Her Name Is Hope

10/13/19

“Her Name is Hope”

I think I might be in love with Death. The problem is that I can only meet him once, so, for now, I have to settle for his cousin, Hope. Hope is a disease. She feeds me the belief that things will change, that things will get better. Logically, I know they won’t. I know that Hope is lying. But here’s the thing about Hope: she’s manipulative, but you can’t help but love her. She’ll tell you everything will be ok and make you trust her. And then she’ll break you. She takes you out at the knees and stabs you in the back. But you’ll forgive her, love her again with her sweet and beautiful face. You’ll breathe in her promises of next times and live her lies. She’ll get you high just to break your mind.

I have a very strong relationship with Hope. She convinces me that staying with Caleb is right. I say “convinces” because I know I wouldn’t still be with him if Hope didn’t tell me everyday that tomorrow will be different, that tomorrow he won’t hit me, that tomorrow he’ll love me. She convinces me everyday to stay. She promises change. But she never delivers. At this point, i crave her promised love so much, I can’t leave. I have to stay. I know she’s right, and tomorrow he’ll love me. Hope’s my drug. But I also know she’s a liar. But this time will be different.

I’m standing in the kitchen when Caleb comes home today. He comes storming in, ready to fight. At least we’re headed straight to the point. Sometimes he acts fine for days at a time, and I think Hope’s kept her promise. But he ends up blowing up with all that pent up rage, every time.

Caleb barges in, blocking the entrance— my escape— with all 6 feet and 3 inches of him. His face, normally so beautiful, is red and blotchy, contorted with anger. I wonder what I did wrong this time.

“Goddamnit, Stephanie. Can’t you do a fucking thing? How fucking hard is it to bring a fucking box inside?” He slams a small brown package down onto the counter. I wince. I meant to grab that earlier. It was sitting on the porch when I got home from the store, but my arms were full with grocery bags, and I forgot to go back out for it. I didn’t want Caleb to see it yet because it was his Christmas present. I found him a new watch since his stopped working about a month ago. The watch has a black leather band and a silver ring aroung the face and engraved Roman numerals. I’ve been really excited for it to arrive for him.

“I’m sorry,” I glance up into his eyes, and my stomach flips. His eyes are a light green. I can normally see a picture of a bright spring day in them, but I can just see frost today. I look at my feet because the coldness I see in his face hits me more painfully than he ever has. This isn’t my Caleb. My Caleb loves me. If I didn’t mess so much up, he would love me again.

Rough fingers grab my jaw, jerking my face up to look at him. His upper lip curls up into a sneer as he looks down at me.

“Tell me, Stephanie. Tell me what the hell I’m doing here, why the hell I work my ass off and get stuck with a woman who is incapable of bringing a package inside. Can you tell me that?” His breath reeks of alcohol. I hadn’t noticed before. He must’ve been out drinking again. He has a point, though. He works really hard, and I’m lucky to have him. No one else would waste their time on me or love me. At least Caleb used to love me and maybe would again if I was better. He deserves better, after all. I work two jobs and take care of the house and food, but I don’t do enough. I’m lucky he’s stayed.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” He sneers again, disgusted. I don’t blame him, I am, too. Pathetic. I look down again, ashamed.

His fingers leave my jaw, and I tense. His hand slams into the side of my face. My head cracks against the open wooden cabinet door behind me. My ears ring and I stumble. Caleb catches me with another hit, shoving me back, hard. The edge of the counter rams into my spine, making me yelp. I’m shut up by a pop to my mouth.

When he pulled his hand back for another, there was crimson. He had my blood on his hands. I retracted further into the corner of the counter. A whimper escaped from my lips, and I hated myself for it. I am weak. This is my own fault. I know he likes having a neat and orderly house. I knew it would upset him. If I was a good partner, I would’ve picked it up. This was my fault. I deserved this.

Later— I have no idea how much later— I wake up on the floor. It’s dark and the ground is cold and hard. Did he leave me on the kitchen floor after he knocked me out? That’s the only explanation my muddled brain can produce. Hope led me by the hand into harm again. I know I deserved what I got earlier, but part of me blames Hope still, maybe unfairly so. It’s not really her fault. I think she honestly believes what she says about it being different next time. Every time.

I silently debate whether I should get up or if it’d be better if I just stayed here. If I went to bed, he’d be upset in the morning that I was next to him. If I stayed here, he’d be upset that I was in the way in the morning. There isn’t an easy way to win. There never is.

Hope says bed will be a lot more comfortable, which, she’s right. So I stand, a bit shakily, and start to make my way to our room. When I push the door open, I stand in the doorway for a minute. The moonlight coming in through the window hits his face, illuminating the curvature of his jaw and cheek. He’s laying on his side, facing me. All of the tension is gone, the hardness has left his face. He looks like a child. He’s beautiful. This is the man I love. I’ve missed him.

I walk to the other side of the bed and pull back the cover. There’s a paper sitting folded up on the sheets, so I pick it up to move it to the nightstand. The light touches the paper, and I see my name written there in Caleb’s handwriting. I glance up from the paper at his still, peaceful face. I look back down at the paper and unfold it. This is what is written:

Stephanie,

I’m sorry. I know those words can never repair the damage I’ve caused. I hope you do not accept that poor excuse of an apology. In fact, I hope you scoff at it for its pathetic understatement. But I don’t have words that can even come close to the apology you deserve.

Stephanie, you are the most kind and beautiful woman I have ever met. I’m convinced that you will forever be this because you are perfect. I didn’t believe in God before I met you. I have found God through you. God must exist if someone as perfect as you exists. You are so kind and intelligent. I am the luckiest person alive because I have you in my life.

I know I don’t show it very often, but I am so grateful for you. You’ve made me a stronger and better man. You deserve an amazing man, and I swear, Stephanie, that I will work to be that man. I’m beyond sorry. I love you.

Your love,

Caleb

I look up at Caleb’s sleeping figure again. I feel a strange sense of calm, my body loose from the tension I didn’t know I was still holding. The Caleb I love still exists. Hope was right.

It’s been a few days since then. It’s been pretty good, I think. There haven’t been any issues, really. For the most part, it’s been fine. Until today.

We went out for dinner earlier. It was a cute little Thai restaurant. Towards the end of dinner, our waiter brought us boxes to take our leftovers. So we took the boxes into the car. Now we’re here.

Caleb and I are sitting at a red light right now. There’s a loud crunching noise next to us, and the car besides us is pushed halfway across the intersection. Since we’re at a stop, there’s cars coming fast, perpendicular to us. The car that was hit next to us is pushed forward, slamming into on coming traffic. The car it hits is driven sideways into another car, that clips the tail end of yet another car, that spins into a guardrail. The car that hit the car next to us is a medium sized white SUV. I watch in shock as it speeds away.

It takes me a moment before my brain realizes what just happened. My body is tense, and I can’t breathe. After a moment, I’m able to move again. I fling my door open, tearing my seatbelt off of me. I need to make sure those people are alright, that they are all still alive.

It’s later now. Everyone was alive earlier; a few were unconscious, but alive. Now Caleb and I are home again, and he is mad. Again. This time it is because I dropped my to-go box when I rushed out of the car earlier to check on those people. The box had opened and made a mess all over his newly washed car. I should’ve paid more attention. I just couldn’t; I was too scared for those people’s lives to care about the box then. I care about it now. Too late, though. It’s always too late.

“My fucking car, Stephanie. Seriously? I just washed everything in that thing, and now it’s got your fucking mess stained everywhere. Would it really have been that hard to put the damn box down before you fucked up my car for nothing? Every one of those damn people were fine and didn’t need your worthless ass. So you fucked up my car for literally nothing.”

I feel a piece of myself break. I can almost hear it. Final, permanent. I don’t know if it’s the anger I feel that he doesn’t care at all about those poor people, or the heartbreak that kills my soul over and over and over again, or the way I can feel my muscles tense, taut with damage and hurt. Or everything.

“Shut the fuck up, Caleb!” I’m screaming. I know I shouldn’t. I know things will go very, very wrong now. I am digging my own grave. And I don’t care.

I think he is surprised for a second because he’s just looking at me. Until his fist meets my cheek bone. My knees buckle, and I think I’m going to fall. I wish I fell. Maybe he’d stop then before this gets worse. Maybe then I can give up. Instead, his hands clamp onto my shoulders and he pushed me into the wall.

“No. You shut the fuck up! You have no fucking right to talk to me like that! Shut your fucking mouth, bitch!” His face is only a few inches from mine. He shakes me, then slams me back into the wall. The back of my head hits the corner of the bookshelf this time. I can’t help the whimper that passes my lips. Maybe it’s a good thing his hands are slamming me into the wall again. If he lets go, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get up.

My eyes hurt and I can’t keep them open much longer. My everything hurts. Caleb is still breaking my body against the wall and bookshelf corner. I let my eyes close. There’s no point in fighting it. The pain becomes more distant and I wonder if I’m losing consciousnesss. I feel Caleb’s fingers move to my throat. He’s squeezing and using his grip to break me more. I send one last prayer to Hope to beg her to send her cousin to save me. Hope finally keeps her promise. Death embraces me like he’s as much in love as I am.