I grabbed random belongings and ran
to Emma's house. Those dark days lit only by her hand shaking me awake
throughout the night to quieten my screams. Her iPod softly played Jack Johnson
to chase away the dark.
I had a trip booked to see my cousin; I considered cancelling but realized I
could use the break.
I arrived and tried to pretend that nothing had happened, covering the dark
circles under my eyes with as much makeup as they could hold. Admitting what
had happened would mean it was true, how could it be? As the days passed the
sadness took over, and while her beautiful little girls slept in the
backseat I finally broke down and cried telling her everything.
With her help and support, I decided I wasn't ready to give up on him, that
this was marriage and you fought with everything you had to make it work. It
had to be enough, it's all I had.
After a week away I returned to him, to our home, and I gave it an honest
effort. We saw a counsellor, we had rules in place. He was to let me know where
he was and when he would be home, he wasn't to get drunk without me; he was to
call often on business trips. Each pathetic rule was broken, every chance at
trust shattered again, again, again. He refused to go back to the counsellor.
Life continued for him as if nothing had changed; he would get frustrated with
the shadow of me that was left. I incessantly cleaned, baked and decorated, our
home transformed into absolute hollow beauty. We bought things to fill the
holes in our chests, hot tubs, couches, and clothes, things. They left us more hollow
then before.
I would go through days of trying really hard, I would do sweet things for him
like make a special dinner, or leave him sweet notes in his car. A few days
later I would fall apart. I believed I was crazy.
During those three months I became a zombie, the memories from that time are
grey and dull and empty. The most memorable memory is when Blake went on a ski
trip for work and "forgot" his phone; wild nights of drinking and fun
fill his memory, crying alone on the floor of our home fill mine. In fact most
of those grey nights were spent alone, my hot water-bottle desperately trying to
fill the cold in that empty king sized bed.
