” I sighed loudly as I sat down, finally.
“Mom, I’m tired.” Essence yawned. “Can I go to sleep with you?”
“Of course, love.”
She placed her feet near the window as she maneuvered until her head was in my lap. I could feel her little breath tickling the thin strands of hair on my legs as she sighed, too. My heart ached for her,for us. She, too, was feeling the effects of our sudden relocation. My babies deserved to be home sleeping in their beds, but things beyond my control had led us here with the three of us crammed into a space designed for two.
“I love you, kid,” I reminded her, smoothing her frazzled curls back into the low ponytail she’d attempted to keep her long, sandy hair out of her face.
“I love you, too.”
Exhaustion had worn my baby down, and I wanted nothing more than for her to rest well and get comfortable, even if it made me uncomfortable. I was willing to suffer if it meant she wouldn’t. There wasn’t a question about it.
The chattering of the passengers picked up slightly after everyone was seated near or next to their loved ones. Each time a deep, unfiltered baritone sifted its way through the crowd, my head darted in its direction – needing a face put to itimmediately. My anxiety wasn’t any good for situations as such, but I had to survive it. This was the only option left.
The bus driver made the final call for boarding as he prepared to close the doors for our trip to begin. I pressed the side button on my phone to light the screen. It was nearly one-thirty, our official departure time.
A sense of relief washed over me, allowing me to finally breathe once the doors closed and the bus proceeded from the gate. For the first time since I’d packed as much of the girls’ and my things that would fit into the three large suitcases three hours ago, I could close my eyes.
Dewayne had put his hands on me for the last time, and instead of retaliating or physically harming him as payback, I chose my sanity and safety. Because mentally and emotionally, I’d left him two years ago. I was just waiting for the physical aspect to follow. My only fear was the lack of financial resources that I had for myself and children, but after so long, being broke wasn’t the worst of my fears. Staying committed to failure was.
Starting from ground zero had never sounded better. With only four hundred dollars to my name, I bought my children and I tickets to Channing, leaving me with only two hundred dollars. With a place to stay already lined up when we touched down, I knew I could figure the rest out when it was time.
Lyric was a godsend. When I called her asking to crash in her spare bedroom with the girls for six months, she agreed without hesitation. Neither did she hesitate to tell me she’d been waiting for us to make the move. Her joy for the decision I’d finally decided to make spoke volumes because she’d never truly voiced her opinion about my predicament. She simply listened when I needed an ear.
“I couldn’t force you to be ready. When you were, I knew you’d leave and never look back,” she told me as we cried on thephone together. They weren’t tears of sadness, but of happiness and joy. I’d finally put myself first and that was worth the tears.
The same tears that I’d cried on the phone with her, I felt dropping from my eyes as I closed them. We’d hardly made it out of the station, but the freedom I felt was indescribable, so instead of attempting to place or describe the feeling, I allowed myself to just feel. That’s all I wanted and needed. To feel.
It had been a day from hell, but my girls and I were safe and headed to our new home. It was only temporary, but there we didn’t have to worry about their father’s temper, distaste for anything remotely close to living the life that a real man was supposed to, random fights, or long nights.
