Fighting for Freedom

The boxes are packed, tucked neatly by the front door, the tan coloring contrasts against the white walls. She stands in the middle of the room and stares at her old life. The couch is still sitting along the back walls, the worn-out brown fabric revealing the yellow padding within. She can see the stains and signs of life on the couch, filling her with a yearning to have that life back. She longs to sit one more time and laugh with friends or watch television, but that life is over. She is moving forward, heading toward new goals. It is a rebirth of sorts, but not one she ever wanted.

“You okay?” The words catch her off guard, startle her from the longing in her core. She turns, looks up to the taller man’s eyes, and nods once.

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

His turn to nod, the pain evident in every facial feature. She knows this isn’t what he wanted either, but his choices brought them to this fate. There is no path through the woods they find themselves in as a couple, but it doesn’t make the ending easier. “You know you don’t have to go?”

It is a question more than a statement, and she nods, kets the words sink in. She unconsciously steps backward, inching closer to the green front door. She can’t stay, but she doesn’t want to go. After ten years together, leaving is the hardest thing she will ever do, but it is what has to be done. “Jack, how can I stay?” The question is whispered as she tries to avoid provoking his anger. She doesn’t want to fight anymore, but she can’t guarantee it won’t happen. Fighting has been the constant since she asked him for a divorce. If she’s honest with herself, it was a constant before that point, but she doesn’t want to dwell on the past.

“Erin, come on,” he pleads, but she just shakes her head. While the prospect of starting over is terrifying, nearly paralyzing her to the spot she stands, it is far better than the alternative. If she stays, she accepts his affair and allows the wounds he has created in their marriage to grow. Ultimately, she respects herself too much to give in to his begging.

Instead, she looks out the large front window at the life she has known for nine years. This was their first apartment together. She sees the U-haul, already half loaded with her stuff, the accumulations of her life with him. The boxes are the last things to pack, and then her life in this apartment will be complete. She takes a breath, holds it, and turns back to the man she once loved. “How can I stay? Really? You’ve done nothing to meet my needs. I’ve killed myself trying to make this work, and you had an affair for my effort. You chose this. Not me.” She can feel the tears pool in her eyes and does her best to blink them back. She doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry more.

A sigh escapes him, and she flinches, cowers in preparation for what he will say. Mentally she prepares for the worst, but it has never been enough. “So you’re still solely blaming me?” he asks, glaring daggers at her. At that moment, her instinct tells her to grab her things and keep loading, ignoring him for as long as possible. Deeper down, she knows she can’t run from this. She can’t keep running from her problems.

“I have never solely blamed you. I know where I went wrong. I know I fucked things up, but you made choices too. You weren’t a partner, Jack. And I lived with it for years until I couldn’t. I shouldn’t have shut down the way I did, but you also shouldn’t have chosen to break the trust I had in you. You chose to not do anything to rebuild that trust. How do I stay and continue to act as a partner to someone I don’t trust? Jack, I love you, but I respect myself too much to stay with someone who has never treated me as a partner.” She is stunned at her words. Before he had an affair, she would have never dared say anything like that to him, but now she sees its freedom.

Another sigh, another shake of his head. She knows he is trying to find the words to argue, to justify his actions, but the battle is already lost. Nothing he says will change the truth in her words. Rather than wait for a response, she turns and grabs the first box, preparing to take it to the moving van. The freedom in that action excites her, and a smile comes to her face as she walks out the front door.